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lovemouche · 8 months

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lovesick all over my bed ౨ৎ

satoru x fem reader

18+ / mdni

It was never meant to end up like this.

Satoru had stated the boundary of no strings attached prior to entangling himself with you — metaphorically and, quite literally too. The relationship was meant to start and end with physicality only. That was the one rule he made sure to implement for himself. That was where he drew the line.

"Y-yes. right there. Please."

And yet, these days, he's been finding himself caught in the cavern of a predicament, worn down to the point where he can't think of much, besides tangled limbs and open mouthed kisses, hot and wet as he'd breathe heavily against your form. Worn down to the point where he can't think of anything else besides you.

Even now, as you lay underneath him, needy and bare, shaped like a deity, challenging the outline of divinity, he's still thinking of you. Always.

And it's driving him crazy, consuming every waking thought of his. Because he just doesn't know how it all led up to this. Satoru can't fathom how an inkling of affection he dismissed as nothing more than a momentary impulse burgeoned into something more profound. Into something so alarming. Into—

No.

No. No. No.

No. He doesn't want to name the emotion just yet. He can't. Labelling it just solidifies his fear into truth, and the prospect that the feeling blossoming inside his chest aligns with what he’d dreaded feeling the most crosses every boundary he had set for himself.

Love, the most twisted curse of all.

"Ah, Satoru—"

The call of his name drags him out of his reverie. It's whispered softly against his skin, flushed as he clings to you desperately, secure enough to hold you in place, but never too much to hurt you.

"Yeah?" he asks tentatively, his movements being put to a pause. After loosening his grip around your body, he shifts the bend of legs on the mattress to keep his weight from overwhelming you. "You okay, princess?"

His hand travels from the curve of your waist to trace the outline of your jaw, carefully and, much too lovingly for someone who's only meant to use you for emotional release. "Does anything hurt?" he asks, thumbing the apple of your cheek with gentle strokes, noticing how you shiver under the touch.

You shake your head, but it's not enough to convince him otherwise; the lack of a verbal response only has his mind flooding with concern even more, especially because you've never stopped him mid-sex. Not once in the entire seven months of your arrangement.

"Talk to me," he encourages.

Instinctively, you lay your hand on top of the one toying with your cheek, your fingertips lightly rubbing at his knuckles in an attempt to calm him down. Satoru feels his chest constrict. It's not a big gesture, he knows. But it feels so intimate—so sweet.

Anyone would assume he would've gotten used to it by now, but even with familiarity and time, everything you do only seems to make his heart race even more.

He's grateful the dim lights don't manage to catch the flush beginning to spread throughout his features, but he's certain you can feel the way his cock hardens inside you, even if you don't comment on it—which he's also grateful for.

God, he's hopeless.

The control you have over him is dangerous, he realizes. Part of him wants to pull away before any damage can be done. But the other, bigger part welcomes the peril with open arms.

"It's just..." you trail off, letting out a sigh of frustration as you try to find the right words.

"Should I pull out?"

"No," you huff, tone authoritative. Out of reflex, your legs tighten around him, thighs caging his waist to keep him in place—because you definitely don't want him to pull out. Not with how good he's filling you up right now. "Just... shut up for now."

Satoru acquiesces to your request. Despite his reservations, he nods, albeit a bit reluctantly, and makes a testament to his obedience by pretending to zip his mouth up with pinched fingers.

"You just... seem a little out of it nowadays, like you're distracted. So I wanted to know if you were okay."

You take a brief pause. Satoru waits with bated breath.

"We're friends too, you know? You can talk to me about these things. It doesn't always have to be sex," you add softly, probing gently to gauge the situation while making sure to leave enough room for him to make the decision to open up. Because really, he doesn't owe you any explanation.

He doesn't owe you anything at all.

Satoru feels his heart swell, pressing up against his sternum, too big for his chest—everything he feels for you is too much for him to carry.

I know, he thinks bitterly to himself. That's the problem. I don't want to be your friend anymore.

But he doesn't want to lose you either, and he knows that if he let the dam break, if he let loose every emotion he's been struggling to keep at bay, he'd only ruin everything.

He'd lose you. And he'd lose himself in the process.

So Satoru parries your question with ease, because honesty isn't his forte—both towards you and himself.

"Nothing's wrong," he insists, raising an arm to pin your hand up against the bedsheet, intertwining your fingers with his. "Don't worry."

Resting his forehead on top of your sweat kissed one, he resumes his movements languidly. "Just...just focus on how good I'm making you feel, o—oh—okay?"

He trips on his words at the sensation of being sucked in and out of your sweet cunt, and he prays—god, he prays—that the feeling of being inside you is enough to compensate for not having you entirely, even if just for a moment.

But it's not enough, and Satoru can't help but feel that it never will be.

He slides in and out of you, his desire heavy. And you moan in response, chest rising from the laboured breaths that follow each sinful thrust, hips gyrating automatically to match his pace.

And it feels good. It feels so fucking good. But the pleasure isn't enough to cloud his senses and dispel his anxiety. Because he's looking at you and his heart is already tugging at its seams. And Satoru feels helpless.

And he's not sure what it is—if it's the high that ensues being wrapped around your tight walls, or the way you fit so perfectly against him, as if you were made to be held by him, as if he was made just to hold you—but something about tonight has him desperate for more than just late night messages that lead to loveless fucking.

Something about tonight has him desperate for all of you. Mind and body, heart and soul.

The notion is heady, and the revelation steals his breath. It roots itself inside his chest and demands his attention, aching to be acknowledged.

He's so caught up in his head, so lost in thought that he doesn't even register the fact that his movements have been put to a halt and his cock has stilled inside you. Not until you press a shaky palm to his chest in worry.

"Hey," you breathe out. "What's wrong?"

Satoru has to bite his tongue to refrain from telling you that: everything is. There are so many things he wants to tell you, but he's scared it'll poison every next moment. He's scared he'll lose you in the only way he knows he can have you.

Everything is wrong, he wants to say.

Instead, he stays quiet.

There an ugly feeling gathering in the pit of his stomach. He wants, so badly, to say something—anything. But he can't. The only reaction he can offer you is the widening of eyes, and his mouth parting in shock before his lips purse into a disappointed frown.

Being in... fuck he'll name it. Being in love shouldn't indemnify him from acting like an idiot, but love has a way of blurring all reason, all rationality.

He waits for you to speak again, unwilling to break the silence himself—too afraid of what might follow, too afraid that you've already seen right through him.

And he feels pathetic, of course, for being reduced to such a scattered mess, because he's supposed to be the strongest. And for the most part, he is. He really is. But when it comes to you, he can't seem to live up to that title. When it comes to you, he can't seem to be anything else but yours.

The yearning—to mean something more to you, to be everything to you—settles in his bones. It's draining his soul. He's standing on the edge of a cliff, left to teeter somewhere in between unbridled emotion and self restraint. It's a precarious position to be placed in, and he's hanging by a mere thread.

Seconds stretch into what feels like an eternity. The air feels like it's heavy with impending demise, and the silence engulfs him like black tar. It's suffocating, to say the least. Satoru isn't sure if he wants to prolong the moment or get it over with. He feels his heart pound against his chest—that treacherous thing.

So when you finally say something, he breaks.

"Satoru, what's wrong?"

He falls apart.

"I'm sorry," he chokes out, voice timid and exceptionally apologetic, head hanging low in refusal to meet your eyes. The sight of him is pitiful; you can't, for the life of you, understand why.

It's strange seeing Satoru in such a vulnerable state. Not because you don't assume he doesn't have his own baggage to carry, but because you never thought he'd be willing to expose this side of himself to you.

It's everything out of the ordinary, like witnessing god crumble at your feet, or having an executioner beg to be pardoned for all his killings.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. Only this time, it feels more resigned, like he's admitting defeat. It almost feels like he's apologising to you. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

But how could that be? and why would it ever be?

"What? Sat—ah."

Satoru falls slack on top of you, pressing the weight of his body against yours. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, chin moving to rest on your shoulder as he evades your gaze. You feel his hands travel south as he continues whispering a mantra of apologies into your skin.

It's a vain endeavour, trying to lift yourself up to get him to talk to you properly. The grip on your hip keeps you anchored, leaving you no room for anything other than compliance; it's as if he's scared you'll leave if he lets go even for a second.

And honestly, he is.

"Satoru. Don't be like this please."

"I'm sorry," is all he says.

"Satoru, look at—"

"No."

"Look at me."

"I'm an idiot."

"No," you interject. "You are not."

"But I am." It's muffled, his voice. A Little shaky too. "I know I'm an idiot, so don't," he pleads. "Don't look at me. I don't want you to see me right now. I can't."

"You need to tell me what's wrong."

"You're going to hate me. I'm going to ruin everything."

"How?"

"I'm sorry."

"Satoru."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, his grip on you tightening, fingernails digging soft crescents into your skin. "I'm sorry; I got too greedy."

Your eyebrows pinch.

Satoru can practically feel your confusion, and he wants to die, because you don't get it. You just don't get it. Not at all. Not one bit. Not until he whispers five words that knock all the air out of your lungs:

I love you. I'm sorry.

There's a pregnant pause, hesitant, unsure. And then:

"Wha—what? No. You—you're lying."

Satoru shakes his head in disagreement, vehemently refusing your claim.

Lying? How could he ever lie about such a thing? He could feign indifference at most, try to brush past it and let the feeling linger until it subsides. But he can't, and it hasn't, and he's tired of pretending that he doesn't love you anymore. Because he does. He loves you too much to push those feelings away.

"It's true," he admits. "I—I tried not to... you know? I tried not to—fuck, I'm sorry."

The confession should have lifted the burden, or at the very least, eased it. But his lips struggle to form words, and his heart ricochets against his ribcage.

"Look at me," you implore.

"No."

He's certain you must hate him now. That by tomorrow, or tonight even, he'll leave the place—the person—he's associated with home as nothing more than a stranger.

Even worse, a mistake.

"Please?"

But your arms crawl to wrap around his torso, and your legs squeeze around his own in silent reassurance, like you're trying to convey to him that you're not going anywhere. And if that isn't enough to convince him to listen, Satoru doesn't know what is.

When he finally raises his head, your eyes linger on the contours of his face, studying his crestfallen expression. He's anguished, that's for sure. You just can't wrap your head around the fact that it's probably you who's causing his misery.

Because Satoru is... well, Satoru—he's the strongest.

So who are you to be able to wreck him this much?

"Do you..." you swallow, still unconvinced, words quieting down to a whisper. "Do you really love me?"

Without looking at you, Satoru nods. it's not enough of an answer, though.

"Tell me, please."

He lets out a slow, shuddering exhale, chest stuttering on his next breath. He's silent for a few seconds, thinking. Until finally, with a slight crack to his voice, he says. "I do." very tremulously. "I love you."

Which is painful to admit, because he doesn't even know what to do now that it's been said. Satoru's not sure how he can give you something he's never been shown. He's not even sure if he deserves it, or if you'll even want his affection.

But there's so much of it, so much love growing in his chest that he fears it'll crack his ribs. So he's willing to try, even if it might ruin him in the process,

He's willing to do anything, so long as it's for you.

It's as simple as that, really.

"You're lying. I—you can't be serious."

Well, maybe not really.

"I am." Satoru nods pathetically, like a wounded puppy, like his heart is in tatters because you can't believe him even after he's laid himself so embarrassingly bare like this. "I love you."

"But you said—"

"I know," Satoru interrupts, and his lips are bowed. "I know. I'm a hypocrite. I got too selfish. But I can't help it anymore, I'm sorry. I love you too much to push these feelings away."

Satoru feels every muscle in your body go stiff at the admission. You're rendered speechless, once again; hesitant in your words, even more so in your actions. And he feels like he's made a grave mistake, that right then and there, he's ruined everything—he's lost you.

But then the right corner of your mouth quirks, hinting at the faintest of smiles, and an obtrusive feeling of hope sparks within him, fizzling out his nerves like cheap soda.

"Why would you be sorry?" you scold, flicking his forehead. "The only thing you should be sorry about is worrying me. Do you know how scared I was seeing you go MIA while you were still inside me?"

"I'm still inside," he reminds you.

You groan. "this is not the time."

"I know." He frowns, but the tension from earlier is nowhere to be found, and Satoru feels even more at ease now that you've begun playing with his hair, twirling the strands between your fingers. "I'm sorry. I don't really know what else to say."

"You don't need to say anything else."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You aren't upset or anything?"

"Why would I be?"

"I don't know." He lowers his head to rest on top of your chest, all watery and emotional, pressing his cheek just above where your heart lies to find solace in the rhythmic pitter patter of beats. "I just expected you'd be mad or... disappointed, you know?"

"Well I'm not, so don't worry about anything, okay?"

"Okay," he hums.

You don't say anything after that. Neither does he. It's quiet for a while, and you take the time to think while basking in the afterglow of such a raw moment.

It's all still so surreal.

You feel like the universe is playing a prank on you, like Satoru's orchestrating a sick, cruel joke to mess with your system. But you're cradling his head in your hand, lovingly tracing arbitrary shapes on his scalp, and you swear you can hear how fast his heart is racing.

It's in tandem with yours.

And perhaps, that's all that matters.

Maybe you were an idiot not to have realised it sooner. Maybe you were just in denial too. But it's as clear as day now, and you really can't deny the fact that it has always felt like you and Satoru were made for each other. Because when you take his hand into yours, and it feels like the spaces between your fingers were shaped just to hold him like this, you're certain that it's always been more than just sex.

"Satoru?"

"Yeah?"

"Me too."

He gives you a quizzical look. You smile.

"I love you too."

#writing #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #reader insert #gojo smut

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doctorbitchcrxft · 3 months

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Nightshifter | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ;) )

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, hostage situation

Word Count: 5149

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You eyed Dean angrily as he flirted with the attractive woman in front of him dressed as an FBI agent. You knew he was teasing you, and it was pissing you off. You had long since finished your interrogation of the store’s manager. Helena had apparently been a patron of the store for years. Then, one day, she went crazy; the police caught her clearing out the jewelry store’s cases and the safe before shooting someone in the face and killing herself in her bathtub after the crime. You had a sneaking suspicion you were dealing with a shapeshifter; a monster that you were quite over dealing with.

Dean approached you, triumphantly waving the piece of paper with the phone number he’d gotten from the woman he was interviewing.

You snatched it out of his hands.

“Aw, you jealous?” he teased, leaning into you.

You deadpanned, “Keep it professional, Agent Hetfield, wouldn’t want the bureau to hear about this, right?” You ripped the paper up and shoved its tatters into your blazer pocket.

He deflated slightly, but still smirked at you. “I’m gonna make you crack, sweetheart, just wait.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, turning away from him and heading out to the Impala. Admittedly, you were strutting a little bit to tease him.

Sam met you at the car, and the three of you drove to the home of the man whose police statement had been a mix of sci-fi nerd gibberish and the only eye-witness account of the incident.

As you approached the small house, Sam began talking about another piece of the case. “Uh, Milwaukee National Trust. It was hit about a month ago.”

Dean raised a brow. “Same M.O. as the jewelry store?”

“Yep, inside job, longtime employee, the never-in-a-million-years type. Dude robs the bank, then goes home and supposedly commits suicide.”

“The guy, Resnick, he was the security guard on duty?” Dean questioned.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. He was actually beaten unconscious by the teller who heisted the place.”

“Jesus,” you grimaced.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. He knocked on the screen door. “Mr. Resnick?” A bright flood light turned on, momentarily blinding you.

You raised a hand in front of your eyes. “Holy—”

Sam was apparently unfazed. “FBI, Mr. Resnick.”

Through the screen door, a chubby, nerdy-looking man in his late twenties approached. “Let me see the badge.”

You slapped your badge against the screen next to Sam’s and Dean’s.

Mr. Resnick, whose first name was Ronald, squinted at them carefully. “I already gave my statement to the police.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, listen, Ronald, um… just some things about your statement we wanted to get some clarification on.”

“You read it?” He seemed surprised. “You come to listen to what I've got to say?”

“Well, that’s why we’re here,” Dean said.

“Well, come on in.” He opened the door and led you through a narrow hallway to a room cluttered with conspiracy theory paraphernalia.

“None of the cops ever called me back. Not after I told them what was really going on. Uh, they all thought I was crazy,” he rushed out. You were beginning to think the same. “First off, Juan Morales never robbed the Milwaukee National Trust, okay? That, I guarantee. See, me and Juan were friends. He used to come back to the bank on my night shifts, and we'd play cards.”

“So you let him into the bank that night, after hours,” Sam noted.

“The thing I let into the bank…” Ronald trailed off, “wasn't Juan. I mean, it had his face, but it wasn't his face. Uh, every detail was perfect, but too perfect, you know, like if a dollmaker made it, like I was talking to a big Juan-doll.”

You nearly choked on a laugh. “A Juan-doll?”

“Look, this wasn't the only time this happened, okay?” He scrambled through papers on his messy desk and handed you a folder. “There was this jewelry store, too. And the cops, a-and you guys, you just won't see it!” You flipped through the folder; it almost looked like a hunter’s profile of the case. You were half impressed. “Both crimes were pulled by the same thing,” Ronald finished.

Sam pressed, saying, “What's that, Mr. Resnick?”

He picked up a copy of a magazine labeled “Fortean Times” and held it out to you. The headline read, “Birth of the Cybermen.”

‘Jesus Christ,’ you thought, suppressing a grimace.

“Chinese 've been working on 'em for years,” the man explained. “And the Russians before that. Part men, part machine. Like the Terminator. But the kind that can change itself, make itself look like other people.”

Dean smirked. “Like the one from T2.”

“Exactly! See, so not just a robot, more of a- a- a- a— Mandroid," he said finally, a bizarre twinkle in his eye.

“A Mandroid,” you deadpanned. “And what makes you so sure about this, Ronald?”

He held up a finger at you, smiling a little wildly. Your eyes flicked to Dean’s in concern, and he just wiggled his eyebrows at you.

The man returned a moment later holding a VHS tape labeled “M.N.T. Camera 4— Juan.” He inserted it into a player, saying, “See, I made copies of all the security tapes. I knew once the cops got them they'd be buried. Here.” He fast-forwarded a bit in the tape. “Now watch. Watch. Watch him, watch, watch! See, look! Th- th- there it is!” He paused it on a clip of the man with a silver in his eyes. “You see? He's got the laser eyes.”

You gave Sam a knowing look that he returned.

“Cops said it was some kind of reflected light. Some kind of ‘camera flare’. Okay? Ain't no damn camera flare. They say I'm a post-trauma case. So what? Bank goes and fires me, it don't matter!” You eyed Ronald uncomfortably as he continued to pace around and rant. “The Mandroid is— is still out there. The law won't hunt this thing down— I'll do it myself.

"You see, this thing, it- it- it kills the real person, makes it look like a suicide, then it sorta, like, morphs into that person. Cases the job for a while until it knows the take is fat, and then it finds its opening. Now, these robberies, they're, they're grouped together.” He pointed at the map on the wall. “So I figure the Mandroid is holed up somewhere in the middle, underground, maybe. I dunno, maybe that's where it recharges its, uh, Mandroid batteries.”

Dean nodded, seeming impressed. You just looked between Ronald and Dean in confusion.

“Okay. I want you to listen very carefully. Because I'm about to tell you the god's honest truth about all of this,” Sam began.

Your head whipped to him, confused as to where he was going with this.

“There's no such thing as Mandroids. There's nothing evil or inhuman going on out there. Just people. Nothing else, you understand?”

You kept a straight face, but were startled.

“The laser eyes,” Ronald tried desperately.

“Just a camera flare, Mr. Resnick. See, I know you don't want to believe this. But your friend Juan robbed the bank, and that's it,” Sam mollified.

Ronald immediately became angry. “Get out of my house! Now!”

***

You and the brothers found another tacky, cheap motel to stay in for the time being. You lounged on Dean’s bed in a pair of comfortable sweatpants and an oversized band t-shirt.

Dean paced around the room, chuckling. “Man, that has got to be the kicker, straight up. I mean, you tell that poor son of a bitch that— what did you say, remand the tapes that he copied? Classified evidence of an ongoing investigation?” He laughed harder. “That's messed up.”

Sam sat on the foot of the bed and inserted the tape into the television’s player. “What are you, pissed at me or something?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, I just think it's a little creepy how good of a Fed you are. I mean, come on, we could have at least thrown the guy a bone. He did some pretty good legwork here.”

“Mandroid?” you deadpanned.

“Except for the Mandroid part,” Dean added. “I liked him. He's not that different from you or me. People think we're crazy.”

“He’s not a hunter, though, Dean,” you challenged. “He ran into something real and let his conspiracy-theory-brain-rot get the best of him.”

“Better to stay in the dark, and stay alive,” Sam finished.

Dean shrugged, “Yeah, I guess.” He put a paper down on the map on the table and began marking it with a red pen.

You shuffled forward to Sam and hit the pause button on the remote just as the man’s eyes flashed at the camera.

“Shapeshifter. Just like back in St. Louis. Same retinal reaction to video,” Sam informed.

“Eyes flare at the camera. I hate those fuckin’ things,” Dean grunted.

“You think we don’t?” you scoffed.

“Yeah, well, one didn't turn into you and frame you for murder.”

You shrugged. “Well, look, if this shifter's anything like the one we killed in Missouri—”

“Then Ronald was right. Alright, they like to layer up underground, preferably the sewer. And all the robberies have been connected so far, right?”

Sam nodded.

“With the, uh, sewer main layout. There's one more bank lined up on that same sewer main,” Dean continued.

“Awesome,” you grumbled.

***

Later that evening, you and the brothers headed to the bank Dean referenced, the City Bank of Milwaukee, to see if the shapeshifter would be hitting that one next. You posed as Sam and Dean’s boss, and the two boys wore security camera technician outfits.

The guard of the bank informed you as you walked along, “Well, we haven't had any flags go up on our system yet.”

You shook your head. “No, sir, this is a glitch in the overall grid. I just need to cover all my bases and make sure the branch monitors are okay.”

“Well, better to be safe than sorry, I guess,” the guard shrugged.

“That’s the plan,” you nodded.

He opened the door to an observation room flooded with monitors for you, saying, “Alrighty. You guys need anything else?”

“Nope,” you replied. “We’ll be in and out before you know it. Just a routine check.”

“Okie-dokie,” he said, leaving the room.

Dean chuckled. “I like him. He says ‘Okie-dokie.’ “

“What if he's the shifter?” worried Sam.

“Well, then we follow him home, put a silver bullet through his chestplate,” the older brother replied simply.

You sat down in one of the desk chairs to watch the screens. You kicked your high-heeled feet up on the desk in front of you, leaning back in your seat. “Anybody got popcorn?” you yawned, preparing for the hours of work ahead of you.

***

You and the Winchester boys were beginning to go cross-eyed after searching for the monster for so long.

“Well, it looks like Mr. Okie-Dokie is… okie-dokie,” Dean commented upon seeing his eyes appear normal in the camera screens.

“Maybe we jumped the gun on this, guys,” sighed Sam. “I mean, we don't even know it's here.”

Something caught your eye. “Wait a minute.” A middle-aged man turned toward the camera, and his eyes flared. “Got him.”

“Hello, freak,” Dean growled.

Sam immediately jumped up, as did you, but Dean lingered behind. “Guys, wait!”

“What?” you and Sam spun around.

You then saw Ronald scurrying up to the door of the bank with a chain and a padlock, chaining it shut.

Dean scoffed. “Hello, Ronald.”

You immediately began running down the hall, ignoring the protesting of the soles of your feet as your heels clacked against the floor. As you approached the main lobby of the bank, you heard Ronald screaming for everyone to get on the ground. And then, gunshots.

“Fuck!” you cursed.

“And you said we shouldn't bring guns,” Dean scolded Sam, nearly bumping into someone fleeing past him.

“I didn't know this was gonna happen, Dean,” Sam replied.

“Just let me do the talking,” the older brother commanded. “I don't think he likes you very much, Agent Johnson.”

You saw Ronald standing in front of a group of people huddled together on the floor. “Now, there's only one way in or out of here, and I chained it up. So nobody's leaving, do you understand?”

Your eyes flicked to Dean concernedly as he stepped forward. “Hey, buddy. Calm down. Just calm down—”

Ronald wheeled around. “What the— You! Get on the floor, now.”

Dean began to crouch to the floor, as did you and Sam. “Okay, we're doing that. Just don't shoot anybody, especially us.”

��I knew it. As soon as you two left. You ain't FBI. Who are you? Who are you working for, huh? The men in black? You working for the Mandroid?”

“We’re not working for the Mandroid!” Sam exclaimed.

Ronald shakily aimed his gun at Sam. “You, shut up! I ain't talking to you. I don't like you.”

“Fair enough,” the brunet mumbled.

“Get on 'em. Frisk them down, make sure they got no weapons on them. Go!” Ronald commanded one of the hostages.

“Oh, hell, no, you’re not fucking touching me,” you struggled against the man as he tried to feel you up.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), stop, stop,” Sam pleaded.

You shoved the man off yourself. Your struggle was strategic, though, as it kept him from finding the knives you had planted on yourself; one in your sleeve and one alongside your thigh.

The man moved over to Dean and found a knife stashed in his boot.

“Now what have we here?” Ronald’s question was meant to sound intimidating, but his wavering voice gave him away.

Sam shot Dean a look.

“I'm not just gonna walk in here naked!” Dean hissed back.

“Get back there,” Ronald ordered. You did so, following his pointing of the gun to the group of people behind him. He dropped Dean’s knife in the deposit box, and Dean winced.

“We know you don't want to hurt anybody,” he said. “That's exactly what's gonna happen if you keep waving that cannon around, and why don't you let these people go?”

“No!” Ronald shrieked. “I already told you. If nobody's gonna stop this thing, then I've got to do it myself.”

“Hey, we believe you! That's why we're here,” Dean replied.

“You don't believe me. Nobody believes me! How could they?” he cried.

“Come here,” Dean said.

Ronald scoffed. “What? No.”

“You're holding the gun, boss; you're calling the shots. I just want to tell you something. Come here.”

Ronald approached cautiously and leaned into Dean. You assumed he was telling him who the shifter was.

“Why do you think we've got these getups, huh? We've been monitoring the cameras in the back. We saw the bank manager. We saw his eyes,” Dean whispered.

The shorter man’s eyes widened. “His laser eyes?”

“Yes.” Dean seemed to realize what he’d said. “No. No! No, look, we're running out of time, okay? We've got to find him before he changes into someone else.”

“Like I'm gonna listen to you. You're a damn liar,” Ronald grumbled.

Dean stood cautiously, hands out.

“Dean, no!” you said.

“I'll shoot you! Get down!” Ronald ordered, pointing his rifle at Dean.

“Take me. Okay? Take me with you; take me as a hostage. But we've gotta act fast , because the longer we just sit here, the more time he has to change.” Dean paused. “Look at me, man. I believe you. You're not crazy. There really is something inside this bank.”

Ronald finally nodded. “Alright, you come with me. But everyone else gets in the vault!”

You stood on shaky legs as the people around you gasped and cried. You helped Sam herd everyone into the vault, and Dean tried to calm everyone down when Ronald ordered him to shut the door.

“It's okay, everyone. Just stay cool.” He threw a lingering glance to you before locking the vault completely.

A young redhead stared after Dean. “Who is that man?” she asked breathlessly.

“He's my brother,” Sam replied; you could hear the worry in his voice.

“He is so brave,” she practically moaned.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

The redhead went silent for a few minutes, and you took some time to thoroughly think your situation over. ‘Cops are gonna be all over this place by now. Dean’s been accused of murder, and the three of us have already been arrested once. Dean’s on the FBI’s radar. Surely, after our escape on the danashulps case, the feds are on us again. Now, we’re smack dab in the middle of a full-on hostage situation. And who are they likely to blame? Us!’ Your anxiety was beginning to get away with you as your thoughts began to swirl in your head. You were then acutely aware of how hot the room was, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of your shirt to keep some circulation moving.

The woman next to you who seemed infatuated with Dean introduced herself to you.

“ ‘Scuse me, sorry. Uh, hi, I’m Sherry,” she said. “You’re, uh, with those guys, too, right?”

You nodded.

“You known them a while?”

You nodded again.

She grinned. “Oh, gosh. What’s it like being around him?”

You snorted. “ ‘Him’ who?”

“That guy! The one who saved our lives!” she beamed. “What’s he like?”

“To tell you the truth, he’s a pain in my ass most of the time,” you giggled, arms crossed over your chest.

“Oh, really?” She deflated a bit before her floaty, trancelike inflection in her voice came back. “He just… He seems so wonderful to be around. I mean, staring down that gun. And, you know, the way— he played right into that psycho's crazy head, telling him what he wanted to hear, I mean—” She trailed off, turning her attention back to you. “He's like, a real hero or, or something.” She tucked a hair behind her ear as she continued to gush.

You nodded again, feeling weirded out.

“Sorry, I just,” she sing-songed, “I’ve never met anyone like him.” She paused, seeming to consider her next question carefully. “You ever… done anything with him?”

You nearly choked at her statement, uncomfortable with the objectification of Dean. “What?”

“Y’know,” she drawled, “How good is he in the—”

You were grateful to hear the vault door unlocking, revealing Dean holding a handgun.

“Oh my god, you saved us! You saved us!” Sherry cheered.

“Actually, I just found a few more. Come on, everybody, let's go. Let's go.” Dean ushered the guard from earlier and a few other people inside the vault.

“What are you doing?” Sherry questioned.

“Sam, (Y/N), look, uh, Ronald and I need to talk to you,” Dean said.

You shot Sam a confused look, and Dean shut the vault door behind him, shrugging apologetically.

“It's shed its skin again,” Dean explained. “We don't know when— it could be in the halls, it could be in the vault.”

“Great,” you sighed. “Y’know, Dean, you are wanted by the police.”

He nodded.

Sam seemed to catch onto where you were headed with this. “So even if we do find this damn thing, how the hell are we gonna get out of here?”

“Well, one problem at a time,” the older brother replied. “Alright, I'm gonna do a sweep of the whole place; see if we can find any stragglers. Once we get everyone together we've got to play a little game of find-the-freak, so… here.” He handed Sam a silver letter opener. “Found another one of these for you. (Y/N), I know you have weapons on you. Best use ‘em.”

You grinned at how well he knew you. You slipped your silver-bladed knife out of your sleeve.

Dean turned to Sam. “Now, stay here, make sure Ronald doesn't hurt anybody, okay? Help him manage the situation.” He turned to you. “C’mon.”

Sam’s voice began rising in outrage. “Help him manage? Are you insane?”

You turned your head to Ronald who seemed shaken, attention caught by Sam’s voice.

“Look, I know this isn't going the way we wanted—”

Dean was cut off by his brother nearly shouting, “Understatement!”

“But if we invite the cops in right now, Ronald gets arrested, we get arrested, the shifter gets away, probably never find it again, okay?” Dean finished.

Ronald peered out of the window in plain view of whoever was down below. You snapped, “Ronald! Out of the light!”

Sam scoffed at his brother, “Seriously?!”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, Ron's game plan was a bad plan, I mean, it was a bit of a crazy plan, but right now, crazy's the only game in town, okay?”

Dean slapped Sam on the shoulder and grabbed your hand, bringing you along with him. ‘If only Sherry could see us now,’ you thought bitterly.

Dean looked over his shoulder at you. “What’s that face about?” he questioned.

“Nothin’,” you replied, still grinning in self-satisfaction, scanning the hallway ahead for anyone or anything.

He just hummed at you, turning his head forward again.

“I hate this case,” you whispered after a few minutes of tense walking.

“Yeah, me too,” he replied, still scanning the ceiling. He seemed to notice something, and you followed his gaze upward. A panel in the ceiling had been left askew. You eyed Dean curiously and took the gun from him, pointing it at the panel while Dean dislodged it with a coat rack from nearby. Suddenly, a naked body fell to the floor. Dean turned the body over with the end of the rack.

“Wait, Dean, wasn’t that?—”

“Yeah, I just let that guy in the vault.”

***

You and Dean hurried as inconspicuously as possible to inform Sam of what had just happened. Sam told you that man had been trying to get the front door unlocked and helping Mr. Okie-Dokie who may have been going into cardiac arrest when you and Dean found the body.

You turned to Ronald and his cocked rifle. “You know what, Ronald? He's right, we've got to get this man outside. Come on. I've got you.”

The shifter tried to help, too. “Yeah, yeah, let me help you.”

“Oh, we got him, it's, it's cool. Thanks,” you replied. You helped the guard out of the way, and Sam took the man’s other side.

“Thank you. Thank you,” the guard told you between labored breaths.

“Sure,” you smiled politely.

You could hear Dean talking to the shifter and a sudden crash behind you. You turned with the guard still on your shoulders at Ronald yelling, “Stop! Come back here!” You noticed a red laser pointed on his back, and your breath caught.

“Get down! Now!” you screamed, but you were too late.

The bullet from the sniper rifle hit Ronald squarely in the chest. You watched in horror as he fell to his knees before hitting the floor dead.

You took in a sharp breath at the sight, forcing yourself to keep your composure for the sake of everyone else in the room with you.

It was bedlam at that minute. All of the hostages began running out of the vault toward the door. You put Mr. Okie-Dokie on the ground next to you and just kept him talking until something could be done to help him. You weren’t quite sure what Sam or Dean were doing, but you made it your priority to keep this man from going into cardiac arrest.

Dean suddenly came over to you, holding a rifle.

“Dean, what are you doing?” you questioned.

“(Y/N), trust me on this—” he pleaded before helping the guard stand.

“Dean! I can help him, don’t bring him outside—”

“I’m not taking that chance, (Y/N). C’mon,” he told the guard. “I gotcha.” He held the man out in front of him and pushed him out the front door with the rifle at the guard’s back. You stayed out of the light, back pressed against the pillar next to the heavy door.

“No, don't shoot! Don't shoot! Please!” you heard the guard yell.

Dean commanded, “Don't even think about it! I said get back! Now!” He paused a moment before you heard his voice again. “Okay, go, go!” The older Winchester slipped back inside, shutting the door and latching it.

“We are so fucked,” he mumbled to you, helping you up from the floor.

“Fuck, why?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “There’s about, I don’t know, eight thousand cops out there. Helicopters and search lights and everything. We are fucked, (Y/N).”

You dropped your head back, groaning, “Great.”

Dean’s phone rang, and you assumed it was Sam. “Yeah?” he answered. “What?... God, it's like playing the shell game. It could be anybody. Again… Alright, you search every inch of this place, we’re gonna go round everybody up.” He hung up the phone.

“I think this is the most stressed I’ve been on a job,” you said as you and Dean began searching for the hostages.

“Yeah? Even more so than the demons in New York?”

“Oh, definitely. That was just a sad one; not super stressful,” you replied. You noticed a herd of people toward the end of the hall. You gripped the handle of your knife, knowing the shifter would likely be in the mix of all the hostages.

You and Dean rounded them up; Dean pointing the rifle he picked up from Ronald at the group. You guided them back to the vault.

“And I thought you were one of the good guys,” Sherry, who held up the back of the group, told Dean, who was trailing behind her.

“What's your name?” he asked.

“Why would you care?” she scoffed.

“My name's Dean,” he said. Your heart melted a bit at his gentleness with her.

She hesitated but still answered. “I'm Sherry.”

“Hi, Sherry. Everything's gonna be alright. This will all be over soon, okay?” He assured her, shutting the vault door and spinning the lock shut. The landline of the bank rang and you picked it up. You didn’t say anything when you answered the phone.

“This is Special Agent Victor Henriksen,” a commanding voice stated through the phone. “Is this Dean? Sam?”

You didn’t respond once more.

Dean mouthed to you, “Who is that?”

You shook your head, holding up a finger to gesture for him to wait.

“Oh, or is it that pretty girl? Our very own criminal Jane Doe. Some people have been calling her Ghost since no one can seem to find any record of her existence.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, but you still didn’t say anything.

“Well, whether you’ve got the Bonnie to your Clydes with you or not, it’s my job to bring you boys in. Alive's a bonus, but not necessary. I want you Winchesters out here, unarmed, or we come in.”

You still didn’t say anything.

“I know you’re still there,” he said, almost taunting. “I know everything about you two. I've been looking for you for weeks now. I know about the murder in St. Louis; I know about the Houdini act you pulled in Baltimore. I know about the desecrations and the thefts. I know about your dad.”

Dean was trying to get close to the phone, but you kept pushing him away because you knew he’d explode at the mention of his father.

“Ex-marine, raised his kids on the road,” the agent continued, “cheap motels, backwood cabins. Real paramilitary survivalist type. I just can't get a handle on what type of whacko he was. White supremacist, Timmy McVeigh, to-may-to, to-mah-to. You have one hour to make a decision, or we come through those doors fully automatic.” With that, he hung up the phone.

You slammed the phone down, cursing in frustration.

“What? Who was that?” Dean asked.

“The fucking FBI agent who’s been tailing us since Missouri,” you replied, beginning to pace anxiously. “He knows everything about you guys, man. Even about your dad. That’s why I didn’t let you talk to him; I knew you would’ve ripped his head off.”

“Damn right,” the man growled. “They have a positive ID on you yet?”

“No, actually,” you said. “Ironically, some of the feds labeled me ‘Ghost’ cause they can’t find anything on me. Which makes me even more nervous. Anyway, we’ve got an hour till they come in here and pump us full of lead,” you informed him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Moments later, Sam appeared at the entrance of the vault room.

“Hey. We've got a bit of a problem outside,” Dean said.

Sam snorted. “We got a problem in here.”

“What?” you questioned.

Sam hushed his voice. “The girl that was gushing over Dean in the vault? It’s her,” he told you.

“Who, Sherry?” you questioned.

He nodded. “Just found her body.”

Barely needing to flick a glance at the boys, you unlocked the vault.

“Sherry? We're gonna let you go,” Dean called as the door swung open.

“What? Why me?” she questioned.

“Uh, as a show of good faith to the feds, come on,” he replied.

The woman hesitated. “Uh... I think I'd— I'd rather stay here, with the others.”

Dean approached her intimidatingly. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist.”

You clutched your blade at your side. After a tense moment, she approached you. Sam and Dean pushed her back to the hallway.

“I thought you were letting me go,” the woman you thought was the shifter said.

Dean shoved her forward, holding her head and forcing her to look at the body of Sherry Sam had brought back with him. She began screaming hysterically.

“Is that community theater, or are you just naturally that good?” Dean gruffly questioned.

“This is the last time you become anybody. Ever,” Sam added.

“No! Oh god!” she cried. She fainted almost immediately.

You stared at the two Sherrys in disbelief. One of the bodies was dressed, the other, half-naked. ‘Poor lady,’ you thought. You took off your blazer and laid it over the woman’s body, trying to spare her dignity.

“Wait, why did it do that?” you questioned. You leaned over the undressed body of Sherry covered only by your blazer and put your finger on her neck, trying to find a pulse. The body immediately jolted up, grabbing you by the throat. You struggled, stabbing at it frantically. You got a lick in at its upper arm with the knife before it kneed you in the chin and bolted.

You coughed when it released your throat, clutching at your neck and coughing.

“(Y/N)!” Dean cried.

“Dean, no, I’m fine! Follow it!”

He nodded, taking your knife from your outstretched hand and running after it. You kicked off your heels and took another moment before standing and going to follow Dean. Sam had taken off somewhere with the real Sherry.

You didn’t know what else to do besides stay with the vault and Dean’s discarded handgun, prowling in front of it with the gun at the ready.

***

You had no idea how long it had been. You just continued to pace in front of the vault, tension overtaking your body and anxiety keeping your eyes flickering across the room rapidly. You suddenly heard approaching footsteps and dove on the ground behind a desk— unsure if it was Dean, Sam, the shifter, a cop— and were panicked at the sight of S.W.A.T. sniper rifle lasers and flashlights on the wall in front of you. Your breath quickened as the footsteps continued approaching you. Then, a masked man ducked under the desk in front of you.

You shrieked.

“Here’s Johnny!” he yelped.

“Dean! Fuck you!” You shoved his shoulder harshly when you recognized his face. He and Sam were donned in S.W.A.T. outfits that they had definitely taken off some poor bastards hidden in a broom closet somewhere.

“C’mon, we gotta get outta here, now,” Dean told you. You grabbed your heels and followed the boys out of the building and to the Impala. Dean and Sam had their stolen guns at the ready as you sprinted up to the third floor of the parking garage.

The three of you sat in the Impala, completely breathless, as you grappled with the reality of your situation.

“We are so fucked,” Dean murmured.

You and Sam nodded minutely.

You looked out of the window at the rising morning sun. Exhausted, you let the rumble of the Impala soothe you into a restless sleep as Dean drove you away from the bank.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural series rewrite #spn #spn series rewrite

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poorlywrittenbutentertaining · 3 months

Text

Consultant

Gibbs x Fem!oc

Warnings: light swearing, canon typical warnings

Summary: sometimes you just need a fresh set of eyes.

Gibbs leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head as he looked over the screens in front of him. He had examined and re-examined the evidence several times and yet he felt stuck. A dead Navy officer whose circumstances and crime scene pointed to murder but death implied natural causes. All roads led to a dead end. Gibbs let out a frustrated sigh and sat up, deciding a coffee would be a good way to clear his mind. He grabbed his coat and threw it over his shoulder as he exited the building. The sun felt refreshing as he walked out of the navy yard, flashing security his badge and ID as he passed.

The streets were surprisingly quiet for noon, but he couldn’t argue. After years living alone he’d come to appreciate quiet. A brief walk later and he stepped into his favorite coffee shop, the one he frequented often enough that the entire staff had memorized his order. Not that it was difficult, large black coffee, Jamaican blend. The barista behind the counter simply nodded and him and rang up the coffee as Gibbs provided his card to pay.

The bell over the door chimed behind him as a voice flooded through the small shop, “-Well I know that, but he’s not stable enough. His wound is volatile enough as is, if he leaves the hospital the risk of infection is too high… don’t tell me that, tell him that!… ugh, push 100 Ml.s until I get back and can handle this myself. Don’t let him out of your sight.” Gibbs peeked over his shoulder to see a somewhat familiar face, however she looked disgruntled and minutely irritated. He stepped out of the way as he listened to her order. Her drink order was complex and (he assumed) would be very very sweet by the end.

“Lotta sugar for a doctor to be drinking,” Gibbs said casually. The girl looked over at him and he managed a half smile, “Dr. Wright.”

Elaine’s face broke out into a wide grin as she turned to him, still dressed in her work scrubs, her badge clipped to her lapel. On her lunch break, he assumed.

“Agent Gibbs,” her voice was surprised, but pleasant, “I don’t think you should come after my sugar consumption. I’ve heard just how high your caffeine intake is.”

Gibbs chuckled, “fair enough. Tough patient?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Elaine stood next to him, “tough case?”

Gibbs nodded and mimicked her words, “yeah… you could say that.” He looked down at her. Her flaming red curls were stuffed into a tight bun on the back of her head. A few stray curls bounced around her head, free from the elastics holding everything else in place.

“Tell me about it,” Elaine glanced up at him, “Consider me a… consultant. Y’know like those psychics on TV.”

“Are you a psychic, Elaine?” Gibbs asked.

“No, but I’m a doctor,” Elaine said, “and a little birdie told me that cause of death looks natural, but you’re investigating murder. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes is what you need?”

Gibbs stopped a moment and considered. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes was what he needed. Ducky had gone over the body several times and all of the evidence had been scoured for forensics. A different perspective could be enlightening.

“Gibbs!” The barista called. Gibbs grabbed his coffee and took a sip.

“You free today?” Gibbs asked.

“For the case? Or… something else?” Elaine cheekily smiled. Gibbs rolled his eyes. Elaine laughed, “What time do you want me there?

“1700 hours,” Gibbs said.

“Copy that, gunny.”

~~~

The elevator dinged and Elaine ran her hands down the front of her shirt, smoothing it out after taking a deep breath. The last time she was here, she had held a bomb for four hours, and then developed a slight crush on the leading investigator, who also happened to be her godfather’s best friend. She had woken up in his home, after receiving a serious concussion where he had monitored her for the full day.

Elaine had changed out of her scrubs into more office-appropriate attire. As the elevator doors slowly opened in front of her she was greeted by the familiar sight of the orange squad room. She stepped out and quickly made her way to the bullpen.

“Dr. Wright,” DiNozzo stood and moved to her side, “how can I help you?”

“I’m looking for agent Gibbs, he asked me to be here.”

“For what?”

“Elaine,” Gibbs rounded the dividers. Elaine smiled and walked to him, “with me.”

“Yes, sir,” Elaine fell into step with him as he guided her to the second elevator, “so read me in.”

“Navy officer, 35, house was trashed and raided, there was a significant amount of deer blood on the body but when the body was examined, all roads lead to a heart attack,” Gibbs said, “but the officer was perfectly healthy when we pulled his medical records.”

“Huh,” Elaine rolled her lips, “I might have an idea.”

When the elevator opened Elaine was greeted by the sight of a serile autopsy room, and her godfather.

“Hello dear,” Ducky smiled and walked over to her, embracing her tight.

“Hi dad,” Elaine smiled and returned the hug, “i’m here as a fresh pair of eyes.”

“Yes Jethro told me,” Ducky pulled away and retrieved her a fresh set of protective equipment, “our dear officer is right here.” Elaine pulled the PPE over her clothing and approached the body. He looked healthy, for a dead guy who had been autopsied. Nothing immediately struck her as strange. Elaine rolled the body’s arm out and inspected its veins.

“Did this man go to the hospital before he died?” elaine asked, grabbing a magnifying glass to zoom the area.

“No,” Ducky said. Elaine pulled away from the glass, and showed Ducky. He hummed, “Looks like an IV. But there were no drugs in his blood.”

“No, there wasnt,” Elaine said, “They didnt inject medication. They injected air. Of course you wouldn’t see it on a tox screen. An injection of air can cause what looks like a heart attack. The air bubbles block the flow of blood, it’s the reason we watch so close for air bubbles in shots, and IV drips.”

It was that moment that Gibbs realized just how smart this woman was, “The injection was professional. Straight into the vein. You’re looking for someone who works in a hospital or medical testing lab. A phlebotomist maybe, or a nurse.”

A nurse, that was it. Gibbs nodded and began walking off.

“Say thank you, Jethro!” Ducky called. Gibbs halted and turned, approaching Elaine as she took her gloves off with her back turned to him. When she turned she froze to see he was mere inches from her. She looked up at him with a small blush dusting her cheeks.

“Good work, doctor,” Gibbs’ voice was low. Elaine swallowed and smiled at him.

“Told you, you needed fresh eyes,” She smiled slightly. Gibbs turned and walked away and Elaine took a deep breath, leaning against the sinks.

“You’re swooning, Elaine,” Ducky said. Elaine laughed slightly.

“That man is worth swooning for,” She answered.

#fanfic #gibbs #gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #ncis fanfiction #ncis gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs x reader

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mazikeenhyde · 13 days

Text

Oh Baby, Pain is Pleasure FINALE - Part 1

I have had to split the Finale into two parts as it was just getting too long to post altogether, and I enjoy making you all wait….

POLY JUDGMENT DAY X READER (WRESTLER)

Y/W/N – Your Wrestling Name

Y/W/N/F – Your Wrestling Name Finisher

WARNING – THESE WARNINGS COVER ALL PARTS OF THIS FICTION/ IMAGINE STORY- THEY MAY NOT BE SPECIFIC TO THIS PARTICULAR PART! -

SERIOUS SMUT, GIRL X GIRL, MAN X MAN, POLY RELATIONSHIPS/SEXUAL, BDSM, BLOOD, PANIC ATTACKS, SPANKING, VIOLENT REFRENCES, INJURY, ABUSE (CONSENTUAL) CHEATING, STALKERS/ STALKING, SMOKING/ CIGARETTES

Part 1 Word Count - 4.5k (Hence why its in 2 parts!)

Tag List - @babybatlover @p0is0nl0ve @babiidee28 @darlingnikkisixx @commandershepardofthedas gooses-pond rhiamaymay scaraskzzs (SORRY IF I MISSED ANYONE, IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED OR I MISSED YOU LET ME KNOW BELOW)

Oh Baby…Pain is Pleasure – Finale Part 1

The stadium erupted into an overwhelming flood of cheering and chants from the many thousands of fans surrounding the ring. The barricades holding them back shook as they lept to their feet, signs which had been discarded in the air from excitement now lay on the floor amongst hundreds of sets of trainers, boots, high heels and the younger bare footed audience members. The once loved handmade card treasures, plastered with slogans and beloved wrestler’s names now trampled upon by wet footprints and washed out by the rain.

The thunderstorm was now in full force, rain hammered down into the arena as thunder shook throughout, echoing inside that hellish cage. All hell had broken out inside the ring with every member from the opposing families in an absolute free for all brawl out with each other.

Damian had Rowan up against the ring post as the two continued to trade blows with each other, their faces both semi blinded by the rain and fuelled with an anger which bestowed a look of utter discontent for any form of peace. These men were in it for pride, for love and for honour. Damian, who had now got one up and over a certain ramblin rabbit had climbed onto the second rope, pinning Erik against the post as he continued to hammer blow after blow to the head of the monstrous man.

Finn and Dexter had somehow made their way out of the ring and into the gap between the steel framed cage as each of them were scrambling to pin the other one down long enough to secure any kind of balance. Dexter, who had made it back to his feet, grabbed Finn by the trouser cuff and launched him back into the ring whilst Dominik and Huskus were fighting tooth and nail across the mat, exchanging blows, kicks and punches. Again, neither one had quite managed to one up the other in such a well-balanced fight until I had run past in an effort to lock back up with Uncle Howdy, kneeing Huskus in the face and allowing Dominik to climb on top of him.

Rhea and Abby meanwhile were tearing each other apart, feral and fearless as neither woman would let up or give in to their pain.

With no referee inside and not one person willing to step back in line, it hadn’t taken long for management to act accordingly. Because if this war was ever going to settled, and they knew it needed to be, some form of control needed to be restored.

The lighting colour scheme was quick to change, black and green lights flashed up across all the LED boards, glowing lettering plastered across each barricade…

‘ITS TIME TO PLAY THE GAME!!!’

Smoke bellowed through the doorways and down the entrance ramp as Triple H made his way into centre stage, shouting at the top of his lungs in an attempt to bring about some order of control.

“ENOUGH!!!!” Paul’s voice was loud with a strong sense of authority, demanding his entitlement for respect.

“CUT THE MUSIC! CUT THE LIGHTS! CUT THE GOD DAMN DRAMA FOR A MOMENT AND LISTENNN!!!!”

The audience’s heads turned between the stage and then back to ring as not one person stopped fighting and not one person from either side of the battle was willing to listen or stand down.

“STOP!!!!” He screamed out again before his voice shallowed out, trying to control the fury that was making his blood boil. His emphasis on specific words made his statements land in the dark parts of the soul that could recognise fear… and when someone meant every word they said.

“The next PERSON to move from where they are standing! The next PERSON to throw a punch or lay their HANDS on another will be SUSPENDED!”

We all froze, eyes deadlocked onto each other, with barley the ability or willingness to blink, body parts shaking in anger and fury as we all listened for the next ‘commandment’. Rhea’s hand was wrapped tightly around Abby the witch’s neck with her opposing fist raised in the air, while the witch’s knee was inches from being lodged into Ripley’s rib cage.

Damian and Finn were being held against adjoining ropes by Dexter and Rowan as the two monsters had only just gotten the advantage before Triple H had come out to ruin our revenge.

Dominik and Husk had managed to brawl and in turn fall out of the ring to the floor, they were now trapped in between the gap of the cage and the ring post like Finn had been before with Dex, exchanging blows to each other before the interruption. Dom’s hand now pushing Husk’s face further into the ground as he allowed his body weight to ease onto him, building pressure. That clever boy knew he had him pinned and that he wasn’t going to be able move anytime soon. He smirked down to the feeble weakling under his grasp, enjoying the dominance he rarely got to feel.

Meanwhile I had already retrieved a beloved Kendo stick that had been secured above from the top of the cage and I had climbed my way back to the top of the ring post, gripping the top of the frame while howdy had been in pursuit. I was ready to use an aerial advantage and take this fucker out but after stopping my grip on the steel frame was starting to slip out from underneath me. My desire to drive the weapon straight across the back of Uncle Howdy felt like a dream come true. Shame I hadn’t been able to finish the job…yet.

“Back. Away. From. Each. Other” Triple H’s words were blunt and begrudgingly we did as we were told, though admittedly I was relieved to finally let go of the cage that I had been slipping out from. Damian and Finn squared up to Rowan & Dexter as they were released from their grasp before making their way over to our side of the ring.

Rhea had released Abby and tossed her to the side before reaching down to offer a hand to Dominik and help him back into the ring, though the boy wasn’t quite ready to allow Huskus back to his feet. But he did eventually do as he was told after Rhea gave him one of her stern looks and upon doing as he was told, a sultry wink after as a reward. She leaned into his ear, covering her lips and whispered…

“Enjoying being the dominant one I see Dom Dom, you make Mami very… very proud”

Dominik grinned, licking his teeth and wiping the blood away from a busted lip before placing a hand over his crotch, jiggling around his package to try and calm down the ever-growing tension between his legs.

I however, standing strong, stood face to face with the prick before me. Uncle Howdy looked down at me, his height towered mine to a degree and his demeanour was infuriating. It felt like he genuinely believed he was better than all those around him, as if he was far better than I could ever be. He laughed as he stepped to the side and returned back to his family with open arms. Their celebrations glinted at the idea they had won the first battle, like they had gotten one over on us. It felt almost rude, it felt offensive to see him walk away from me, and it made my blood boil, my skin began to heat up, my heat raced, so I spun around on the spot to react the only way I knew how, with violence! But a strong set of arms wrapped around me before I could take another step forward and pulled me back, whispering in my ear.

“Easy baby, easy” Rhea’s breath was warm, I could smell the sweat on her tattooed skin, the blood from scrapes and scratches from the pre-war fight. Her scent radiated throughout my senses, and it was addictive. Goosebumps took over my entire skin as she pulled me back in line with the others, still keeping her grip tight across my body as we now stood together. The Judgment Day vs The Wyatt Sicks.

“I feel like there must be some… confusion in the air? There must be some misunderstanding between you all as to who is in charge around here? Some people clearly don’t understand their role in this company. Some people… seem to believe they have the… Authority? To do as they please…when in fact they don’t have any. You all have decided to start a war that, whether you like it or not, is NOT going to end the way YOU ALL want it to” Paul’s voice was clear and precise, but he sounded calm, and that was the most concerning part… Until he wasn’t.

“Your roles within this company are clear, they are set out. You do as you are told; you go where I tell you to go. You behave like the good little puppets on a string you were designed for, and you DO NOT DISOBEY”

Each of us turned for a moment to face Triple H, breaking the death glares we had locked on to our opponents. A sense of concern and confusion as to what Paul was going to do next hung in the air, all I wanted was to get my hands back on Howdy, claim my championship and go home to rather unwholesomely fuck my lovers into next week.

“This war will be fought, and this war will end here at WrestleMania…” Triple H turned to the crowd as they all began to cheer and chant. “But… Y/N, you will not be in this cage, you will not be a part of it”

My Heart ran cold as I threw Rheas hands off me and raced toward the front of the cage in shock, gripping onto the steel frame. The rest of Judgment days reactions, very similar to my own followed behind me as the Wyatts laughed hysterically behind us. We all began shouting our frustrations towards Paul, questioning what possible reason he had to kick me out of this Championship match I had trained so long for, worked so hard to get to?!

Triple H raised his hand up to silence us and the crowd as the entire arena chimed in with the deafening booing and shouts of discontent.

“SILENCE!” Paul demanded, turning his attention back to my direction.

“Because…y/n… “ Paul smirked before raising the Women’s World Championship up from behind him, having secured it from a security guard to his right.

“As Dakota Kai has now retired injured… YOU, will instead be fighting for THIS, against Abby the Witch, in an adjoining cage. I am declaring RIGHT NOW, that this match, is a Ten Man-Grand Slam all in one, no disqualifications, no count out, no holds barred, all is fair in love and war double caged firefly street fight. Abby the Witch & Y/W/N will be locked inside one cage, whilst Rhea, Damian, Dominik and Finn will be locked in the other with Erik Rowan, Dexter Lumis, Joe Gacy and Uncle Howdy. This match will run for 1 hour and to secure victory Y/W/N, Abby, you must PIN your opponent. Your families in the opposing cage must also pin their opponents one by one to secure victory. Once pinned, you will be removed. Once the championship has been claimed, once one team comes out on top over the other, only then will this war end. Now, if the hour runs out and the championship has not been claimed, you forfeit your right to it. No arguments, no complaints, those are the rules. Suck it up and move on. I am the puppet master, I am the boss, I am THE AUTHORITY!” Triple H commanded to us all.

“Now a referee will now come down and unlock the cage. You will all return backstage, the battle commences in 20 minutes… Good Luck.” With the rain now finally clearing, Triple H bowed his head and looked up to the heavens, in respect for the loss of Bray Wyatt before moving to exit the stage.

The lighting returned to normal, and the standard WrestleMania music played out as we began to exit the ring one by one, security keeping a lengthy distance between the Wyatts and the Judgment Day. Fans desperate to get their favourites attention were scrambling over the barricades, leaning their body weights over in an attempt for a high five, but we were all far too distracted.

Suddenly, Uncle Howdy halted and turned on his heels grabbing a microphone and smirking down at us from the other end of the ramp.

“Y/N, I do wish you the very best of luck, you know as well as I… I am just the ghost of the man who saved this world but, who are you? You cannot hide from it; you cannot hide from me? The truth will set you free y/n…did you tell them?” Howdy’s words were playful and taunting as he pointed to each of my lovers standing just behind me.

“I told them! I told them everything!!!” I screamed back up at Howdy.

He chuckled and turned his back on me, whispering into the microphone before disappearing backstage, “but did you tell, the world?”

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

THE JUDGMENT DAY CLUBHOUSE

Swinging the door open I rushed through and began pacing the centre of the room, nervous, anxious and fearful of what could happen if the world ever found out about my past.

Social media had gone crazy, fans and viewers speculating and debating over whether this had become the greatest WrestleMania of all time, whether Abby the Witch or Y/W/N would become the new Women’s World Champion, how brilliant it was that Rhea would be fighting against a team of all men and that they knew she would beat their asses. But alongside all this there was also the debates over what my secrets were, how they could find out, and with these debates’ rumours had started to spread, like wildfire. Unbeknown to me, Liv Morgan was backstage hiding out, and she was fuelling that fire.

I was in full panic mode as the others also piled in through the door, Finn entering last locked the door behind him and turned to face me. He took a brisk walk forward before grabbing me by my shoulders and slapping me straight across the face to break my panic. I stood in shock, as did the others, what the actual fuck was he playing at.

Then, not more than a second later he pulled me in tight, wrapping his hands around my face, my neck, then one hand on my back as he locked his lips in against mine. A full make out session had my hormones come flooding in and my body temperature spiked. My inner core heating up as I felt an all too familiar tingle rise up between my legs. Finn pulled himself off me for a second and looked me dead in the eyes.

“We are going to win this war y/n. You will become champion. There will be absolutely no distractions in that ring, do you hear me!” His Irish accent purred across each syllable, even if he meant to be stern it just sounded beyond sexy to me. I nodded in response to his questions.

“Good. Because no distractions works both ways and you being in this new gear well, it reminded me that I have been waiting to fuck you for far too long.” The other members of Judgment Day nodded in agreement, Rhea ran her tounge along her teeth, her tounge piercing clinking across each tooth. She turned to Damian who was smirking down at her. Dominik stood running his hand across a growing bulge in his tight black and white printed leggings and watched as Finn tugged at my black and pink leather strapped top, locking his lips back onto mine as he pushed me back onto the wall. His hand quick to prevent my head from hitting the wall before kneeling down and throwing my left leg over his shoulder, Finn began planting kisses up my inner thigh towards my panties, the heartbeat inside growing stronger with every inch he covered.

I reached out and motioned a grabby hand towards Dominick who didn’t hesitate to race forward and takeover where Finns lips had been. Our tongue’s entwined in a deep desperation for each other as his hands began exploring over my chest, pulling down the front of my top to expose one of my breasts. Dom twisted and tugged at my nipple as Rhea came over to join, swiftly followed by Damian.

She turned his hips, so his back was against the wall as Dom and I continued to kiss and Rhea pulled down on his pants, exposing his dick to the cold air. It bounced for a moment in its solid form but before it could react to the fresh air she began running her tounge along it and took it in its whole form to the back of her throat. Beginning to bob her head up and down Dominik’s knees became weak and Finn grabbed onto one of his thighs to support him, pressing him back against the wall.

Finn tugged at my wrestling gear shorts, knowing full well time was not on our side to be able to fully undress. Instead, he tugged at the fabric pulling it to the side, exposing the mini black laced thong I had worn, hoping to finish off a championship winning night with a trip to our sex pit of a bedroom back home.

Finns warm tounge moved its way up between my folds, the man clearly enjoying the fact I was already soaked down there as he began playing with my clit, his tounge reaching its peak before motioning backwards and repeating the movement over and over. My breath hitched in my throat as I broke the kiss off from Dominik, riding out the pleasure of my Irish lover between my thighs, desperate moans escaped my lips which only drove him to speed up.

Damian reached out both his strong arms and positioned himself between me and Dominik, his strong legs fitting in the gap between Rhea & Finn who were both on their knees already, busy enjoying themselves. Lowering his black ripped jeans Damian took our hands and placed them on his dick as he leant back to the wall, exchanging make out sessions between myself and Dom as we both tugged, rubbed and fondled his cock together. Damian’s cock was something to behold, the sheer size and girth that man wielded made anyone’s insides turn to jelly. To this day I still say a prayer and thank the sex lords from above and below that I get to call him mine.

It wasn’t long before the knot in between my stomach began to build, and my thighs began to shake as Finn bought me towards my climax. My grip on Damian loosening and Dom now taking over in full as Finn pinned both my wrists against the wall by my sides. His grip so tight on me small bruises had begun to form, but this only drove my inner sex goddess wild as she was dancing in the awash of my orgasm as Finn drove his fingers deep inside me, pounding three at a time with the inward curl that drove every inch of my body crazy, while his tounge punished my clit.

“Oh shi..Oh sh..Finn, Finn, shh…shhii” My words were loud and broken as I took quick rapid deep breaths, riding out an all-time high that I had waited so long for it seemed like my body wasn’t quite ready for this flood of pure hormonal ecstasy.

Rhea, Damian and Dominik all turned their heads to watch as I reached my orgasm, face fully flushed and legs trembling. Dominick followed quickly behind as my summit had driven Rhea to a desperation of her own and a few deep throated swallows later saw her lapping up the delicious cum shot Dom had gracefully given her.

Finn was quick to drop my leg and rush to his feet, taking a fist full of my hair and dragging me over to the arm of the sofa. He threw me across and pulled at my hips raising my arse higher in the air for a better access point. He was quick to lower his wrestling gear leggings too as he didn’t hesitate to forcefully ram his rock-solid cock deep inside me, I was now wet enough he could easily bury himself. He began thrusting aggressively, pounding his cock deep inside of me as Damian ditched his hand job from Dominik, planting a final kiss on the boy’s lips and then moved to position himself in front of me, opening my mouth and easing in his cock to touch my tonsils.

Surprisingly, something had clicked inside of Dom who had pulled Rhea up to her feet and had attempted to throw her over the foldup chair in the corner of the room, not far from where Finn and Damian were fucking me front to back. Rhea had smirked at his attempt and wagged her finger in his face before pulling him into a deep kiss and whispering in his ear, “Aye Papi, look at you being the dominant one.” She smirked and winked before finishing her sentence; “Beg me baby boy”.

Dom grinned and got down on one knee, peppering her thigh with sweet intensive kisses as he began his pleas. Taking a handful of his hair she pulled the boy up to his feet and walked them both over, kicking the stool over and having Dom take a seat. Then Rhea placed one hand on Damian’s shoulder and had him remove his cock from my mouth before Rhea climbed on the sofa cushion in front of me and pulled me into a deep sensual kiss. Damian didn’t hesitate to lower Rheas black leather gear shorts and bury his cock inside of her.

Dominick sat watching his four partners in front of him, his two girls being fucked intensely by his two dominant daddies. His dick was quick to harden up again as he reached a hand inside his crotch and palmed at himself, ever so loving the view.

Between the four of us our moans and groans were loud, desperate and full of passion. They echoed throughout our clubhouse, through the hallways and out of the locker room. It was obvious to passersby what was going on, but no one dared comment. It had become common knowledge regarding the relationship between us all, whether people agreed or not, they were instinctively too afraid of Rhea, Damian and Finn to dare comment.

Both men now thrusting in unison, groaned deeply and reached out mirroring each other, taking a handful of their girl’s hair to arch our backs as they reached their penultimate high. A warm sensation filling our cores before releasing their grip on our hair and letting us go. A hard slap on my ass from Finn gave me the go ahead to stand up, Damian knew better with Rhea and stepped back allowing Mami to return to her feet on her own accord.

“Fuck...” I said, turning my head and stretching out my back as I looked in the mirror to see my now full after sex appearance before noticing the clock which stated we had less than 5 minutes until we needed to be at gorilla.

“Oh Fuck! Shit, look at me!” I stated trying not to laugh, Rhea was quick to grab my hand and pull me over to the dressing table stationed in the corner where she was fast in fixing my make-up, followed by her own.

The boys all took a seat on the couch, fist bumping each other for a ‘job well done’ while we girls just laughed.

Once Rhea had given me the all clear I stood up and began stretching out my arms and neck, readjusting my gear and doing all the final checks.

“Hermosa, I would have thought Finn had stretched you out enough already, no?” Damian chuckled as Finn looked up and winked in my direction, biting his tounge.

“Very funny…” I said, looking over to them as we all began to make our way out of the clubhouse.

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

We briskly raced our way to Gorilla, as each member of the judgment day walked behind me, psyching up for the match ahead. One way or another, I would be walking out of WrestleMania as the new women’s world champion! They all believed in me, heck I believed in me, and I knew I could do this.

But it was short lived as when we reached the backstage section with the rest of production team, everyone seemed to be looking over in hushed voices or concerned looks.

Pushing past them all I followed behind Rhea and Damian, holding on tight to Dominik’s hand as Finn closed in behind us. Security were quick to cut us off as they blocked the entrance to the ramp.

“What the hell? What’s going on?!” Damian was furious at their actions as he came face to face with one of the security guards, Rhea in a stand-off with the other.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on…” Hunters voice boomed out from behind us as we all turned, Finn now leading our group as my grip on Dom’s hands became tighter with anxiety and he pulled me in close to his side. Behind him, lurked Liv Morgan who was wearing a devilish grin.

“You four…” Hunter pointed to Rhea, Damian, Dominik and Finn, “are late, get to the ring now! The match is starting in less than one minute! Liv Morgan will be joining you; she will go 1-1 against Abby the Witch for the Women’s world championship”.

“The Fuck man?!” Rhea shouted, pushing Dom, Myself and Finn out of the way. She stood head on from Hunter, the fire in her eyes burnt with fury.

“The Hell she will!” Damian’s voice was loud as his voice filled the room. Finn stood staring down the boss in front of him. Triple H held up a hand in Rhea’s face, his persona calm and collected as he turned to face me, smiling.

“And you y/w/n ...........”

His words were blunt, cold and full of the authority he loved to push in everyone’s faces.

...

“You're fired.”

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alice-after-dark · 2 months

Text

Wavelength

Inspired by this art from @hiemaldesirae, this art from @ectochoir, and this post by @liulith

Might become an AU or a fic but this is such a fun concept

TW for mild blood and gore.

Vox first starts noticing something is wrong when he begins losing chunks of time.

It's little moments at first. A conversation here and there. Then entire meetings, movie nights, dates. A whole afternoon just...gone.

He chalks it up to exhaustion. Velvette is always saying he's overworking himself. That's it. That's all it is. He just needs to take care of himself a bit better and he'll be fine.

Vox really begins to worry when he wakes up on the floor of his bathroom covered in blood.

He can taste it in his mouth, the flesh in his teeth. He doesn't recognize the Sinner's corpse in the bathtub, flayed open and organs gone. He throws up.

The security footage is clear. He watches himself leave the tower, leaping into the power lines from the privacy of his bedroom. Hours pass before he finally returns, dragging the corpse along behind him as he heads towards the bathroom.

He remembers none of it.

It takes him the rest of the night to clean up the mess. He can't risk anyone seeing. This would destroy his image. How can the people trust someone who just plucks Sinners off the street for a midnight snack?

He disposes of the corpse and his ruined clothes. How would he explain this to Val and Vel? He can't. He can't explain any of it.

Things come to a head when he almost kills a Sinner on live television.

It's his usual talk show. He's interviewing an actor about his latest movie (produced by VoxTek, of course) when he hears it, like static in his mind.

Kill him

He shakes it off and continues the interview, ignoring the way his heart beat kicks up a notch.

Kill him

The stage lights seem so bright, so hot. They're blinding.

Kill him

He can hear the rush of blood through the actor's veins, see the pulse of his jugular. His claws twitch. He wants to rip it out.

KILL HIM

The actor is still speaking, but Vox can't make out what he's saying anymore. His head is filled with static and the sound of rushing blood-

Ǩ̶̨̮̾͠I̷̧̩̋̂͋Ḽ̴̀L̵͎͇̟̔͝ ̷͙̯͝H̶̫̤̿͂I̷̭͚̎͌̕Ḿ̶̤̑

Vox runs off the set without explanation. He cuts the broadcast remotely and does not stop moving until he reaches him dressing room. He slams the door. His heart is pounding. He is shaking. Sparks crackle around him wildly and he struggles to reign them in. Someone is pounding on the door. Velvette is shouting his name. He presses his hands over his receivers.

"Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!"

And everything goes silent.

When Vox opens his eyes again, darkness has descended upon his dressing room, the LEDs around the mirror flickering. And from the darkest corner of the room, a figure emerges. Vox glares.

"You."

"Good evening, darling!" Alastor cackles. "How is your broadcast going?"

Vox staggers to his feet. "What the fuck do you want?! How did you even get in here?"

Alastor's answering grin sends an icy chill down Vox's spine. "Why, you let me in."

"Bullshit! Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Look for yourself."

Vox does, mentally searching out every camera feed for what the Radio Demon might be talking about...and he finds it. Wide-eyed, he watches his own image enter the security office, slitting the guard's throat and tapping a few keys on the blood-splattered keyboard. He recognizes the motion enough to know it's the access code and within seconds, the V Tower is completely exposed. Vox kills the feed and looks at Alastor is shock.

"I told you," the deer says.

Vox shakes his head. "How, I...I don't remember doing that! Why would I do that?!"

"Because I wanted you to. Just like I wanted you to kill that Sinner you found in your bathtub. The actor...while annoying, I didn't truly want you to kill him. No. What I really wanted was to get you alone."

There a rush of static again and Vox's jaw snaps shut, body rigid. He can't move. He can't speak. Panic floods him. Alastor steps closer.

"I've been controlling you for weeks now. It's a splendid little trick, don't you think?" He points to the floor with his cane and Vox kneels. The microphone tips up his screen. "Imagine what I can make you do. Though you don't really have to, do you? I think I made the...possibilities very clear tonight. Of course, we could always make a deal."

Vox feels his jaw come free and he stares up at Alastor's Cheshire smile.

"You want my soul."

"Ah, so there is a brain in that flat head of yours! Marvelous! That will make this all so much easier." Alastor twirls his cane, grinning down at Vox. "So here's the deal: you can either sign your soul over to me or watch as I slowly drive your empire into ruin. I'll even leave you the souls you've collected. You can maintain your Overlord status. No one needs to know about any of this. You come when I call you. You leave when I dismiss you. You follow my commands. So..." Vox feels the control lift completely. "D̴̪͈̃o̷̹̜̎̓͘ ̸͇͙̒̌w̸͕̹̐͘e̵͈͙͆͌͝ ̸̪̜͆h̵͎̫͒á̷̠̂͆v̷͍͒̀e̴̋ͅ ̶̬́ā̸͔̻̉̈́ ̷̤̾͛̓d̴͈͖̈́̈́͝ê̵̗̈́̕a̸͈͚͉̋l̷̜͈̭̈?̶̝́̄"

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin alastor #radiostatic #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #alice rambles

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suugarbabe · 11 months

Text

[Chapter 3]

Word count: ~3.3k

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence

You grasped at the object your arm was slung around, expecting the warmth and hardness of Mattheo’s chest. Instead you grasped onto the silk of a pillowcase. Your eyes slowly fluttered opened, your mind trying to organize your thoughts and figure out if last night really happened or not.

Laying your head on the pillow in your grasp, you were hit with the unmistakable scent of Mattheo. The mix of sandalwood and amber mixed with fire whiskey and smoke flooded your senses. You tried to remember the feeling of his arms wrapped around you as you drifted off into your first peaceful sleep in months, but all you could remember was the light ghosting of his fingertips on your skin.

You sat up in bed, taking in the room around you again. Beyond his scent on your pillow, there was no trace of Mattheo in your room whatsoever. Climbing down from the bed you walked over to your barren closet, choosing something simple for the day before you decided to explore the manor. Grabbing your tea from Gimball from the nightstand, you slid your feet into your slippers and headed towards the door. You’d have to ask Gimball for his tea recipe, it was perfect.

Stepping in to the hall you take notice of how much more elegant the hall looks with the sunlight peeking in. You stared at the double doors next to yours, wondering if Mattheo was inside, wondering what time he left you alone in your bed. Did he wait until you were just asleep? Did he stay there and hold you for hours before finally retreating to his own room, or did he leave in the morning just before you woke? Your hand hovered above the door knob, contemplating the risks and rewards of trying to enter Mattheo’s room.

“He’s not here,” Pansy’s voice cut through your internal thoughts, making you whip around and grab your mug with both hands. “Oh, erm, yeah, that’s fine. I was just, ehm, where is he, do you know?” Pansy narrowed her eyes, walking towards you with her arms crossed, “He and Enzo left pretty early this morning on…business.” You sipped your tea, responding with a short hum, “Mattheo said you would give me a tour of the manor today?”

Pansy nodded, turning towards the stairs, “Yes, and we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, so do try and keep up.” She started quickly down the stairs, you hustling behind her. Pansy led you down the stair case and through a set of double doors, “This is the kitchen, I don’t really know why you’d need to come down here as Gimball will bring you anything and everything you need with just a simple call and ask.” You nodded, setting your mug in the sink as you passed by.

Passing through the same doors Pansy turned down a new hall, similarly looking to the one upstairs with all of the bedrooms, “Down this hall is the security room, if you’re ever looking for Blaise or Theo they’ll likely be holed up in here doing work. This door is Draco’s office, don’t go in there unless you want a fight,” Pansy eyed you over her shoulder, “which you might want, but just be careful. Remember he’s on the team for a reason, not just because he and Mattheo are family.”

Pansy stopped at a set of double doors at the end of the hall, “These doors-” You cut her off, finishing her sentence, “lead to Mattheo’s office. The man really loves french doors, doesn’t he?” Pansy shrugged her shoulders, “What can I say, the man loves a grand entrance.” You laughed, easily agreeing with the statement.

You were led further to the outside of the house, presented with a larger in ground pool the size of a tennis court. Beyond the pool Pansy showed you the vineyard, thanks to Theo’s family, and the large and expansive garden. She led you to the front entrance of the garden, telling you of all the different flowers and plants that were growing inside, “We basically have the garden enchanted like a greenhouse, allowing us access to essentially any ingredients we would need for any potion we would need. Would you believe me if I told you the one we make the most are healing concoctions.”

A light laugh escaped your lips, “Surprisingly yes, I do believe that.” You walked side by side back towards the manor, you gnawing at your lip deciding if you should ask the question that was beating at your brain. You couldn’t see it but Pansy was smirking, “Ask your question, I can tell you’re dying to.” You let out a huff, “Am I that easy to read? Mattheo certainly won’t like that.”

Pansy’s eyes sparkled with something you couldn’t quite read, “I’m sure he likes you just fine.” You opened your mouth to protest when she cut you off, “Question, Birdie, what was it?” You frowned slightly, “Everyone just going to call me Birdie now instead of my real name? You know what, whatever. Right, so this morning you said Mattheo and Enzo left on business.” Pansy nodded, confirming she was on track with you so far, “I was just wondering…what exactly is the business. Unless they’re doing club business early in the morning.”

The smirk on Pansy’s face was telling, but you weren’t exactly sure what it was telling you. “You’re a smart witch, I’m sure you’ve gathered that there’s more than just the club when it comes to business with these boys.” You nodded, following Pansy back into the manner and towards the foyer. “Grab my arm, Birdie.” You did as told, then were instantly transported to what looked like a muggle artillery room.

“Wha-Where are we?” Pansy simply smirked, walking towards the glass door in front of you, “Believe it or not were right below the foyer. Only way to get here is through apparition and only the six of us- well I guess seven now - have the ability to do so. Theo looks daft but he’s actually fantastic as protection spells.”

Reaching her hand as far as it would go, then dragging her finger all the way down the glass. As she did so, you noticed a series of different light charges shift within the door frame before hearing a clicking sound, signifying an unlocking. “This,” Pansy opened the door, signaling for you to follow her, “is your first glimpse into the business.”

You marveled at the room around you, never seeing muggle weapons in person. They were shinier than you expected, in an array of grays, silvers and blacks. You were surprised at all the different shapes and sizes they seemed to come in, confused further why a band of wizards would see a purpose in them. “Muggle weapons are the business? That doesn’t make any sense, Pans.”

The black haired girl simply shook her head, “Weapons are the way in to the bigger picture, Birdie.” You walked up to a wall fingers dancing over what looked like a long black gun with an attached barrel to the end, “Which is what?” Pansy walked up behind you, “Power. Mattheo is building an empire, love. Not just in the wizarding world, but the muggle one as well. If there’s ever another war, he doesn’t want to make the same mistakes that his father did.”

The last sentence gave you the little bit of detail to connect the dots that you needed to better understand Mattheo and his ways, his demeanor. You felt stupid for not making the connection earlier, but you blamed Mattheo and his charm for distracting you from thinking clearly. “Mattheo is Voldemort’s son,” it left your lips in almost a whisper. Pansy nodded, “I wouldn’t bring it up, though. He’s got quite a distaste for his father. But you can’t blame him. Not after how he grew up, everything he had to deal with.”

You turned to Pansy, “How does no one know that Voldemort had a son?” Pansy held out her arm, you took it without hesitation. In a whirl you were back in the foyer, following Pansy to the sitting room watching as she collapsed on one of the couches by the fireplace. You gave her an incredulous look. She huffed, sitting up straighter and rolling her eyes, “If you sit, Birdie, I’ll tell you, but not everything. That’s for Mattheo to do. If he wants to.”

You sat on the couch across from her, not being able to help but sink into the plush cushions and relaxing slightly. Pansy let out a long sigh before starting, “Mattheo hides his past very well, better than you even and you seem like almost an expert at it. Mattheo didn’t attend school with the rest of us, his mother choosing to homeschool him, teaching him what she thought was important and what he would need to be a real leader. Guess she was right about that part.”

“How are he and Draco related? I know that the Malfoy’s were loyal death eaters but I didn’t think they were related to the Dark Lord himself.” Pansy shook her head, “You’re right there, they’re not related through him. Their mother’s are sisters, Draco’s actually almost a year older than Mattheo but you couldn’t tell by how timid and scared he acts around him.” You both laughed at this, even in the few days you had been around the group you recognize everyone cowering away from Mattheo if his voice was raised even slightly.

A popping sound signaled the arrival of someone near the foyer. “Must be the boys,” Pansy stood from the sofa, you following quickly behind her. You gasped at the sight before you. Mattheo’s white dress shirt was ripped like someone has pressed him against a shredder, cuts and new bruising evident behind the tears. He had blood splattered across his cheek, though it did not seem to be of his own. His knuckles were dripping, from what you were sure was a mix of his own blood and whoever he had seemed to beat.

Enzo was leaning most of his weight on his slightly shorter friend, eyes fluttering between awareness and close to losing consciousness. His arm that was not slung over Mattheo’s shoulders was pressed against his side where he was bleeding…badly. The gash in his side did not seem to be from anything muggle or an object, but from magic as you could see the black rim of the edges of his skin. “What the fuck happened?” You voice was the first to break the silence beyond Enzo’s moaning.

“Pansy grab the others, and some healing potions,” Matteo barked the order out like he’d said it a hundred times, which at his calmness of this situation made you think he had. You quickly conjured a table and helped Mattheo place Enzo on it. You looked over Enzo completely, seeing a few more cuts on his legs, the gash on his stomach, going up further he had a few defensive wounds on his forearms and a couple of cuts on his face.

When your face was level with Enzo’s eyesight, he smiled slightly, “Well, hey there, Angel.” You ran your thumb along his cheek bone, “Hey, Enzie. I’m gonna fix you up, but it’s gonna hurt. Try not to move, and try not to be mad at me after, okay?” Enzo did his best to nod before his eyes fluttered closed again. You grabbed your wand from your pocket, knowing where you’d have to start first when Mattheo seized your wrist, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m trying to help now if you would just let…go of me,” Mattheo’s grip only tightened as you tried to pull away. “Do you even know what you’re doing, Princess? You don’t even know what happened or what he was hit with. Pansy’s getting the healing potions, I don’t need you fucking up my best defense.”

You scoffed at his skepticism, “Well by the discoloration around his wound I can tell you he was hit with dark magic. And those healing potions, I looked at them today when Pansy gave me my little grand tour, it’ll take your best defense a week to heal with those, while if you would just let me get to work he’ll be mostly healed by the morning. Now, if you excuse me,” you yanked your wrist again, harder this time. You know the only reason you were able to was because Mattheo let go, but you got straight to work anyway.

Placing your wand between your teeth briefly you used both hands to rip Enzo’s shirt open, fully exposing the depths of what you were dealing with. The open wound went diagonally from his right hip to almost the center of his abdomen. You waved your wand over the length of his body, mending all of the small cuts quickly. Mattheo watched as you worked, standing across from you in a worried stance, one hand over his mouth while his elbow rested on the arm over his chest.

Pansy and the others came barreling down the hall, several different healing potions in hand, “What does she think she’s doing?” Malfoy shouted, your previous impression still leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “Leave her, cousin, we’re going to see how truly valuable she is to us.” Mattheo’s instruction left everyone standing, watching as you worked.

You mumbled an incantation under your breath, beginning to pull the darkness from around the edges of Enzo’s wound. But the pain was too much for him, his eyes shooting open and back immediately arching off the table, “BLOODY FUCKING HELL!” Your frown deepened, “I know, Enz, I’m so sorry, but you’ve got to stay still.” He shook his head, “C-can’t…can’t do it, hurts t-to much, Angel.”

You looked at Mattheo, eyes pleading. He understood what you were thinking immediately, turning towards the others, eyebrows raised. You turned back towards Enzo, leaning close to his face, “The boys are gonna help, okay? They’re gonna hold you down. I need to get it out of you before you can heal properly, okay, Enz? It’s gonna hurt, but you gotta try and stay still. Just try, the boys will help.”

You made eye contact with Mattheo, nodding. He glanced over at the rest of the boys, who each grabbed hold of a limb on Enzo. “I’m so sorry, Enz,” you whispered before hovering your hands over the gash. “Just do it Angel, m’bout to pass out, I can feel it.” You nodded, circling your wand and mumbling the same incantation from before. Your twirled the tip of your wand, pulling up slowly as what looked like shimmering black liquid began to lift from Enzo’s wound.

“What the fuck is that…” Theo gasped as he watched as the string got thicker and longer. When the tail end of the black liquid flicked out you grabbed hold of it with your free hand, holding your wand high above your head to keep as much distance between Enzo and the liquid as you could. “Pansy, a vial, please,” you looked over at her. Pansy stood frozen, eyes stuck on the struggling presence in your hand. “PANSY!” Mattheo’s booming voice snapped her out of whatever trance she was in.

Pansy rushed to your side, empty vial in hand as you guided the contents of your wand and palm inside. As she clogged the top Theo tried to get someone to pay attention to him again, “Is no one going to tell me what that fucking thing was that she just pulled out of Enzo? Was that his fucking soul?”

Blaise rolled his eyes, “You’re a fucking moron, Nott, you know that?” You elbowed Blaise in the side, causing a low grain to emit from the man, “It was dark magic. It gets attached to you when you’re hit with certain spells. It makes it harder for you to heal and is extremely difficult to remove. But once you do you can usually heal the person like normal.”

You held your wand hand over Enzo’s abdomen again, mumbling another healing spell and watching as ribbons of white began connecting the opposite edges of his wound. “Do you have any gauze?” You looked up at Mattheo. He flipped his hand around, summoning a first aid kid and digging around until he found what you had asked for. You wrapped the gauze around Enzo’s middle, the rest of the boys helping lift him in order to wrap it all the way around and secure it properly.

When you were finished, you let out an exasperated sigh, “He’s gonna be out of it for the rest of the night, but he should be basically back to his old self by morning, maybe a little sore but nothing like if he’d only taken the potion. You could probably give him that as well, help with the pain.” You looked over at Blaise and Theo, “You can take him to his room, just dont push on his side. Have Gimball give him something to drink in an hour, I’d watch him for the next three just to make sure he doesn’t get any worse.”

The two boys nodded, hauling Enzo up under his shoulders and walking up the stairs. You shoved your wand back in your pocket with intentions of heading back toward the sitting room when you felt a strong grip on your arm. You turned to see Mattheo, expression unreadable. Before you could protest he was dragging you down the hall, “Mattheo, what the fuck? Let go!” Mattheo said nothing in response and he dragged you further down the hall until you were standing in front of his office doors.

He mumbled reverse protection spells before opening the doors and throwing you inside. You luckily had the wherewithal to catch yourself on his large desk before turning around to face him. “What the hell is wrong with you?” You were practically screaming in his face yet he stood stoic. Except for his eyes. When you looked into his eyes they were darker than you’d ever seen them, like you were staring into an abyss and you were about to be sucked in. You wanted to challenge him, push him into showing you some emotion. You took a step closer, your chest nearly flush to his while you shoved a finger against one of his pecs, “Are you gonna answer me, boss?”

“Are you finished?” Mattheo peered down at you. You scowled at him, taking a step back and leaning against his desk, crossing your arms, “For now.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, “I knew you were going to be difficult but I didn’t expect you to be a brat.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. He grabbed hold of your chin, fingers squeezing your face, “Just like that. You gonna tell me how you pulled that little stunt in the foyer just now? How you managed to pull that shite from Berkshire?”

You pushed his hand from your face, “My mother taught me. I never had to use it growing up. But after the war I got more practice.” Mattheo closed his eyes at the mention of his father’s previous doings. “He’s going to be fine, you know,” your voice was soft, assuming Mattheo was worried about Enzo. Mattheo shook his head, “I know,” a small smile appeared on his face, “I just can’t believe how much I underestimated how useful you would be to us.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What?” Mattheo opened his eyes, a low laugh emitting from his throat, “Oh, Princess.” He reached out, cupping your cheek, “I knew you were special that first time you walked into my office. I know Pansy told you what we do, what I’m working towards.” You nodded, still not understanding what he was getting at. He leaned in close, nose nearly touching yours, “Then you know it can get dangerous, hell today was a perfect example.”

“Mattheo I still don’t unders-” Mattheo pressed his thumb to your lips, “You’re mine now, Princess.” Your heart was thundering in your chest, it felt like he had a hold of it and was squeezing. You were sure he could feel your pulse beneath his fingertips as he leaned in closer, lips ghosting against your ear as he whispered, “And you’re never going to leave.”

#protego series #mafia!slytherin boys #mafia!mattheo riddle #Mattheo riddle x reader #Mattheo riddle x you

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nayziiz · 4 months

Text

Speed | CS55

Summary: In a chance encounter at a gas station, a mysterious woman on a Yamaha YZF R6 catches the attention of Carlos, a charming Ferrari driver. Little did they know the journey they would both go on.

Warning: Smut, fluff

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x OC (Lola)

Masterlist

Chapter 12 - final chapter

The driver pulled up in front of massive industrial steel gates as a security guard approached the vehicle.

“Sainz for a plant tour,” the driver advised the security guard, who scanned his licence before proceeding to open the gates. Lola looked around, her curiosity piqued.

“Where are we?” she asked, turning to Carlos.

“You’ll see,” He just smiled, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

As the car drove through the gates, Lola noticed the sprawling complex ahead, a blend of sleek modern architecture and industrial design. The driver navigated through the winding roads until they reached a parking area. Carlos and Lola stepped out, and she took in the sight of the massive facility.

“You’re not going to murder me in an abandoned warehouse in Japan, right?” Lola wondered, her voice tinged with mock suspicion.

“No, mon amor, I would never,” Carlos chuckled, shaking his head as they drove toward the reception area. He pointed at the Yamaha sign above the aluminium doors. “We’re visiting the Yamaha factory today.”

Lola’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“You’re joking, right?” she gasped as the realisation hit her. “This can’t be real.”

“It’s real. I wanted to surprise you with something special,” Carlos grinned, enjoying her reaction.

Carlos’s smile widened as he watched the excitement grow in Lola’s eyes, her body shifting closer to the window to catch every glimpse of the factory. The anticipation was palpable, and he couldn’t wait to see her reaction unfold.

When the vehicle finally parked, they stepped out and were greeted by several executives, all eager to take the couple on their tour. As they walked through the factory, Lola’s amazement was evident. She observed each process intently, from the initial assembly lines to the final touches on the motorcycles. The efficiency and precision of the operation left her in awe.

"Seeing it all come together like this is just... wow," Lola murmured, her eyes darting from one workstation to the next. Carlos chuckled at her enthusiasm, happy to see her so engaged.

After the comprehensive tour of the manufacturing process, the executives led them to a sleek showroom filled with limited edition motorcycles. The range of bikes on display was impressive, each one more stunning than the last.

“These are some of our latest limited edition models,” one of the executives explained, pointing out the unique specs of each motorcycle. Lola absorbed every detail, her fingers tracing the lines of the bikes as she listened.

Carlos, though not as technically inclined, tried to keep up with the flood of information. He admired Lola’s ability to understand and appreciate the finer points of the machinery. Watching her excitement, he felt a sense of pride swell within him.

When they were left to study the machines on their own, Lola finally turned to Carlos, her eyes shining with gratitude and excitement.

“I cannot believe you did this for me,” she told him, her voice filled with emotion.

“Was it a good surprise?” he teased, pulling her into his arms, feeling her warmth against him.

“The absolute best, Carlos,” she assured him, her smile wide and genuine. Carlos grinned, clearly pleased with her reaction.

“There’s just one more surprise,” he started, taking her hand in his and leading her towards one of the motorcycles on display. The bike was a stunning, limited edition model, gleaming under the showroom lights.

It was a deep red R-series Pedigree, a motorcycle she had always dreamed of and he had seen pop up several times on her Instagram feed in the videos she watched over and over.

“This, mon amour, is a fully customised YZF-R7, but you already know that,” Carlos chuckled while Lola looked between him and the bike, standing firmly under his arm. “What makes this one so special is the colour. Its deep red matches what my Ferrari looked like under the lights in Bahrain earlier this year, the perfect scarlet red tone.”

“Please tell me you didn’t buy yourself a bike, Carlos. You scare me enough in that car of yours,” Lola quickly groaned, sensing where the conversation was headed.

“Hang on. There’s more to it than just the colour. It has my number right over here,” he told her, pointing out the ‘55’ behind the passenger seat. “It also has custom rims.”

Lola chuckled in disbelief. “Carlos, you’re too scared to ride my bike. How on earth are you going to ride this one?”

“Well, as a passenger,” he told her, his expression dead serious. Lola's eyes widened, and she burst into laughter.

“What?” she scoffed. “Carlos, no.”

“I had them put the number there so I know where my place is on this bike. And, you’ll have a piece of me when you go out on it,” Carlos nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. Touched by his thoughtfulness and amused by his logic, Lola shook her head.

“I… Carlos… this is, wow,” she was stunned and teary-eyed as he nudged her closer to the bike.

“They’ll ship it to your house next week, so expect a delivery,” he added.

“This is too much, Carlos. I can’t accept this, it must have cost you an arm and a leg,” she whispered, her voice too fragile to be any louder.

“And, of course, you need proper safety gear as you told me on our first date, so I have ordered you a custom red leather suit and a very beautiful red helmet to match the bike. I had them put your parent’s wedding anniversary on the back of the helmet, so you have them with you when you go out riding too. And, your brother's birthday as well. Kind of to have us all together,” Carlos continued.

“Baby…” she gulped, the tears finally cascading over her cheeks. He pulled her into a warm embrace, his arms enveloping her in a cocoon of warmth and safety.

“You’ve given me so much, Lola,” Carlos murmured into her hair. “This is just a small way to show you how much I appreciate you, how much I love you.”

Lola tightened her grip around him, burying her face in his chest. “No one has ever done anything like this for me. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Carlos reassured her, gently rubbing her back. “You lit a fire in me the second I saw you on that bike before I even got a look at your pretty face. It was either the biggest mistake of my life chasing after you or… the rest of my life zooming past me on two wheels. And, I am so happy it was the latter. And, If I have to sit on the back of your bike for the rest of my life, I would, because you’d be steering, guiding, leading.”

Her tears didn’t stop flowing as they drenched his shirt. Carlos was a fresh breeze in her life, a reminder that even after a long period of pain and unresolved trauma, she could find something blissfully wonderful, without conditions, without expectations, just pure affection and love.

The bike wasn’t just some valuable thing he shoved at her to assuage her doubts or erase her insecurities and pain; it was a memento to keep her grounded, to keep her wheels rolling forward, to keep her going even when life threw everything at her. He saw her for who she truly was and not just for what she did or how she looked—wholly her, even the things she hated most about herself.

Carlos held her tighter, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. She looked up at him, her eyes red but shining with gratitude and love.

“Carlos, I don't know how to thank you. Not just for this,” she gestured towards the bike, “but for seeing me, really seeing me.”

“Just keep being you, Lola. That's all I need,” He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears.

For a moment, they just stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world around them fading away. In that intimate bubble, there was no pain, no past, no future—just the present moment and the overwhelming love they shared.

“So, when do you think we can go for a ride together?” Lola finally pulled back, a small, genuine smile on her face.

“As soon as that beauty arrives at your house,” Carlos grinned, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

“I can't wait,” She laughed, the sound light and full of hope.

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

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @notyouraveragemochii @heyheyheyggg @laneyspaulding19

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avastrasposts · 3 months

Text

Not An Easy Man To Find

Hello!

🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈This my contribution to @romanarose Pride Event 🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈

It's the result of one of those "what if?" conversations that sometimes happen. I've never written m/m and I was curious to see if I could come up with a language to get across feelings and emotions between two characters that I love very much and still remain true to them. What would they express if they find themselves in a situation where they no longer need to deny the tension and attraction between them?

A/N - set after the events of Triple Frontier, mild spice, nothing too explicit.

The house was small, more of a cabin really, and set back from the small country road, right at the end of a narrow lane. The thick forest around the building had been cleared and the approach to the house was exposed. The second the man set foot on the property, flood lights lit up the yard. Even in the heavy rain he could see the cameras mounted on the porch, one aimed at the drive, the other at the front door.

Frankie saw the lights go on in his yard, and he immediately reached for the gun on the coffee table but he remained on the couch, the book he was reading now face down beside him. Most likely it was just an animal crossing the yard, alarms wouldn't go off until someone tried to force entry. He waited for the lights to go off again, the knock on the door almost made him jump. Quietly he got up from the couch, moved through the house to the hallway and tapped the screen mounted on the wall. The man on the other side of the door was soaked through by the rain underneath his cap and he gave the camera a nod as if he knew Frankie was watching him.

He should know Frankie was watching him. After all, he taught him how to set up the system.

Pope heard the door unlock and couldn’t repress the smile creeping up as it swung open.

“You’re not an easy man to find, Fish.”

“Pendejo, where the fuck have you been?!”

Frankie tossed Pope a towel after he peeled off his wet jacket, leaving it dripping onto the floor of the small hallway. The door was closed again, locked and bolted, and Pope nodded approvingly at the security system his friend had set up.

“How did you find me?” Frankie asked as Pope toweled his wet hair, following him into the kitchen, “I’ve been staying off the radar as much as possible, Will told me a couple of guys came after you?”

“Yeah, some of Lorea’s men. I got rid of them and I had to move location again. But Will had a hunch about where you might be so I checked it out and one thing led to another.”

He hung the towel over a chair and sat down on one of the stools by the kitchen island as Frankie leaned against the counter.

“Do I need to worry that someone else might find me that way?” he asked, raising his eyebrows but Pope shook his head.

“No, you’re good, Fish, I found you because I know you. How have you been?”

“Shit.”

Frankie spat the word, his eyebrows pulling together as he rubbed a large hand over his face.

“Like absolute shit. I’m not sleeping, Tom’s death…it’s still….”

“Yeah, I know,” Pope said, “the nightmares have been brutal.”

“I keep reliving that fucking moment up on those rocks, when Tom…”

Frankie trailed off and Pope nodded.

“Yeah, Tom, the heli crashing, Will getting shot, that fucking donkey…I have nightmares about that fucking donkey, you go over with it too, Fish, I keep dreaming the same sequence, seeing you tumble over the side, pulled down by it.”

Pope glanced over at Frankie who was shaking his head with his eyes closed as if he was trying to shut something out.

“Don’t….” Frankie muttered, meeting Pope’s dark gaze.

The two men fell silent for a few moments, eyes locked on each other, the rain hammering against the shutters and a low rumble of thunder in the distance. Something made the lights flicker and Pope broke the stalemate, glancing up at the ceiling.

“I’ve got a backup generator,” Frankie said, “and extra fuel. The power goes out pretty often when trees fall on the power lines.”

Pope nodded, “Always prepared, Fish.”

Frankie shrugged in response, seemingly waiting for the other man to say something else. Pope could feel the tension building in the small kitchen and he couldn’t face it, even if he was the only one who felt it.

“You got a beer?” He motioned to the fridge but Frankie shook his head.

“No, I’ve been staying sober, on all accounts, since we got back. I…I lost custody of the kids, after the divorce.”

“I heard, man, I’m sorry. That’s fucked up,” Pope shook his head as Frankie shrugged again.

“Shit was bad when I got home, she’d changed the locks, tossed my things, got the divorce papers ready. And I went on a bender, totalled the truck and then the court awarded her full custody,” Frankie shook his head, glancing down at his feet, “Can’t blame ‘em, and it was probably for the best. Some people were sniffing around the house a few months later but I’d already moved away. At least this way she and the kids aren’t in any danger.”

Frankie looked up at Pope, still damp, his shirt clinging to his shoulders as he leaned on his forearms on the wood countertop. His friend’s dark eyes looked apologetic as he listened to Frankie.

“Could’ve used your help, Pope.”

“Fuck, Frankie, I’m sorry. I only just heard from Will that you got divorced, if I’d known I would’ve helped out, you know.”

“Yeah, well…” Frankie said, “It was my mess, I guess I had to deal with it.”

“Yeah, but Fish, you’re family. Will and Benny have each other, Tom always had Molly and the girls, and then it’s you and me,” Pope said, getting off the stool and coming around to lean against the opposite counter, giving Frankie’s shoulder a clap. Frankie gave him a dismissive snort.

“We’re family but you’ve stayed away for two years? Living off what’s her name's money? Not even a word to confirm that you were still alive?”

“That…that didn’t work out,” Pope said, hesitating a little, “Turned out she wasn’t that interested when I’d already gotten her and her brother out of the country. And I always…” Pope trailed off and shrugged. He seemed to consider his next words, meeting Frankie’s questioning look for a few heartbeats before he continued, “Yeah…it didn’t work out. I came back to the States about eighteen months ago.”

Frankie’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline at Pope’s answer.

“Eighteen months ago? And you only just now got in touch? What the fuck, Pope?”

“Like I said, you’re not an easy man to find, Fish.”

“Bullshit, Will always knew how to find me, I made sure, you just didn’t bother.”

Frankie crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Pope who just shook his head, but still met his gaze.

“I thought you were still married, Frankie, you had your own family. I didn’t wanna crash that.”

“Still, could’ve used your help, even if I wasn’t divorced. If you really mean we’re family and-”

“It was too hard, Frankie, you know that,” Pope interrupted, pushing himself off the counter and taking a step towards Frankie who stared back at him. Pope shoved a frustrated hand through his hair, “Seeing you with her, the kids, happy family life. You must’ve known how I felt, seeing you run back to her the second we were done in Columbia.”

“Pope…” Frankie said in a low voice, his eyes dropping to his boots as his fingers twitched, he looked ready to crawl out of his skin.

But Pope ignored him, tension dripping off him as he paced the small kitchen, “You know, right, Fish? This has always been here, this,” He pointed between the two of them, almost poking Frankie’s chest as he stopped by the counter again. “This…this friction, you and me, and now…you always just stand there and say nothing.” Pope shoved his hand through his hair again and slumped back against the counter, “Frankie, half the time I don’t know if I want to hit your or fuck you.”

Frankie suddenly exploded into action, two long strides and his fists grabbed Pope’s shirts, slamming their bodies together as his mouth found Pope’s. Pope grunted in surprise and took hold of Frankie’s sides as he stumbled back with the force of the other man’s kiss. Teeth and lips clashed as Frankie pulled Pope closer, tongues meeting and Frankie groaned, tasting rainwater on Pope’s lips. Pope wound his arms around Frankie’s waist and up his back, grabbing the shirt and pushing the other man into him as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. Panted breathes filled the silent kitchen, a low moan from Pope as Frankie wrapped his hand around the back of his head.

“I fucking missed you,” Pope mumbled, still pressed against the other man’s lips, and Frankie’s soft tongue came out to taste Pope again. A mouthed fuck and Pope’s hand slid down and grabbed Frankie’s hip, his touch going soft as he let himself feel the outlines of his body properly for the first time.

“How long?” Frankie asked, his voice low as he pulled back a little, meeting Pope’s eyes.

“Since basic, I guess. But I denied it for years.”

“Yeah,” Frankie breathed out, barely a whisper, his eyes on Pope’s mouth. Pope tightened his grip on Frankie’s hip again and pulled his friend close, the kiss softer, less rushed. Frankie’s body was tense under his grip, uncertain as he shifted his weight and opened his mouth to Pope’s tongue. Pope moved slowly, feeling his way around Frankie’s stiff muscles, caressing his back, leading the kisses as the other man slowly began to relax.

When Frankie groaned into his mouth and pushed forward, almost bending Pope backwards over the counter, Pope took hold of Frankie’s hips again and pulled him along. Leading him backwards into the living room. When the back of his knees hit the couch, he sank down and Frankie toppled over, on top, his long body covering Pope’s, legs tangled together.

A moan escaped Frankie when he felt the hard length of the other man against his thigh and he rolled his hips, seeking friction for himself, his body reacting faster than his mind, the primal urge to rut into the warm body underneath him almost taking over. Pope’s mouth was warm, heavy breaths panted into his own, as he squeezed his eyes shut. Pope’s hands were caressing his back, trailing down over his ass, grabbing and pressing them together, calloused fingers sliding inside his jeans and Frankie froze, pulling back an inch, panic flaring up in his throat.

Pope’s dark eyes met his as Frankie pushed himself up, hovering over Pope on his forearms, not meeting his friend's look.

“Have you done this before, Frankie?” he asked, his voice slightly breathless from the kisses, but calm, and Frankie wanted just to bury his face against Pope’s warm, flustered, neck, hide his face and not show the intensity he felt was written across it.

“Just a hookup, when I was drunk,” he mumbled in response, his hands suddenly felt too big, he didn’t know where to put them when all that was under him was Santiago. He shifted uneasily.

“Cálmate, Francisco,” Pope mumbled, cupping his hand around Frankie’s head, his fingers finding damp, soft curls, “Relax.”

Frankie nodded and dropped his head to Pope’s chest, exhaling deeply. The steady heartbeat under the shirt told him his friend was still calm, hadn’t lost his cool, wasn’t rushing into anything. Warm hands resumed their movements up and down his back but now they were slow, and didn’t touch his skin. He felt his nerves calm, this was just Santiago, Pope, his oldest friend, who knew the darkest things he’d done because he was right next to him when it all went down. If anyone would understand, could reach inside and soothe the panic in his chest, it was this man.

He lifted his head from Pope’s chest and cupped his cheek, a slow, uncertain movement, running his thumb across the thick beard, shot through with more gray now than last time. The sensation was unfamiliar to his fingers, not used to touching him in this way, the texture of the beard different from his own scruffy patches. Pope parted his lips as Frankie’s thumb traced across them, pausing briefly to press into the bottom lip. Frankie watched as the soft skin gave in under his thumb, making Pope part his lips more. When he leaned forward and gave an experimental lick to the pink bottom lip, Pope hummed under him, his hands stilling on Frankie’s back. He let Frankie lead the way, taking it at his pace, meeting his tongue as Frankie opened his mouth and licked into Pope’s.

This time it was Frankie who reached for Pope’s skin, sliding a hand in under his shirt, not even thinking about what he was doing, just needing to feel more. Pope shifted under him, letting the buttons come undone and the shirt slid open. The palms that skated across his skin were calloused and familiar, but never in this way, never with this soft touch, followed by a hot mouth and tongue lapping at his skin.

He could help himself, “Frankie,” he moaned, the roll of Frankie’s hips grinding against his own hard length clouding his mind, “Frankie, are you sure?”

A muffled Yes and a nod came from Frankie, his tongue exploring Pope’s skin with increasing fervor. When his hand cupped the hard length straining against the fabric of his jeans, Pope’s breath hitched and he groaned loudly. It egged Frankie on, suddenly he felt a desperate need rise inside him and he grabbed Pope’s hand, dragging him off the couch.

“Bedroom,” he muttered, tugging the other man with him, the two of them stumbling the short distance to the small bedroom at the back of the cabin.

Pope grabbed Frankie’s shirt and pulled it off, shrugging his own shirt on to the floor, and then Frankie’s hands were skimming up and down his sides as they climbed onto the bed, buttons being undone, jeans discarded. It wasn’t the first time they’d been naked in front of each other, far from it, but the new situation gave them cause to look at the other man in another way. Pope took in the trail of dark hair on Frankie’s soft belly, leading down to his achingly hard cock. Frankie couldn’t just look, his hand came out and closed around Pope’s stiff length, making him huff a strangled Frankie before he pulled him down over him.

After, when their bodies were slick with sweat and the room reeked of cum, Pope cupped his hands around Frankie’s scruffy cheeks and kissed him firmly, holding the other man tight as their heart beats slowed down.

“I should’ve come back much sooner, Francisco,” he mumbled, when he finally broke the kiss.

“Should’ve done this much sooner,” Frankie muttered in reply, his hands wrapped around Pope’s shoulders, sharing his breath and still tasting the salty tang of his own spend on Pope’s lips.

Pope nodded and closed his eyes, leaning back on the pillow with his fingers tangled in Frankie’s soft curls. He'd never known Frankie's hair was so soft, but he’d often thought about curling his fingers around the tufts that always stuck out from underneath that damn cap. Now he slowly ran his fingers through them, still damp from their exertion.

Frankie shifted his weight, resting his head against Pope’s shoulder, his leg hooked over the other man’s thigh. When the air in the room cooled, he reached over and tugged the comforter over both of them, rousing Pope from his light sleep. He shifted down, pulling Frankie into arms so that he could look him in the eyes.

“What now, Francisco?” he asked, his voice already thick with sleep, and Frankie kissed him. The soft lips and rough voice now his to claim.

“Nothing, just this, Santiago,” Frankie replied, “We sleep, we wake up, and then just this.”

Tagging the lovely people who were excited to read this when I blabbed about writing it. @legendary-pink-dot @lady-bess @nerdieforpedro @i-own-loki @mysterious-moonstruck-musings and last but not least @for-a-longlongtime for beta reading and being incredibly supportive! Love you all!

#frankie morales #santiago pope garcia #OscarPedroPrideEvent2024 #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pride month

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buildmyplaceweb · 3 months

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What are outdoor LED flood light fixtures?

Outdoor lighting plays a crucial role in enhancing the safety, security, and aesthetics of our surroundings. Among the various lighting options available, outdoor LED flood light fixtures stand out due to their efficiency, durability, and versatility. In this article, we’ll dive deep into what outdoor LED flood light fixtures are, their types, key features, benefits, applications, and tips for…

#led flood lights #led security flood lights #outdoor security lights

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creative-caramel-coffee · 1 year

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It’s me again, something similar happened to me yesterday when I was moving to school, and could really use the girls for comfort rn

R is stressed trying to quickly move things, perhaps moving into wandanat room? When she falls, to her it’s blank one minute she was standing the next she’s in pain on the floor? Obviously r is stubborn and tries to carry on not wanting to be seen as weak or lazy. But the girls notice and immediately go into caring mode where the see r is actually bleeding and hurt her ankle.

“Oh my sweet girl you could’ve come to us. We aren’t mad. Let’s clean you up”

“You can’t walk darling, you’ll make it worse”

“Lots of love for our love bug”

“Shhh no saying sorry. They are not necessary sweet girl, you can’t help it”

Any fluffy comfort dialogue 🥹

~ 🕯️ I would like this emoji like you suggested so you can see I’m the writer you’ve been on my page recently lmao

Moving in but with crutches

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1.5K

Summary: Reader is super excited to move in with her girls but she’s a little clumsy and ends up needing some tlc

TW: light mentions of blood, sprain (implied), injury

A/n sorry this took so long to get done but I hope you like it. I really enjoyed writing it. Also I’m happy for you to be 🕯 anon :)

It was finally time. Ever since moving to the compound your gaze had trailed after them like a lost puppy. Them, being the power couple of the compound. Them, being Wanda and Natasha.

You were sure the mind reader and spy couldn’t have missed the light shades of pink that dusted your cheeks every time they spoke to you. Or maybe they just thought you weren’t very sun safe, either way it didn’t matter now because the three of you had been dating for four months now and despite all the milestones that are in a relationship this one was the one you were most excited for. Moving in with them.

Sure, you had been sleeping in their bed for like two weeks now, but it was never really officially your room. You still had all your stuff in the other smaller room tony had built for you when you joined the team. Wanda and Nat party because they were sharing a room and party because they had been on the team for far longer, had a much larger and your opinion much nicer room. Furnished with Wanda’s touches and Natasha’s tastes. There were enough plants, courtesy of Wanda, to compete with a forrest and it was just beautiful.

You had spent the morning packing your stuff into box’s, sure it was just across the hall, but your stuff was important to you, and you wanted the full experience.

You came to the tower with nothing but your name and the clothes on your back, so you wanted the full nine yards. Wanda and Nat were supportive and had been helping you pack. But as lunch neared all of you were getting hungry so nat and Wanda had gone out to pick up some takeaway. Claiming that the living alone lifestyle was about to change, and you should make the most of it. Of course, that statement led to an argument over who was more of a blanket hog which you did your best not to be roped into.

Once the two had secured their keys and left, still bickering however, you turned up your music and moved over to some of the heavier items.

Pulling the books off the bookshelf and placing them neatly in boxes you moved over to the lamp. But in your haste accidentally pulled on the chord.

One second you were upright and the next thing you knew you were on the floor. As your senses came back to you and you shifted into a sitting position, the pain flooded in. Your ankle was bleeding, the bulb must have smashed, and on top of that the joint hurt like all hades.

Despite the calming breathes you took your ankle was starting to look worse. A light blue bruise that you were sure was only going to darken began to form around the joint and you closed your eyes.

Thank God you had turned up the music or someone would have surely come in to see if you were ok. How embarrassing, being an avenger only to be taken down by a lamp. No. You were not lazy. You were not weak.

Sucking in a breath you carefully got to your feet trying to avoid the glass. Putting any pressure on the ankle made it feel like you were stepping on a thousand suns, but you simply pushed through. You were not weak. You were an avenger. You moved as fast as possible to clean up the mess, which let's be honest wasn’t very fast.

You swept the glass up and placed the seemingly undamaged corpse of a lamp into a box for later. However, it was now no longer welcome in your new room. No. You made a small pledge to hide that box for when your ankle was better and seek some revenge on the stupid piece of furniture.

You had just finished sealing off the box of nightmares with the packing tape when two short raps came from the open doorway. You turned around as smoothly as you could with the pain in your foot and smiled at Natasha.

“Hey baby, Wanda’s gone to start getting the food ready in the kitchen are you gonna join us?” She asked.

“Yeah sure. Like I’d ever say no to that.” You said trying your best to hide a wince as you took a step towards Nat. Her brow furrowed and eyebrows pinched together as she didn’t miss the action at all.

“Baby? are you ok?” She asked. You wavered but plastered on the fake smile you used for Tony’s galas.

“One hundred percent. Did you get pad Thai?” You asked and tried to change the subject. Nat knew something was wrong and looked you up and down doing a mental scan to find the problem. You knew you were screwed when her eyes zeroed in on your sock. You had slipped it on last minute to hide the cut on your foot and in your haste had managed to miss the fact it had bled through the pale fabric.

Nat was over by your side in an instant, she guided you by your shoulders to the bed and pressed down to make you sit.

“Sit” she said leaving zero room for questions. You simply nodded as she crouched down and placed your foot on her knee. Gently she peeled back the sock and sighed at the semi-deep cut that ran down your heel. Your ankle was swollen and looked angry, and Nat was surprised you were able to walk at all but suspected that the fading adrenaline may have something to do with it.

“Wanda!” She yelled and the two of you heard hurried footsteps and Wanda appeared in the doorway.

“Yes?! Whats the matter?” She asked looking panicked. When she saw the two of you were still alive and breathing, she sighed and placed a hand over her heart.

“Jesus don’t do that nat.” She said. Nat shrugged.

“Sorry baby. Can you grab the first aid kit in the bathroom Y/n/n here felt she could hide something from us.” She said gesturing to the ensuite and then your foot which was propped up in her lap. She was holding the destroyed sock to the cut to stop the bleeding which made you wince. Wanda nodded and disappeared before coming back with the kit and placing it down beside Nat.

Wanda gave the injury a proper look now and softened her gaze and took your hand, rubbing circles on your knuckles with her thumb.

"Oh, my sweet girl you could've come to us. We aren't mad. Let's clean you up" she said.

“I-its fine. Im fine. No problem.” You said and went to move your foot from Nat’s lap who had just finished bandaging the cut. She grabbed your calf gently but tightly and glared at you before softening at the sight of tears in your eyes.

"You can't walk darling; you'll make it worse" she said gently and you huffed.

Wanda stood and sat next to you on the bed and began pressing kisses to your cheek and arms.

“It just means lots of love for our love bug" she said and pulled you in for a hug. Nat nodded and joined the hug.

“Sorry.” You said in a small voice. But Nat hushed you with a kiss to the lips it was soft and tender. When she pulled away, she looked into your eyes.

"Shhh no saying sorry. That’s not necessary sweet girl, you can't help it" she said and rubbed her nose against yours in a gentle moment of pure love.

“Do you want me to bring the food here or Natty can carry you into the lounge so we can prop your foot up to eat? Either way you're getting ice and rest on the ankle.” Wanda said and you let a single tear fall at the tenderness of it all. Wanda was quick to wipe it away and press a kiss to the tear track.

“Baby don’t cry love. We’ve got you honey.” She said and you sniffled.

“The lounge maybe?” You said and Wanda chuckled.

“Of course, sweetheart. Nat?” She said and gestured to you who grinned like a feral animal and scooped you up with little to no warning. You squealed and clutched your arms around her. She laughed deeply and you swatted her chest. The three of you went to the lounge and Nat called Bruce to bring you some crutches for later and Wanda finished prepping the food.

After the three of you were cuddled up under a blanket with ice on your ankle and old movie reruns playing in the background. Soon you drifted to sleep as Wanda ran her hands through your hair and nat traced patterns on your exposed thigh. After all you were only in a large t-shirt and boxers. The rest of the team was away apart from Bruce, but he never left the lab anyway. You we’re content. Happy. Safe. And loved. Life couldn’t get any better.

MASTERLIST

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fairyringsandwings · 2 months

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Drabble gift for @anonymousmink, inspired by her beautiful mermaid AU! I'm sharing the story here too, so I ain't playing favs with the twitter girlies 😂

Tags: mermaid au, a little dark at the end, near drowning, rated T.

Across The Ocean

A storm is coming, Pirate.

Qimir smiles at the sound of her voice. Like a message in a bottle it has been carried to him through ocean currents, winds and tides.

Maybe this time you'll heed caution and stay on land, where you're supposed to be.

Are you worried? Qimir asks.

For you? No. The mess your ship will leave on the seabed? Yes.

Then put an end to this and let me find you, Osha.

She gives him no reply, but he can feel her irritation through their connection, how it prickles at her scales. She severs the connection with a huff.

Where once the world had been silent as they communicated, now Qimir is flooded with sensations. The roar of the wind as it slaps against black sails. The waves, much rougher than before, breaking against the ship and rocking it with increasing wildness. The worried chatter of his crew as they scramble about the deck, securing everything not bolted down.

Qimir hangs off the edge of the ship, one arm wrapped around the rigging. He opens his eyes, taking note of the ominous clouds darkening the horizon.

Osha had not lied, she never the did when it came to this. It is a salve on his aching soul, for it assures him that despite all her rejections, she does not want him dead. She flees from him, only because she knows that should they meet again - no, when they meet again - his silver tongue will lure her to his side, as surely as her voice had led sailors to their watery doom.

But not me, Qimir thinks confidently. You could never bring yourself to do that to me, could you, Osha?

Oh, she had certainly tried.

He remembers the day that he had corned his little mermaid in a lagoon at Olega. How in her desperation to escape she had sung a song so achingly sweet all of Qimir's reason and logic had fled his mind, pulling him into a dream that vanquished all the loneliness, the anger, and the hurt that festered in his heart. It had been utter bliss. A euphoric feeling that consumed him body and mind.

His feet had moved of their own accord. His actions not his own. He had plunged from his ship, his lungs filling with salty water that burned, burned, burned.

Then it had stopped. Arms had slipped under his and pulled him from the ocean's deathly clutches. He remembers spewing water as he lay on his side on the sandy beach. He remembers coming to his senses, horrified when he realised what had happened... what had almost happened-

But then she was there.

Osha. His Osha. Her webbed-fingers light on his forehead, pushing aside wet strands of hair. Her beautiful face stricken, guilt forming tears in her eyes. She had laid on the beach with him, her tail painted the color of emeralds and seaweeds, lying half-submerged in the low waters of the tide. Glistening pearls had been draped across her upper body, catching the sunlight. Woven into her long locs were colorful seaflowers, pieces of coral and sea-carved jewels.

In that moment, with water droplets clinging to her skin like diamonds, and the sun gleaming gold around her like a halo, she had been as ethereal as a Sea Goddess. Whether she would be his wreckoning or salvation, he was yet to learn.

"You need to stop chasing me, Pirate. Next time... I won't show mercy," Osha promises.

"Liar," Qimir whispers, his chest heaving with every painful breath.

Osha shakes her head. Before he can regain his strength, she slips back into the waters, vanishing below the waves.

It has been months, nearly a year since he last saw her in the flesh. And now this storm will ensure he will have to endure another night bereft of her presence. He and his crew will need to make landfall, robbing him of even the simple company of the ocean, the closest thing he has to being with her.

There has been many storms these past few months. He wonders if it is Osha's doing, if she has sought a boon from an auld sea deity to make his quest as difficult as possible. Grimmer still, what if it is the ocean herself, trying to keep them apart? Wanting nothing more than to tear his ship asunder and toss his body into its depth, food for its children of the deep.

That might not be the worse fate, Qimir thinks with dark amusement.

Osha could find his skeleton then, and make a pretty trinket to wear around her neck. At least then they could be together. His bones comforted by the beating of her hearts.

#oshamir #oshmir #the acolyte #osha x qimir #i think she'd have two hearts... both beat for Qimir 🤣

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hannahmanderr · 1 year

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Tag

(AO3)

Valerie had always found the Guys in White a bit bothersome – butting themselves into situations they had no business being involved in – but she never felt particularly threatened by them. She knew they were aware of her and her vigilante gig, but, in general, they stayed away from her and let her do her thing.

That was, until they led her into a van and carted her away to their facility.

They had no reason to be there, in the park. It had just been the Box Ghost, and in retrospect, he wasn't even doing anything other than being a nuisance. Phantom hadn't even been there. Still, the moment she'd touched down after securing him away in her containment device, two agents practically materialized from nowhere and demanded – or, as they put it, requested – that she come with them immediately.

She had said something along the lines of "okay," but there had definitely been an intended follow-up to that "okay." Unfortunately for her, there hadn't been much time for her to protest though before one of the agents cuffed her and practically dragged her into a windowless, white van. It took more self-restraint than she would've liked to bite her tongue and keep from lashing out at them for being treated like some criminal. These guys were feds. She didn't really want them on her case more than they already appeared to be.

One goon jumped into the driver's seat while the other sat her down in the back and slipped something over her helmet that made the world go dark and quiet. "For security reasons," he assured her.

It did nothing to calm her nerves. She'd read about these kinds of special masks before. They were supposedly used by agencies like the CIA and the FBI to transport prisoners, specially designed to block out all vision and hearing. She didn't appreciate being treated like a prisoner when she hadn't done anything wrong (as far as she knew), and she didn't hesitate to voice her displeasure.

She was only met with the sound of her wildly thumping heart echoing in her ears.

Valerie didn't have the best internal clock, but it had to have been at least 20 or 30 minutes before the van came to a stop and her babysitter lifted the mask from her head. Blinding light flooded her vision, and she tinted her visor immediately. After being in the dark for so long, the light was disorienting, to say the least (the fact that the garage was stark white didn't help matters much). The full tint at least helped alleviate some of that.

No wonder they wear sunglasses all the time, she thought.

She was handed off to a third agent, who barely gave her a warning before setting off into the facility proper. They walked no more than a hundred yards before coming to a security checkpoint. The agent swiped her badge and easily stepped through the detector before the security guard turned to Valerie.

"You'll need to remove your suit," he said. "Visitors are not permitted to have weapons in the facility."

Her alarm bells had been going off ever since the GIW had appeared back in the park, but they started ringing at full volume after hearing that. Being without her weapons was one thing, but her suit entirely? That thought was unsettling.

It was deluded of her to think she had anything resembling a secret identity around them. They were government, after all. The minute she'd debuted herself, they'd probably poured a number of resources into finding out who she was. They probably had fingers in many areas of her life. If she didn't comply, they could ruin her life far worse than any ghost ever had. The thought was terrifying, and Valerie Gray didn't do terrified.

Even still, having her suit and helmet on was comforting. For one thing, the armor was fairly strong; should worst come to worst, she could at least defend herself and be protected, but it was more than that. With her helmet on, she could pretend they didn't know anything, that she was just some faceless vigilante. In the back of her mind, she knew it didn't matter in the long run, but it still.

It felt nice to pretend.

She pressed a button on her gauntlet, and a hum reverberated through the suit as it entered standby mode. "There. I deactivated everything," she told the guard, deciding not to mention certain features that couldn't be deactivated. "The suit is staying on, though."

"That won't cut it, miss," the guard said with a shake of his head. "Zero tolerance policy."

"No, I mean like I can't take it off. It won't deactivate while it senses an ectoplasmic presence in the area." Was it a lie? Absolutely. She just hoped it was believable enough for it to slide.

The guard opened his mouth to protest, but the agent cut him off. "Leave it," she said. "We're on a tight schedule. We need to get her to O, now."

If O was the same Agent O that was the co-commander of the Amity Park squadron, then Valerie was really not looking forward to this. She didn't have much time to think about it though before the guard ushered her through the detector and handed her a temporary badge. The agent grabbed her by the handcuffs' connector and led her down the corridor, into the heart of the facility.

Her own heart raced so fast, she was sure it would jump out of her chest.

The facility ended up being more of a labyrinth than she'd been expecting. They wound through endless hallways with white linoleum, stark walls, and bright, fluorescent lighting. She tried to study the route they were taking, searching for any identifying characteristics on the walls and doors- cameras, room numbers, anything really - but the task was much easier said than done. Everything was bare and unmarked. No signs on the doors, no markers, nothing.

How did the agent even know where they were going?

As they continued, she got fidgety. She wanted to pull out a gun and tinker with it or something. Although her father was less than happy about it, poking around her weapons when she was agitated was something along the lines of a coping mechanism for her. It helped take her mind off things with the added bonus of learning more about her technology, sometimes not even on purpose.

Right after her breakup with Danny, she'd been messing around with her ecto-rifle so much that she'd accidentally increased its firing speed two-fold. She'd immediately done the same to the rest of her weapons.

Calling up a weapon probably wasn't the best idea, though. Even though they were technically powerless at the moment, the agent probably wouldn't take too kindly to her fiddling with a gun, and causing trouble probably wouldn’t end too well for her in a place like this. As much as she hated it, she needed to keep quiet and compliant for the time being.

Without anything physical to distract her, her thoughts began escalating. Why did Agent O want to see her so bad? Why go through the trouble of tracking her down and giving her the prisoner treatment and everything? Had she seriously done something wrong?

She couldn't think of anything she might've done that would've offended them. In fact, she hadn't been doing as much as of late, period. Ghosts were showing up with less frequency than they had when she first started, and the ghosts that did decide to show up tended to be hard-hitters who were specifically looking to pick a fight with Phantom. In other words, she hadn't had as much hunting to do recently.

As much as she enjoyed hunting, though, she had to admit the relief was welcome. She’d managed to swing an A- on the last chemistry exam, and her essay for Mr. Lancer was coming along nicely. She’d been able to hang out with Star a bit more, and she’d even gotten to sit and have a pleasant conversation with Danny while waiting for her dad to pick her up from work. Dad was much more pleased with how her life was looking, to say the least.

Oh God, how am I gonna explain this all to Daddy?

The question frayed her nerves so much that she almost collided with her escort, who'd stopped suddenly. A door stood in front of them, unmarked just like every other one she'd seen so far. The agent didn't say a word as she pulled it open. Valerie couldn't see her eyes behind the sunglasses, and she couldn’t read any sort of emotion on the agent’s face.

She couldn't help but wonder if there was a different, darker reason for wearing them.

She only hesitated a moment more before entering the bare room. It was no less white and lit than the hallways she'd just come from. There was no furniture; a door and a large, frosted glass window took up most of the back wall. Some sort of interrogation window, maybe one of those fancy, one-way mirror things, she figured.

The only other thing in the room was the man who apparently was so desperate to see her, Agent O. He was tapping at something on a tablet, but he looked up when he heard her enter. A smile bloomed on his face, but there was no warmth behind it. "Hello, Valerie," he greeted.

It took a great deal of her willpower to resist the urge to flinch at the use of her name. It had been coming, of course, but at least she’d been able to pretend she was just some faceless vigilante before.

She silently thanked herself for tinting her visor. It did a wonderful job hiding her true emotions.

"Thank you for coming in today," Agent O continued. He seemed oblivious to her worry. "We apologize for the lack of notice, but this situation was completely unprecedented. We believe it may require your certain… expertise. There wasn't much time for formalities or contacting you to set up an appointment."

Valerie crossed her arms indignantly, her fiery stubbornness reigniting despite the nerves. "It's not like I had much choice," she grumbled.

"Yes, well, as I said, this is a situation of sensitive and urgent nature. We couldn't afford to waste time going through niceties," he said, unfazed by her displeasure.

"What could be so urgent that you need to track me down personally and practically kidnap me?" Valerie deadpanned.

If possible, Agent O's face hardened just slightly. "I will remind you, Valerie, that you came with us willingly. There was no kidnapping involved."

Valerie opened her mouth to protest, but stopped before she said anything. It could maybe be argued that she hadn’t consented to being jerked around and cuffed and hooded and carted off, but at the same time, she technically had agreed to come with the agents, as coercive and unofficial as it had been. There wasn't much she could do with that to peg them.

He raised one eyebrow, seemingly waiting for her to object. When it didn’t come, though, he continued speaking.

"Some interesting information has recently come to light about a certain ghost. Information that some of our scientists are having difficulty wrapping their minds around. We believe your more… intimate knowledge of the ghosts of Amity Park may be of value to us," he said, scrolling on his tablet. The glare of the screen reflected off his dark sunglasses lenses.

She resisted the urge to make a snarky comment about how a teenager knew more than a whole team of adults whose lives were dedicated to this sort of thing. Instead, she asked, "And what sort of help do you think I could be?"

The corners of Agent O's mouth twitched upwards. "What do you know about ghosts with human identities?"

That made her freeze.

Her encounter with Danny Phantom's cousin and Vlad had only been a few weeks ago, and she'd spent those past weeks agonizing over what had happened and the implications. It was hard enough knowing that these sort of ghost-human hybrids - or whatever they were - existed, and then she had to go and discover that the man she trusted had been using her this entire time.

She’d been desperate to talk about it with someone, but no one knew of her secret identity. The Fentons may have known something about the subject, but they could be overbearing at times. And there was no way she could talk to her father, who still didn't fully approve of her ghost hunting. He would flip a lid if he knew the truth.

She’d nearly spilled everything to Danny when they’d talked the other day. It made sense, in retrospect; he was the person she trusted the most outside of her dad, and he was just so easy to talk to. The idea of just telling him about her ghost hunting had crossed her mind more than once, but the fear of endangering him and getting him hurt - physically or emotionally - was too strong.

Especially now knowing how dangerous Vlad truly was.

Really, at the end of the day, there was one person she knew had the answers and could maybe help her process through it, but there's no way she'd admit she needed his help in a million years.

And so despite her mental turbulence, she’d resolved to hold her tongue. It was probably for the best, anyway. She had a distinct feeling she was never supposed to know about this ghost-human thing in the first place, and a part of her wished she'd never found out at all.

On top of it all, she still wasn't even sure how to feel about the idea of these kinds of ghosts, the ones with human attributes. She'd hated ghosts vehemently for so long, it was difficult for her to think they could be anything but trouble. Dani, of course, had proven her wrong (with a little encouragement), and her cousin had made a good point that it wasn't just the fact that they were ghosts, they were humans too, but just how far did that go? Goodness wasn't an issue with Dani, but Vlad was clearly a monster of a person.

She didn't feel any remorse for him.

Still, something held her back. She hated to admit it, but Phantom had hit the nail on the head that night: she had no problems with destroying ghosts, but she couldn't bring herself to destroy a human, even if they weren't fully human. As long as there was some human there, they couldn't be all that awful, right? But such logic countered her long-held beliefs.

It gave her a headache just trying to reconcile the two. Most days, she avoided thinking about it. It wasn't her problem, it shouldn't be her problem. And yet she was standing here, having been dragged into it again.

Without moving her head, she glanced towards the window. Was it possible they really found another ghost that was also human? Or did they get to Dani? The thought of that little girl being held captive in this facility caused her stomach to drop.

A chill ran down her spine as she wondered if it could be Vlad behind that window. She didn't think she could stomach the idea of facing him right now. She'd strategically avoided meeting with him these past few weeks for that exact purpose. And if the Guys in White could get their hands on a powerful ghost like Vlad… She wasn't sure how to feel about that.

She forced herself to calm down. Agent O had said ghosts with human identities. That didn't necessarily mean that it was one of these hybrid type ghosts. It could be a ghost like Spectra, who disguised herself as a human therapist, or Ember McLain, who posed as a pop star.

Actually, in retrospect, there were several ghosts who'd pulled one over on the people of Amity Park, and they'd all had a number of tells that should've given their identities away. Maybe they just wanted to talk to her about this sort of thing. She knew enough about ghosts and their interactions with humans to spot their tells. This was information she could easily give to the Guys in White and be done.

Agent O was watching her carefully. She was taking a long time to answer his question, and she knew he was getting suspicious. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Well, Amity Park has had a lot of ghosts that have posed as humans to try and get to us. It's a fairly common tactic, and overall, people have gotten better at finding them, but – "

He waved her words away. "Yes, we know all about them. I'm talking about human identities on a deeper level. Possibly to the point where they may not be as ghostly as they seem."

Once again, she had to use all her willpower to avoid cursing out loud. Stay calm, think logically, she told herself. She couldn't afford to screw up here. She didn't want them knowing she knew way more than she should. She couldn’t have them knowing she knew more than she should.

It was every possibility that it was just some random person behind that window with some obscure connections to ghost activity, or maybe some dumb ghost trying to be cool that ended up getting captured. It was very possible that she could walk away from this without revealing anything.

Well, she hadn’t participated in middle school theater for nothing. Knitting her eyebrows together (despite the fact Agent O couldn't see her face) and putting on her most innocent voice, she said, "I'm not quite sure I'm following you."

Agent O turned back to his tablet. "Valerie, you're a smart girl.Think about it: what if there was a specific breed of ghost that could disguise itself beyond the poor masquerades we've seen so far? One that could take on the physical attributes of a human in order to hide?” He broke into a smile. “This may not even be a matter of disguising, either. This could mean the existence of interspecies hybrids with humans, something unheard of throughout history."

He scrolled and tapped until he found what he was looking for, turning the tablet around to show her. She wasn't much of a scientist, so she wasn't quite sure what she was looking at, but she could definitely see a strand of DNA in the diagram, although there was something off about it. Parts of it were discolored and disfigured.

"This is from a sample taken from a ghost's bodily ectoplasm right after a fight in Amity Park,” he explained as she studied the diagram. “Needless to say, we were quite surprised to find actual DNA in the ghost's proverbial blood, considering ghosts are held to not have DNA. Ectoplasm has never been able to retain the same DNA structure that a human can. Maybe that’s why we were even more excited to find that parts of the DNA we found made up genomes resembling that of a human's.”

The diagram and the agent's explanation suddenly made the situation even more real to her. Once again, her mind drifted back to Dani and Vlad. Was this what their ectoplasm looked like? Or even their human blood? Swimming with the genes of a human and the traits of a ghost? And just how many others were out there with this same type of ectoplasm?

She glanced up at Agent O. "How can someone be human and ghost at the same time? It's like being dead and alive at the same time."

He frowned. "We're not entirely sure. Our scientists are still working on their analysis of the ectoplasm and working through their theories. That's not entirely important right now, though. What is important is that it is possible. Just think of the implications."

She was, in fact, thinking of the implications. The thought that there could be more of these kinds of ghosts nauseated her only because she relentlessly shot at just about every single ghost she came across. She couldn't stand thinking that she'd come close to accidentally destroying a human being, part ghost or not.

For the sake of the situation, however, she pushed those thoughts away. Instead, she said, "You mean there could be ghosts hiding under our very noses and we wouldn't know about it?"

He nodded. "Exactly. But think beyond just that. This could be used to our advantage! A military weapon, far more advanced than any technology on the market right now. A soldier able to sneak up on the enemy without being noticed, one who can't be touched by bullets, and be able to take them out with his bare hands. If we can learn to replicate this," he said, shaking the tablet and splitting his face into a wicked grin, "our army would be unstoppable."

Her stomach churned. "Isn't that kind of illegal?" she asked weakly, hoping her voice wasn’t betraying her. "Taking people and doing that to them?"

Agent O’s eyes grew dark and hungry. "Forgive me for sounding brash, but it would give purpose to some of the more… undesirables."

She wanted to run out of the room right then and there. Feelings of ghosts aside, taking innocent (or even not-so-innocent) people like that and forcing them to turn into some strange half-human creature and then conscripting them to fight in the army against their will… It was sickening. Horrifying, really. She couldn't believe these words were coming from the mouth of an American government agent.

She wouldn't let that happen. Not on her watch.

She took a few deep breaths to calm her anger and her twisted stomach. "I hope you know I'm not here to do your dirty work for you," she bit back at him.

Again, he was unfazed by her outrage. "We're not asking you to do anything like that, Valerie. That's our job. However, you'll be doing a great service to your country today either way. You'll help us get to where we need to be."

"How so?" She really didn't want to hear whatever he had in store for her.

"The ghost we found is being extremely uncooperative. It refuses to tell us anything, even after multiple attempts at eliciting information," he said.

The suggestions of torture weren't lost on her, and it only fueled her anger. If this ghost truly was part human, then these guys really were breaking the law.

But they were federal government. Didn’t they basically get to decide the law?

"You've encountered this ghost before during your time in Amity Park," Agent O continued. Somehow, she wasn't surprised, though her heart sank just a little more. "We believe that a familiar face may be able to… persuade the ghost to give us our information and reveal to us its human identity. We want you to go in there and get us what we need."

She'd figured as much. He was right when he said she wouldn't be doing the dirty work of beginning to replicate the mutation and experimenting and all that, but she was practically doing just that by agreeing to interrogating whatever ghost they had.

"What if I don't want to?" she asked. There was no sense in drawing this into a long thing, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

He fixed her with a look. "You don't want to make this difficult on you and your family, Valerie. We're only asking one simple task of you."

Oh, hell no. He did not get to threaten her father like that. She’d take this entire facility down with her bare hands before she let them use him as a bargaining chip like that.

And yet there wasn't much choice for her. She couldn't put Dad in that position.

She deflated. The victorious look in the agent's eyes bothered her to no end. "Fine. I'll do it. But you better not even so much as look at my father or I'll tear you - all of you apart." She felt stupid saying it. The threat sounded foolish and hollow, even to her. Still though, he nodded, satisfied.

"Who is this ghost you have anyway?" she asked with a sigh.

"Ah," he said, turning to his tablet once more. "I'll show you." He tapped a couple of buttons and the frosted glass of the window became clear.

Valerie's knees almost buckled when she saw the ghost bound to a metal chair.

A shock of white hair. A logo plastered around her city. Alien green eyes burning with terror.

Her face burned red under her mask. Whether it was from anger or shame, she couldn't tell. Something inside of her was paralyzed to the point where she could only hear white noise echoing in her head. She was only vaguely aware of Agent O watching her carefully, but she didn't exactly care at the moment.

She had to get in there and talk to him.

But even as she walked through the door and met Danny Phantom's horrified gaze, she wondered how she was going to make it through this.

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

Danny liked to think of himself as a brave guy. Since starting this superhero gig, he'd gotten into some terrifying situations. Watching his family explode at his own hands was pretty bad. Or almost dying as he tried to keep the most powerful ghost in existence locked up. Or even that time Sam almost killed him for accidentally letting Cujo use her favorite skirt as a toilet. He'd survived all of those and bounced back from them fairly easily.

He had to admit to himself, though, that he'd never been this scared in his life.

As quietly as he could, so as not to get the attention of the two agents assigned to guard him, he tested his bonds for what had to be the tenth time. They still held fast against his hands and ankles.

He didn't like having his hands tied behind him. Every survival instinct that came with his ghostliness screamed that it left his torso very vulnerable to an attack. Not only that, but the hands were what he could defend himself best with. There was a good reason that hands behind the back was a universal sign of surrender and submissiveness in ghost body language, something he’d learned over time. You couldn't fire an attack at someone from behind your back, and you were leaving yourself open to your opponent. You were putting yourself at the mercy of the other.

It was an instinct and an implication he couldn't ignore, especially because the Guys in White were the kind of people who wouldn't hesitate to put a scalpel to him. Thankfully, they hadn't gotten that desperate yet.

Trying to break my hand, electrocution, psychological warfare, he thought dryly, but no vivisection at least. Or would it be dissection?

Admittedly, it was getting harder and harder to keep his mouth shut, in more ways than one. The more stressed out he got, the snarkier he got. It was a defense mechanism, Jazz once told him. An attempt to mask his anxiety and fright using humor and sarcasm, apparently.

He wasn't sure if he believed her (or any of her psychobabble about him), but if it was true, it was definitely working to hide how he really felt. Of course, his sass just antagonized the agents interrogating him and made them push harder.

But it was also getting harder to keep quiet about the information they wanted. Namely, his secret. He had no idea how they figured it out, but they kept telling him they had proof of his human half. That revelation itself almost shut him down right then and there, but he vehemently denied the accusation. His identity was his most carefully guarded secret, and he would not let it go without a fight.

No one ever said it wasn’t tiring work, trying to keep Phantom and Fenton as separate as possible. Thankfully, they hadn't mentioned anything about Danny Fenton yet, but they hinted that they knew he had some sort of human form. Part of the torture had been to get him to change into his human form, in fact.

The fact that they didn't know too many of the details about the whole half-ghost thing was somewhat reassuring, and it helped him stay quiet. The less they knew, the better, and he wasn't about to add to their arsenal. He was sure they had a bunch of science nerds foaming at the mouth trying to work out more, but that process would take more time than him spilling the beans.

If he had to stay here and endure to keep the secret, then so be it. He couldn't put Dani in danger like that. And he hated to admit it, but he couldn't even put Vlad in danger like that. As much as he hated the guy, betraying him like that went against every single one of his moral codes.

And so he sat in the chair with his arms and wrists growing sorer by the minute, terrified out of his mind. Agent O, the guy who had been doing the bulk of the interrogation so far, had left a while ago without explanation. It had to have been at least an hour since he left, Danny figured, but he'd lost track of time a long while back.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door opened. Danny straightened, expecting to meet Agent O and face him with more tenacity than before.

What he didn't expect was for Valerie Gray to march in and slap him across the face.

He could only stare at her, flabbergasted, as she jabbed a finger into his chest. "You dirty liar," she growled, the sound of her voice distorted by her helmet. "All this time, and you've been lying to me since day one."

Danny's heart sank. They had to have told her. She probably put two and two together already, given what he'd told her about half-ghosts during their encounter with Dani. He'd hoped that experience had warmed her up to him a little bit, but any progress he'd made with her had just been undone in an instant.

She was taking the revelation far worse than he'd hoped.

Agent O had entered the room silently and was standing in the corner with his hands behind his back. He watched the two teenagers with mild interest, but his face was mostly unreadable.

Valerie turned to him. "I need to have a minute with him alone," she said, her voice hard. "We need to have a heart-to-heart."

"Anything you have to say to it can be said in front of us, Valerie," Agent O replied calmly. “We’re all on the same side here.”

I’m not, he wanted to sass back, but he managed to keep himself quiet.

"No," she said. "This is personal. You knew that when you brought me in here. If you want me to do this, then you leave us alone. No guards, no cameras, no nothing. This is just between me and him."

Danny watched the argument unfold. It would make sense that these goons would want to be a part of whatever happened in here, but he didn't understand why Valerie was being insistent on not having them around. Normally he'd think she didn't care whether they saw or not. Especially if she was as mad at him as she seemed.

Agent O was also watching Valerie intently. "We need a way to record the information you're getting for us," he said. The calm in his voice annoyed Danny just as much as he knew it drove Valerie crazy. "You're asking us to simply take your word for what happens in here."

"What, you think I'm gonna lie to you?" Valerie retorted. She turned back to face Danny, and a chill ran down his spine. Seeing her like this, with her mask so dark and anger radiating from her body like her own mini aura, was haunting. "There's no way I'm gonna lie to protect him."

His heart shattered.

He shouldn't have been surprised, but it still hurt more than any physical torture to hear the girl who once said she'd give up ghost hunting for him say that to his face.

She looked at Agent O again and pointed to her helmet. "I have recording equipment set up in this thing. If you guys are so desperate for your information, I'll give it to you after I'm done if anything interesting happens, if my word isn’t good enough for you."

Agent O considered this, all while still staring her down. As hurt as he was, Danny sat in awe at the way she refused to back down to this man, both in argument and in her body language. It was one of the many things about her that caught his attention. Too bad in this case, like many others, this steadfastness was being used against him.

After what felt like an eternity, the agent nodded. "Alright. You can have it your way. But we'll expect you to submit to a full debrief afterwards, including surrendering that helmet."

"Deal," Valerie said, a little too eagerly for Danny's tastes, and she stuck out a hand for Agent O to shake. He took it, and Danny saw the muscles in his hands tense as he squeezed the hand harder than he probably should. Valerie, however, still did not waver.

After realizing that she wasn't going to show any sign of discomfort, he let go of her hand and pulled up the tablet by his side. He tapped a couple of buttons, and Danny saw the tiny blinking red light in the corner of the room die down. "Cameras and audio have been disabled," Agent O said. He turned to Danny's babysitters and waved them out of the room.

Before he exited and closed the door, he gave Valerie a pointed look. "Remember who you're doing this for," he told her darkly, and he shut the door, leaving Valerie and Danny alone.

Danny was taken aback by the tone the agent had used on her. "Valerie, are they threatening you?" he asked. It was the first thing he'd said to her since she'd come in.

Apparently speaking had been a mistake. She whirled on him with an accusatory finger jabbed into his chest, saying, "Don't act like you care about me, Phantom!" Her voice had suddenly grown hoarse and cracked. "You don't care about anything except your own hide!"

So he was Phantom. He couldn't exactly tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. "Look, I know how this all seems to you," he said, trying to keep his voice as calm and placating as possible without seeming condescending, "but I never meant to hurt anyone, especially you. Can't you see that?"

To his surprise, she yanked off her helmet and dropped it with a clatter. His heart and core both sunk to the floor when he saw just how upset she was. Her face was pink and blotchy and her eyes were bloodshot. There were actual tear stains on her cheeks.

In all the time he'd known her, he'd never seen Valerie Gray cry.

"Just because you may not have meant to hurt me doesn't mean you didn't," she said, the heat in her voice unmistakable. "All this time I've been hunting you down, and you didn't think it was important enough to tell me?"

"In my defense," he began, a little miffed by her arrogance, "it isn't exactly something I go around telling everybody, you know? Especially people who are always yelling about how much they hate me. Sorry if I didn't think you'd handle it all that well."

If possible, Valerie looked even more hurt. "You seriously think I would hurt a human? Who do you think I am?"

"I didn't know if you would care about the human more than you hated the ghost," Danny snapped. He hated having to explain himself to her like this. Under these circumstances. He’d never been great at knowing the right things to say in these sorts of conversations, and it was even more difficult to figure out what to say under pressure like this.

"So that's it then? I'm just some heartless monster who resorts to shooting first, no matter what?"

Danny didn't answer. He knew she wouldn't shoot. The Valerie he knew would care. She'd be upset, but she'd try to be reasonable and talk it out before making any rash decisions.

Of course, that was the Valerie that Danny Fenton knew, and as of now, she still didn't know about that. The Valerie that Danny Phantom knew was a ruthless hunter, capable of being reasoned with, but only in extreme circumstances.

He took a deep breath. "The issue is that I really don't know you all that well," he said, avoiding her eyes. At this point, every word that was coming out of his mouth was a lie, and he knew it would come back and bite him in the butt. But what else could he do? "Basically every time we’ve come across each other, it’s ended with you having a gun pointing at me. That doesn't exactly invite much confidence."

"But I helped you with your cousin," she countered.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He hated what he was about to say. "Yeah, but even when you found out about who she was, you had no problem turning her over to Vlad. I had to convince you to go back and help me rescue her."

She was quiet for a long time, her lips pressed into a thin line. Another tear trickled down her cheek, but she made no move to wipe it away. "That was when I trusted him."

That was… unexpected. "What are you talking about?"

"I found out he's been lying to me this whole time, too," she said quietly. "Just like you, apparently."

He felt a pit growing in his stomach. There was no way this was gonna end well, but he had to know. "You're gonna have to be more specific."

She started pacing in front of him, slowly. "I went back, after you and Dani left. I heard him talking to his AI of Mrs. Fenton. I saw him transform." She stopped abruptly and looked at him. "But I'm sure you knew all this, right?"

Danny found himself reeling. After all the lengths Vlad went to in order to protect his identity, after their conversation about their stalemate, and she found out that easily? It seemed impossible. Vlad had always been the untouchable type.

"And now to find out that you've been lying to me too, about the exact same thing!" Valerie was still saying. "Don't you understand? How that feels?" She scoffed. "Never mind. What am I saying? Of course you don't. You only care about yourself."

He hadn't caught up to what she was saying to process her accusation. His brain was still stuck on the Vlad revelation, and rightfully so. The things Vlad could do to her if he knew his secret was blown…

It was less about saving his own hide at this point. He knew his own secret was toast. But Vlad was a powerful man, and Valerie was nothing but a disposable pawn to him. He'd made her into who she was; he could do the same to another unsuspecting victim. She could be removed from the picture easily. The thought sent a horrifying chill down Danny's spine.

"Does he know that you know?" he demanded.

She furrowed her brow. "Does who know? About you?"

"No, Vlad! Does he know you found out about him?"

She opened her mouth, probably with some biting comment on her tongue, but she left it hanging open. In the days to come, Danny would wonder what came over her or what caused her to change, but he saw her soften before his very eyes, just ever so slightly. Maybe it was the desperation in his voice, or her own realization of the danger, or even just exhaustion.

Whatever happened, though, her eyebrows lifted and the creases near her eyes smoothed out just a little bit. The angry gleam in her eyes died down to a skeptic glare, still heated but with a little less fire. "No," she said slowly, watching him carefully.

He released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He didn't miss how Valerie's eyes shot down to watch his chest deflate, but he tried to ignore it. "Good. You can't let him know that you know."

The hardened, angry look returned just as fast as it had disappeared. "I know that! I'm not stupid," she retorted. It may have just been his imagination or some sort of delirious hope, but her voice sounded a little less harsh than it did when she'd been ranting a moment ago. "Besides, this is about you, not him. I mean, you lied to me about both of you anyway. And you probably would've lied to me about Dani too if you could've."

"I was trying to protect you," he said, and he instantly regretted it. He hated having to be on the defensive like this, especially when it came to verbal arguments. He tended to get too caught up in the moment and make stupid comments like that one. Ghost fighting was so much easier; no tactful arguments involved, just good old physical fighting with a snarky quip thrown in every now and then.

He braced himself for the tirade coming his way. She was sticking him with one of her worst death glares.

"Protect me?" she seethed. "I don't need protecting. I don't need protecting from anything. And even if I did, I especially don't need protecting from you of all people. That would be like – like you holding a gun to my head and telling me that you're taking care of me. You say you were trying to protect me? Well look where we're sitting right now! Tell me how stellar of a protector you are now."

He hesitated. She was right. For all that he'd done to shield her from the complicated underlying truth, he'd failed. Failed miserably, at that. Here he was, tied to a chair with his secret identity hanging on by a thread, and there she was, driving herself crazy with all the new information she was being forced to deal with. Neither of them were in a favorable position.

It killed him so much to have to see her like this. It only served as a bitter reminder of his inability to protect her, whether she wanted the protection or not.

"You… you're right," he said, bowing his head. "I did a sorry job of it. And you're your own person. You're capable of defending yourself. I can't control you, or what other people do, or anything. I couldn't stop either of us from ending up here, and I couldn't stop you from finding out about Vlad and Dani. I just wanted you to be able to live as normal as possible and not have to deal with all of… this."

She barked a hollowl laugh. "Putting aside the fact that I refuse to believe you care about me whatsoever, normal hasn't been a thing for me ever since you showed up."

"It's not like I asked for this either, Val," he said. His mouth was beginning to get ahead of his brain, but he couldn't stop the words from coming out. "I haven't had normal for a long time either. I've had to deal with this stuff since day one, ever since I became what I am. I just figured there was no sense in both of us having to deal with it."

"That's not your decision to make!" she shouted. She cupped her mouth with her hand, pausing a moment before speaking again. "This is why I can't trust you! You literally just went on and on about how I'm my own person and you can't control me, but you talk about deciding what I should and shouldn't know. Every other word that comes out of your mouth is some sort of lie or trick, and you expect me to be able to trust you? Or believe that you actually have my best interests at heart or something?"

This conversation was going absolutely swell, he decided. All he was doing was talking himself into a hole. He needed to convince her that he was on her side. Whether or not he got out of here, he needed her to know that he never meant her any harm. Even back when he hated her.

She wasn't going to listen to anything Phantom had to say, that much was clear. She was too hurt and angry. But he still had one last card to play and use to break through to her.

The only issue was he had no clue whether revealing himself as Fenton would make things better or worse, especially now.

She was staring out the one-way window. He watched her reflection carefully. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her shoulders were creeping forward and up towards her ears. As angry as she was presenting herself and as loud as she generally was, this was the smallest he'd ever seen her.

"The worst part is that I did start to believe in you for a moment there," she said after a long time. Danny looked up in surprise, taken aback by the admission, but he kept his mouth shut. He needed to hear more.

Sighing, she continued, "Everything that happened with Dani shook me, alright? And it wasn't just finding out about her and Vlad. You were almost the weirdest thing about that night. The way that all you could focus on was saving your cousin when I was ready to rip into you. You were just so determined to save that little girl that you didn't care what happened to you. And I saw you when she disintegrated. You just… you seemed absolutely devastated. And then after all that, you stayed behind to keep up your end of the deal. You just willingly offered yourself up to me. I think I was so surprised that I just let you go. I didn't know what else to do.

"And I kept thinking about it, too. I had no clue what to make of it. It went against everything I knew and believed about you and other ghosts. For a while there, I started to think that maybe you hadn't been lying to me; that maybe you really were different from the rest and that you did care."

She shut her eyes. "And now come to find out that you were lying to me the whole time. About who you were and everything. When they showed me you sitting here… I didn't know what to think. It felt like I'd just been stabbed in the back. It was just… I felt betrayed, alright? So betrayed. More than I had with Vlad. I have no idea why, but it felt like I was maybe beginning to understand only for it to turn out you were just playing me the whole time."

He didn't understand why she was being so transparent with him. It was very out of character. Even when they'd dated and she was talking to someone she actually liked, she'd never talked about her feelings in this way.

"I never lied to you about being different," he said slowly. "Obviously, I'm not like the rest of the ghosts. But I never lied about caring for you either. That's the different part of me."

She looked at him through the reflection in the mirror. Her back was still towards him. "Yeah, well, being part human doesn't suddenly make you a saint."

There was a pause, and then, "And what's all this with caring about me and protecting me and stuff? You sure didn't seem to care that much when I first met you. Why would you want to put so much effort into me and then not even tell me the truth?"

The answer was on his lips. He wanted to tell her so badly. He wanted to tell her how much he really did care for her, how much it hurt him seeing her like this, maybe even how he sometimes wished they'd never stopped dating. He wanted to change back and spill his heart out to her and beg for her forgiveness.

It would be so easy. The transformation was like blinking. He could do it without even thinking. With no one watching except for her, all the cameras off and her helmet face down on the ground. He could make it happen.

And yet he couldn't. Shame of his cowardice burned at his face. Any response he could've given her got caught in his throat. He didn't have the words to explain to her. Only his actions could show her, but he was still too scared to even do that.

Do you really even trust her then?

When he didn't answer, Valerie turned to him with an eyebrow raised. "Well?"

He couldn't meet her eyes. "Please don't make me answer that," he said in little more than a whisper.

Through his bangs, he could see the emotions tumble across her face. Surprise, anger, realization, solemnity – they all flashed across in a moment. It was easy enough to tell that her brain was hard at work, trying to reconcile his answer with a suitable explanation. He only felt more dismayed when she finally settled on hurt again.

"I know you, don't I?" she asked.

It almost wasn't a question. He knew that she already knew the answer. She needed to hear it from him, to confirm or deny it. He knew that she didn't want it to be real. She wanted him to tell her that she was wrong, that he was just some random kid she didn't even know existed.

And yet, he'd run out of lies to tell. His silence was answer enough.

"Oh my God," she muttered, burying her face in her hands. "Oh my God, I do. I know you. You're probably someone I sit in class with every day and I've been trying to kill you…"

The sudden turn toward self-blame snapped Danny out of his guilt. "Don't even start with that. Look, you were right. It is my fault for not telling you, okay? I should've just come out with it at the very beginning and put a stop to it before it came to this." Once again, he found himself unable to stop talking even after having been silent a moment ago. "I should've told everyone at the very beginning. I shouldn't have tried to keep it a secret."

He couldn't help but think of his parents. He was supposed to have been home hours ago. Even if he was out late at night, he was usually home for dinner if he didn't have other plans. At this rate, he wouldn't be home for a long time. They'd be worried sick about him.

It would've almost been easier if they knew.

Valerie, clever as she was, didn't miss the implications. "Does anyone else know?" she asked. Her voice was softening just a little. Still very much distressed and hurt, but not as bitter as it had been. Maybe the mini-revelation that they knew each other outside of ghost hunting had made it a little more real to her.

He took a breath. "Most of the ghosts know. Vlad does, obviously," he answered honestly. "Humans?" He shrugged as best as he could, trying to keep it a little casual. "Not many. Only a few." He didn't want to give her too many details. He wanted to hang on to his identity for however long he could.

Valerie pressed her back against the wall and slid down until she was sitting. She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them. "Do they know, like, who you are?"

Numbly, Danny nodded. He almost didn't have the energy to lie anymore. The exhaustion from the whole situation – getting captured, being 'interrogated,' dealing with Valerie – it was suddenly beginning to take a toll on him. He just wanted to go home and curl up in bed and sleep for a week and forget that everything was falling apart at the seams.

The silence stretched on. Valerie, arms wrapped around her legs and chin resting on her knees, stared at a spot on the opposite wall. Danny watched her as discreetly as he could, desperately wanting to know what she was thinking. At least she's not yelling anymore, he thought.

Of course, the silence was almost worse to deal with than her anger.

He wondered what the Guys in White were doing. He wondered if someone was on the other side of the mirror, watching the conversation play out to make sure they got the info they wanted. He wondered about the scientists that were probably frantically analyzing his DNA. Did they know what they would be condemning him to if they discovered the truth?

And what was Valerie going to do? Her helmet was still on the ground, face down. He assumed she never turned the recording equipment on; she was the kind of person who would want the answers for herself before even thinking about sharing them with someone else, especially someone like the Guys in White. As far as he knew, she didn't particularly care about siding with them, so to speak.

But they wouldn't take this sort of insubordination sitting down. The last thing Agent O had said echoed in his mind. They had something over her, some sort of blackmail maybe. Maybe it was her identity. Maybe it was her dad.

He shut his eyes. He was assuming that she was going to side with him on this. After all the hurt and anger she'd shown, how could he expect that of her? There was every possibility she would walk out of this room and spill the beans.

And yet she hadn't said anything about Dani. Or Vlad. She'd gone out of her way to protect Dani once she found out she was innocent. At the same time, she was clearly furious with Vlad and no doubt wanted to get him for what he'd done for her. In the end, it all depended on whether she believed in his good intentions or not.

Basically, he had no idea what she would do.

He took a deep breath. Before he could stop himself, he asked, "Do you want to know?"

Their eyes met. Hers were filled with an emotion he couldn't comprehend. He couldn't imagine the turmoil she was facing, having these kinds of revelations thrown on her so suddenly. It hadn't even been that long since they rescued Dani. He'd at least had a little more time to deal with these sorts of things, and he'd had Sam and Tucker (and Jazz, later on) to help him through it. She didn't have any sort of support system, not even her dad.

Suddenly, her expression steeled. She stood up and walked around to the back of his chair. It took him completely by surprise; he craned his neck to try and see her. "What are you doing?"

She didn't answer. He heard the telltale hum of a laser, and he immediately flinched. The pain didn't come, however. Instead, the bonds around his wrists suddenly fell away. He immediately brought his hands back around and massaged his sore wrists.

She circled back around. "Valerie, seriously, wha-" he began to ask, but he was cut off when she knelt down and used the laser in her gauntlet to cut through the bonds around his ankles.

For a moment, he couldn't even speak. She looked down at her boots, unable to look him in the eye. "You hurt me. A lot. You can't really change that, and I don't know if I'll be able to forgive you, at least for a while. I need time to think and go through it and stuff, but we don't really have that right now," she said, fidgeting with her gauntlet. She took a breath before continuing. "Even though part of me still wants to strangle you for lying to me, I kind of get it. I think. I don't know. But either way, these guys don't have the best of intentions, for you and for a lot of other people. I can't be a part of that. I just… can't."

Danny frowned. "What do you mean a lot of other people?"

She shook her head. "The specifics don't matter. You just gotta get rid of whatever they've got on you before they start doing something we'll regret."

It wouldn't be too difficult, he figured. The Guys in White had their security and all, but their scientists weren't known for their intimidation or defense. It would be a little tough to get over to their department (what with phase-proof walls and cameras designed to sense invisible ghosts), but if he turned human and then turned invisible, it might be enough to fool the cameras. As far as he knew, they only started tracking when they detected a certain amount of ectoplasm.

And Tucker had been able to hack into their network before. That had taken a while, and they might've updated their security since then, but Tucker was a whiz. He could get in, delete anything necessary, and get out without being noticed.

"Wait a minute, what about you?" he asked, the thought hitting him like a brick wall. "They were threatening you earlier; they're not gonna be very happy when they find out you freed me."

She kicked one of the shackles that had been around his ankles. "I didn't cut it in exactly a straight line. I'll tell them you broke through or something and that you shorted my helmet. I was lying about the recording stuff anyway," she admitted. "I'll say I couldn't fight back because I had to deactivate all my weapons and they wouldn't come back on in time. They'll believe me. They'll be mad, but they'll believe me. They already hate you enough anyway."

Danny grimaced. He hadn't thought that far ahead; he'd been more focused on Valerie and getting out of here. If the two of them really were able to pull this off, then the Guys in White would be gunning after both of them harder than ever. They could get rid of DNA, they could delete data, but they couldn't erase minds. He'd have to be on his guard even more.

And Valerie would have to be on her guard as well. She claimed they'd believe her, but he knew agents like O would still be suspicious. They'd watch her carefully. Not to mention the fact that she still had to pretend she didn't know anything about Vlad…

It wasn't fair. She hadn't done anything to deserve any of this. Burdened with all of this pressure, having to keep all these secrets, constantly having to worry about her life and her father's.

Sam would tell him he was being ridiculous. He had to deal with those sorts of things, too, she'd say, and arguably on a larger scale in some circumstances, but as he watched her face become more resolute with a sad solemnity, he couldn't help but wonder what would've happened if he'd been able to stop that dumb ghost dog all that time ago.

His crime was playing around his parent's portal and releasing all those new threats into his world. He was paying that price. Her crime had been nothing other than being a normal girl.

No wonder she hated him so much.

"And you're… you're okay with this?" he asked hesitantly.

Valerie rolled her tongue in her mouth. "I don't know. I'm sure I'll wake up in the morning and regret this. But…" she trailed off. He recognized the look on her face. She was thinking something, but she refused to say it out loud. She didn't want to admit whatever it was to him.

He saved her the awkward silence. "You're a good person, Val. Your heart is in the right place, I'm sure. It isn't fair that you got all this dumped on you so suddenly. I'm just really grateful you're willing to do this for me."

"Yeah, well," she said. She blew out a long breath. "You seriously owe me one after this."

He hadn't realized he made up his mind until she said that. "I'll tell you. Uh, my identity, that is," he said quickly before he could second guess himself. His core fluttered and his stomach turned over and he could feel the ectoplasm rushing through his veins, but he felt sure that it was the right thing to do. "You deserve at least that much."

That earned him a look. She studied him for a moment before shaking her head. "No. Not right now. They're gonna question me about whatever happened in here. At least I can truthfully claim ignorance then. They'll know if I'm lying about your identity." Danny considered that, and he had to admit she had a point.

His heart warmed at the thought that she would lie to protect him.

"Besides," she continued, "it's hard enough finding out that I know you for real. I don't think I can handle putting a name and face to that fact right now." The words came out stunted, like it was too difficult for her to say out loud. "I guess it's like maybe if I don't know the whole truth, I can pretend the rest of the truth isn't real. Or that it's not as close to home. Ignorance is bliss and all."

Danny nodded. He knew he shouldn't be surprised – he thought she'd be demanding him to reveal himself by now – but her motives were understandable. It was odd, seeing her thinking things through like this and not jumping to conclusions or anger like she tended to do when it came to ghost stuff, but it was also incredibly encouraging. He almost wished he could show Sam and Tucker as proof that she could change.

She started to turn away, but he caught her hand. Her mouth opened, undoubtedly to tell him off, but she stopped herself. Danny hesitated a moment before saying, "Whenever you're ready then, okay? I'll tell you." She watched him with analytical, green eyes, and he instinctively looked away. "Besides, you might figure it out on your own or something."

Valerie didn't say anything, instead choosing to pull her wrist from his loose grip. From her belt, she pulled off a stick-like weapon. She pointed it toward her side and clicked a button, causing electricity to spark up the sides and hover dangerously over her suit.

Danny was taken aback. "Wait, what are you doing?"

"Not everything was deactivated," she told him, staring at a spot on the wall behind him. If she was worried about the electricity three inches away from her, she didn't show it. "Just chill, alright? It's only set to stun, and it won't be that bad since I'm human. The important thing is the effects are similar to ecto-electrocution, so they'll just think you jumped me and knocked me out."

His mouth opened and closed like a fish. Things were suddenly moving way too fast for him to fully process, but he could at least process the gist of what she was saying. "I'm not gonna stand here and let you hurt yourself!" he protested.

She glared at him, but the corners of her lips twitched upward into a slight smirk. "You don't get to tell me what to do, Phantom," she said.

Before he had time to say anything else, she closed her eyes and inhaled, steeling herself for what she was about to do. In one quick motion, she pressed the stick into her side. Electricity scattered across her suit.

Danny reached out, but he couldn't find it in himself to say anything or even grab the stick away. He could only watch in dismay as her body shook with the shock, her curly hair becoming even frizzier and her teeth clacking together as they buzzed. It was only a couple of seconds before she dropped to the floor, unconscious.

He couldn't help but stare at her limp body. Every instinct was screaming at him to scoop her up and take her with him, but he gritted his teeth and took in one slow breath. He had to trust she knew what she was doing. She was more than capable of taking care of herself, she’d told him, and he'd witnessed it firsthand. She'd be okay.

And if, for some reason, she wasn't…

"I'll come back for you," he promised her, more for his sake than anything.

Pushing away all thoughts of her, he swiped the taser-stick off the ground and set off in search of the research wing.

#danny phantom #danny phantom valerie #valerie gray #gray ghost #sort of #hannah writes #danny phantom fanfic #yeah yeah i know im not done with dannymay #but who doesnt love reading val and danny having Feelings

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narrans · 17 hours

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A Small and Tall Collection | Chapter Two | Into the Unknown

Venturing into the walls was often an adventure; at least, when you knew where you were and where you were going. Ashlynn had neither of these benefits as she began cautiously tiptoeing through the walls of this new home she’d managed to find.

After spending a week and a number of days in the frigid cold and bouncing from place to place and not finding a suitable home, her mind was set that she needed to make this place work. It had to. She couldn’t go back out into the cold again. The Borrower woman needed time to rest and recuperate. Even if this place only lasted for a few weeks, it would be enough.

She hoped that wasn’t the case and that this could be her forever home, but that would come from an evaluation later.

In the meantime, Ashlynn knew she needed to get to much higher ground. If she wanted to stay warm and away from the pests down below, climbing to a higher place was nonoptional. Too many times she’d stayed down on the ground level only to be confronted with every mishap imaginable. Flooding. Pests raiding her supplies. Insects seeking her body heat in the middle of the night. Mold infestations from some spill or uncleaned mess the humans left behind. Remodeling that involved nails suddenly jutting through the wall and, no pun intended, nailing her right in the leg.

Sure, ceilings with apartments or floors above were also a potential worry, but humans were far less likely to mess with something on the ceiling than the floor.

So, up was where she decided to go. It took a little bit of time, but she managed to find a decent beam that wasn’t too far above her head and, based on what she saw, guessed there were other easy to reach beams not too far above that.

It’ll have to do. Ashlynn thought as she removed her hook from her hip and stared at the dusty wood above her head. Her inhalation calmed her body. Her eyes held the target in place. One swing. Two. Three. Faster and faster. She went all the way to seven both out of uncertainty and ritual before she let the metal piece fly. Right as she heard the hook make contact, she pulled down with all of her might to secure it in place.

It took some time, but Ashlynn hoisted herself up onto the first beam. Then the next. Then the next. The frost in her limbs made her joints stiff, but she was determined. Too many nights were spent in the cold and one more night would be the end of her.

She knew it.

It wasn’t until she paused to catch her breath as she leaned against what she could only guess was some kind of electric box called a “breaker box” that she noticed a delicious smell coming from the other side of the wall. She hoped she’d be able to tell where it was coming from once she’d made it up to the ceiling.

How far up am I anyway?

It hadn’t occurred to Ashlynn that she’d climbed up so far, but a quick glance over the edge told her a different story. The abyss below and the shadows swallowing the light from her hip lamp told her she must’ve made it to the ceiling.

Good.

It was warm in the ceiling, and it gave her a better vantage point to look at the humans far below. Ashlynn would’ve stayed longer to warm herself, but the smell was too intoxicating. It was sweet, salty, and flavorful. She had to know where it was coming from – and soon. Her insides wouldn’t let her go much longer without beginning to protest loud enough for even a human to hear.

She finally made it to the final ledge, which revealed a long and mostly uninterrupted surface. She figured this had to be the ceiling of the apartment below, and also the source of the delicious scent. Ashlynn followed her nose through the labyrinth of cords and collected dust until she reached a nearby wall joist. As luck would have it, the wall led to a slightly loosened light socket, revealing the ground beneath it.

Ashlynn approached carefully, wary that something loosened could give way, and peered down. Her eyes quickly adapted to the light below as she maneuvered around the opening and peered down through the sliver allowing her to peer into the human world. The sight made her mouth water once she’d managed to get a feel for the entire room.

Below was a freshly backed tray of chocolate chip cookies.

Eyes as big as the cookies themselves, Ashlynn’s insides grumbled with desire. Her food supply was less than ideal, and this was an opportunity she couldn’t afford to miss. The only thing that made her hesitate was the fact that they smelled freshly baked.

It meant humans might be nearby, and that was something that couldn’t be overlooked. If they were nearby, Ashlynn could be seen and, worse, caught. It spelled doom and destruction not only for herself, but for all of Borrower kind.

At the same time, supplies were scarce and nearing empty. The risk was an immense one, but she needed to take it. It was a dire need – cookies or not, she needed food.

Ashlynn shimmied through the ceiling joists and found herself at the far wall where, thankfully, there was a clear path from top to bottom. Securing her one spare line on an exposed nail, she gripped the string tight with her fingerless gloves and began shimmying down the edge of the wall.

In what felt like three or four bounces on the evenly plastered walls, Ashlynn suddenly had to stop herself burning her fingertips in the process, as she met a perfectly placed support joist. Her frustration was almost immediately overridden by her realization of her sheer luck.

The line she placed at the board she was on was exactly beside an electrical cover, and it looked to be right at countertop level. Ashlynn’s eyes gleamed in the quiet darkness as she began carefully fiddling with the screw in the wall. Once. Twice. Her muscles screamed as they seemingly knocked off the chill between each joint. Before twisting a third time, she pressed her ear against the plastic and listened closely Her thundering heartbeat soon quieted and the ambient sounds of the house amplified.

She heard the ice maker click on.

The heater elements clicked as they began forcing warm air through the vents.

Sounds of the house settling and some human on the floor above undoubtedly shuffling or dancing based on the vibrations they were making through the floor.

One thing Ashlynn didn’t hear were the sounds of a human in the apartment she was glancing into, which was all she needed to prompt her to give that final twist and knock that last bolt loose. The sound of the cover’s slight crack as she pushed it off of the wall made every hair stand on end, but now she had full access to the countertop.

She glanced around the outside of the counter before, in an impulsive rush, Ashlynn dared to dart out onto the counter toward the cookies. The plate was immense, easily twice her height from one side to the other, and the span of her arms alone was the same as the steaming baked goods. As she approached, she noticed a few larger crumbs and decided that those would be her prize.

Ashlynn didn’t have time to be too selective. She took only a moment to stop at the edge of the plate, scoop up three larger fragments that filled her arms, and shove them messily into her bag before sprinting back toward the electrical cover – and just in time too.

Her heart was just starting to beat normally as she slipped back into the confines of the walls when she heard an immense grinding sound. The hair on the back of her neck instantly stood on end. There was a tremor to her hand that was too distinct to mistake for anything else.

Humans were coming.

Ashlynn, hands shaking, pulled the electrical cover back on and secured the screw as the sound of the grinding stopped. Seconds later, she heard muffled sounds of talking and the jingle of keys. Every nerve in her body kept her completely motionless as she crouched and continued to listen as hard as she could. Despite her blood roaring in her ears, it didn’t block the sound of the humans’ voices as they entered the kitchen.

“Do you think they’re cool now, Soren?”

Curses…

It’s a kid.

A boy kid.

“I call dibs on the strawberry milk!”

Two of them?! Plus parents?! Four whole humans?

“What? You can’t call the whole thing, Dorian!”

Ashlynn listened as some calmer, deeper voice responded to the two much younger boys. Based on the way their footsteps hit the ground, the youngsters were prancing and bouncing around and creating a ruckus.

“We can all have the strawberry milk – after dinner. No, I don’t think they’re cool yet, but they will probably be the perfect temperature once you two finish helping me load in the groceries and wash your hands. If you get it done in thirty seconds, we can share one cookie before dinner. Ready set go!”

This one must be Soren. Ashlynn thought as she listened to the chorus of voices and how they began scampering about running from the car back to the kitchen. The crinkling sound of bags of chips and dull thunks told Ashlynn these boys were quick when motivated, which wasn’t a good sign for her.

While all of the noise continued, she quietly backed away and climbed her line all the way back up to the ceiling. She had half a mind to leave right then and there. What Borrower would stay put and create a home where there were two little boys living?

Ashlynn’s twisting insides gave the answer – a desperate Borrower.

A desperate Borrower would stay in a place with two young boys and at least one human adult, most likely the dad. They would make a home out of a place like this. They would stay put and gather necessary supplies until they were ready to leave or decided to risk it all on this unknown place.

Ashlynn sadly was in that category and had no other options at the moment.

Supplies were limited and, perhaps, things weren’t as bad as she thought. Observation was necessary, which is what she decided to do as she approached the slightly askew light fixture she’d used to observe the kitchen. While there, she watched one adult human with dark brown hair walking around putting things away while the two young boys with sandy blond, brown hair bounced around like rubber balls.

It was hard to tell specifics about each of the humans’ features, but Ashlynn determined that the two young ones had pale blue eyes and roundish faces and the build of Soren, who she guessed was their dad, had a comparatively lean yet muscular build.

She watched as the humans finished unloading everything and, as promised, shared a single cookie and a “splash” of milk, whatever that measurement meant for a human that was. Ashlynn also decided to eat silently alongside the humans, which was the best thing that had happened all day. The taste was sweet and a touch salty, and every bite felt like it could unlock forgotten memories deep within her mind.

How this human could make something like that, she didn’t know. What she did know was that, for now, she needed to stay put and recuperate. If she needed to leave, then it would come to that. Until then, she needed to gather supplies and remain hidden in the shadows.

Until then, this was her home, and she’d just have to make the most of it. At the very least, she couldn’t leave until she’d “borrowed” some more of those cookies. It was the one good thing she could hang onto.

She retrieved her bag and, for the first time in what felt like forever, hunkered down between a few secure looking wood blocks and drifted into a restful slumber.

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Continue | Coming Soon

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A Tall and Small Collection | Original Story

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