#also he calls for a sheriff instead of just 'oh ill talk to the head of police' and arizona is like in the south part of the us

[qwuilty]

Controversial postal 1 dude take

He's so trouble shoes

[runningwithhellhounds]

Theo, across recent timescapes. Theo x life: a series of impressions.

Theo is an invasive agent in Hayden's sensory collection. She's trying to not pay him any mind.

She also tried to erase his self-importance by pretending he didn't exist when she knew he watched with his bridge-burn eyes as she and Liam kissed. Found success in his uncharacteristic silence in a moment that was ruinable.

They are standing in dappled shadows on the forest ground, waiting for Liam, who ran ahead to make a call out of Theo's earshot. Theo is sitting by a tree with his knees up and loosely spread, with his hands in between them. His hands, chained: it's simplest hazard control. Effective, though. Hayden feels spiteful as she's walking left to right, throwing a palm-sized rock from hand to hand. Theo looks bored, irked.

''Where are you going to, little Red Riding Hood?'' Theo addresses her, smooth to self-entertain, making her stop mid-throw, causing the rock to hit her palm and fall on the ground. She picks it up and mimes throwing it at him. Success unfound, in how he doesn't flinch. Success unfound, in how he's making this into a story about a little girl and a sneaky wolf.

She considers him. If answering at all would cater to his amusement, or lesser his situational unpleasantries, which she's trying to avoid. But Theo is in the midway of doing nothing and determined to draw attention to himself, the way he has been.

''We're out of flowers, I'm afraid. Would you like some redwood wood, instead?'' Theo offers in a made-pleasant public service voice. Hayden notices that he's siding with the forest, here, scuttling into its floors where he has found purchase through extended stay.

''You know all the tree species?'' Hayden asks. Takes a bite and wills it into a treat for herself, rather than bait. Theo probably meant the tall and non-wiggly tree he's sitting against; Hayden wonders if he ever studied forestry, or if this is werewolfery knowledge.

''I know better things, too. If you come closer, I'll whisper them to you.'' He grins. Lifts his chained wrists as he adds, ''No pressure, though.''

Hayden considers him. Again and again. This is, she guesses, learnt prudency; a refined taste for justice, maybe. Guesses resurrection does that to you.

''Warning, beware of dog,'' she says.

Theo looks at her, eyes hooding and mouth neutralising. He shrugs, looks sideways. Attention, lost. Trade, declined. Secretful threat traded for blankness, if anything. Hayden, it seems, does not entertain in Theo-ways.

—

Theo Raeken, it turns out, has a finitude to his spread of catastrophe. Sheriff Stilinski watches cross-armed as running-mouth-boy exposes the culprits of murder; aggravates them like it's his best expertise until they say things they tried not to say and so saves his own slate from police-worthy additions.

Stilinski watches as Theo, for some inexplicable reason, lingers in the police department. Theo is sitting on one of the reception benches, eating a bag of mixed nuts from the vending machine. One would think it's ill-advised, that as soon as Parrish released him, Theo asked Parrish to buy him some goods from the vending machine, said he was detained unfairly. Deprived of food for this short but uneasy time. Didn't have his belongings on him. But it mustn't be nonsensical; it must be some behavioural tactic of making himself appear unconcerned. As having clear consciousness, innocence, all of those.

Stilinski resumes watching through the screen as Theo's chewing slows down when an officer with a police dog walks to the machine. He watches Theo's frowned, suffering, doubtful expression, staring into the dog's eyes like he can't take the dog seriously. The officer stops fishing change out of his wallet with a metal scoop in his cupped hand to shoot Theo a questioning look.

''Everything alright, son?'' the officer jingles the change in his hand, looking Theo over.

Theo's gaze doesn't even change when he looks up. Doesn't turn into a stranglehold of a gaze, either. ''Does your dog bite?''

The officer considers Theo, the sagged, unruffled spectre of him.

''No need to worry,'' he assures. Starts inserting the coins. He then turns to Theo in an afterthought. ''Is someone picking you up? You need anything?''

''Oh,'' Theo breathes, ''for real? Would you? Just something to eat? I've been stuck here waiting.''

Stilinski watches as Theo picks up a protein bar from the machine drawer. Flavoured water, a second later. Probably, apathy comes easily to him. He must not think in any understandable way; rather, he must think unfeelingly. Kid's got— not a care in the world.

—

Liam is holding a bouquet and inspecting its flowery contents. Frowning at the petals he's scraping at, glowering at the buds he's poking.

In the aftermath of the ceremony ran on the anniversary of Liam's school in the decorated sports hall, his mother is standing by the chairs in unison with another boy watching her son.

She knows him from a photo Liam showed her, a boy new in the school, softly named: Theo. It was evident that Liam took the photo discreetly, which she commented on and which Liam denied. She notes the distance at which Theo keeping and approaches him.

''Don't worry, he's not keeping secrets from his friends,'' she says. ''He doesn't have a girlfriend, at least not that I know of. I was the one who gave him the flowers.''

''Oh?'' Theo says. ''I see.''

He puts his hands in his pockets. He's probably shy. This happens sometimes, with high-school boys, they can become clumsy with themselves. She feels motherly talking to them in moments like this; motherly and pleasant in her efforts to engage adolescents when they are dithering.

''I think he's reconciling masculinity with flowers,'' she comments.

He smiles. Smirks, more like it. They must be close.

''Good colour choice,'' he comments on the orange of the flowers.

She nudges his arm. ''Go talk to him when they're done taking photos.''

Theo shakes his head, shrugs once. ''Nah. I will be leaving soon, anyway,'' he says, and she drops her hand from his arm. He's probably a little shy.

—

Mediterranean sunrise comes with a surprise: a man awakening on the ground a few steps from the barely-formed footpath. A man, or maybe younger, his Mediterranean awakening accompanied by the smell of fig trees, and all. Kind red soil.

He's naked. He's slowly wiping a hand across his lips. You know, suddenly, that this is a complication. The circumstance makes his body looks like an involuntarily stripped body. Perspective changes: red soil is now needled soil. Acrid tones sour the sunrise.

''Hey,'' you call, stepping closer in your sandals and a coral-printed towel around your neck, feeling unsuitable for the demands of the situation. ''Hey. Are you okay? Should I call the police?''

He's pushing himself up. Not looking at you. Not mindful of the resin at his back. This is indicative, you think, of something, because you're mindful of the way road dust is making your hair dry and webby, while his attention is this narrow, or overall absent.

He looks up, then, at you. ''What?''

A surprise gifted by a foreign agency; not Italian, then. You switch to English and try to make it not clumsy.

''I'll call the police for you,'' you assure him. Scramble to find your phone in your tote bag.

''D'n't call th'police,'' he says. He isn't trying to cover where his body is exposed.

''I don't want to assume anything,'' you say, feeling odd and performative. ''But— Look. I can just call the emergency number and they can direct you to a centre for sexual assault.''

Body, bodily manuscripted into the soft soil. He looks like he's processing slowly. Gets distracted inspecting his hands. Is that blood, you wonder, realise, really, it all just getting worse and fraughter. In between his fingers.

''Don't call th'police,'' he says. ''Was jus' drunk.''

''Is that blood? On your fingers.''

''I jus'. D'n't call. Did s'me things I shouldn't have.'' He reads your face, then says, ''Not like that. T'myself.''

Heat is lowering to the grounds of the morning and your sandals are light on your feet, escape-hairs pleasant, pine trees your favourite. And the hostility-seen boy is trying to act alright.

''It's okay,'' you say, wondering if it is; something complicated about the okayness of not-okay. You squat down, to balance the eye heights. ''I can call the hotline for—''

''No, n't—. Just stupid, no police. Please.''

''Do you want some water,'' you say, taking it out of your bag, and he takes it. Uncaps and smells it, blinking with his nose above the bottle opening, before he shakes his head a little, and starts drinking. Your phone is still in your hand, but you're unsure. You give him your second non-swimly shorts and wait until he overcomes his hesitance and gingerly takes them.

''You don't have to tell me,'' you insist. ''But I'm sure that there's someone who—''

''Thanks. It's okay, you can go now.'' He starts moving to get the shorts on, then swiftly straightens his back, inhaling deeply and looking up. Must be avoiding some hidden ache.

You hesitate, phone in your hand, legs starting to feel stiff from the position.

''I could drive you someplace. My car is ten min—''

''Thanks, but I'm okay now. You can't help,'' he interrupts. There are cases like this one, right, people using caustic means for secret-maintaining ends.

''Are you sure?'' you press. ''I could go away while you're talking to—''

''You're not helping,'' he says, monotone now, now operative and controlled to be alkaline. He's looking at your eyes fixedly, and you stop hesitating. ''You should go.''

Ground gives. You shake your head and start walking away, leaving him with your shorts and thinking then good fucking luck, honey.

You turn back one more time. He's looking at you leaving with unfocused glossy eyes, and you wonder, surely not for the last time, how deeply and stickily swamp-lodged he must be.

—

A hot guy is walking in the chest-high sea and doing little dives. Grazing the water surface with his fingertips in between and wiping salt from his eyes, before diving again and re-salting his eyes, like some deliberately mindless-seeming cyclical mechanism. Salt for maintenance, salt a nuisance.

Now he bends his knees and only submerges up to his chin, and you imagine he's sensing freshness at his nape.

''You just have to relax,'' you say loudly from where you come to stand in the water to your ankles, ''and you can probably hold your breath for longer than that.''

He stands up and turns until he spots you. You walk closer until the water is at your waist and he's looking at you like someone unexpectedly interrupted. Unexpectedly perceived, unfortunately. A popular kid being addressed by an unpopular one.

''You wanna teach me how to swim?'' he asks and smirks a little, and you shrug.

''If you feel like you can't stay underwater for more than five seconds, it's probably because you're panicking. You can hold your breath comfortably for at least fifteen seconds, I dare say.''

He looks at the glistening in the water, looking weary.

''Can I,'' he says, more of a response made to be unrevealing than a question.

''One thing I'll say,'' you say, untying your hair to avoid breaking it when it will be wet and to be casual, maybe; mitigate the upfrontness and possible insinuation, ''is that your body looks mad functional. Don't take this in any funky way.''

''I won't,'' he says.

—

Theo is in no space. Some telephone line space.

Should I be taking this personally, Liam texts him. He knows that Theo has been straightforwardly ignoring his messages. He hopes, actually; hopes Theo hasn't run into any of his long-known non-friends who see his face as a face, fanged, and not eyes, often confused, tongue, often tied, responses, often belated. Hopes that Theo isn't not answering because of some surviving anachronism from his past, but rather because of something new. That would be more manageable.

He also hopes that Theo isn't not answering because he is succumbing to his self-damaging instincts, even though that would mean simmering resentment towards Liam; even though that would likely be the best possible option in the precarious array of options in Theo's life.

Liam texts, did you know that if space was infinitely big and infinitely old, it would be white? I don't really get why, do you?

—

You have a boy couched in your living room. His name is Theo. Picked him up on a staff-only fire escape. It would be a leisurely sight, now, a tracksuit-hoodie-boy sitting right next to a drying rack, which he said he didn't mind. If it wasn't for your rapid heart. Heart: heated, speaking in unit-free measures. Heat: a smooth, unfibrous thing.

''May I,'' he murmurs, and you lean in.

It's a classic student situation: a breathless undertaking to the backtune of wine in tea mugs. He selected a Sierra Nevada mug with a setting sun. Came with the flat.

''Add me on Facebook,'' you say. The two of you haven't even done much, but you feel so hooked, by the fire-escape boy who moves in a way so self-assured and touches indoor objects warily. ''Or Instagram. Wherever you want.''

''I don't use social media,'' he says. He uses his hold on your hand and your finger to push his hair out of his eye. You like the way it parts and hits his temples.

''Phone number?'' You suggest, more joking than not. Exchanging phone numbers feel more joke-like than not.

''No phone number,'' he says. Must see your expression, shrugs and says, ''Guess I'm too old for technology.'' He smirks at the dry look you shoot at him, knowing your age of twenty-three to his twenty-two. He's saying too old and you don't buy it. He carries no weariness in his jaguar body. He takes his lower lip in his mouth. ''What if,'' he then says, ''I'm a vampire.'' He touches the tip of his tongue to his upper teeth.

''My favourite paranormal activity,'' you say.

''Too bad,'' he says, grinning. You look at his ajar lips and think: too bad.

''Your canines are sharp, though,'' you say. ''At least.''

He grins wide. Pointedly and slowly leans towards your neck with an open mouth, until teeth make contact. You feel your smile dropping when his phone beeps. He hesitates for a beat and then leans his forehead on your chin, just breathing there, and you know you are both thinking about him saying no phone number.

''But none for me,'' you say. Because of all the places your bodies have been touching, a beat of silence means: five heartbeats of him staring at his phone, engulfed in the jacket he discarded on the floor by the couch, and you staring at him. And then he leans over, easily shifting your weight, until he can kick the jacket, some, not really achieving anything.

''Another vampire,'' he says, then, on the side of unapologetic. Luckily, you are known to be unresentful. Good at not taking things personally. ''From another brood.'' He places his hands back on your hips.

''Hm,'' you say.  It's fine. The monomania of the green-eye boy is temporary. He's hot, but your desire never lasts, anyway.

—

There's a guy on your bus ride, on the opposite side of the passage, one seat forward. Your age. You noticed the generic niceness of his face.

He's drawing a sinusoidal curve on the fogged window. Moves his hand further right, where the window is still fogged. Starts drawing vertical lines, carefully, some methodology to it, the lines parallel to each other. He pauses after he draws four. Huffs, twists his smile into one that is hiding and downturned. He crosses the four lines with one that is horizontal, then adds another vertical line to the side.

You feel yourself smile. He drops his hand, shakes his head a little. Looks through the window at the frost-covered barren brown fields, away from his prisoner day-count. It's funny. He's funny. You look away.

—

It's a short, crude thing. Like this:

A fictitious boy stumbles out of a bare-walled building. Languid, unrestful body. Unleisurely, water-logged body. A tired backstreet play-doh thing. Young.

''Hey,'' you call. ''You. You good?''

The night is warm, humid. A post-rain road construction night. A night for cicadas, if you drive further out.

He inhales in the way of catching breath. Squints at his watch, eyes go glassy. Looks at the moon overhead, then squints at you. And you— you feel awake now.

You look him over, the sugarburn boy with a backwards baseball cap. The trouble of a tooth cavity, which means: okay, if you have some money. Some reckless uncare, too. He's watching you. You inhale slowly, but it turns out all tell-tale anyway. He must see the appeal you feel, in how he licks his lips and tilts his head.

''Interested?'' he asks.

You hesitate. Feel for your jacket pocket with your wallet in it. Lift it without taking it out, clear enough.

He nods. Clears his throat.

''Can you play nice?'' he asks. Teasing, but also not.

You can.

He nods. Looks at his watch. You follow him.

—

You pick up your pretend-sugar fake-care service by a closed ice-cream stand, its inviting light sign shining red on his face. It's raining lightly when you pull up and he doesn't have his hood up like he knows the wet hair strands sticking to his forehead make him look good. In the car, he has no song requests when you ask.

''How can I service you?'' he asks.

—

''What should I call you,'' you ask.

''No need to call me,'' he says.

''What if I want to,'' you admit. Not subtle and elusive. If I may be so bold as to in the back of your mouth.

He pauses, thinks. His gaze is saccading empty spot to empty spot and you know the only type of name you'll get is a fake. You'll take it, as a consolation purchase.

''Theo,'' he says.

—

Alec answers the knock with a toothbrush in his hand.

''Theo. Jesus,'' he breathes.

''Hello,'' Theo responds, overly carefully-crafted for the simplicity of a greeting, but Theo has never carried himself as though he was simple. ''I brought you those,'' he hands Alec paper sheets folded in half. ''I got my hands on some werewolves. Could you give those to Scott?''

It's more automatic than not, when Alec takes and unfolds them. They are black-and-white prints of photographs of ID's.

''You did?'' Alec says, still dumbfounded, still in the act of being interrupted. Habit-mindedness sliced in half. ''How?''

Theo shrugs. His face furrows for a beat, then he fiddles with the door handle, pushing it down twice.

Alec looks at the goods in his hands: a toothbrush, werewolfy profiles. ''Do you want me to tell him that they're from you?''

Theo looks conflicted. That's fair; it's a conflicting state of circumstances, or what is it that Liam told Alec. Maybe Theo turned to Alec because of the implied similarity: both well-accustomed to doing what it takes. Maybe Theo is finding some comfort in that; like Alec would recognise that Theo is a runaway object, or a throwaway one, only having made himself a weapon because he had been made into one first. Like Alec would recognise that Theo is trying to pay his dues. Or maybe Alec is misjudging and Theo isn't seeking comfort at all, which is what Malia thinks. Guess Alec is a little soft for softer scenarios.

''Jesus,'' Alec says again. ''You were gone so long. You didn't say anything. Have you—'' He hesitates, frowns a little. ''Does—Ah, well, you know. Does Liam know?'' He was going for tentative with this one before he swerved. Tending to the habits of skittish wolves.

Theo is looking past Alec's shoulder, distanced and glassy. Alec thinks of dolls, their eyes amiss in that they are unseeing and custom-built. It's a thought too cruel, unless it's sympathetic.

Theo shakes his head, slowly, and exhales, touches his temples with his index fingers, then drops them lower and presses them over his jaw muscles.

''TMJ pain?'' Alec asks.

Theo drops his hands. ''What?''

''Oh. The jaw joint,'' Alec points to his own.

Theo shrugs. ''It's just tender. This muscle,'' he taps.

''Have you been stressed? TMJ problems are common for young people. Can happen because of stress. Stress can cause teeth grinding.'' A clumsy explanation, but Alec can't re-order its parts now, just hopes Theo takes it. Hopes Theo makes his skin onion peel and shows something less dry underneath. And Theo:

Theo looks at him expressionlessly, for a beat, and then exaggeratedly sad-faces. Pouts, closes his eyes, nods slowly. ''I've been stressed,'' he says.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32225941

[sanktaleksander]

I didn’t know you did Rick/Shane oh my god can I get an 18 please?

I am sorry this took fucking forever (gotta love when the mean ol’ mental illness factory in my head doesn’t want to do one thing correctly and help me get things done). But I adore you and I hope this isn’t too mushy or OOC for your taste😅 I have precisely one Sharick fic on ao3 and I haven’t written for TWD in quite a while but I sure as hell gave it my best shot. I really hope you like it❤️

Side note: if you see this and sent in a prompt that hasn’t been filled, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten you, I am going to do my best to get yours done❤️

Enjoy❤️

Rick/Shane + 18. Playing with hair

“You look like shit, cowboy.” 

The glare Shane got in return would have made most people shrink back but Shane Walsh was definitely not most people and Shane knew it was pretty half hearted. He also wasn’t one to mince words and Rick did in fact look like shit. Warmed over shit maybe, but still shit. It had been above ninety for at least the fourth day in a row and the King County sheriff’s office was not known for having the most top of the line cruisers. It may have been late but the heat and humidity in this part of the country did not abate all that much after the sun went down. Rick had also just pulled a twelve hour shift in exchange for a bit more vacation time, which they both were stockpiling for their honeymoon after they got married, so Shane supposed his fiance had a good excuse for looking like a husky that wasn’t adjusting well to life in rural Georgia. 

It was approximately midnight and Rick had been gone since noon twelve hours earlier and Shane knew he didn’t have to stay up to wait for Rick to return, they were both used to not always being able to see each other as much as they would have liked, but Shane didn’t mind the odd hours. He was pretty adept at catching cat naps when the need arose. 

He came up to offer Rick some iced tea, kept cold until Rick got home. Normally he would’ve gone out and gotten him some iced coffee but it was late and Shane knew the other man wouldn’t want to be hyped up from the caffeine and unable to get some decent sleep. Rick took off his hat and hung it up on the hook by the door, exhaling deeply as he took the glass from Shane and brought it to his lips, drinking a good bit before giving the glass back so he could get out of his boots and unbuckle his duty belt. He was already beginning to feel a bit better, the cool feeling of the air conditioned apartment and the iced tea settling in his belly helping to at least begin to cool off his tired body. Rick didn’t mind taking the longer shift but every time he did he came home reminded that he wasn’t the youngest anymore, though he didn’t exactly consider himself an old man either. But he had one failed marriage and two kids to his name, so he definitely had some milage behind him. 

It certainly didn’t seem to bother Shane. His fiance had once just been his best friend, someone he’d known practically since they were born. When you grew up in a small town, you pretty much knew everyone around your age in one way or another, usually going to school with each other, but he’d actually spent most of his childhood and teenage years with Shane by his side. They were practically attached at the hip most of the time. If you found one of them, it was a pretty safe bet that you’d find the other sooner or later. It had been an odd sort of relationship honestly, since both of them differed in several ways. But it worked somehow and Rick trusted Shane more than he trusted a good portion of the people he knew.

But, as they got older and graduated high school, things started to change. Even as they both decided to enroll in the police academy, Rick found himself falling in love with a woman from a neighboring town and starting a family, whereas Shane never really got around to the whole family thing, instead choosing to bed whatever woman he chose, keeping them around for as long as he liked before he felt the need for someone new. 

Despite this, they remained close, working together and spending time off together when they could even though his wife had never really liked Shane or even approved of Rick being friends with him. That was the first in a long list of things that his now ex would come to dislike and disagree with. 

By the time he had two children and the nice house that he’d always dreamed of having, his relationship with his wife wasn’t something he could easily deal with anymore. He also could not simply act like there was nothing wrong between them, something he had tried to do in favor of starting some sort of disagreement that inevitably turned into an argument. It didn’t help that he was becoming increasingly aware of a part of himself he’d been denying since he was young, practically since he’d been old enough to understand what it meant to care for someone else beyond friendship. 

The night Lori left, taking both of the kids with her, Rick had felt like his world, which had already been hanging by a thread, had now well and truly fallen apart right before his eyes and no matter what he’d done to try and keep things together, it just hadn’t been enough. 

He couldn’t remember what exactly had brought Shane to his door, if he’d texted him or maybe called him and what he said if he did, but he could recall how Shane had dropped everything to come to his house that felt so empty without his family. 

Shane really didn’t have much experience with this type of heartbreak and he tended to not let feelings interfere with his relationships with the women he dated, but that didn’t stop him from trying to do everything he could for his best friend. He ordered them Rick’s favorite takeout and got them some beer, not the cheap shit they usually drank either, springing for a nicer brand. Rick hadn’t felt like drinking all that much and it was hard to enjoy the food, even though it was indeed his favorite, but he could see that Shane was trying. So he sat with him on the living room couch and did his best to at least take a few sips of beer and some bites of food. Shane did most of the talking, which wasn’t unusual in any circumstance, but it did help Rick focus on something else besides how terrible he felt as Shane told him whatever bullshit story he could think of. It was soon getting late, their food now cold. That was fine with Rick, he had lost what little appetite he had and he didn’t much want any more beer either, though he hadn’t really drunk much. As the tv played some movie he didn’t know, he couldn’t help noticing how close Shane was, the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his thigh where it was pressed against Rick’s own. He was surprised by how much these simple observations made him ache on the inside and not just because he was missing Lori even though he was sure she wasn’t missing him. 

He ignored it as best he could, just like he always did anytime he felt feelings like this rising up inside him. He said something to Shane about it being late, that he was grateful he had come over but he should head home and Rick would try to get some sleep, though he doubted he would do much but toss and turn. It had been quite a long time since he’d slept in a bed alone and he wasn’t looking forward to it. 

Recalling it afterward, Rick didn’t know if it had been the look on his face or if Shane had planned to say something before that moment. But suddenly there was a warm hand on his thigh and Rick found his heart had started to pound. The hand that was on his thigh moved to trail down the side of his neck before carefully getting him to turn his head so their eyes met. His skin was still tingling when Shane kissed him. 

Shane asked him over and over if he wanted to do this, if he was sure that he wanted it for the right reasons because he knew Rick would hate himself afterward for saying yes simply because he was lonely and hurting. But Rick knew it was more than that, that he had wanted this for so long, denying it over and over, even as it became clear that Shane was the one person in his life who had always been there, who never judged him or found things to dislike about him. Shane was his one constant through practically his entire life. He’d been more devoted to Rick than his own wife. He’d been right there the whole time, just like he’d always been, just like he was right then and it had taken Rick this long to finally allow himself to acknowledge what he’d wanted for years. 

So much of that night, Rick would never forget, not as long as he lived. He’d never been with someone where every touch felt so good, so perfect and his lack of experience did not deter Shane in the least. If anything, the other man seemed to like it, got off on the fact that he was Rick’s first experience with another guy, that he was getting the opportunity to teach Rick some of his many tricks. 

Even years later, Rick could still hear Shane’s deep, rumbling voice in his ear, begging to be fucked, telling him he knew how badly Rick wanted this, could see it so clearly on his face. Rick hadn’t ever expected Shane to ask for that, to trust him enough to do that, but it ended up being better than anything he could’ve imagined. Seeing the look of utter bliss on Shane’s face when he came, hearing him moan like that and call Rick’s name was definitely something he thought about for weeks after and still did on occasion even now. 

When he woke up the next morning with his head tucked under Shane’s chin, the other man sleeping soundly, his arms wrapped almost protectively around Rick as they lay cocooned under the blankets, Rick knew that this was how things were supposed to be, how they should’ve been all along. He’d spent years with his wife and not once had he felt this good after they’d slept together, so relaxed and simply happy. And she had never looked so pleased to see him when she woke up, not the way Shane had. Those brown eyes lit up as soon as he’d woken enough to remember what they’d done and realize Rick was still in the same place he had been when they’d fallen asleep. They spent the morning sharing quiet kisses, though considering who he was in bed with, Rick wasn’t surprised when the kisses soon became a lot more. 

They’d spent a lot of mornings like that since then and a lot of nights like that too. Shane was definitely somebody who, no matter how old he got, was always interested in anything to do with sex. He also looked ten years younger than he actually was though, so Rick supposed it made some sort of sense. After they’d gotten together that first time, Rick had wondered on more than one occasion if Shane would get tired of him eventually, just like he had with basically every woman Rick had ever known him to be with. They would be around for so long and then Shane would grow bored and break up with her, ending up with another girl sooner or later. They were still here though and Shane hadn’t strayed, always coming home to Rick every day and more than happy about it. 

Rick hadn’t known that Shane often slept with guys back then, though he made sure each was more a one night stand sort of thing or sometimes friends with benefits. He’d never been able to allow himself to been seen in their small town with another man on his arm, no matter if he’d found a guy he actually was into for more than just sex. He’d also hoped Rick would want him one day, though it had seemed less and less likely. He’d felt like that night Lori left had been his last chance at showing Rick he wanted him, that he could be what the other man needed and he wasn’t about to throw that away. Maybe that was why Shane never got tired, why someone who had been known for his promiscuous ways for so long was genuinely happy about getting married. He got to have the man he’d always wanted every day and of course he wanted that for the rest of his life. Marrying Rick just made sense. 

Rick was pulled from his thoughts by Shane coming back up to him, slipping his strong arms around Rick’s waist and bringing him close, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Did you miss me, sweetheart? Or did you miss the air conditioning more?” He teased, a small smile playing on his lips. 

Rick chuckled softly, “I’m definitely happy to be home, but not just because of the A/C.” He relaxed just a bit more when Shane leaned to kiss him, allowing him to shed a bit more of the day’s troubles and just focus on the fact that he was home and Shane was home with him and he didn’t have to think too hard about much else for a while. 

“How about you go and take a shower? Maybe we can have a little midnight snack after, yeah?” The younger man asked when they parted, Shane’s hand combing up to smooth Rick’s curls back. 

“That sounds nice, but I think I’d be happier if you joined me.” Rick offered, pressing another kiss to Shane’s mouth. 

Shane openly grinned at that. “Yeah? Are we thinking about a little more than just getting clean, sheriff?” 

Rick chuckled, “Maybe. Why don’t we find out?”

Shane more than happily pulled Rick through the house and into the bathroom off their bedroom. They traded kisses as clothes came off and the water was turned on so it could heat up. Shane made sure it was warm but not too warm, knowing Rick was probably still a little overheated from his long shift. 

Rick exhaled deeply once they were finally under the warm spray, grateful when the water began to help loosen some of the knots and tension he was carrying in his tired muscles. He practically melted when Shane pressed up against his back, sliding his arms around his waist. The other man’s lips kissed over his shoulder and along his neck. Rick hummed softly when Shane nipped at his ear, “Does this mean you missed me too then, huh?” 

“I always miss you, sweetheart. There’s nothing better than getting to be around you, to feel your body against mine, to feel you inside me…” Shane chuckled, kissing the back of Rick’s neck. “And as much as you play the well mannered, straight laced southern boy around everyone else, you and I both know that you’re just as dirty as I am.” He was not subtle as he ground his hips into Rick’s ass, letting his partner know exactly what was on his mind if his words hadn’t been enough of an indication. 

As tired as Rick was, he was still very much interested in what Shane was offering. Just hearing the other man talk like that and feeling his growing erection grinding against his ass had Rick’s own body becoming excited. He may have had a long and rather exhausting day, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find the energy to take care of his fiance. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want to either, not when Shane was involved. He was always in the mood when it came to Shane. 

Rick quickly turned, catching Shane’s mouth with his own. He couldn’t help noting the pleased expression on Shane’s face when he was manhandled into place. The other man exhaled softly when Rick slipped his arms around him, soon followed by a deep moan as Rick pressed inside him. 

There was nothing better than hearing Shane like this, hearing how much he enjoyed every time they were together. He was definitely the more vocal of the two of them, not at all afraid of letting Rick know he was feeling good and that his lover knew how to turn him on and get him off. Not that Shane himself didn’t deserve some of the credit, he always knew how to get Rick in the mood and make sure they both enjoyed themselves. Soon Rick had switched their positions so he could kiss Shane properly while they fucked, holding him as close as possible as they rested against the wall, not wanting an inch of space between them. It wasn’t long before Shane fell apart, nails digging into Rick’s back as he begged his partner to cum inside him. Rick was more than happy to give Shane what he wanted, kissing him hard as he rode out his orgasm. 

Rick’s brain was pleasantly quiet and fuzzy afterward and he leaned into Shane as they cleaned up, letting his fingertips trace over the tattoo on the other man’s chest until they were running out of hot water and reasons to stay in the shower. Shane had been nice enough to pull out some clothes for the both of them to change into once they were out and dry. The softness of his favorite pair of sweats and one of Shane’s old shirts that still smelled like him made Rick feel cozy, especially when Shane tugged him into their bedroom and invited him onto the bed.

The lights were dimmed down to a soft glow and Rick soon found himself laid out against the pillows, Shane pressed to his side, the other man’s head resting on his chest. Rick reached up to let his fingers card through Shane’s hair. He’d let it grow out recently and it was beginning to curl. Rick let his eyes close, getting lost in the feeling of Shane’s curls slipping through his fingers and the comforting weight of the other man’s body resting against his own. He’d spent so much of his life trying his best to make everyone around him happy, trying to be what everyone else expected when this is all he really wanted, quiet moments like this with someone he knew really loved him. He still felt a little guilty that he hadn’t realized Shane’s feelings sooner, that he’d spent so much time denying himself when he could’ve been happy with the person he should’ve been with all along. But he was grateful for what he had now, that things were finally falling into place and he had found some modicum of peace within himself. 

Shane shifted, worming his way in closer, tucking his head under Rick’s chin. He hummed softly, tipping his head up to kiss Rick’s jaw. “You know I can’t wait to marry you, sweetheart? I can’t wait for you to make a proper woman outta me.” He chuckled, leaning into Rick’s touch. Before Rick, moments like this with the people he’d been with had never felt quite right, never made him truly happy. But this, something as simple as holding Rick close and enjoying the affection the other man gave him, this felt right in a way he couldn’t quite describe. It definitely felt like he was meant to be here, that this was where he’d always belonged. 

Rick let out a soft laugh and Shane noticed the warm smile on his tired features as he reached over the other man to turn out the lights. When Shane laid back down, Rick turned and kissed his head, fingers still playing with those soft curls. “Promise me you won’t kick me to the curb when I’m old and gray while you still look half your age?”

Shane couldn’t resist lifting his head to kiss Rick properly. “Never. You’re stuck with me for good, old man. I’ll still be bitching about those cowboy boots of yours when we’re both in the grave.” 

Rick returned the kiss, allowing it to linger. “As long as I’m with the love of my life for the rest of my life, I’ll be content.” 

It was Shane’s turn to smile. “You’re turning soft on me. That’s okay though, I love you, no matter how soft you are on the inside. My big tough sheriff husband with the heart of gold.”

Rick rolled his eyes a bit, as much as he could manage with sleep rapidly pulling him closer. He turned on his side, wiggling his way into Shane’s warm embrace. The other man was practically a space heater no matter the season. Combined with the feeling of the blankets Shane pulled over them contrasting with the cool air in the room around them thanks to the A/C, Rick couldn’t have felt more at ease.

“Goodnight, love.” Rick murmured, already drifting off. 

Shane hummed softly, slipping an arm to wrap around Rick’s waist to keep him close. “Sleep tight, cowboy.”

[shining-red-diamond]

Over the Rainbow (ACT I)

Genre: Fluff, angst in some parts, Wizard of Oz!AU

Word count: 7.1k

Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, kidnapping, illness, and death; fluff, some peril

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Reader x TBZ English line (Jacob, Kevin, and Eric) (feat. Sangyeon and Kim Chungha)

DISCLAIMER: I’ve changed a few elements to make this story have my own spin on it. It still follows the same basic storyline of the 1939 film.

Dust from the dirt path kicked up from Y/N’s shoes as she ran with her dog away from Mrs. Gulch’s garden. The old grouch had nearly put Toto out of his misery with her rake. Y/N she was going to be in trouble for allowing her precious dog to chase Mrs. Gulch’s cat, but all she worried about now was if her dog was hurt.

“I’m calling the sheriff, young lady!” Mrs. Gulch had threatened the second the two had escaped the garden. “And you better had put that mutt away!”

As soon as she felt far away enough from the old woman’s house, Y/N knelt down by her dog.

“Did she hurt you, boy?” she asked the small, black, wiry-haired dog as she checked his back. Toto just wagged his tail as if nothing was wrong, which told Y/N that he was fine. “She tried to, didn’t she?” –She snuggled him to her chest- “Come on. We’ll go tell Auntie Em and Uncle Henry what happened.”

It was only another half mile before Y/N spotted her family’s farm just about a football field in the distance, and within a few seconds she had reached the gate camouflaged in the white picket fence. Y/N found her aunt and uncle busying themselves in the chicken coop counting baby chicks as the little birds peeped.

Emily (Em for short) was about mid-fifties, her golden-washed hair pulled back into a low bun, revealing the wrinkles on her careworn face. She was a kind and gracious woman in town, but when she was working on the farm or busy in the kitchen, there was no stopping her. When she wanted something done, she made sure to get it done. Her husband Henry was her age, maybe a couple years her senior. He had a few more wrinkles than Em and was balding at the top of his head. Like his wife, Henry was kind and caring, but he was a little more laid back when it came to busy work. However, he was still a hard-worker and had established the farm from scratch.

Y/N had come to live with them after her parents passed when she was ten years old. It was an adjustment from the city into life in the country, but Em and Henry were gracious to let Y/N to come live with them.

“Auntie Em!” Y/N called as she rushed in, Toto following close behind her. “Auntie Em! Uncle Henry!”

“22, 23, 24,” Em counted each chick.

“Auntie Em,” Y/N was now right next her aunt, “you’ll never believe what Mrs. Gulch did to Toto. She-“

“Now, Y/N,” Em sighed, “can’t you see we’re busy? We’re trying to count.”

Y/N didn’t listen as she ran over to her uncle. “Uncle Henry, I was on my way home-“

“Did you not hear, your Aunt, dear?” Henry interrupted. “The incubator’s broke, so we’re trying to make sure we didn’t lose any babies.”

“Oh, the poor little things.” She managed to stroke one of the chicks’ fuzzy, yellow head with her fingertip. “But Aunt Em, Mrs. Gulch hit Toto right over the back with her rake, because she says he gets in her garden and chases her nasty, old cat every day.”

Em took that chick and said, “Why don’t you run along, and we’ll talk at supper?”

Y/N ignored her. “But he doesn’t do it every day,” she continued her rant. “Just once or twice a week. And he can’t catch her old cat, anyway. Now, she says she’s gonna get the sheriff-“

“Y/N, please!” her aunt begged.

With a defeated sigh, Y/N knew she wasn’t going to get her aunt and uncle’s attention right now. Instead of trying again, she decided to try to console to the farmhands, Toto trotting behind her.

All three of them were friends to Y/N. Kevin was the comedian of the group. He always got his work done, but he also new how to make others laugh while doing so. He was once caught dancing with a pitchfork when Uncle Henry played his record player to pass the time. Jacob was the gentle father figure; maybe it was because he was a dad himself. He and his wife had moved into to town about a year earlier, and Auntie Em had helped her deliver their daughter. As a farmhand, he always made sure to work hard at whatever task he was assigned. The youngest of the bunch, Eric, was Y/N’s best friend, but he always tended to act like it was something more. He was a sweetheart, but like the other two, he was a hard worker.

Most days, Eric always had a smile on his face, but now, with a smashed finger, he was not in the best mood.

“There goes my finger,” he groaned.

“Better your finger than your head,” Kevin said as he started carrying food to the pigs’ feeding trough.

“Kevin,” Y/N went up to him, “what am I gonna about do Mrs. Gulch? Just because Toto chases her old cat-“

“Listen, honey,” he interrupted her, “I’ve got the hogs to feed.”

“Now, listen, Y/N,” Eric chimed in, “you’re not using your head about Mrs. Gulch. Think you didn’t have any brains at all.”

“I have brains.”

“Then, why don’t you use them? When you come home, don’t go by Mrs. Gulch’s place, then Toto won’t get in her garden, and you won’t get in no trouble. See?”

“Oh, Eric,” Y/N scoffed. “You just won’t listen, that’s all.”

Eric began on another task before replying, “Well, you’re head’s not made of straw, you know?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and walked away from him. She wandered over to where Kevin was rounding up the pigs into their pen.

“Come on,” he commanded them. “Get in there before I make a dime bank out of you.”

Out of boredom, Y/N climbed onto the wide fence and started to walk across them, keeping her arms out to maintain her balance.

“Listen, kid,” Kevin said before filling the pigs’ trough. “Are you gonna let that old heffer mess with you? She’s nothing to be afraid of. Have a little courage, is all.”

“I’m not afraid of her,” Y/N justified as she continued her walk.

“Then, the next time she squawks, walk right up to her and spit in her eye. That’s what I’d do.”

Kevin was also the most reliable to talk to when you had a problem. Even the smallest of issues you would be facing would be met with advice from Kevin, even if it came of as a joke or a bit of sarcasm.

Y/N started to laugh, but it ended up making her lose her balance. She flew down into the pigpen as they began running around in fear of what just dropped into their living area.

Afraid of getting trampled, Y/N cried for help.

“Kevin, help!” she screamed. “Get me out of here! Help!”

Within a split second, Kevin had booked it over to her, scooped her out of the pen, and carried her to safety. Eric and Jacob helped her stand, and poor Kevin sat down with his hat off and a hand over his heart.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Jacob asked with concern laced in his voice.

“Yes, I’m okay,” she assured, her voice trembling a little. “I fell in, and Kevin-“ She noticed the farmhand shaking; sweat beginning to run from his dark hairline. “Why Kevin, you’re just as scared as I am.”

“What’s the matter?” Eric teased. “A little pig make a coward out of you?”

“What’s all of the jabber-whopping when there’s work to be done?” Auntie Em’s voice disrupted the laughter. The other four immediately went silent. “I know three farmhands who’ll be out of a job before they know it.”

“Well, Y/N was walking along-,” Jacob chuckled as he tried to explain, but was interrupted by Aunt Em.

“I saw you tinkering with that contraption, Jacob,” she shut him up quickly. “Now, you and Eric get back to that wagon.”

“Alright, Mrs. Gale,” Jacob sighed as he began to walk away, be he almost immediately turned back around. “But someday they’re gonna build a statue of me in this town, and-“

“Well, don’t start posing for it now.”

Eric laughed, and then Aunt Em gave them some dill pickles to snack on.

Kevin took one and tried to explain what had happened, but Em put her foot down.

“It’s no place for Y/N around a pigsty,” she informed. “Now you go mind those hogs before they worry themselves into anemia.”

“Yes, Mrs. Gale,” Kevin nodded.

Em and Y/N began walking away, and Y/N took the opportunity to try to talk to her aunt again.

“Auntie Em, really,” she whined again, “you know what Mrs. Gulch said she’s gonna do to Toto? She said she was gonna-“

Em just shook her had and told, “Now, Y/N, you must stop imagining things. You always get yourself into a fuss over nothing. You just help us out today, and find yourself where you won’t get yourself into any trouble.”

She scurried off, leaving Y/N standing in shock. Her aunt was always there to help her when she needed it, but Y/N had a tendency to exaggerate things at times. She guessed that her aunt thought this was one of those times, but she understood. Maybe Mrs. Gulch was just threatening her and Toto out of spite as usual, but the look on the old grouch’s face said otherwise.

“Someplace where there isn’t any trouble,” Y/N sighed. She looked at her furry friend, who was sitting on the ground and looking up at her as if taking in her every word.

“You think there is such a place, Toto?” Y/N asked, her mind wandering as she strolled over by the old tractor. “There must be. It’s not a place you can get to by a boat or a train. It’s far, far away. Behind the moon, beyond the rain.”

She then remembered a song Aunt Em would sing to her whenever she felt sad and began to sing.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high

There’s a land that I’ve heard of

Once in a lullaby

Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue

And the dreams that you’ve dared to dream

Really do come true

Someday I’ll wish upon a star

And wake up where the clouds are far behind me

Where troubles melt like lemon drops

Away above the chimney tops

That’s where you’ll find me

Somewhere over the rainbow, blue birds fly

Birds fly over the rainbow

Why then, of why can’t I?”

Toto jumped up on the seat of the tractor, and Y/N snuggled him for a second before listening to a few birds chirp. She looked up and gazed up some rays of sun pouring into a tear in the clouds, lighting up the gloominess of the farm just a little bit, almost giving a sense of hope.

Y/N then finished her song.

“If happy little blue birds fly beyond the rainbow,

Why oh why can’t I?”

-

“That dog is a menace to the community!” Mrs. Gulch barked. “I’m taking him to the sheriff to have him destroyed.”

The forty-something year old woman sat up straight in the chair across from Em. Her raven locks were pulled into a tight bun, and her hat was perched on top of her head as if it would fly off at any given moment. Mrs. Gulch had dressed in her Sunday best, but she wasn’t here for a church sermon. She had come for something sinister.

Her words were like punch in the stomach to Y/N. “D-Destroyed? Toto?”

Mrs. Gulch gave a slight nod.

“Oh no, you can’t,” Y/N begged. “You mustn’t! Auntie Em, Uncle Henry, you won’t let her take him, will you?”

Uncle Henry gave her a reassuring smile. “Of course we won’t, dear,” he promised. “Will we, Em?”

Y/N turned to her aunt, who now had a conflicted look on her face.

“Please, Auntie Em,” she begged. “Toto didn’t mean to. He didn’t know he was doing anything wrong. I’m the one who should be punished. I let him go in her garden. You can send me to bed without dinner.”

“If you don’t hand over that beast,” Mrs. Gulch threatened. “I’ll bring a damage suit that’ll take your whole farm. There’s a law protecting folks against dogs that bite.”

“How about if she keeps him tied up?” Em suggested. “He’s really gentle, with gentle people, that is.”

Mrs. Gulch was taken aback at her neighbor’s words. “Well, “ she huffed, “that’s for the sheriff to decide.” –she reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper- “Here’s his orders allowing me to take him, unless you want to go against the law.”

Auntie Em took the sheet and read it, and Uncle Henry came over to take a look at the order as well.

“We can’t go against the law, Y/N,” Em shook her head as her voice began to shake. “I’m afraid poor Toto had to go.”

“Now you’re seeing reason,” Mrs. Gulch scoffed as she opened her basket. “Here’s what I’m taking him in, so he can’t attack me again. Just put the little rat into the basket.”

This triggered Y/N’s anger even more. “NO, I WON’T LET YOU TAKE HIM!!!” she screamed as she forcefully pushed the basket away. “YOU GO AWAY, OR I’LL BITE YOU MYSELF!”

“Y/N!” Em snapped.

Y/N didn’t take her angry eyes off of their grouchy neighbor. She could feel her tears start to push through.

“You wicked old witch!” she spat as her tears started to fall. “Uncle Henry, Auntie Em, don’t let her take Toto.”

Mrs. Gulch tried to grab Toto out of Y/N’s arms, but she fought against her.

“Henry, just put Toto in the basket,” Em sighed as she massaged one of her temples.

As much as Y/N wanted to resist, she wouldn’t fight her beloved uncle. He was a gentle man, not a fighter. Unless matters got too out of hand, then he would take the appropriate action to settle a dispute. This being why Y/N froze the moment he gently pulled Toto from her arms. The same man who had given her a best friend when she was fourteen was now the one taking him away from her. Sorrow even began to grow on her uncle’s face.

The water works flowed as she watched her best friend being put into the wooden basket. Toto even started to whine a little. Y/N’s heart felt heavy, her head dizzy, and she felt sick. Her feet ran her to her bedroom. She slammed the door and threw herself on the floor and sobbed. She was heartbroken.

For about ten minutes, Y/N cried on the floor, not caring who heard. Toto. Her sweet little dog. Y/N had only tried to let Toto run around to exercise, but why the old grouch’s garden of all places, she’ll never figure it out.

Once she was calm, she sat up and leaned against her bed, beginning to accept that Toto was gone for good.

Two little barks interrupted her thoughts. She looked up and Toto jumped through her open window and onto her bed. He licked her face as if to say, “I’m never leaving you.”

“Toto!” she cried before embracing her pet. “Oh my gosh! You came back!”

Y/N held Toto for about a minute before she realized, “They’ll probably be looking for you once they discover you’re gone.”

Although he was only a dog, Y/N always knew he was smarter than the average canine. If he somehow escaped Mrs. Gulch’s basket, he could possibly escape bigger situations than that.

However, Y/N wasn’t about to let anyone take Toto away from her again. She pulled back, looked at Toto in the eye, and said, “We’ve got to run away.”

As soon as she had packed all that she would need and could carry such as some clothes, shoes, and some of her own money stash from under her bed, she and Toto escaped out of her bedroom window. The two of them took the back roads and headed south. Y/N didn’t know where she was going, but she wanted to be as far away from all of her troubles as much as possible.

After a few minutes of walking, Y/N and Toto came across a large caravan painted in blue with gold and red lettering declaring, “Professor Lee! Acclaimed by the Crowned Heads of Asia.” The closer Y/N got, she could hear a man’s voice singing random tunes.

The owner of the voice then rounded the corner of the caravan and immediately spotted Y/N. He was fairly tall, young man of Asian decent and wore a dark green suit and chocolate brown dress shoes.

“Well, a house guest,” he greeted her with a smile before crossing over to sit by a fire pit that Y/N just now noticed was burning. “Now, may I ask who you are? No, don’t tell me. Let’s see.” –He scanned Y/N up and down- “You’re…going on a visit.”

Y/N shook her head.

“No, that’s not it.” The professor thought again. “You’re traveling in disguise. Nope, wait, you’re running away.”

“How did you guess?” Y/N asked with a smile.

“Professor Lee Sangyeon never guesses,” he claimed with a chuckle. “He knows. Now, why are you running away? No, don’t tell me. Uh…They don’t understand you, or appreciate you. You want to see the world. Cities, oceans, mountains, everything.”

Y/N nearly jumped out of her shoes. “It’s like you could read what was in my head! Oh, please, professor, could Toto and I join you and see all of the crowned heads of Asia?”

“You know any?” Professor Lee asked, then realized what she was talking about. “Oh! Well, I don’t do anything without consulting my crystal first. How about we head inside and I’ll show you?”

Sangyeon guided Y/N to the entrance of his caravan, allowing her to step in first. The inside of the caravan was full of all sorts of treasures. A skull sat on top of the doorframe, colorful paper lanterns lined the ceiling, small jade figurines of various gods lined the walls, and suede furniture sat in the center of all of his collection of treasures. Wax candles sat on each side of the chairs. The furniture surrounded a small wooden table with the most sparkling crystal sphere Y/N had ever seen perched in its holder.

“Have a seat,” Sangyeon motioned towards one of the chairs. When she did so, he began lighting each candle. “This is the same magic crystal used by the priests of Isis and Osiris in the days of the Pharaohs of Egypt in which Cleopatra saw the approach of Julius Caesar and Mark Antony and so on and so forth.”

Y/N watched in awe as the professor prepped the room for his reading. She knew it was probably all an act for a circus somewhere, but she still wanted to see what he was doing.

“Now, you’d better close your eyes, my dear,” the professor instructed. “Just for a moment to be better in tune with the infinite.”

With a nod, she did as she was told. What she didn’t realize was Professor Lee was looking through her basket to find some sort of picture of her and her family to better set up his act. He found one of her, Uncle Henry, and Aunt Em taken in front of the farm the previous summer.

“We can’t do these things without reaching out into the unknown,” he continued before putting the picture back in the basket. “Alright, you can open your eyes now, and we’ll gaze into the crystal.”

Y/N opened her eyes again and watched as the professor stared the crystal ball as if he were studying it very closely. She couldn’t see anything happening, but the act displayed in front of her was making her believe it was real.

“What’s this I see?” he asked to no one in particular, his eyes glued to the crystal. “A house with a picket fence, and a barn with a weathervane. And also, a running horse.”

“That’s our farm,” Y/N pointed out.

“And there’s a woman with graying hair at the temples, a striped dress, and she has a careworn face.”

“That’s Aunt Em.” Is he really seeing everything? She thought.

“Short for Emily?”

“That’s right. What’s she doing?”

Professor Lee’s face twisted into a confused expression. “I can’t quite see. Oh, she’s crying. Someone has hurt her. Someone has just about broken her heart.”

Y/N’s own heart was about to break just hearing this. Of course she was angry that Toto had to be taken away, but was running away the best option?

“Me?” she asked.

“Well, it’s someone she loves very much,” Professor Lee shrugged. “Someone she’s been very kind to and cared for in times of sickness.”

Y/N was getting anxious. “I had really bad pneumonia once. But she stayed right by me every minute. What’s she doing now?”

He had figured she was running away out of some sort of anger, and just from the picture he could tell she was close to her family. Y/N was the first young person to come to him in hopes of finding something better, however, he knew he should at least try to help them make amends with their families. Y/N was no different.

Seeing how upset Y/N was getting, Professor Lee had one last trick up his sleeve. Glancing at his crystal again, the professor’s face displayed a look of shock. “What’s this? She’s placing her hand on her heart, and dropping down on her bed.”

“No,” Y/N began to sob.

“I’m sorry, my dear, but the crystal’s gone dark.”

She couldn’t stay any longer. If her beloved aunt was having a heart attack or stroke, then she needed to go home and try to help her or call a doctor.

“You don’t think she could really be sick, do you?” Y/N suggested as she hastily stood from her chair. “Oh, I’ve got to go home right away!”

“What’s this? I thought you were going to travel with me.”

“Oh, no, I have to get to her right away. Come on, Toto.”

The dog immediately followed Y/N out of the caravan. Professor Lee also followed her out and waved good-bye to her.

“Good-bye, Professor,” Y/N called back to him. “And thank you!”

Professor Lee noticed the drastic change in the weather. What began as a sunny autumn day quickly turned into a mighty windstorm. A tornado was approaching, and he needed to get himself and his horse to the nearest shelter possible.

“Woah, there, boy!” he instructed his horse, Gold Foot, as he caught hold of his reigns. “Better get undercover. There’s a storm brewing up. Poor kid. I hope she gets home alright.”

Back at the farm, chickens were running around panicked, horses were neighing in fright, the cows didn’t seem to care, but the pigs squealed in terror. Kevin and Eric were busy getting the animals to safety as much as possible. Jacob had rushed home to join his wife and baby daughter in their tornado shelter. He helped as much as he could, but Em and Henry told him to go home and protect his family. However, it was still chaos.

“Hurry up and get them horses loose!” Kevin shouted orders to Eric over the loud and wailing winds. “Where’s Jacob?!”

“He has a wife and child to protect!” the younger farmhand reminded him. “So he’s gone into shelter with them!”

Kevin looked up at the sky as Eric went to release the horses from the barn. No longer was it just a partly cloudy day. The sky was covered in a thick black, blanket as a cylinder of wind and dust violently pirouetted though neighboring fields.

“It’s a twister! A twister!” Kevin cried.

Em and Henry gathered everything they needed for the shelter such as food, lanterns, and a few blankets, and Em had gone to get Y/N. To her horror, her niece was missing. She thought Y/N had been in her room, but it was empty. Panicked, she ran around the house and farm, calling out for her every few seconds.

“Y/N! Y/N!” she screamed her nieces name over the tornado.

“Come on, everybody!” Henry rounded everyone up. “In the storm cellar!”

“Help me, Henry! Y/N’s somewhere out in the storm!”

“We can’t look for her now! We have to get in the cellar!”

Em was terrified she wouldn’t see her precious niece again. All she had to do was hope she would be okay once everything calmed.

The wind used all of its might to knock Y/N down as she and Toto made their way back to the farm. The dog began to bark, not wanting to brave it by standing on his own two feet. Y/N was quick to scoop him up and carry him back; leaning forward as she marched to she wouldn’t be knocked over.

“Auntie Em!” she called out. No answer.

The gate was jammed as she fought it open, breaking the lock as she did so. She had some leverage as the house blocked some of the winds force, but Y/N still had to fight her way in. She got the screen door open, but it immediately broke off and was carried off into the storm. However, Y/N was able to get herself and Toto into the house and shut the main door.

“Auntie Em! Uncle Henry!” she called again.

When she went out back to try to open the shelter, it was too late. It was closed and locked. She kicked and screamed for her relatives, but there was no chance of her getting in. She would have to brave the storm alone with her dog and hope for survival.

Y/N retreated to her bedroom, told Toto to hide, and she set her basket down.

“Auntie Em!” she called again just before her bedroom window broke off and knocked her in the back of her head. The impact knocked her out, the darkness consuming her as she fell.

-

When Y/N opened her eyes, she had no idea of how much time had passed. Toto was licking her face as to wake her up, and Y/N pet his furry head. However, the house was…moving? The wind was blowing, but it wasn’t violent. It was more like a windy day right before it rains. Wind howled much louder until a rooster’s crow broke the silence.

Looking out the window, Y/N couldn’t see anything but a dark gray wall. However, she spotted what she guessed was the roof of the farm’s chicken coop with the rooster standing on top of it. A cow floated around in the air, mooing without a care in the world. A wooden rocking chair floated up, and Old Mrs. Ahn was sitting in it and knitting a quilt. She looked up and waved hello. Confused, Y/N waved back before the old woman floated away again. Two fishermen in a rowboat were next to be in Y/N’s line of sight. They made eye contact with her, tipped their hats, and she waved.

Out of curiosity, Y/N looked down and nearly lost her balance.

“We must be up inside the cyclone!” she shouted over the wind so Toto could hear her.

When she looked back, she saw a familiar face riding her bicycle in the tornado.

“Oh!” Y/N cried out in disgust. “Mrs. Gulch!”

Then, without warning, the grouchy neighbor morphed into something horrible. She now had an ugly, green face, and was dressed in all black with a pointed hat. A large broom was now her choice of transportation. It was a witch. Frightened by the sight, Y/N retreated back to her bed and covered her eyes as the witch released an ear-piercing cackle.

The wind began to pick up. Toto jumped into Y/N’s arms and started to whimper. The house spun more times than Y/N could count. She screamed out of fright and sobbed as she didn’t know what was happening. Was she about to go out like this? She began to regret everything she had done earlier that day from the time she allowed her dog to run around in the neighbor’s garden to running away.

Then, everything stopped. The house seemed to land, and everything went silent. Her room was a mess, but that could be taken care of later. All Y/N cared about was if her family was okay. Some thick trees blocked her outdoor view, so she couldn’t see what was going on outside. She figured the house landed in the nearby woods.

“Are you okay Toto?” Y/N asked her dog. He licked her chin as if to reassure her that he was fine. She then picked him up, gathered her still intact basket, and exited her room.

The house was dark, but Y/N could make out the outlines of the furniture with the help of some light peaking through the curtains. Everything was either broken or knocked over, and a few family pictures were smashed. The important thing was that Y/N was alive, and so was Toto.

Holding Toto close to her, Y/N carefully opened her front door and almost fainted. On the other side of her front door was not her farm, but rather a new world on display in front of her eyes. Colorful plants and flowers surrounded a small duck pond and a stream leading away from it and under a bridge. Next to it was a spiral imprinted in the ground made from yellow and red bricks. In the surrounding area, small, white cylindrical houses with straw and burlap roofs populated around the pound and brick paths, but there seemed to be no one in sight. The sky above was the most gorgeous shade of blue Y/N had ever seen. It was as if she had jumped into a storybook.

“Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore,” Y/N said to her dog as she wandered around. “We must be over the rainbow.”

After setting Toto down, Y/N glanced up at the sky and noticed a spherical object floating towards her. Was it a bubble? It looked like one, but it wasn’t your average bubble. As it got closer, Y/N noticed it was changing colors and getting bigger. Stepping out of the way, the bubble, now the size of a horse, turned a bright shade of pink as it landed on the brick path.

The bubble dissolved away, revealing a beautiful woman with velvet red, shoulder-length hair and an extravagant silver crown resting on top of it. She was dressed in a sparkling periwinkle dress with glittering butterflies decorating various spots. The skirt part of her gown was almost as wide as a dinner table towards the bottom, and her sleeves were puffed as large as egg crates. In her hand, she carried a long wand with a diamond star at the top.

“Now, I definitely know we’re not in Kansas.” Y/N was speechless. It was the first sign of human life, and all she witnessed was a woman with a wand fly in inside a bubble.

The woman makes eye contact with Y/N and approaches her, her skirt flowing behind her.

“Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?” she asked.

Y/N was taken aback by her question.

“Me?” she asked, and the woman nodded. “I’m not a witch at all. My name is Y/N, and I’m from Kansas.”

“Oh,” the woman replied, and then motioned towards Toto. “Well, is that the witch?”

Y/N just giggled. “Toto’s my dog.”

“Well, I’m a little muddled. I was informed by the munchkins that a new witch has just dropped a house on the Wicked Witch of the East.” She turned towards the slightly damaged house. “There’s the house, and here you are,” –she pointed towards a pair of dark burgundy legs with opalescent shoes on the feet sticking out from underneath the house- “and that’s all that’s left of the Wicked Witch of the East.”

Y/N was in shock. She had accidentally killed someone. She felt bad, but from the tone of the woman’s voice it sounded like it was a good thing.

“And so,” she continued, “what the munchkins what to know is, are you a good witch or a bad witch?”

“But I’ve already told you I’m not a witch at all,” Y/N reassured. “Witches are old and ugly.” A plethora of giggles sounded from behind her. “What was that?”

The woman chuckled. “The munchkins. They are laughing because I am a witch. I am Chungha, Witch of the North.”

Y/N eyes nearly popped out of her head. “You are? My apologies if I’ve offended you, but I’ve never heard of a beautiful witch before.”

“Only bad witches are ugly. The munchkins are happy because you have freed them form the Wicked Witch of the East.”

“Well, if you don’t me asking, what are munchkins?” The laughter sounded again.

“They’re the little people who live here in Muchkinland, and you are their national heroine, my dear. It’s alright, now.” Her attention was on someone else. “You can all come out and thank her. Come out, come out! Wherever you are, and meet the young lady who fell from a star.”

From everywhere in the greenery and behind the small houses, small people no taller than about three feet high began to come into the light of the circle. Their clothing was just as bright as the flowers. The men wore colors of blues, greens, and reds, while the woman wore lighter shades of greens and blues with purples and pinks. Most of them wore hats, their curls sticking out from underneath, and a few of the women’s’ bonnets were decorated with various kinds of flowers such as roses, marigolds, and daisies.

“She fell from the from the sky,” Chungha sang, “she fell very far, and Kansas she says is the name of the star.”

“Kansas she says is the name of the star,” the munchkins repeated as more of them began to appear and surround the new faces in town.

“She brings you good news, or haven’t you heard? When she fell out of Kansas a miracle occurred.”

Y/N was lead to the center of the town, and she began her story. “It really was no miracle. What happened was just this: this wind began to switch, the house to pitch, and suddenly the hinges started to unhitch. Just then the witch, to satisfy and itch, went flying on her broomstick, thumbing for a hitch.”

“And oh, what happened then was rich,” a man in a tall gray hat hopped out.

A few of the woman munchkins joined in on finishing the story. “The house began to pitch, the kitchen took a slitch. It landed on the Wicked Witch in the middle of a ditch, which was not a healthy situation for the Wicked Witch, who began to twitch and was reduced to just a stitch of what was once the Wicked Witch.”

The citizens of Munchkinland performed a small celebratory dance in their freedom from the witch’s clutches, and a horse drawn carriage pulled up. Y/N was guided into it before two citizens approached her with some candy a bouquet of yellow and blue roses.

“We thank you very sweetly,” the first one said with a smile, “for doing it so neatly.”

“You’ve killed her so completely,” the second one said, “thank we thank you very sweetly.”

“Let the joyous news be spread,” Chungha declared, “the Wicked old Witch at last is dead!”

As the carriage began to move, the munchkins cheered wildly and chanted their victory:

“Ding dong, the Witch is dead

Which old Witch? The Wicked Witch!

Ding dong, the Wicked Witch is dead

Wake up, you sleepyhead

Rub your eyes, get out of bed

Wake up, the Wicked Witch is dead

She’s gone where the goblins go

Below, below, below

Yo ho! Let’s open up and sing

And ring the bells out

Ding dong, the merry-o

Sing it high

Sing it low

Let them know the Wicked Witch is dead.”

The carriage stopped in front of a larger homestead, where three trumpeters came out and blew a fanfare as a large-bellied munchkin in a bright blue suit approached Y/N with seven council like people followed behind him.

“As mayor of the munchkin city,” he announced, “in the county of the land of Oz, I welcome you most regally.”

“But we’ve got to verify it regally,” and officially stepped in. “To see…”

“To see.”

“If she…”

“If she…”

“Is morally, ethically, spiritually, physically, positively, absolutely, undeniably and reliably dead.”

Y/N wasn’t sure what was happening at first, but she realized that the council wanted proof that the witch was, in fact, dead. She hadn’t heard anyone scream in fear or seen a dead corpse try to squeeze itself out from under her house, so they must be in the clear.

A munchkin in dark purple robes and holding a scroll approached the council and gave his two cents. “As coroner, I must aver, I thoroughly examined her, and she’s not only merely dead, she’s really most sincerely dead.” He then unraveled the scroll, revealing a certificate of death.

“Then this is a day of independence,” the mayor stated happily, “for all the munchkins and their decendents. Let the joyous news be spread, the Wicked old Witch at last is dead!”

With another wild cheer, the citizens sang their chant in celebration. Y/N was then given thanks from three girls in pink tutus and three boys in colorful suits, both presenting her with candy and a song. Chungha then guided Y/N back to the square where the rest of the people continued their welcome.

Everything then came to halt, when a cloud of bright red smoke exploded from out of nowhere. Munchkins screamed in fright and began to either hide or drop down in fear, and Toto began to bark at who or whatever was unwelcome. Y/N was quick to pick up her dog, but he still growled in protecting her. As the smoke dissolved, the witch Y/N had seen earlier was revealed to be the uninvited guest to the party. Upon seeing her in person, she was more horrid in face as she wore all black clothing and held a broomstick.

“I-I thought you said s-she was dead,” Y/N whispered to Chungha, confused.

“That was her sister, the Wicked Witch of the East,” the Good Witch explained. “This is the Wicked Witch of the West, and she’s worse than the other one was.”

The ugly hag examined the two legs sticking out from underneath the house, and a look of pure wrath shadowed her green face.

“Who killed my sister?” she growled, her voice an unsatisfying pitch. “Who killed the Witch of the East? Was it you?”

“No,” Y/N answered immediately as the witch approached her. “No, I didn’t mean to kill anyone. I promise it was an accident.”

“Well, my little pretty, I can cause accidents, too!”

“Aren’t you forgetting the Opal Slippers?” Chungha asked, unfazed by the witch’s anger.

“The slippers. Yes!” An unsettling smile had appeared on her face as she began to go back to her dead sister’s feet. However, the shoes in question disappeared, and the legs and feet curled up and snaked underneath the house.

“They’re gone!” the witch cried before returning the pair. “The Opal Slippers. What have you done with them? Give them back to me or I’ll-“

“It’s too late,” Chunga stopped her. “There they are, and there they’ll stay.”

Y/N looked down to where the Good Witch was pointing to and realized the slippers were now on her feet, matching beautifully with her pink socks. When did they slip onto her feet? Not that she was complaining about having beautiful shoes on her feet instead of the plain red converse she wore, but the slippers didn’t belong to her.

“Give me back my slippers,” the Wicked Witch demanded. “I’m the only one that knows how to use them. They’re no use to you. Give them back to me. Give them back!”

“Keep a hold of them,” Chungha whispered to Y/N. “Their magic must be very powerful, or she wouldn’t want them so badly.”

“You stay out of this, Chungha, or I’ll break you, as well!”

Chungha just laughed and told her, “Rubbish! You have no power here. Be gone, before somebody drops a house on you, too.”

The witch glanced up at the sky before announcing her departure. “Very well. I’ll bide my time.” Her attention went back to Y/N. “And as for you, young lady, it’s true, I can’t attend to you here and now as I’d like, but just stay out of my way. I’ll get you, my pretty, and you’re little dog, too!” With a cackle, she dashed into the square and disappeared in a thunderous cloud of red smoke followed by a small explosion of fire.

“It’s all right,” Chungha reassured the munchkins. “She’s gone.”

“What just happened?” Y/N asked.

“I’m afraid you’ve made rather a bad enemy of the Wicked Witch of the West. The sooner you get out of Oz altogether, the safer you’ll sleep, my dear.”

“I’d give anything to get out of Oz,” Y/N sighed. “But which way is Kansas? I can’t go the way I came.”

As beautiful as the land was, Y/N just wanted to be back home with her family and friends and bring Toto back with her. She didn’t know if her Aunt was still alive, or even if everyone else was looking for her. It didn’t help that a wicked witch had basically threatened her life over a pair of magical shoes.

“No, that’s true,” Chungha agreed. “The only person who might know would be the great and wonderful Wizard of OZ himself.”

The munchkins immediately bowed at the mention of the man’s name.

“The Wizard of Oz? Is he good, or is he wicked?”

“Very good, but very mysterious. He lives in the Sapphire City, and that’s a long journey from here. Did you bring your broomstick with you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Then, you’ll have to walk, I’m afraid.”

Thanks, Captain Obvious, Y/N thought.

“The munchkins will see you safely to the border of Munchkinland,” Chungha reassured her. “And remember, never let those slippers off your feet for a moment, or you will be at the mercy of the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“But how do I start for the Sapphire City?” Y/N asked.

“It’s always best to start at the beginning, and all you do is follow the yellow brick road.”

-

Tagging: @barsformars​ @barnesbabee​ @daybreakx​ @juyeonzz​ @cosmixity​ @philosopher-of-fandoms​

[jadelotusflower]

Robin Hood Rewatch: 2x08 Get Carter!

This is actually one of my favourite episodes of the season, partly because I really enjoy relationship angst, but mostly because we get multiple characters dealing with their trauma/grief. If we can't get these guys and gals into therapy, at least we get to see them talk (and hug) it out.

Also the best episode title they're had for a while - I have no doubt one of the writers is a fan, and Carter is so named only because they wanted to make this reference. The assassin seeking revenge for a dead brother is wholesale lifted from the plot of the film, and Joseph Kennedy almost has a passing resemblance to Michael Caine's look in that role.

"Get Carter - before Carter gets you!"

Carter is one of the only guest stars they actually will bring back later, and for good reason.

"Why don't you ever kiss my ring?" Vaisey, always making things creepy.

Marian is simmering with unrestrained anger, eager to get into the fight, while Robin is the one advocating for the watch and see approach, and it’s quite the role reversal.

The gang's reaction to her charging off is quite funny though, she knocks John over completely and Djaq throws her hands in the air.

Robin’s now getting a taste of what the rest of the gang have to put up with dealing with his recklessness.

Tying Marian up in the middle of a melee, however, is disgusting behaviour - while Marian was hot-headed throwing herself into the fight (nothing Robin hasn't done before himself), he knows that she can hold her own with a sword and doesn't need protecting. Tying her hands is the absolute worst thing he could have done, because how is she meant to defend herself? I can somewhat understand where Robin is coming from in this episode (even if he goes about it badly), but this is unjustifiable.

Clearly she gave that guard she clanked on the head amnesia, because he never reports back that Marian was fighting with the gang.

“I owe you my life”/“I won’t take it just yet.” Nice.

Scimitar is still missing in action.

Robin doesn’t want Marian to be seen in case she needs to return to the castle, when he’s spent the whole season urging for her to join the gang. I think he realises he made a mistake asking her to flee last episode without giving her time to deal with her grief, and wants to leave her options open. But telling her that she’s not ready to make the decision (about whatever she wants to go back), however correct, is patronising.

There's a fundamental conflict that Marian wants to be treated like a member of the gang, but doesn't want to cede to Robin's authority like the rest of the gang - in turn Robin expects her to follow his orders like the others, but isn't treating her like he would the others either - he would never tie them up to keep them out of a fight, and Marian has every right to pissed at him about it.

Djaq and Much having a little tête-à-tête about Carter - I just really enjoy that they’re often paired together in these gang scenes, they balance/play off each other so well. Just this pure platonic frazzled vs calm vibe.

Much just has this really great memory for faces - he was able to recognise fake Richard last season just from his profile despite wearing a helmet, and now he knows he remembers Carter's face from somewhere (or as it will turn out, Carter's brother).

Much really just does not let up, and I love that about him. "You'll be disappointed though, with uh, today's wound. I mean if you're planning to go back to the Holy Land and, uh, kill him." That not so subtle probing for information and Sam Troughton's delivery is always perfect.

"Wasn't me, was it?" Oh Much, so close.

“The crusty one” - lol

It's not explicit, but implied that Vaisey and Guy believe Edward was the one passing information to Robin, and Marian is cleared of any suspicion (paving the way for her return). Guess Guy never showed the Sheriff that hair dagger after all.

Vaisey is actually giving Guy some really good advice here, albeit laced with his usual cruelty and getting all up in Guy's personal space.

"Grow up Gisborne" - now I don't think it's deliberate on Vaisey's part to invoke a Marian parlance, seeing as she really only says this to Robin (and once to Much), but it's a nice little callback, however unintentional.

Marian asks for an apology (and deserves one), but Robin doubles down and doesn't come out of this exchange well.

Because his delivery is terrible, but he's otherwise quite correct - as skilled as Marian is, she’s used to relying on (and having to worry about) only herself and not work in a team, and look to a single point of command. But both of them have their backs up - they're two strong personalities and neither is going to give ground, reverting to the ideological clashes of season 1, except now in much closer quarters.

Robin's also not used to being challenged in this particular way, and in his frustration is reacting like a captain disciplining a soldier, not a lover helping their partner through their grief. I do wonder if the conversation would have gone differently if they'd been alone.

lol at the gang awkwardly standing around listening to Robin and Marian fight. Djaq trying to busy herself with her mortar and pestle as Robin and Marian argue around her.

A really great scene between Marian and John aka the camp dad. Marian really just needs someone to listen to her and appreciate what she's going through - Robin is too fixated on the dangerous way she's channeling her grief and not even trying to address the root cause. He trying to tell her what to do, not listen to what she actually needs.

On the other hand it's probably better coming from John, a neutral party without the emotional baggage she has with Robin.

Because Robin and Marian are really being driven by completely different motives - Marian by grief and therefore loss, and Robin by trauma and therefore fear. In her sorrow, Marian has lost all her fear of being discovered, in fact she wants to make it know she's with the gang, to finally be free to say which side she's on and fight openly, to make her father's death worthwhile, and can't understand why Robin is trying to stifle that.

"I thought you used to have your own men Little John?" So someone remembers Forrest and Hanton!

After Carter takes down the gang one by one, Robin takes down Carter in three seconds (including catching the long dagger Carter throws at him, and flinging it back) and it's lights out. Can you believe it's the first concussion of the season? (Notwithstanding the multiple head injuries Allan sustained last episode).

While Marian has been known to be punch-happy, the "he'll tell us more if he knows we're willing to hurt him" is just so (intentionally) out of character - it is however somewhat reminiscent of Robin in 1x08, wanting to get his punch and torture on with Guy. However rather than understanding where Marian is coming from, he pushes her away with the "go and cook something" jibe. This almost feels like he was going for familiar banter and miscued, but is also an asshole thing to say. When their positions were reversed in 1x08 Marian at least tried to reason with him - Robin is seems to be ill-equipped to do the same.

Allan just having a little snooze against the castle wall. He really seems defeated and depressed after last episode.

Marian's corset has a pouch to hold a dagger - or at least I hope there is because otherwise it's ouch time.

Leaving Marian at the camp is again a mistake on Robin's part - it excludes and isolates her from the gang, rather than trying to involve her so she can bond with them, engaging in their outreach to the peasants - who she helped as the Nightwatchman, but never really had the opportunity to come to know. It would remind her that they are not just fighting against the Sheriff but for the people, which in her frenzied grief she has perhaps lost sight of.

Instead, Robin's focus is on Carter, who he rather identifies with and so finds it easier to address his motives, and try and change them.

Carter is in many ways Robin’s dark mirror, what he could have become in the Holy Land if he chose a different path. It’s important that this happens right when Robin is backsliding - he’s trying to save his own soul as much as Carter’s.

Okay, let's talk about Marian’s forest gear - fashioned from the outfit she wore when she fled the castle the previous episode - but dear me it's awful. The grey culottes, rather than becoming trousers have now been turned into that corset, and her vest/skirt overlay have now become those trousers. Just baffling.

“I’m good with nuns” followed by Allan straight up knocking the Mother Superior over and stealing her ring is iconic.

Much gives Robin a sword to use going after Carter - still no scimitar.

I really love the confrontation/fight scene between Robin and Carter - it's very well choreographed and written, but we also see the best of Robin's character (after seeing some of the worst earlier).

Carter's brother is called Thomas - Allan's brother was called Tom. Lots of dead brothers in this show (including Djaq's).

The story of Carter's brother Thomas dying because he "stopped listening" and led a raid against orders is a little on the nose, but gives context to Robin’s fear for Marian’s safety in part triggered by his war trauma - someone charging in against orders and then dying in his arms.

But it shows Robin as a man who, even when Thomas' recklessness had cost not only his own life but others of Robin's men, was still moved to instruct the stretcher-bearers to make Thomas the hero, and himself the negligent captain, in order to comfort his family.

The fight is fairly even, and although Robin gets the upper hand in the end, it's only partly his skill - rather his true strength is in reaching the man inside the assassin, and then surrender and allow Carter to take his revenge if that's what he wants, and despite his fear, trust that there is good still in him, and that he can leave behind the life as a killer as Robin has done (tried to do).

This scene is the core of why I really love Robin as a character. He's riddled with PTSD and a reckless bravado, he's at time emotionally stunted with those he loves, makes terrible mistakes and often says the wrong thing, but he also has this great heart and compassion that allows him to reach people, to understand and help them, even at the risk of his own life. He's trying.

"He was a hero - just not on that day" is quite a poignant line.

Much and Djaq together again, just saying.

Robin finally finds out that Roger of Stoke was intercepted. I had assumed he'd figured that out once he knew Allan was a traitor but okay.

Poor Much crying out for Robin's attention - he's got his own trauma from the war and wants to talk about it, to commiserate with Robin about what they went though, but Robin can only cope by not talking about it, not even thinking about it.

Much makes a good point that Robin should have listened to him about recognising Carter, but it comes across as jealously over Marian and Robin misses just how deeply Much carries his hurt.

One of Robin's biggest flaws is that he's overwhelming in his affection, compassion, and understanding for strangers, but takes those he loves for granted - Carter's response to grief was the same as Marian's, but Robin listened to Carter, consoled and comforted him, while keeping Marian at arm's length. Perhaps because strangers don't ask for anything beyond that - it is the granting of kindness, but not the sharing of self. It's the latter Robin truly fears, but what Much and Marian deserve (although tbf Marian has problems with this as well).

“Either I’m part of your gang or I’m not” is a valid point, and Robin's still not happy even when she agrees to stay behind!

But she disobeys him, and saves his life. It's a rite of passage - almost all of the members of the gang have this.

Allan looking rather distressed as Guy is about the chop off Robin's head, and he makes a small movement just before the swing (as does Much).

Guy again pushing Marian past the point of discomfort - she left, wrote him a letter asking him to leave her alone, straight up told him to his face to leave her alone, and still he persists.

Her kissing Guy (to distract him from seeing Much and Will) is really the only time she sends mixed signals, but Guy's whole energy seems to be just to wear her down until she agrees to be with him and it's gross. It is however kind of amusing that he tries to be authoritative and forbid her from leaving, and she immediately walks away.

Robin and Marian are back in playful banter mode, although I wish there had been a deeper discussion (and that Robin had apologised in return). It doesn't quite feel like the conflict between them has been resolved, it really is just a "truce".

But I do like that it's Marian who reaches out to Robin at the end of this episode, because up until this point it's Robin who has been (somewhat) the one making overtures - asking her to join the gang, telling her he needs her, telling her he loves her, while Marian's been more reserved. This feels like her acknowledging that sometimes she needs to take the first step.

This was a long one - but as a I said, I really love this episode!

[jacyevans]

Happy Laura Hale Appreciation Week - Tales from the “She Stood Tall” verse

So. This happened.

I've wanted to write the stories of how Laura invited each person into the pack since I wrote "A to B," the finale the She Stood Tall verse, back in 2018. I could never figure out how to get the words on the page.

I should have known better than to plan - the original 7 fics were born of unexpected inspiration and wacky, random happenstance. Of course, these stories would be, too.

Some of these chapters will be posted as @laurahale-appreciation goes on. The rest will be posted sometime next week. Todays theme is “Laura Didn’t Die.”

I hope you enjoy returning to this verse as much as I do. And with that, I give you:

Tales from the Verse - Or: Eight times Laura Hale offers someone the bite. Or: How Laura Hale rebuilds her pack and re-learns what it means to call Beacon Hills home

This Chapter - Scott - feat. Laura Hale, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, and Derek Hale; Rated T.

[NOTE: You do not need to be familiar with the rest of the verse to read this fic, but it would definitely add to the experience. TL;DR, Laura survives both Peter and the Argents and reestablishes the Hale pack with Derek in Beacon Hills.] (Read on AO3)

Laura asks Scott about the Bite after a lacrosse game his senior year of high school.

He’s filling in for someone on the field, lungs burning from lack of oxygen. She can hear him panting from all the way up in the stands. During a time-out, he rushes to the bench, grabbing the inhaler Stiles has been holding in his hands and taking a long, slow puff. Coach tugs him to the side, asks if he’s okay to keep playing. Scott narrows his eyes, nods, tosses Stiles the inhaler, and rushes back onto the field.

They win the game 10 - 9, but Scott walks with his head down as he approaches Laura’s car and climbs into the back seat.

“You were awesome out there tonight,” Stiles says; he isn’t just pacifying Scott. He smells of disappointment that he was once again left on the bench, but warm elation for his friend.

“Yeah,” Scott mutters, buckling his seatbelt. He leans back in his seat and slouches down.

“Dude, I’m serious--”

“Seatbelt, Stiles,” Laura says, cutting him off. Stiles makes a face. He yanks the seatbelt across his chest, struggling to find the correct clip. Scott takes the buckle from his hand without complaint, strapping Stiles in with a click.

“Thanks, bro.” He grins. “Come on! Smile! You made the first goal! You kicked ass out there, man.”

“And Coach almost pulled me off the field right after when I stumbled onto the sideline because I couldn’t breathe,” Scott snaps. Stiles frowns, but he nudges Scott in the arm, pressing their shoulders together before he turns to pester Derek instead.

She pulls up in front of the Stilinski house. Stiles unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door.

“Hey, Scott, hang back a minute,” she says, catching his eye in the rearview mirror. Scott frowns and exchanges a puzzled look with Stiles.

“Don’t look at me. I got nothin.’ Ack!” He yelps as Derek grasps onto the collar of his jersey, dragging him into the house. Stiles bitches about handsy werewolves who need obedience training as the door shuts.

Scott reeks of teenage angst - a particular smell she could only describe as teenage sweat mixed with anxiety turned up to eleven. Beneath that is bitter resentment, no doubt at what he perceives as his own failure.

She turns around in her seat so she can see his face. She and Derek discussed this weeks ago; she wanted to make sure they were on the same page. “I wanted to ask you something. Have you ever considered taking the Bite?”

Scott’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “You mean like - becoming a werewolf?”

“No, I mean that hickey on your neck the size of Mount Doom.”

Scott slaps a hand to the left side of his neck, grimacing when he hits the bruise. Go Allison.

Laura grins. “Yes, becoming a werewolf.”

“I don’t know. Haven’t really thought about it.” His frown deepens. “Is this about how shitty I played tonight?”

“You scored a goal,” she says, re-emphasizing Stiles’ earlier reassurance.

“Danny scored two,” he grumbles.

Laura rolls her eyes. “And that’s still one more than most of the other players on your team. There was nothing shitty about anything you did on that field.”

“You don’t know what it's like.” Scott stares down at his lap. His hand clenches at the bottom of his jersey. “You’ve never had to worry about getting a paper cut, nevermind barely being able to breathe some days just from walking down the stairs.”

Every so often, one of the humans will throw that in their face, that as werewolves, they don’t know what it's like to suffer from physical illness, usually while they’re whining about a stuffy nose or the flu. Most of the time, she ignores the comment.

Every so often - like when Scott couldn’t find his inhaler fast enough and started wheezing on the couch, or when the sheriff got into a car accident on his way home from work and broke his wrist in three places - the reminder stings. “I know that, Scott. That still doesn’t negate anything you did tonight.”

“I guess,” Scott mutters. He clears his throat, a cautious hope twisting around the edges of his scent. “So, if I become a werewolf - no more asthma, right?”

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy,” Laura says gently. “Your lungs will work just fine - better than fine, even. You’ll be able to run a mile in ten minutes without breaking a sweat.” His eyes light up. She shakes her head. “But the first few months are… painfully difficult for a new wolf. You’ll have to adapt to enhanced senses and heightened emotions. Your body is going to move in ways you aren’t used to. You’ll probably wolf out if someone so much as breathes too hard in your direction, and that’s nothing compared to how aggressive you’ll feel on the first few full moons until you find your anchor and learn control.”

“You know, you’re doing a horrible job of selling me on this,” Scott says, and when he gives her a small smile, she rolls her eyes.

“Listen wiseass,” she says, grin widening when he huffs a laugh, “I’m just making sure you have all of the information so you can make an informed decision.”

He bites his lip. “Do I have to decide tonight?”

She barks a laugh. “Hell no. I’m not biting you until you’re at least eighteen, so you have plenty of time to think about it.” She shifts in her seat, leaning her elbow on the headrest. “I just wanted you to know you have the option, if you want it.”

His smile is genuine this time. “Thanks.” Laura reaches back to ruffle his hair. He ducks her hand, opening the door.

Laura follows him out of the car. She waits until he slings his bag on his shoulder and shuts the door to add, “Oh, I also need to talk to your mother first.”

“Oh, come on!”

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Betty//...fireworks

Request: Can I request a Betty/Reader set when Cheryl is in the sisters of quiet mercy, you're with her in the conversion camp and when Toni comes to break her out you get away with them/ Betty helps you escape/adjust back to school

There’s heavy footsteps in the background of your dream and you frantically look to figure out where they’re coming from.

But you’re in a forest with two of your friends, Spongebob, your freshmen English teacher and Emma Watson...for some reason. And the footsteps don’t sound like they’re on a forest floor. They sound like they’re coming from inside a house, maybe on a carpet. 

They’re getting closer and you’re starting to panic. Sweat beads on your forehead and your breath quickens and then you feel it. 

Two strong hands on your shoulders. 

Okay. Now you’re awake. 

Your eyes snap open as your pulled from your bed. 

A scream rips through your throat but as soon as it leaves, a sweaty hand is clamped over your mouth. Instantly shutting you up. 

You do the next best thing to screaming. You kick, and hit and thrash about as you’re dragged from your room. Anything to make noise or get free. 

You look around frantically. Trying to find anything or anyone that can help. But then you lock eyes with your mom and dad. You try to pull away from the men and call for your parents, but the mens grip tightens as you look at your parents properly. Both stood outside their bedroom door. The door is open slightly and you see boxes inside. They haven’t got pyjamas on, they’re wearing normal clothes, and there’s no emotion on their faces. 

Why aren’t they doing anything? Why aren’t they trying to help. Why aren’t they stopping this? Why aren’t they calling for help? You’re screaming in your head as you look at them, a pleading expression in your eyes. Your body hurts because of the tight grip these people have on you, but that fades when you look at your dad. 

‘We’re sorry.’ He mouths, just before you’re dragged down the stairs. 

And the last thing you hear before you’re ripped from your childhood home is your mom, softly saying “We had to. You left us no choice. I hope you understand.” 

Then, you’re thrown into the back of an unmarked van and you’re whole life changes forever. 

On the cold morning of November 29th, all seemed right in Riverdale. Well, as right as can be. 

Unbeknownst to the students of Riverdale High, a fellow classmate and friend has been committed to The Sisters of Quiet Mercy for ‘sins against nature...and God himself’ Whatever the hell that means. 

When the Y/l/n’s were asked that morning about the sudden move, they spun some lie about your mother’s, mother being gravely ill. And when asked why their daughter wasn’t waiting in the moving van, or helping pack, they said you were saying goodbye to friends. 

But in reality, you were being tied to a bed in preparation for conversion therapy. 

Yep, all of this because you liked girls. 

A few neighbours had reported screams, but the police showed up when your family was moving, far too late. They told the sheriff what was happening and that they’d heard no screams, and on their way they went ‘to pick you up from your friends’. 

It was slightly suspicious. But Riverdale had bigger problems to deal with. 

So your search and the sudden move was forgotten. 

But not by everyone.

Betty Copper had been your best friend for the best part of five years. 

You, her and Archie Andrews had been inseparable since the day you met the duo. You told each other everything. 

Well, there was one thing each of you hadn’t told the other. 

Archie hadn’t told you that he was the one that broke your favourite necklace. The one your grandmother had given to you before she died. 

Betty never told Archie that she accidentally killed his pet goldfish. 

And you’d never told Betty that you’d fallen in love with her over the years. And now it seemed like you never would. 

So when you didn’t meet them by the corner that connected your two streets together so you could walk to school that morning, they thought it was strange. 

When you didn’t turn up to school without a call or text, they thought it was odd. 

And when word got out that you and you’re family had up and moved practically overnight. It was really fucking weird. 

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Betty asks annoyed. 

After school, Betty had dragged her boyfriend, her best friend, and her other friend to the police station and demanded to speak to the sheriff. Which just so happened to be her friends dad. 

“They’ve just moved.” Sheriff Keller sighs, but Betty wasn’t having it. 

“But she wouldn’t just leave without letting us know. Me and Archie are her best friends. She would have at least text us. But nothing. And she isn’t replying to any of our texts or calls. Something isn’t right her.” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say. We got a call early this morning about some screaming. We checked it out at about 6 this morning and the Y/l/n’s were packing. I asked where they were going, they said Mrs Y/l/n’s mother was sick. When I asked where Yn was, they said she was saying goodbye to some friends. And then off they went.” 

“And that didn’t seem suspicious to you?” Archie asks. 

“Yeah. That doesn’t seem like her.” Kevin adds. “She would have text them.” 

“Wait.” Betty interrupts. “You said her mom said her mom was sick?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Her grandmother on that side of the family died when she was 11.” Betty says and an eery silence took over the room. 

“What?” 

“Yeah. She gave her a necklace just before she died. It was the one Archie broke.” 

“You knew?” Archie asks, now very confused and a little upset. 

“Of course I knew. She did too. She just never said anything because it was around the time...your goldfish died.” She trails off, playing with her fingers. 

“Oh.” He sighs, unsure of what to say next. 

“Anyway. She didn’t say goodbye to me. Did she say goodbye to you?” She asks Archie and he shakes his head. “Did she say goodbye to either of you?” She directs her question to Jughead and Kevin and they both shook their heads. “Now are you going to do something?” 

“Sorry Betty.” Sheriff Keller shrugs. “We already have enough to deal with. From gangs selling drugs to a masked killer. Is it odd? Yes. But is there also a reasonable explanation to each and every thing? Yes. She’s ignoring you to make it easier to leave. Her mom got upset and just got confused. And maybe she has other friends to say goodbye to. Or maybe thats what she told her parents she was doing, when instead she was sneaking off to say goodbye to a boyfriend.” 

“Bu-” 

“Kevin?” He looks at his son for help and he nods, grabbing her arm. 

“Come on. We’ll go back to yours and figure this out.” He leads her out of the room with Archie and Jughead following quickly. 

“Something isn’t right.” She says, looking at each of them.

“We know.” Archie agrees. 

She was going to figure this out, even if it killed her. 

------

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since the Y/l/n’s had moved out of Riverdale seemingly overnight. They packed up their belongings, put their house on the market and left. No explanation, no goodbye’s, nothing. 

And three weeks you had been in that hell hole. With the itchy uniforms, scary nuns and middle aged practices. 

It had been torture. Literally.

And you weren’t sure how much more you could take. It seemed as if the entire world had forgotten about you. Betty hadn’t. She’d been trying to figure out where you’d gone non-stop for the past three weeks. And everyone was starting to worry. But you didn’t know that.

At first you thought you’re parents would come back for you. That they’d realize what a terrible mistake they’d made and take you back home and you could go back to being happy again. But as the days moved on and the ‘treatments’ got more intense. You started to lose hope. But then you figured that you’re friends would find you. That Betty and Archie would track you down. But as week one, turned into week two, and then week three. You started to accept your fate. This was your present, and your future. For the foreseeable. 

Being locked in a room for most of the day, made to watch shitty films that were supposed to scare you straight, forced to do hard labour, plus there was the shock therapy, (you thought that was just something that happened in the 60′s, but it was still very much happening) had its affect on you and you were slowly losing your grip on reality. 

Until she turned up. 

“Cheryl.” You whisper to yourself. You thought you were seeing things when you walked into the movie room. But there she was. Cheryl Blossom. Sitting on the end of a bench, with tears streaming down her face. She looked scared, traumatized. You had a feeling you looked like her, if not worse. 

You never thought you would be so happy to see her. Usually if you saw her in the corridor you would roll your eyes, right now you would do anything to hug her.

Slowly, you made your way to the seat behind her, and sat down quietly. 

While one of the sisters was distracted setting up the film, you took the opportunity to get her attention. If she was here, you had a chance to get out. You couldn’t get out alone, but with someone else here that you know, you had a chance.

“Cheryl.” You whisper again making her flinch at the sudden noise. You quietly curses yourself. Of course she was flinchy, you were too. “Cheryl.” You say, less rushed. “Its me, Y/n.” 

“Y/n?” She replies, just as quietly while the two of you continue staring in front of you. 

“Yeah.” You say. “I’ve never been more happy to see you.” You sob quietly and you can hear her crying. 

What a mess your life had become. Three and a half weeks ago you were sat with your best friend on her bed. Talking about homework and...boys. 

Well she was talking about Jughead and how he was taking her out on a date later that day and you were just nodding along. At the time it seemed like the conversation would never end. But what you wouldn’t do to go back to that time. You were happy and in love, and even though she didn’t know, nor she ever would, you were content. And most importantly, you were safe with her. Now, you were sat in conversion therapy with Cheryl Blossom and no real hope of escaping. 

“You’re going to be okay.” You reassure her, squeezing her shoulder before quickly pulling away. 

“We all thought you’d moved.” She whispers and you shake your head. Of course thats what they said. 

“Surprise.” You laugh, but there’s no humor behind it. Its bitter and sad and Cheryl cries harder, her tears for you. Because she’d been here for three days and she felt like dying. You’d been here for three weeks and she could only imagine what you felt like. 

The film started and you both shut up. You’d made the mistake of moving before the nuns left and you regretted it for three days, you would after being hit so hard you could barely see and then locked in your room for three days with barely any food or water. 

As soon as the nun leaves, you cry silently, your tears blurring your vision. 

You wanted out. You wanted to see Betty again. And you wanted to hang out with Archie and Kevin, and even Jughead. You didn’t mind that he had the girl you’d been pining for for the best part of 4 years. As long as you were with them...with her. 

But it seems everyone has given up on you. Believed what your parents had told them and moved on. 

“Cheryl!” 

You could have sworn you heard someone shout Cheryl’s name. Maybe the shock therapy had fucked up your brain even more than you thought.

“Cheryl!” The voice was louder and you thought maybe you were dreaming. That you’d finally fallen asleep and this was your dream. Although why someone would be shouting for Cheryl instead of you is a mystery. But you and Cheryl glanced quickly towards the door, but when nothing happened you both turned your attention back to the film. 

The blue lights cast a weird glow and it makes you feel colder than you already are. Its like all sign of life has been sucked from the room. 

“Cheryl!” A pink haired girl bursts through the door and your eyes widen. Holy shit. Someone was here. “Are you here?” She asks, her eyes squinting at the light. 

“Go.” You mutter, shoving her to stand and she does quickly, not quite believing what was happening. The frantic look of the girls face shows that she’s someone special to Cheryl and that makes you both happy and sad. Happy that they’ve got that, sad that you haven’t. 

“Toni?” 

“We came to rescue you.” She explains and now you can’t stop the tears falling down your face.

“You did?” Cheryl asks, and Toni nods. Quickly, she makes her way towards her, both of them smiling and hugging tightly before they pull apart and then...fireworks. 

Its the most depressing setting for what you assume is a first kiss but its sweet, and you can feel everyone in the room rooting for them. They’re all hoping they’ll have someone they love come rescue them, you included. But you all have the same realization at the same time, that that isn’t going to happen and look down. Too afraid that if you look any longer you’ll melt into your own disappointment and sadness. 

“Cheryl. Toni. They’re a bunch of nuns we have to go right-Y/n?” Your head snaps up at the sound of Veronica’s voice. “Holy shit. Y/n. Everyone thought you’d moved. Come on, lets go.” She says and Cheryl holds a hand out to you. 

Its now or never. 

“We’ll cover for you, for as long as possible.” The boy who’s sat beside you says and you send him a watery smile. 

“Thank you.” You mumble before running towards Cheryl and grabbing her hand. 

The four of you run into a dark corridor, Veronica grabbing your other hand and you let go of Cheryl’s, deciding to give them their own thing. The sisters are cornering you and you know there’s no way out. You’re all going to get punished and then you’ll be stuck here forever. But Veronica pulls you down a stairwell with red lights, the four of you desperately running away. The floor is wet, and its soaking your shoes and socks, but you don’t care. You just want out. 

You run through a gate, and down another corridor, narrowly avoiding the sisters and you can feel your heart hammering in your chest. This is it. You either get out, or you die in here. The fire bell is deafening as you run past it making you falter slightly, but Veronica’s grip on your hand tightens as she pulls you alongside her and then up a ladder. 

The four of you make it up the ladder and are running again. Your lungs are screeching and your legs are burning, you’ve never ran this much in your life. Not for something so important. And you so desperately want to stop, but then you see it. Light. And someone is holding the door open. You’re so close. 

“Come on!” They shout and you’d recognize that voice from anywhere. Its Kevin! 

Finally you’re out. 

Toni jams a crowbar through the handle, and it starts to shake as the sisters try to get open it, but you all keep running. You run until you get to Kevin’s dads truck, the five of you all squashing in. 

“Y/n?” Kevin asks once you’re all inside. “We thought you’d moved.” You’re starting to get sick of that saying. “Your parents...they said your grandmother was sick. They told my dad.” 

“Can you take me somewhere safe?” You ask and he nods, knowing now is not the right time for questioning. 

“Of course. I know just the place.” 

Betty Coopers house looks just the same. The same old suburban outing, with the stone wall and big red door. 

You remember playing stupid games in the garden, both you and Betty hiding behind the wall, waiting for Archie to pass by so you could jump out and scare him. It usually worked, although one time he did accidentally punch you in the face, breaking your nose in the process. However, you made a deal that if you punched him in the face as hard as you could, you wouldn’t tell your parents it was him, you’d just say you fell over. You knew they would kill you. Now you’re thinking they just might have, maybe for different reasons though. 

But as you walk up the steps you’ve grown up with, nothing feels the same. Toni, Cheryl and Kevin are waiting in the truck while Veronica helps you up to the house. 

You’re looking around frantically, just waiting for a man to jump out from behind a bush and grab you, locking you away forever. But it doesn’t happen, instead there’s heavy knocking on the front door which makes you jump, but Veronica’s arm wraps around you tighter, letting you know your safe. 

The front door swings open revealing a tired looking Betty. Her hair is up in a bun and she has cute matching pyjamas on. And even though she’s half asleep, she’s still the prettiest girl in the world. She makes your heart skip a beat even in these odd circumstances.

“Yeah?” She rubs her eyes, but she stops when she sees you stood beside Veronica. She blinks a few times, her eyes widening as she takes in your appearance. You look awful...but perfect. “Y/n? What the hell. Where have you bee-” 

“She’s been with the sisters.” Veronica says quietly and Betty nods before taking you from her. 

“Come on.” She leads you into the warmth of her house, sending a thank you to Veronica before closing the door. “Let me find you some pyjamas. Do you want to take a shower?” She asks and you nod slowly. 

Her house is the same as you remember, and you’re glad nothing here has changed. Its just you. And your entire life. 

You make your way towards the bathroom and close the door quietly once you get there, making sure you haven’t closed it all the way. You don’t want to feel trapped again. 

Peeling your uniform off you start to cry silently but when you start to the shower your cries become louder and your glad it seems to be only Betty in the house tonight. 

“Y/n?” She knocks on the door gently and you quiet your crying as you step into the shower. 

“Yeah?” You mumble. She barely hears it and he heart breaks at how broken you sound. 

You’re no longer the bubbly, happen friend who always knew how to cheer up the people she loved. You’re broken and trapped and she has no way of helping you. 

“I’ve left some pyjama’s and a towel just by the door.” She says, because there’s nothing else she can say. She opens the door a bit more to slide the clothes in, grabbing your uniform in the process. It goes straight in the bin once she gets downstairs, but it doesn’t feel like thats doing it enough justice. She feels like she should burn it, stamp on it, anything. 

She doesn’t know how she’s going to make this better. So she rings Archie while you’re showering, to let him know what has happened. She doesn’t know much, but she knows enough for now. 

She hangs up the phone when she hears the bathroom door open. You slowly walk out and she leads you to her bed. 

You’ve spent countless of nights in this bed, staying up all night, talking about the future. Not once did either of you believe that something like this could happen. And it almost feels wrong to lie down in something thats been untainted, but you’re so tired. You haven’t slept properly in three weeks.

As soon as your head hits the pillow, your half asleep, but there’s something stopping you. 

“You’re safe.” Betty whispers. Its like she can sense whats wrong with you, and as she slowly strokes your hair, you begin to fall asleep. 

You’re in a forest again. But this time, the footsteps are right behind you and you’re running away from them. But no matter where you go, or how fast you run, they seem to be right behind you. Until...

Your eyes snap open as you sit up. Betty pulls her hand away from your shoulder quickly as you curl up into a ball, rocking back and forth.

“Sorry. You were having a nightmare. I didn’t know what to do.” She panics, switching the bedside lamp on. “Here, have some water.” She hands you a glass and you take it with shaky hands, taking a large drink. You hand it back to her and slowly start to relax as you look around the room. 

“I missed you.” You mumble and her worried expression melts away. Its replaced with the lopsided smile that you fell in love with.

“I missed you too.” She replies, but her smile turns into a frown when she see’s you crying. “Hey, whats wrong?” She asks, wrapping her arms around you, you grimace at the pressure she’s putting on your bruises, but you don’t say anything. You want her to stay, you want her arms wrapped around you forever.

“Toni came looking for Cheryl.” You sob and her eyebrows furrow.

“Toni went looking for Cheryl. Everyone forgot about me. You all believed what my parents said. Nobody loves me enough to look for me.” 

For a moment Betty is confused, but then she remembers seeing Cheryl and Toni in Kevin’s truck. Cheryl was wearing the same uniform as you and that confused her. But when you were getting ready to go in the shower, Veronica had text her to explain what had had happened, and thats when she found out the two of you were there for conversion therapy. 

The only other explanation for you being in there would have been pregnancy but the only boys she’s ever seen you interact with is Archie, Kevin and Jughead. And all of them are a big no for different reasons. 

But now everything makes sense. She was too busy wrapped up in everything that was happening, but now she understands. 

“Conversion therapy.” She says quietly. “You parents put you in there because you’re gay?” She asks and you nod your head softly. 

“I don’t know how they found out. I just woke up being dragged from my bed in the middle of the night by two men. I tried screaming but it didn’t work. And then I was thrown into a van and they said sorry, but they couldn’t have been sor-” 

“Breathe.” She cut you off. You were starting to panic and she didn’t want that. You were safe here. “Its okay. No one is going to find you here. You’re safe. I’ll keep you safe.” 

“How could you just forget about me?” You ask, your voice cracking and she sighs. 

“I-we didn’t. Stay here.” She tells you before walking to her vanity and pulling open the drawer. She comes back handing you a folder filled with paper. You open it carefully, your eyes flickering from that to Betty and she nods reassuringly. 

Dozens of pieces of paper filled it. All with several people’s handwriting on. 

“We’ve been looking for you. We all have. The day you went missing I went to the police station because I thought it was weird but they just ignored me, so me and Archie took matters into our own hands. We listed everything we could about you and your family, we asked your neighbours if they knew anything and if they thought anything was weird about the sudden move. I called around your family members. Everything. We were even planning on going on a road trip to where your grandmother used to live.” She explains and you cry harder. We never forget about you...I never forgot about you.” 

“Betty.” You sob and she pulls you into tight hug.

“I’d have looked for you every day of my life until I found you.” She whispers in your ear and you smile gratefully. 

I love you. You say in your head, but the room remains silent. 

*One Week Later*

The first day back at school is always the hardest, especially if you’ve been off for a few days. 

But its even worse when your parents lock you away with the nuns for liking girls, then you escape and you end up living with the girl you’re in love with.

Alice basically decided to adopt you as soon as she walked into her daughters room and saw the two of you cuddling. She’d always liked you ever since Betty had brought you home, plus she thought you were a much better influence on her that Archie was. Betty had explained what had happened and then it was decided, you would live with the Coopers. 

Archie was your next visiter, bringing along some flowers and your grandmothers necklace (now fixed). He’d found it on the driveway of your old home when they were still looking for you and asked his dad to lend him the money to get it fixed. (He also hoped that if the two of you saw the necklace, Betty would finally admit murdering Fish Sticks in cold blood...it didn’t) 

The three of you had spent the entire day together, just in Betty’s room. Just like old times. Alice had even made cookies, which you ate the majority of. 

Over the next week you had a few visitors, including Sheriff Keller, who formally apologized. They questioned you about the Sisters and their practices, and the next day, 9 children and teenagers were rescued from the place, all had been put in conversion therapy. The other people that had been put in there for various reasons were also taken out, and put in other places. Safer places. 

Betty never leaves your side for the entire morning of your first day. And if she has too, she makes sure there’s someone else familiar with you. Her and Archie take it in turns to be with you and occasionally Veronica, Kevin or even Jughead will help out. 

Even though things are a bit awkward between Betty and Jughead because of their sudden break up. Nobody saw it coming, and you’re not entirely sure why they did, but they ended it. Betty came back twenty minutes after telling you she would be be out for a bit. She was upset, and you could tell she had been crying, but when you asked her what was wrong, she just shrugged and told you things with Jughead had ended. And when you tried to find out why, she just smiled softly at you and told you not to worry, gently holding your hand as she did. 

But for now they seem to be getting along for your sake and sometimes you feel like a child of divorce around them. 

The looks you’ve been getting have settled down over the course of the day, but at lunch time it feels like everyone is staring at you and your starting to forget how to breathe. Betty looks around, noticing the stares, and leaves your side momentarily to ask a girl in her Math class what is happening. 

But by the time she finds out, its too late. You’re already at your locker and its staring you in the face 

‘dyke’

Is scrawled in red writing across your locker and you feel the breath being knocked out of your lungs. 

You feel trapped, like you’re in that dingy room again, with the grey walls and hard bed, and people that screamed all day and night. 

Your breathing is ragged and your hand is clutching your chest. Everyone is staring at you no matter where you turn and Betty seems to be moving towards you in slow motion. 

By the time she makes it to you, you think you’re going to die. Her hands are on your shoulders making you stumble backwards. She curses to herself before holding your hands instead. She’s talking, you can see her mouth moving while she stares at you, but you can’t hear her. It all sounds like static. 

Betty can tell she isn’t getting through to you, so she has to think of something. Everyone’s eyes are on the both of you and she can hear a few people laughing. 

Who would do such a thing to a sweet girl? 

Everyone loved you before you were taken away. 

So what changed? 

Oh yeah, they found out you prefer women over men. 

So, she takes a deep breath, closes her eyes and presses her lips to yours. She needs a way to get through to you, she needs people to talk about something else, she’d rather be the ‘dyke’, that have anyone call you anything other than beautiful. Plus, she’s been wanting to do this forever. 

To the outside world, it looks like the most depressing setting for a first kiss and if you’re being honest. It is. But its perfect either way. 

Its like...fireworks.

Your eyes widen once you realize what she’s doing. 

Betty Cooper is kissing you! The girl you’ve been in love with since you were 13 is kissing you, and you don’t know what to do. You feel breathless for an entirely different reason. 

Kiss back! You’re screaming at yourself and you muster all the strength you can to kiss her back, melting into her. 

She pulls away first, a bright smile on her face as she stares at you. 

“I love you.” She admits and a soft smile appears on your lips.

“I love you too.” 

Then, she leads you to the front of the car, you, her and Archie fixed up together and you’re whole life changes forever. 

[owl-quill]

Random Supernatural x Once Upon A Time Crossover.

Hook catches the Winchester brothers sneaking around his ship, Emma catches Hook probably planning some vigilante justice.

Just some fun crackfic.

Content notes: just some kidnapping and general threatening behaviour

----

“Well. I guess if any boat here is haunted, it’s that one.” Dean pointed out a tall ship with three masts, standing out from the small yachts and fishing trawlers like a yeti at a dog show.

“Huh.” Sam was unconvinced. It was an unusual sight, true, but nothing supernatural. “Let’s not skip ahead, though, in case the guess is wrong.”

They did walk past all ships at the nighttime-deserted piers, Dean keeping his attention on the EMF meter, Sam on the surroundings, in case anyone showed up. No sign of either human or ghost activity, until they got near the tall ship. “It’s not strong, but there’s something.”

“Let’s check more closely, then.”

They walked up the gangplank as quietly as possible, and after a last look around, Sam pulled the sawed-off shotgun loaded with rock salt out of his jacket. Neither of them considered that there might be a living soul on board.

The EMF meter kept an unusually steady readout, leading Dean to give it a few sharp taps in case it was somehow stuck.

After walking to the stern and bow and back to the main deck again, and short, quiet deliberation, they decided to check below deck. The stairs below were only just visible in the lights of the harbour, and once they were below they would be able to use flashlights without having to worry too much about passers-by getting suspicious.

The second Dean was distracted fumbling the flashlight out of his pocket, there was a thump from Sam’s direction, followed by Sam’s body tumbling down the stairs, crashing into Dean’s legs and throwing him off balance. He hit the deck, flashlight and EMF meter scuttering away, and tried to turn on his back and go for his gun. There was a figure practically flying down the stairs, and the last thing Dean registered was a boot to his head.

***

“Hey, mate, time to wake up!”

With someone’s hand grabbing his face and shaking him, Sam was conscious very suddenly, head spinning. Trying to sit up and push away whoever it was did not work so well, what with his hands and legs tied. Also, “What the hell, where are my clothes?”

“I have confiscated your personal effects, seeing how you boarded my ship with obvious ill intent, and a considerable number of weapons.” The guy got up to hang up the lantern - one with a candle in it - he was holding, giving Sam a moment to take in his getup. A leather coat, black, with matching waistcoat and pants, and when he stood Sam got a pretty good look at the steel hook he used for his left hand, leaving no doubt he was not merely holding it. Great, unless this was an unusually solid ghost, he had been found by a weirdo who liked to dress up as a pirate. And they hadn’t even agreed on a cover story for sneaking onto a ship. Damn.

“Where’s my... partner?”

“Alive,” came the cool answer. “For for the moment. And now I believe you should answer some of my questions. Who are you, and what were you doing on my ship?” He fixed Sam with bright eyes, a slight smile on his lips.

“I’m... we were looking for...” Dammit, his head was still spinning.

“If you’ve lost your memories I guess I have no further use for you.” He drew some kind of curved sword, was that a cutlass?

“Whoa, wait, wait.” With the pressure of the blade tilting up his chin, he spoke quickly, giving the alias they had used when checking in to Granny’s. “We were looking for ghosts, OK? We didn’t mean to cause any damage or harm, really.” The wannabe pirate let the blade droop.

“Ghosts? And why would you think there were any ghosts on my ship?”

“The EMF meter, it--”

“That’s the beeping, blinking thing your ‘partner’ carried?”

Sam nodded. “It detects electromagnetic fields. You get electromagnetic fields were there are no electric cables, you probably have a ghost, and it did indicate something on this ship.”

“So some weird contraption being noisy makes you think you have a right to invade someone else’s ship, and incidentally home, yes?”

“Ah... We didn’t expect anybody to be here... or live here.”

The pirate chuckled, and with a grin and a raised eyebrow asked, “So you were planning to shoot ghosts with that gun of yours?”

Oh, what the hell. He didn’t have to believe in ghosts, he just had to believe Sam believed what he told him. “It’s loaded with rock salt. A hit briefly banishes a ghost.”

He squatted to get down to Sam’s eye level. “And doesn’t usually kill humans, just hurts like fire. That’s interesting.”

With a sinking feeling the guy might be crazy enough to use him as target practice to test that theory, Sam swallowed hard, and tried to control his breathing. “Sir, I’m sorry, you’re right, we shouldn’t have been here. But we really meant no harm, and you’ve given at least me a good scare, so how about we call it even? We can check your ship over to make sure there’s no supernatural danger, or we can leave, which ever you prefer. Or you can hand us over to the authorities, of course.”

“Oh, I’m not planning to trouble the Sheriff with you two. I’d like to have some fun for myself.” He ruffled Sam’s hair, grinning wickedly.

Humans. Humans were the worst. Too damn unpredictable.

***

By the time someone approached Dean, he had been awake long enough to come to terms with his situation, including the fact that he probably was not getting out of the manacles - manacles, not handcuffs, for chrissakes! That did not mean he was happy about it.

He glared at the costumed weirdo. “Where’s my brother, you sunnuvabitch?”

“You might want to pretend a little more respect.”

“Or what, you--” He swallowed the rest of the sentence at the sight of Sam’s shotgun pointed right at his face. After a second, he caught himself and looked the weirdo in the eyes, instead of keeping his focus on the muzzle, and went back to glaring.

“Your brother is alive, and not seriously hurt. I’m still trying to decide what to do with the two of you. Why don’t you tell me who you are, and why you are here?”

With no agreed-upon cover story, Dean reached for the same solution as Sam, giving his alias and otherwise telling the truth, curtly. The gun was lowered gradually.

“So this--” the weirdo pulled the EMF meter out of his pocket “--can detect ghosts, yes?”

“Yeah, believe it or not.”

He switched it on and watched the steady readout for a few moments. “Are you sure it detects ghosts in particular?”

“Or, like, electric cables, but this ship looked rather low-tech.”

“Maybe. But what about other supernatural... energies. Magic, perhaps?”

“What? You’re saying your ship is magic?”

“That she is. What would you do about it?”

Dean looked at him in confusion. The moment was interrupted by the noise of something hitting the hull of the ship. In a flurry of coattails, the pirate disappeared.

***

Hook cursed once again his lack of a crew. Not even one reliable man to leave on watch. It was maddening.

“Hey, Hook! We need to talk!” Emma’s voice. With a sigh, Hook revised his plans for his two guests, and hurried to get a rope ladder. He could see a sail peeking over the rail of the Jolly Roger. “You hear me?”

“That I do. Just a minute!”

One she was on deck, Emma got right to the point. “Do you have the two outsiders here?”

“May I ask what led you to that suspicion?”

“Their car is parked near the habour, Ron saw them sneaking around, and this morning there was no trace of the guys or the Jolly Roger, so, call it a wild guess.”

“All right. I have indeed taken prisoner two men who invaded my ship. Would you like to join me in the interrogations?”

“Hook, what were you planning to do to them?”

“I hadn’t decided yet. Under the circumstances, I shall defer to your judgement.”

“The circumstances being, being caught, eh?”

“Among other things.” He dropped his playful amusement and looked at Emma seriously. “They actually believe in supernatural things and might be a danger to Storybrooke. So I’m not sure what you would consider appropriate.”

Emma cursed. “Good to know. Yes, I need to talk to them.”

“Keep them separate, or gather all together?”

“All together. I want this over with.”

Hook led the way into the main hold and bade Emma to wait.

“Uh, hi,” said Sam, flashing a nervous smile.

“Hi.” Emma raised an eyebrow seeing the prisoner stripped down to his boxers, and sent a ‘what the fuck’ look after the captain’s back. When he came back manhandling someone else in the same state, she asked, “You stripped them? Really?”

“Before you judge, let me show you their personal effects.” He deposited Dean next to his brother, catching the look and nod they exchanged. Before getting the stashed items, he made sure that Sam’s hands were still bound tightly.

He fetched the shotgun he had left near the stairs earlier, put it on top of a crate, and pulled a bundle out of one of the lockers. Unrolling the set of clothes revealed a collection of weapons, two small bottles, and a small leather bag, which Hook laid out neatly. “That’s his.” He pointed at Sam.

“Look, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but it is wrongful imprisonment.”

“Seems more like a citizen’s arrest to me.” Emma put her hands on her hips, making sure the lout saw the sheriff badge pinned to her belt. Hook grinned with delight; It was always nice when the two of them were on the same side.

He continued with Dean’s arsenal, which included two of those modern repeating pistols, several knives, and a beautiful set of lockpicks.

“They also carried this—” Hook added the EMF meter “—and claim it told them there might be ghosts on the Jolly Roger.”

“Jolly Roger? Seriously?”

“Shut up, jerk!”

“Oh, come on, we go looking for ghosts and find some wannabe Captain Hook? What the hell!”

“That’s enough of that!” Emma cut in. “Names. Full story. Now.”

“I’m agent Mercury, this is my, uh, half-brother and partner agent May, with the FBI, we—”

“Yeah, right, and I’m Roger Taylor and he’s John Deacon. Try again.” She sat down on a locker so she could watch them and pulled a cigar box out of her satchel. “I guess if whatever you say is in here, it’s fake.”

“What’s that, Swan?” He looked over her shoulder at a collection of cards with writing and the prisoners’ faces on them.

“Fake IDs. Lots of different names, lots of organisations... They also had an even bigger and weirder arsenal than what you found. They might be more crooked than you were. Are. Whatever.”

Sam heaved a sigh and let his head drop back as far as it would go.

Dean had other priorities. “You broke into my car!”

“Yep.”

“I swear, if you hurt my baby, you’ll regret it!”

“Baby?” The man didn’t strike Hook as the fatherly type, but then, he hadn’t seen him at his best, probably.

“His car,” Sam explained tiredly. After a moment, Hook nodded. Not the pet name he’d pick for his Jolly Roger, but it made sense in principle.

“I asked for your names, guys!”

“Winchester. I’m Sam, he’s Dean.”

“And you are in Storybrooke because...?”

“There’s something off in the area, and we were trying to figure out what. There have been reports of people disappearing, or changing their personality overnight. We... investigate paranormal phenomena.”

“With a whole lot of guns and knives.”

“OK, you won’t believe this, but we’re hunters.” Dean obviously agreed the time for beating about the bush was over. “We hunt ghosts, werewolves, vampires, demons... anything supernatural that’s a threat, we eliminate it.” He held Emma’s eyes for a moment. “Go on, laugh.”

Hook was indeed tamping down an extended chuckle. “What do you say, Swan?”

“This is complicated.”

“It’s all the truth?”

“Absolutely.”

“So why not return the favour?”

“Hook—”

“At your service, your highness!” He swept her a bow.

“What the hell is wrong with you people?”

“Well, he is actually Captain Hook. The real deal. Getting us to believe in supernatural stuff? Nnnnot as tricky as it might be.”

Dean closed his eyes. “We’ve fallen into a vatload of crazies!”

“Dean?”

“What?”

“Remember Dorothy?”

Everyone was quiet for a few moments, then Emma asked, “You met Dorothy Gale?”

“Yeah.”

“All right!” Hook exclaimed. “Now that everybody believes everybody else, all that’s left is deciding what to do with those two dangers to the secrecy of Storybrooke.”

“I can’t decide that alone. Or just with you. How about you take us back to shore?”

“As you wish.”

***

Once Hook had left the three of them below, Sam asked, “He’s... more chipper than I expected from Captain Hook. Is he always like that?”

“No... I guess having someone to kick around put him in a really great mood. Sorry about the sticky situation... But we have an entire town to protect.”

“We have an entire world to protect,” Dean growled.

“We’ll work something out, I hope.”

“Could we please work out us getting our clothes back?”

Emma eyed the arsenal Hook had laid out. “I think I’d rather have some backup first.”

[alessafalling]

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

ft. @thisdaringdanny

        Not quite sure how she ended up here, but also not willing to back out now she stands in the isle of the store. An isle Essie usually breezed through right to the end where the off the shelf medicines sat, stocking up for her friends in moments of thoughtfulness for their fragile non fairy illnesses. 

        Not this time. She stood at the other end of the isle, staring at the little boxes with a helpless expression on her face. Should she call Bella? What was she even doing here? They weren’t even there yet after all, but her father always said to be prepared. Her face colours and hair swishes around her ears as she tries to wipe thoughts of her father out of her head. Not the time.

        Hand reaching for a box she hesitates. She had no idea what she was even looking for, why did condoms have such variety?

            Danny wandered into the pharmacy to pick up something to drink quickly and get Steve something for his cold. He still wasn’t feeling right since he had been in the Otherworld for so long and Danny was hoping that the cold medicine would be enough to get rid of his sniffles and he wouldn’t have to call his Mum again. The familiar hopped off in search of the ‘animal’ medication, even though he hated he couldn’t just have what Danny did while the deputy went in search of a monster energy drink.

            As he walked however he saw the top of Essie’s head, deciding he would surprise her. Yet when he drew closer, prepared to lift her up into his arms, he noticed what she was staring at and stopped in his tracks unsure if he should approach, watching her fingers reach out for one of the boxes. “Not those ones,” he lets out without much thought.

            Danny had seen where her hand was going and no way did he want magnums, they had some of the thickest latex which made it difficult and weren’t nearly as good in quality as being mentioned so frequently in movies would imply. Still he regretted speaking, he should have backed off, but he had now and honestly, he liked she was looking. Him speaking was awkward for her but her looking at them was kind of exciting for him, for obvious reasons.

            Taking a few steps forward he stood behind her reaching over her shoulder for what he usually used. “And then maybe some of this,” he dropped the condoms in her baskets before reaching again for some strawberry flavoured lubricant. Danny had some at home, condoms, lube, other toys, but he figured that might freak Essie out to know so he’d never mentioned it. Beyond that he wondered if he should replace it so that she didn’t wonder who else might have used what was in his fun draw.

        The voice alone causes her to yelp and withdraw her hand as if she’d been burned accidentally hitting it on the display, it even takes her a few moments to recognise the speaker. Blood rushes to her cheeks and she wants the world to swallow her whole right that second, the end of the blight be damned, give her a pocket universe any day over this total embarrassment. She’d never felt anything like this strongly before.

        She can’t even manage words as he approaches and starts -god forbid- shopping with her of all things he could have decided to do. Her basket sitting on the floor Essie brings her hands up to cover as much of her face as she can manage. Watching through her fingers like someone at a horror movie as he drops things into the basket at her feet. She can’t even fathom buying a regular box and here the man is suggesting a 42 pack? Who bought a 42 pack? Holy shit she didn’t even know.

        She has to take a moment to remind herself that she’s an adult and she should maybe start acting like it. Moving her hands to just cover the deep blush on her cheeks she forces herself to speak. “I uhm….” she begins awkwardly unable to look up at him and instead eyes focused on the floor. “Fancy seeing you here.” she tries for levity, but oh boy does that crash and burn.

            “Very fancy,” he responds as he watches her look up at him with her hands covering her reddened cheeks. This was part of why Danny wanted to move through things a little slowly with Essie, make her feel less embarrassed, especially around him. They hadn’t done very much so far, at least not in the scope of what Danny usually would have done upon taking someone back to his home, hell, not even going home. Danny knew they would get there, and he wanted to make getting their fun for Essie.

            He was still someone more used to things happening quickly however and keeping to himself was not something Danny was used to, so seeing Essie even attempting to buy condoms was weirdly thrilling to him, one of his hands moving to rest on her hip, feeling the top of her shorts beneath his palm. His other hand still perusing the shelf.

           “For now...we could always use...something...like...this,” he rolled into each word as he reached out and grabbed a small vibrating bullet, not throwing it into the basket but keeping the small plastic package in front of Essie. 

            Unlike her he was not so nervous leaning in so he could speak and able to catch a glimpse over her shoulder at the obvious colouring of the swimmers she was wearing beneath instead of regular lingerie. She clearly had not come out intending to cross him, it was not her usual teasing outfit and yet it was working very thoroughly on him. “Maybe they have something peach flavoured,” he smiled with his lips at her ear, thumb hooking into the top of her shorts.

        Willing herself to calm down the smaller fairy left her hands on her cheeks for only a moment more before forcing her arms down by her sides. God why did she have to play the role of blushing virgin so perfectly? Couldn’t she just get it together for once in her damn life when it mattered? Essie knew she’d wandered over to this section for a reason, but even then she hadn’t expected to be caught, being caught by a friend might have been mortifying but somehow Danny finding her here was even worse.

        Where usually she’d lean back into his chest, she found herself too embarrassed in their current situation, arms crossing loosley and then dropping again watching his hand scan the shelves in front of them.

        He spoke so casually she felt another wash of embarrassment take over her, she was acting like a teenager, she needed to get herself together quickly she was an adult god dammit, she was perfectly capable of shopping for whatever the hell she wanted. Yet still when she spoke it was barely more than a mumble. “They’re not so good.” she comments on the vibrator in his hands. She’d had little things like that before, the batteries were a pain and they had only one setting. Mortification fading very very slowly she takes the vibrator from his hands and hooks it back up. “I have better.” she adds bravely.

              Her voice grows a little louder as she comments on what he holds before her, slender fingers taking it from him and hooking it back on the racks before them. She didn’t quite catch his point but at least she’d done a little more than awkwardly mumble, she was engaging him in what was happening and that made him smile. “Oh yeah?” he chuckles, his mood waning slightly since she had not caught on but happy to talk regardless.

               “You didn’t mention that when I asked what you did when you missed me, guess that’s for better fantasies?” he played, unhooking his thumb from the hem of her shorts and standing up straight once more, his fitted uniform slightly untucked from leaning down he began to retuck it as he looked down at her.

               “I’ve got my end covered, Ess, I promise, you don’t have to buy anything unless you want it,” he gestured to her basket.

        She curses herself when he moves back to his normal height. She supposes it’s just her usually at this point. To completely blow it without even trying. She was at a loss as she turns around to look at him finally. Blinking in surprise to notice the uniform. “You’re on duty?” blurts from her mouth uncontained before she closes her eyes and shakes her head at herself.

        “I didn’t really think about it.” she admits. “I didn’t know if it was-” she pauses and her voice gets a little quieter, they were in such a public space after all. “-a turn on or a turn off.” she finishes letting him know. Both instances she could have mentioned it she hadn’t been sure his stance on such things, too shy to really ask, and too distracted to even remember it was a question.

        Stooping down a little she lifts her basket from the floor and looks into it, completely torn. Her face might still be red but her resolve sets in as she looks back up at him. “I want to.” she says. Why else had she been standing in this section for over fifteen minutes? She had been hesitant, sure, but she was still here that clearly meant something.

        Taking another bold leap she asks, “When do you get off?” immediately regretting word choice.

            “Yeah,” he shrugged, not really sure why she was concerned about him being at work. He was realistically always on duty, whether he was in uniform or not he was kind of expected to do what was right by the community if it came upon him. In his mind the reverse was true for hitting on his girlfriend.

            Danny smirked a little, bringing his hand up and running it through the curls of his hair. “Ess, why would I ask if it wasn’t a turn on?” he chuckled a little, not trying to make fun of her, and he hoped she didn’t feel that way, just surprised she didn’t realise. “You sent me those photos, why wouldn’t I enjoy hearing about it too?”

              Shifting the weight on his feet he keeps smiling at her, like he knows something she doesn’t because apparently he did. “Well I thought we could both get off now,” he said, eyes shifting back to the rack where she had placed the bullet back on the shelf. “But I only just started my shift so if you’re asking when I’m out of my uniform, not until after sunset.”

        Despite settling into the department well at this point she was unable to shake the more uptight structure that her old jobs had enforced. The sheriffs department was easy breezy, whereas her old job has been strictly regimented and riddled with rules and regulations. She forgot time to time that she didn’t have to be so formal about everything as she’d once been taught to be.

        “People get weird about electronics.” she defends herself lightly. She just hadn’t known if the idea that she owned something like that was going to be an odd thought to him or not. She was careful that way, she wouldn’t allow someone to say she couldn’t have something she wanted, but she wouldn’t flaunt something she knew sometimes people had feelings about.

        She bites her lip as she looks up at him. Now? Now seemed so very...soon. And yet, why not now? Unless he was kidding. But then why would he be kidding? She had a whole day off while he was working, she wasn’t sure she could stand having this sort of chat and then parting ways with nothing. “Now now?” she asks shifting the basket from one hand to the other. 

            Danny didn’t mean sex of course, he had plans for that, grand plans that were special and important so that Essie knew that he understood, even if she hadn’t held out for something grand, that he wasn’t just waiting for it like a hungry dog. He wanted it with her, and he would take his time. However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t opposed to slipping into the bathroom of the pharmacy for something else.

            His eyes shifted as he looked where everyone else in the store was, taking a step closer to Essie again, this time the two of them facing one another. He slipped a hand around her waist, pushing his fingers beneath her shorts, palm against her flesh as he moved down, large hand clutching the soft flesh of her behind and pulling her hips against his as he leaned down, lips at her cheek, and whispered. “I like seeing you here,” he breathed at her cheek, hand massaging her, separated partially by her bikini bottoms that shifted when he did squeeze her.

            “I missed you,” he said more purposefully, they’d obviously seen each other but that hadn’t really done anything since before Steve disappeared, so he hoped she understood what he meant. His lips moved over her jaw and down her neck, facial hair grazing her skin. “I want to feel you cum again,” he quietly said against her throat, his fingers had felt it before, maybe she’d let him taste her, maybe she’d be open to exploring a bit more, a few less items of clothing.

        Essie was a thrillseeker, but she’d never felt thrills like these. It was a new sensation that built up in her stomach when his eyes fluttered down the isles and over the tops of the shelves. She wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but in such a public space she wasn’t all that worried. Perhaps she should have been with what he did next.

        His fingers breach her jean shorts and she looks up at him, opening her mouth to protest gently about the serious public indecency of it all. Words don’t quite make it out of her mouth however as he squeezes. Instead of words a short breath can be felt against his skin his whisper sending a shiver all the way from her shoulders, travelling down her spine. “Here in the pharmacy?” she tries to joke, although her tone is all wrong for that kind of thing, too breathy to really be all that funny.

        Dropping her basket she moves her arms to grasp at his uniform shirt. Perhaps for the first time she actually gathers the meaning behind his words. They hadn’t done an awful lot but it was good to know what little they had gotten up to was worth missing. His speech took a drastic turn after that, her blush -having faded from before- now returns lightly to her cheeks at how crudely he’d spoken. “You can.” she whispers back. Standing on her toes to lean into his touches more. “Maybe not in the middle of the isle?” she adds more uncertainty, not so hot to be such a buzzkill but it made her a little jumpy to think someone could turn the corner right then.

             Danny chuckles against her neck when he heard the basket drop, a few people had likely looked at this point. If they were discovered he’d happily tease her that it was her own fault and watch her face grow red. Yet his chuckling stopped quite quickly when she cliings to his shirt, leaning in further, standing on her tiptoes.

            “Not here?” he taunted at her neck, kissing her softly after. “I can be subtle,” Danny insists as his fingers slipped beneath her bikini bottoms for only a moment before he retracted his fingers and his hand, stepping back from her, hardened length in his uniform very obvious with how fitted it was. Not completely hard but even partially it could be seen, he really shouldn’t have got it made so tight.

            Turning away from her he grabbed some of the peach lubricant off the shelf and left the aisle, opening the bathroom door and stepping inside, curious if she’d follow or if she’d stand outside insistent that they go somewhere else. If she wanted to it would be fine, he couldn’t really but he’d understand her point of view. Turning the light on he waited.

        She was both incredibly aware of how public this setting was, but she was also very much still participating and letting him do whatever he liked. She wasn’t drawing many hard lines in the sand at this point, sure he had his hand in her shorts but that didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things, she still felt covered. Although it would still be embarrassing if someone came along to break them up.

        “Not here.” she squeaks when he breaches the final layer of her lower half, body shifting slightly away from those invading digits. Danny stepped back and she pulls her shorts up a touch, looking at his shirt which she had accidentally pulled untucked once again from his pants. And his pants sure were a sight, a sight she hopes no one else was paying enough attention to notice.

        Essie follows Danny as he heads off out of the isle, kicking her basket to the side so she could come back for it later she doesn’t catch what he takes off the shelf before vanishing into the bathroom. She hesitates, she might have missed the signals before but this was certainly much more obvious to her than back then. And yet she still hesitates for a moment, was she really doing this? Hand falling on the handle she decides the answer is a yes. Fluttering quickly into the small room and shutting the door behind her. Turning around she looks up at Danny. “Hi.” she says as if seeing him for the first time that day.

        Danny leaned against the wall as Essie hesitates outside, part of him preparing for the possibility that he might have needed to calm himself down in there were she to not follow. The two of them were lucky this was Soapberry, the bathroom was quite clean, the only ones Danny knew that weren’t were those at the beach because how could you stop all that sand? This one, where he waited hopefully, wondering if she’d come in, was nice though.

         He didn’t have to wonder if she’d come in for long, she did. Essie moved in quickly, shutting the door behind her fast and turning to look at him. Even if she didn’t want to project innocence she sometimes did, at least for a few moments, until she was reacting to his touch, dropping baskets like she had.

         The fae did not allow the awkward ‘hi’ to remain, fingers reaching out for the hooks in her denim shorts and pulling her close to him, holding her against him by those hooks as he leaned down and tasted her lips. Peach again, making him smile against her, parting her mouth with his own, nose buried in her cheek.

          “You didn’t say you missed me,” he pointed out, his hands finding the button on her shorts, not yet undoing it. 

        Fingers clicked the lock into place behind her back for peace of mind. As Danny pulled her closer she found her hesitations slipping away. Eyes fluttering closed as he kissed her. Her body leans into his even without his hold on her clothes, she wants to be close to him she truly does and it’s not hard to tell. Her lips part and she runs her tongue over his bottom lip teasingly. Essie felt kissing was her only real area of expertise in this sort of situation and she was going to utilize every last second she could of it before they moved out of her usual depth.

        “I missed you.” she responds with instantly, not realizing he’d been waiting for the same words in return. But she had, she thought about the time after their jump an awful lot, she focused not on her own failed plans, but rather how it had all turned out once they’d gotten back to her apartment. She could truly appreciate the care he’d taken for her then and it made her anxious but excited to get to something similar now.

        Her hands smooth down his sides and she bites her lip, one hand daring to brush over the situation in his pants. So obviously visible it was hard not to want to touch, and she found herself unable to reason why she shouldn’t unless he pulled back. But something told her he wouldn’t.

          Essie had obviously been hesitant with Danny, which made sense to him. She knew her body, she was prepared in a way for the reactions her own body would have from him touching it but she had no idea how touching him would make her feel, how he’d react, what to do. These were feelings he’d had at her age too, or younger in his case. So when he felt her own hand brushing over his length he was a little surprised, a groan escaping his mouth against her own when she did.

           Undoing the button of her shorts he unzipped them, revealing the neon of her swimwear but his eyes were closed. Still focused on kissing her, keeping her close, and not on observing her, feeling her was better. “Alessa,” he whispered against her lips, hand slipping into her shorts, fingers running over her bikini bottoms and gliding down the fabric until he could feel her pussy through the fabric, curious if he’d been able to make her wet in the aisle.

        The groan Danny let out was intriguing to her. Still partially focused on kissing him as fully and as soundly as she could muster she did however let her fingers drag up the length of him before carefully waiting and then letting her palm press a little on the way back down. She had no idea if it was even any good, but despite her limited practical experience she knew how this was supposed to work in theory. Applying theory to real life was a little trial and error however so she was slow, letting his groans lead the way.

        She’d noticed he liked to say her full name from time to time, mainly in situations like this and she couldn’t help but feel her name had never sounded so special. No one called her by her full name, truly nobody else had bothered in so many years. “Deputy.” she mumbled back with little thought about it. She wasn’t soaking wet, her body had reacted to him out in the isle but she’d been limited by the knowledge they had been so incredibly exposed. Essie was however certainly and noticeably on the way towards such a state.

             Every time her hand moved in a way that made his cock twitch, like the gentle touch of her fingers over his tip had done, his mouth stopped moving at her lips. It was rare he needed to multitask in such a way. He only ever really kissed Essie this much, he liked it but at the same time he hadn’t felt these sorts of touches from anyone other than himself for a while, so he was getting distracted.

             He could feel a slight arousal to her and slowly began to run his fingers between her lips through the fabric. This was something he could multitask, he was used to this, yet his lips trailed her jawline so he didn’t need to focus so heavily on their kisses, he could focus on touching her and being touched by her. “God,” he whispered out as the feeling of her fingers once more rising up over him and her palm coming down. His own palm was pressed against her, fingers moving slowly but with firm purpose.

        Essie was definitely encouraged by his noises and little pauses, she felt she was finally doing something for him rather than always relying on him to take the initiative and lead her. She was feeling so encouraged in fact that as her hips shifted to press herself more into his hand, her own arms moved from where they were positioned and started to travel on a mission of their own.

        Fingers leaving his length, instead they travelled upwards, untucking his uniform shirt all the way around his body and then letting them brush over the buttons of his own pants. His whisper gets her to bite her lip as he lavishes her neck with attention, stifling a noise of need and trying to focus on undoing that little button. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she lets herself get distracted by Danny once again when the fabric is undone. 

        One step at a time she figured. So now that his pants were open the small fairy rewards herself with a moment of pure indulgence in her boyfriend's excellent work in her own shorts. Breaths coming out small and followed by a small noise of encouragement when his fingers drag up and shift her bikini bottoms over her clit gently. Heavily distracted for the moment by the jolt her body does involuntarily at the sensation, and then she’s trying to refocus, a hand moving back hesitating at the waistband of Dannys underwear.

               As Essie began to undress him Danny was somewhat confused, Essie was usually very stagnant when they were together. Not unresponsive but just rarely proactive. She had been in the car when she’d been trying to just get it all over with but this felt different, especially as she still allowed herself some indulgence. Admittedly it was growing more and more awkward for both of them to be grabbing at one another.

               So selfishly Danny pulled his hand from her shorts and found the peach lubricante he had sat on the back of the sink, tearing open the packaging and looking to Essie as she hesitated at his underwear. Hands or whatever she intended to interact with him, it would be far easier with something that smelled sweet.

              He lifted her jaw with one of his hands, giving her a soft smile, if she didn’t want to, if the urge to hesitate was strong enough he’d drop to his knees and make pleasant work of having Essie enjoy herself, because it was enjoyable to him too. “What would help?” he asked her, edge of his index finger running the length of her jaw and back.

        Danny was being so sweet when he smiled at her. He deserved someone able to treat him as well as he could her, she just didn’t know what she was doing. She wanted to do something for him, and Essie was growing ever more impatient with her own lack of experience. She might not be willing to go all the way, especially not in a pharmacy bathroom, but she wanted to at least do more.

        Looking up at him she smiles back and asks “Show me what to do?” she felt she could figure it out in theory, but she needed a little guidance to get her going. She asked if only in the hopes that he’d help her over this next hurdle, quite sure just . “I want to have a more...hands on approach?” she adds with a hint of a laugh at her own words. 

            Danny’s index finger lingered beneath her jaw as she spoke, his length growing with the excitement for potentially more than Essie had done before. She’d watched him do things with himself, which had been exciting in it’s own way but this was new and even the prospect of it was making him stiff, he missed practically anything other than his own hands.

           As she stopped his hand holding the lube put it in her own and the one at her jaw moved so his thumb was caressing her bottom lip. “Or a more...mouth on approach?” he requested, one of his brows raising. Her lips and their irresistible taste had been in his mind since Steve had returned, the way the gloss made them shine, and he’d kept these thoughts as images of her wrapped around him. Danny wanted his fingers in her hair as she took him but he also knew it was kind of an ask.

            Squeezing her hand he’d put the lube into he spoke gently, “this will help, I promise.”

       Eyes flicker down to her hand as she feels the lube make contact with her skin. Fingers curling a little around the new substance so that it wouldn’t slide to the floor. Brown eyes flickering back up to his with her tongue flicking out to wet her lips.

       His words make her heart jump. Mouth? The thought travels her own mind, imagining just what that would mean and comprehending what he was asking for. It had been a bad joke, but the idea she felt wasn’t. He was asking her what she thought of it with the flick of his brows and she honestly didn’t know what to say.

       Yet as she looks at him she wonders if he even expects her to say yes. Not willing to say an outright no she instead says “One step at a time?” using her clean hand to hook her fingers into his underwear tentatively, eyes looking to his face for a reaction as she moves them down and out of the way.

             Danny nodded in response, happy to see how intense they were allowed to be in this scenario. Essie was new to everything and if she felt like more than just touching him with her hands was too much he wasn’t exactly going to turn his nose up at it. 

            When she pushed his underwear down his cock practically sprang out, still not completely hard it was very almost there. She’d shown it some attention, far more than he’d had in a while and he knew that near on the moment she touched it he’d find himself unable to keep it from standing firmly as she’d seen it when he’d touched himself in front of her, or in the photos she’d requested.

            His hand at her lips moved to her hair, regardless, pushing fingers through it to allow the scent of her to wash over him. His other hand began to undo the buttons of his shirt, hoping the more exposed he was the more Essie would be willing to expose herself. She was still in her clothing after all, shorts undone but not much else. “Start slow and gently, wrap your hand around it and focus your thumb on the head,” he said quietly.

       A pleased noise leaves her throat when he agrees, happy that her non answer hadn’t discouraged him at all. 

       Essies head tilts to look down at the movement his length makes as it springs free, a small amused smile lifting the corners of her lips while a blush at his instructions still heats up her cheeks. She bravely soldiers on however and tugging his underwear down a little further her other hand -the one still holding the lube- shifts forward, fingers wrapping around his girth gently at first. Moving her hand up and then down to spread the gel as much as she could before she pulls up again and rubs her thumbs over the tip as instructed. 

       She gets focused from here, thumb shifting over his tip fingers tightening a little into a more firm hold than her admittedly pretty loose and pathetic first stroke. “Like this?” she asks quietly her tilting up to look at Danny for reassurance. 

            Touching him at all with her delicate and soft hands, regardless of how loose Essie’s stroke was gave enough excitement to Danny that a heavy breath escaped his lips and his cock came to full attention in her hand. He’d dreamed of her touching him like this, of wanting to be close to him in this way the way he wanted to be close with her. He knew it wasn’t personal, but it felt good to know the person that you wanted, wanted you back.

            Her hand got tighter and his hips rocked forward slightly with enjoyment, cock twitching when she moved her thumb over his tip. “Yes,” he answered, nodding as he finished undoing his shirt, muscles tight and exposed as he focused on the feeling of her but, selfishly, craving more as one of his hands pushed beneath her shirt, remembering how close he had been to playing with her beneath the fabric of her clothes when they’d been at his home.

            She had kept stroking and Danny looked down at her when he realised she had looked to him. His eyes were hunger and admittedly focused on the gloss at her lips. “Keep playing with the tip, you’ll feel my precum,” he smirked, leaning down and kissing her softly, his hand beneath her shirt pulling at the neon swimwear beneath, hearing the knot slip undone.

            Danny wanted her, more and more with each passing moment they spent together and to say it wasn’t hard to push forward would have been a lie, but it was harder to imagining losing Essie so he kept himself in line, only moving forward as much as he imagined she would be okay with, which was when, even as the swimwear had come undone he didn’t touch her immediately.

       She’s feeling braver than she ever had before. And she was a woman who jumped out of a plane for fun. Somehow this vulnerable situation felt more thrilling and more terrifying than even the most extreme of her hobbies. It was incredibly vulnerable to expose yourself to another in this way and yet as she gained his assurance she couldn’t help but feel suddenly empowered as if her inexperience wasn’t an issue.

       Her eyes travel up his chest when the final button falls loose, she’s struck sometimes with just how handsome and fit her boyfriend is. He’s gorgeous. The hunger in his eyes makes her stomach flip with butterflies, it’s a feeling of arousal she knows that much, but it’s also a feeling tinged with anticipation. 

       She felt her bikini top come loose and can’t stifle an amused sort of expression crossing her features. Her breasts certainly held his attention that much she had gathered long ago, it was exciting to be ogled in the office so blatantly and Essie couldn’t help but indulge in the knowledge that she could hold his attention like that. Her hand stroking him slowly pauses it’s work as her free clean hand moves up and tugs at the hem of her own shirt. In one quick pull of fabric she pulls it off and tosses it into the sink. 

       Biting her lip at him she flicks her own eyebrows, confidence in her own body was standard, even if the situation was a lot more out of her usual depth. “You can handle the other knot?” she asks him her eyes light waiting for his reaction. The knot behind her neck and her top would fall clean away. A finger brushing over his cock once again returning to it’s work.

            Essie’s hand removed her shirt, exposing herself as the swimwear hung awkwardly off her. Danny’s eyes didn’t much care however as they we still exposed, perky with their gentle bounces at even the slightest movement on her part. “Maybe,” he answered a silly smile on his face as his hand moved around her back to find the string, pulling it gently and casting the bikini top off, not much paying attention where too. He was far too distracted as her fingers working his cock made her arms move and thus her breasts bounce.

             Rather than come to them he placed his hand on the small of Essie’s back, drawing her so close to him the top of his length was touching her, brushing against her stomach since he was taller than her. The movements stopping had halted any kind of precum from dripping just yet but he knew soon enough he’d be near again. Leaning down his lips grazed her ear. “Play with my balls while you stroke my cock,” he requested, trying to keep his requests polite, rather than aggressive. Not unreasonable but more, she had asked to be shown.

              “Tell me what you want,” Danny added in request, not wanting Essie to feel left out.

              She bites back a smile as his eyes lock onto her, taking a few tiny steps towards him when he drew her in. Hands halting in the closing gap between them wondering what he was up to but not worried. She still had her shorts on after all, she strangely felt she had the upper hand despite definitely being under his instruction. 

       His request drew her gaze down again and her hand to start to move again, less space to move but she continues with little hinderance, pressing herself in to his body leaving only enough gap between her hips and his legs to allow her hand to speed up a tiny bit on his length. Her free hand moving down more uncertainty than her other hand had to cup his balls. This was more uncharted territory to her, once again knowing in theory from watching porn but not confident in the actual physical action. Though she didn’t want to ask for elaboration, she just gently sets about finding what might work for him. Squeezing softly and then looking up at him for a reaction, slowly finding the right sort of motion to get his breath to hitch.

       “I just want to please you.” she admits leaning up to press a kiss to his neck. “I know I’m not so good at this but you deserve it deputy.”

           Danny bit his lip when he felt her hand cup him, slowly squeezing, whenever she did to hard his breath stopping seemed to be enough for Essie to know to lessen, finding a rhythm that eventually matched his soft grunts. There was even a gentle matching to the way she stroked his length with one hand, scent of peach heavy in the air, and the way she moved her palm over his balls.

          Slowly Danny shrugged off his shirt, falling back and off him, a fluttering sound emanating into the room. Danny used his wings frequently when he was pleasing himself and had yet to really feel a need to expose them with Essie, however, it felt rather impossible to keep them hidden as she touched him. “Release some dust into your palm,” he insisted, never actually having felt it himself, always using his own dust on others, a strange vibration to the act.

          When she said she wanted to please him, her lips at his neck one of Danny’s hands found her hair, brushing through it. “You are, very good,” he insisted. “If it’s you, it’s good.” True. He wanted Essie, and regardless of her lack of experience touch was only half the battle, who you were with was rather the rest. “You’re what I think of when I jerk off, Ess, actually you is better than just thinking about how your tits bounce, how your lips taste, how fucking wet your pussy felt on my fingers,” Danny groaned, head falling back as his hips rocked into her hand once more, cock dripping precum from it’s tip.

       The sound of wings caught her attention instantly, to see his wings sent a shockwave through her, she’d seen them before but she always longed for him to show her. She wasn’t as brash about it as he was with hers, she knew his story and she wouldn’t ever want to feel like she was pushing him to be uncomfortable but the hand on his cock tightens for a moment, thumb pausing right at the slit looking over his shoulder in wonder.

       Movement resumes with further instruction from Danny. She’d never used dust one herself and hadn’t ever considered it’s uses in this capacity either. Closing her eyes for a fraction of a second in concentration she lets dust form in her hands as they still move on his body. 

       His words thrilled her and touched her at the same time. She was what he thought of, she was special to him in some way and it made her heart flutter. And at the same time her breath stutters and her knees shift, a jolt of arousal shot between her legs at the picture he paints. She suffers her own body in silence however. Her mind working overtime before she takes a step back from him. A shy blush crosses her cheeks and she sinks carefully to her knees. Looking up at him, her heart hammering once again.

           When Essie stepped back Danny was sort of amazed, he had already asked a lot of her, but the look on her face, though filled with a shy blush, seemed quite invested in his words, in the idea of fulfilling his imagination that had been embellished from actual acts between the two of them. Danny took the opportunity to grab the lubricant again, this time putting it directly on his length, his own hand stroking his cock while she sunk to her knees. It would help with the taste and, from his side of this, make her lips look juicy and wet.

           His free hand reached out, still stroking his cock dripping with precum with the other, and ran his thumb over her bottom lip, pushing it inside for a moment. “Watch for your teeth and remember to breath through your nose,” he said since he knew sometimes, especially when it had not been done before, the focus to do what felt good to the other person, often meant that breathing became a weirdly forgotten thought.

          “If you want to stop, just pull back,” he said, pulling his thumb from her mouth. He’d have his hand in her hair but decidedly not even remotely firmly, maybe down the line, when she was not so bashful but for now he knew she needed to know she could step back if she wanted. “And I can just taste your sweetness,” he insisted, quite aware she was becoming wet. If she didn’t think she could do it that didn’t need to kill the mood.

       An expression of concern crosses her face at the mention of teeth, god what an awful thought she was most certainly going to keep her teeth in check. Being eye level with his cock is a lot more daunting than she had imagined it would seem before she’d gotten to her knees. His thumb in her mouth she closes her lips around it for a moment while she looks up at him worriedly. She had the potential to be absolutely terrible at this.

       Essie nods quietly and leans forward slowly. One last glance up at Danny before she wraps her fingers around his length, chasing his own hand away so she could take over. A bold move for such a novice but she’d feel better if she had control for the moment, an uncomfortable tightening in her chest due to nervous energy rising the more she thought about it. It was time to stop thinking.

       Her tongue flits out first, a quick flick on the head before her head bows closer and she takes the whole tip into her mouth. The taste is foreign, the peach flavouring being like no candy or lipgloss she owns despite the similar smell. Still identifiable however she presses her tongue to the underside of his head and opens her eyes to glance up at him.

           He allows his hand to leave, resting it on his abs so he can be reminded that it is in fact wet and not something he should put in her hair. The other however does move there, pushing through strands, fingers caressing her gently.

           When Essie first licks his length it does very little, Danny trying not to laugh because he knows it will worry here, even if it is cute and amusing. Once she places a substantial amount of her tongue beneath his length and licks up however Danny visibly groans, eyes hungry as he looks down at her wet lips near his length and tits with pointed nipples bouncing ever so slightly beneath.

         “Yes,” he groans. “Taste my precum.” Danny sucks in his cheeks gently, eyeing Essie still. “Wrap your mouth around my cock and squeeze those beautiful tits,” he continued, running away with himself as his cock stood firmly at attention, dripping with his own arousal at the scent of her own.

       Her lube covered hand works up and down his remaining length as she gains confidence and starts to lavish the tip with attention. Her tongue swirling the tip curious to get a reaction and her head bobbing slightly working very hard to keep her teeth in check so as not to hurt him any. 

       Remembering what he’s said about her dust she lets a little build on her hand adding to the pull as she moves her fingers up and down. Closing her eyes she concentrates on taking a tiny bit more into her mouth each time, not an awful lot -she’s heard stories- but a little just working her way up to something good for him.

       His words bring a huff of a soft giggle out of her, mouth full as hers was it was muffled even further and likely unrecognisable as a laugh. Her free hand moves up to grab one of her own breasts just to satisfy him. Fingers brushing over her own nipple and drawing a stuttering of breath from her, she had been ignoring how incredibly turned on she was but the sudden sensation left her with no illusions. She was forced to pull back, despite his insistence she remember to breathe, somewhere along the way she’d forgotten that little detail. 

           Danny can barely form words any longer as Essie moved forward at her own pace, focusing on the most sensitive part of him, as he had her in the past. He could feel himself building already, despite knowing he should have been able to relax and last a tad longer. It was the mix of dust and who it was really, Danny had never experienced either and both excited him beyond measure.

            Temporarily he was slowly when Essie pulled back, his eyes looking to find her catching her breath and her hand on herself. So exposed Danny smiled looking down at her, happy she wasn’t nearly so nervous as he recalled her being the first time he’d tried to slip his hand beneath her shirt. This was more than that and while she was cautious she didn’t seem nearly so afraid.

           “Just keep stroking,” he said, licking his lips. “How do you want me to finish?” he checked, not wanting to just cum in her mouth or on her without her permission. This was a bathroom, there was toilet paper.

       They were a long way past how she’d been on their first date. Essie no longer held reservations about his intentions, she no longer believed starting something she couldn’t necessarily finish herself was such a criminal offence. Danny was a big boy and he reassured her she only needed to do what she wanted and he’d take care of the rest if it was needed. It went a long way into building her up to things like this, leaps and bounds forward with little more than a slight hesitation and a look for reassurance.

       She shoots him an apologetic look and her hand comes back up instantly to carry on stroking his cock at a good pace. Free hand leaving her own skin to once again take hold of his balls. She’s unsure what he means for a split second before she catches up. Mouth opening in a small oh of understanding she considers this, reshuffling herself she stands taller on her knees biting her lip. Maybe his fascination with her tits should continue? “On me?” she suggests. Breasts bouncing as her arms move double time to keep him satisfied, they made an awfully good target. 

       It was yet another brave moment from her today. To think not long before she’d been mortified at being caught looking at condoms.

              The ‘oh’ her lips made at first seemed like an indication of where but she quickly shuffled herself, stroking his length faster as Danny’s shoulders hunched, his wings flicking quickly behind him, scattering dust behind him that disappeared almost immediately. If his throbbing length wasn’t evidence he was almost there than everything else about him was.

              “Fuck,” he whispers as she says where, eyes on her bouncing chest she pressed out for him, mind focused on the feeling as his balls tensed. It was only a second or too before he felt an electricity run through his length and through the rest of him, hand holding her own so she knew not to let go, stoking gently as streams of his hot cum spilled over her chest. It was a lot, more than usual since he’d been working so much, but more so than anything else it was actually being this close to Essie.

               His cock kept pulsing for a few moments, cum dripping out as he kept Essie’s hand stroking him for a few moments. “Shit,” he said as his hand stopped moving her own and instead interlaced with her fingers, his wings collapsing behind him.

       Her gaze stays firmly up on his face. She can feel his cum hitting her chest but she watched his wings flutter and his expression change. Almost stopping until his large hand falls on top of her own to keep the movement going. Essie watched him come down from the high and stayed where she was so as not to disturb him.

       Their fingers lacing together she decides to spare her poor knees and get up. Shifting to her feet she bites her lip and holds his hand tighter a hint of a smile on her face. Knowing it was her that had gotten him off this time, directly her, now that was an exciting development for the small fairy. She places her mercifully clean hand on his chest and leans up a little to press a kiss to his lips, sweet and simple before speaking up. “Any good? No teeth right?” she said airily despite her heart having to come down from the excitement. 

       Swinging their interlocked fingers a little she tugs his underwear up for him, unsure what to do not other than clean up and try to edge out of the bathroom attracting as little attention as possible. She makes to let go of his hand to reach out for some toilet paper to wipe the cum off her chest with. What a surreal moment for her.

            Danny continued his hold on her hand as she stood, accepting her kiss happily when it came. She tasted different but it only made him smile harder. “No teeth,” he assured.

            What confused him was when she began to clean herself up and redress him. Him, sure, but her? He hadn’t intended for there to be a rush. “Am I not taking care of you?” he asked, adjusting is briefs that tightly rested against his now semi-soft length, obvious staining to them as the moisture of her mouth and the lubricant stuck to the fabric. That was going to be uncomfortable for the rest of the day.

             Reaching out with his clean hand he grabbed her by her open shorts, pulling her to him. He could wipe off her chest with more than just toilet paper, some water too so her chest didn’t feel sticky but he didn’t think because he was done that they were. “Come here,” Danny insisted, bringing her back to him, kissing her cheek on one side. “I want to give you something too,” he pressed.

              Danny was nuzzling her cheek as his hand, sticky, slipped into her shorts, moving between her legs once more. She had been moderately wet before but when his fingers moved over the fabric now he felt the arousal that had grown from her actions. The bikini bottoms were evidently wet, the edges of her thighs too. “We’re already here, no one’s going to disturb us,” he reasoned, index finger running along the hem of her bikini bottoms between her thighs, tempting to slip beneath.

       She’d only managed to wipe off her hands when Danny caught her and pulled her back to him by her shorts. Taking one pitiful swipe over the mess on her skin she then looks up at him. She’d just figured he might be too spent or was in a hurry to get to work or something. 

       Essie was however pleased when he said he didn’t want to part without having her for a little while. Dropping the tissue paper onto the floor in favour of letting herself reach out to him, placing steadying hands on his hips as he plunges his own into her shorts. Her stance shifting to accommodate him with a small needy little whine passing her lips. She wasn’t used to ignoring herself like that, when she got to such a state previously she’d have been ready to take care of herself, but instead she’d ignored it for Danny. It left her in a rather heightened state.

       The smaller fairy was incredibly wet. It was otherworldly to be the reason someone else came and she’d never experienced it so up close and personal before. Danny was something else, and she couldn’t get enough of him. “Off?” she finds words difficult but it’s an offer anyway. She can shed her shorts if he really does want to do something for her, she’s just needy enough to be fully naked in a public bathroom.

              Danny raised both of his brows, kind of shocked at the offer, he figured she’d be content with what had happened before, his fingers meaning she didn’t need to take anything off but if she was open to more then he was more than ready to obliged. At the offer he sunk down to his knees as she had, pressing his lips to her stomach as his free hand pulled down her shorts, bright bikini bottoms remaining and his hand pulling away.

                 Nearly completely naked in the stall and Danny only in his underwear she was no more exposed than him and he hoped that gave her some kind of comfort, especially with the door still locked. Shorts at her ankles Danny released them and grabbed each side of her bikini bottoms, slowly pulling them down as his lips trailed down over her pelvis. He could smell her in the air, practically salivating at the notion of tasting her.

                 “Is this okay?” he breathed against her, his lips just above where the shine of her wet cunt was, his facial hair grazing her. “I want to taste you,” he groaned, one hand returning so his fingers gently caress her sweet cunts lips, trying to keep her aroused rather than anxious. “You’re so fucking wet,” Danny continued to groan, warm finger pushing between her lips and feeling her cunt dripping over him as it circled her opening.

       Nerves were sure to kick back in at some point. She felt pretty damn victorious about her part now that it was over, however she wondered if this is partially what Danny had felt when she’d sunk to her knees earlier. She was equal parts nervous and excited. One day she’d be able to take all these new experiences in her stride with no negative feelings, but just...today was not that day. Anxious energy rose within her but she tried to squash it down. Nothing bad would happen, she trusted Danny, worst case scenario she had to fake it because of her own nerves getting in the way. 

       Anxious thoughts left her mind as Danny brought his fingers up, finally unhindered by fabric, to brush between her lips. Essie reaches behind herself to clutch onto the sink with both hands for support, looking down at her boyfriend on his knees, his lips pressing to her skin gently. Only belatedly realizing he’d asked a question. “Yeah.” she answers hurriedly. 

       Her thighs wobble, she’s so sensitive already, her own self denial all throughout taking care of Danny had made her overly eager. “Please?” she whispers barely audibly, not even quite sure what she’s pleading for.

            Essie’s answer was fast and for a moment Danny remained in his actions, pushing no further in case the quick answer was not her genuine answer. However it seemed to be as her legs quivered for a moment as she whispered to him, a smile on Danny’s face as his forehead rested against her lower stomach. Sometimes it was strangely hard to continue when Essie agreed because he felt like telling her how much he adored her, how wonderful she was to be trying so terribly hard, and more importantly how much it mattered that she was opening herself up to him. Yet he knew saying any of this would perhaps only bring about her nerves so he kept his smile to himself for a moment before he moved down further.

            Danny’s lips trailed, his fingers spreading Essie slightly so when he reached her his tongue could move between her lips, tip touching her opening as he tasted her wetness and drew in the scent of her musk, a growl at his throat as his nose buried itself against her, near her clit but not quite finding it. For now he focused on his tongue, circling her opening, his lips teasing her tender flesh. His fingers no longer needed to keep her spread for him and instead rested on the backs of her thighs.

       With no idea what was going through his mind she waited. She had no idea what his thoughts were, and she was trying very hard not to overthink as he simply presses his forehead into her quietly, saying nothing in response, and doing nothing in response. A second can feel like a lifetime in situations like these, but even as her heart speeds up in worry Danny sets in about it again. 

       Shoulders jolt forward unintentionally when Danny lets his tongue meet her opening, it had been intense the last time he’d taken care of her in such a way but the sensation clouded her memory. Surely she’d never felt such things before, Essie was almost certain in that moment nothing could ever compete. The small fairys eyes close as his hands move to get out of the way, his face pressed against her, the thought of it so lewd and yet she can’t quite find herself embarrassed by it at that moment.

       Fingers grasp tight to the sink for a moment before she lets one stray up to instead grasp a hold of her own bare breast.

             Danny only dug in deeper, unaware of the way Essie was touching herself, he didn’t need to think about that, he only needed to focus on the sound of her breath, the noises she made to make sure what he was doing made her happy. 

              By pushing himself against her his nose moved the right way, finding her clit and his mouth breath his hot breath against her opening before he sucked gently at her flesh. He hadn’t been with anyone like this in so long and admittedly it was awkward with how short Essie was and that they were not in a bed, but Danny was also determined, each time he moved his jaw his nose moved too, pressing harder against her clit.

            The focus on one area had his hands limp behind her, only just capable of steadying her but other parts of him were more reactive. Despite cumming his length was twitching, semi-hard as he took her in, absorbed her breathing and felt her hips rocking against him.

        Essie wouldn’t need as much working as Danny had. She’d managed to work herself up just fine with a little bit of persuasion from Danny at the very beginning. All his teasing in the isles and his gentle work before the focus had been put on himself had built her up just fine on it’s own. And now with his diligent attention she wasn’t far from orgasm.

        It was when his nose pressed into her clit that she started to make a bit more noise than was likely acceptable in a public bathroom. A hand flies to her mouth to stifle the sound, looking down at him in horror but also hoping he wouldn’t stop just because she’d likely drawn attention to them.

        She’s so close if he would just persist for just a few moments longer. Her body moving into him unable to hold herself back as she draws closer to finishing. She wants to reach down and help, speed things up but can’t mher hand from her mouth lest a more noticeable sound leave her mouth again.

         Unlike Essie, Danny was not very concerned about being caught. No one could walk in so it wasn’t like anyone would catch them in the act and if people knew then what? They knew he was having a good time with someone who also wanted to have a good time? He had little in him that would be ashamed of that.

         So the sounds of her, as they did not seem to be signals she wanted him to stop, did not deter him, merely pushed him on. Hands grasping her thighs more firmly he held them firmly apart, sucking one her flesh as his nose pressed hard into the area that had made her scream. Beneath his breath was grunts of excitement, begging Essie to cum, to let her voice be heard in the stall, even if the latter was not so likely.

        It didn’t take long for her to fall apart. She stifled any noise, but her reaction was definitely visible. It’s as if a shudder runs all the way down her body. Essie almost fighting with Dannys hold on her legs to keep them apart for him and not press together as her orgasm crashes through. 

        Small noises follow the incredible wave of sensation, her chest heaving as she attempts to replace the oxygen that had rushed out of her in the moment. Sensitive becomes overly sensitive all at once and she lets her hand fall free of her mouth and move down to tug gently on Dannys curls and urge him away quickly. Cheeks flushed she looks at him unable to speak.

              Danny remained, feeling her tender shudder before she puts her had to his hair and pulls him back, fingers in his curls. His face, the lower half, is shimmering with her wetness, some of it in his mutton chops as he stands up rather proudly, turning the tap on behind her, leaning against her for just a moment with a happy grin on his face.

              A hand reaching around he lets it get wet, bringing it back and wiping off his face with it. “I bet Finn heard you,” he teased Essie, kissing her cheek with his wet lips - now with water rather than her. “Ooooh, do you think you’ll get a lecture?” he grinned, burying his lips in her cheek, arms wrapping around her middle to hold her close to him. It was evident he was quite happy, beyond happy, ecstatic really.

        Panting for a moment she just watches him get up. Danny's smile really does prove that sometimes a smile truly is infectious, her own lips pulling up at the sides to mirror one back to him. Stooping slightly to reach for the discarded tissue she’d had before and looking down to wipe the remaining cum off of her chest. 

        She scowls playfully up at him. “Finn can mind his own business.” Essie huffs, sure her familiar would indeed have words to say about this when she got home, but also not caring all that much. Finn always had an opinion to express to her about anything she did. Though her cheeks do darken slightly as she wraps her arms around Danny in return. “What will Steve think.” she laments a little more genuinely. 

        As they stand there goosebumps start to rise on her arms. Seems being pretty much naked in an airy public bathroom was not the most comfortable temperature. She presses closer to Danny for a brief moment of warmth. “Where did you throw my top?”

          “Steve never minds his own business, because all business is our business,” he answered of the familiar, shrugging his shoulders. “Steve likes you, makes him a bit sad I have someone and he can’t but...he likes you.” Steve couldn’t really be mad, though from what he knew it was odd that Steve had a sexual appetite. From what Danny could tell Finn and Ollie didn’t.

         Once more he shrugged, this time playfully as she asked where her top was. “You threw your top into the sink,” he noted...and he’d just turned the water on. Fuck. “Uh...I think your bikini top is over there,” he stated, not wanting to be the one to tell her that her top was now wet, rather quickly re-dressing himself. His clothes needed to be dry, he had to get back to work and this would likely count as his lunch break.

         Stepping back he started to pull himself back together, hoping Essie would not notice immediately what he’d accidentally done.

        It was a little odd to her that Steve was actively craving someone, but she knew enough about the variability of a species to not find it all that outright wrong. Maybe he was simply one of few who wanted that. She’d personally never met a familiar who did but that didn’t mean it was impossible. 

        First up was her shorts, once those were back in place she did step away to lift and retie her bikini top into place. The real hurdles came when she spotted her sopping shirt in the sink. She simply looks up at him. No words. She just looks at Danny and then back to her shirt. “I liked that shirt.” she comments after a moment. But now she had nowhere to put it, and she certainly wasn’t going to wear it. 

        “I suppose this is what I get for being a dirty stop out. A nice cold walk home.”

           Buttoning up his uniform he saw her notice her shirt and tried to smile innocently at her. “I like it too,” he offered. It wasn’t ruined after all, just wet. They could put it in the dryer or hell, she could glamour it to no look wet so no one would notice.

           “No, I’m not going to let you walk home, I’ll give you a ride in the patrol car,” he insisted, done buttoning up his shirt and starting to tuck it into his pants. “I just have to buy this really quick or I’ll feel bad,” he said, grabbing the bottle of lubricant the two of them had used. Likely the woman working at the counter had heard Essie’s scream, noticed two people going into the bathroom and so on. Danny didn’t care, he just didn’t want to be a thief.

            “You ready?” he asked her, grabbing the wet shirt so she didn’t have to, squeezing it out in the sink. “You can run out to the car if the salesperson scares you.”

        Pulling the strings of her bikini top tighter since that was all she was going to be wearing until she got home Essie checks how she looks in the mirror over the sink, taking a step to the side when Danny started wringing out her shirt. She fluffs her hair in the hopes that it’ll look less messy, running a hand over her chest self consciously as if people would be able to tell what had been there moments before.

        Essie was fully ready to abandon the basket she’d had, nothing of much importance in it. Thought she does comment if Danny cared enough to go back and pick it up. “I found pear shampoo.”         Giving up on her hair she runs her fingers through it one last time before nodding. “Can I have the keys so I can get in?”

          “Steve and Finn can bring me your basket,” he chuckled since the way she said it implied she had no intention of speaking to the woman behind the counter at the pharmacy. This was fine by him but did amuse him as he unlocked the door and opened it, looking in the direction of the front counter where he could already feel Steve heading to meet him.

          “Giving a civilian keys to a deputies car...hmmm,” he teased, pretending to be in thought as he reached into his pocket, eyeing her as though she were suspicious. “I’m not sure I can trust you, I think perhaps you should wait by it, let the world observe your beauty.”

          He caved quite immediately though and offered Essie the keys before heading to the register, placing the evidently used lubricant on the counter along with the basket of items Essie had. The woman smiled pleasantly at him and said quite jovially, “I hope you used the cuffs,” to which Danny chuckled. “On that one? She’s a con artist, slips right out.”

          Handing over the money he left with the two familiars and a tote bag of Essie’s items that he offered to her. “I told the woman at the register your were very naughty and needed to be taught a lesson, she agreed it was for the best.”

        Essie hesitated in the doorway, cringing as she peaked around the door and felt the judgement already. When Danny started to play around she gives him a strained sort of smile for his efforts. She was embarrassed, not only to be leaving a bathroom with such obvious connotations but also that fact she’d gone in with a shirt and come out with none, what would the imagination of the women working there cook up? She didn’t want to know. “Let the world observe my boobs you mean.” she responds with a small pout, holding her hands out for the keys expectantly. 

        Finn chittered rudely about the goings on to Steve with a pleased sort of air about him as he let Alessa know exactly what was being said at the counter. Essie sitting in the car already drawing her legs up to her chest and pouting to herself. 

        “See if I ever give you head in a bathroom again, mark my words, one and done.” she says with no real heat. Somehow she knows she doesn’t mean it and it’s likely quite obvious to all three of the boys as she takes the bag from Danny looking out the shampoo and settling them on the floor for Danny to take home with him later. “Take me home you absolute fiend.” 

          Danny leaned over and kissed her cheek despite her threat. “A bathroom,” Danny nodded his head as he started the car up. “I’ll get a bit more creative next time, a booth at a dinner, this very car...we’ve got options.” With a smirk he took off. He would lead her home in peace but she’d definitely wake the next morning to a myriad of grateful messages.

[gimmetheheadcanons]

Sinners & Scapegoats 1/?

A/N: This is a multi part Richonne fic. It is an AU mystery drama (with romance) and I began a while ago but decided to come back to only recently (and finally post). I will be posting maybe twice a month until it’s done - so heads up there. Let me know if it is worth continuing. (Trigger warnings, contains violence and racial slurs).

1.     Prying eyes

 Rick Grimes’s job was a job.

It was supposed to be a career, something with a purpose beyond the practical nature of a pay check. Protect and serve the community, there was no greater honor for a man of his caliber than being a deputy sheriff in a county full of fools apparently. Nothing more satisfying than chasing petty bike thieves all over town. Or breaking up a ‘salacious’ Sweet Sixteen Birthday Party that was misidentified as an ‘illegal kegger’ by a preachy passer-by. And to finish of this day of dunces, the most dignified activity of all! Once again, calling in at the request of anonymous white folk, unaware that the phrase ‘suspicious activity’ was not an umbrella term for any and all things any person with a ‘darker complexion’ may be doing.

In this case it was the nefarious action of a thirty something years old black woman in a casual, loose white blouse, ripped denim jeans and brown open toed sandals, putting up a couple of posters which needed immediate police attention. Thank the Lord for the ever vigilant residents of Winter Oaks Avenue!

“Oh for Pete’s sake.” Rick muttered under his breath, furious with himself for even taking the call from Diane at dispatch when he should have known better. Had he not been on his way out of the office he wouldn’t have. But here he was, once again at the beck and call of small-minded racists, trying to work out how best to handle this situation without offending this probably innocent woman or enraging the majority of the town’s voting pool in an election year. The Powers that Be at King’s County Sherriff’s Department would undoubtedly fail to thank him for once again “pandering to the so called PC culture of ill-informed progressives instead of serving the good folk of this county, the ones with real concerns about the increasing crime rates”.    

Ah yes, the things that go bump in the night. Rick grimaced to himself as he looked at the well lit and virtually empty street. There was no mistaking this woman for a dangerous trespasser and yet somehow, in this community – with that head full of dark dreads at least, she was. Rick glanced down at his wrist watch, it has just gone a little past seven. The sun would be gone in an hour or so and Rick wondered where this woman lived and if he could be so lucky as to have caught her just as she was about to finish up putting up the last of her posters before retiring for the day – none the wiser about the nastiness of her neighbors.

Fifteen minutes had passed and Rick just sat in his vehicle with the key still in the ignition. He simply observed the situation, each moment toying with the idea of just driving off. Just give it another minute, he told himself, then he could finally get his ass home to his family – and on time for dinner for once. It was another ten minutes into his ‘minute’ when Rick realized he had been caught by the woman. She was peering back at him from across the street, a curious frown visible on her face, even from this distance and Rick knew had no choice but to get out and face her.

Even if it was just for the purpose of damage control.

Be the change you wanna see.

After a long, tired sigh, Rick put on his wide brimmed sheriff’s hat and made his approach adopting a casual non-threatening strut which hopefully would signal his intent to talk and not escalate the situation. As expected, there was a flicker of blinds from several of the homes he passed. The skin on the back of his neck, accustomed to the fieriest of Georgia’s summers, burned with intense dislike and discomfort. He ignored the rows of narrowed eyes peering from behind the slits, instead firmly keeping his gaze on the perplexed woman he was about to approach.

“Evening ma’am.” He greeted her with a friendly yet still somewhat carefully crafted smile.  

She wouldn’t grace him with the same, her response was firm, respectable yet wary. “How can I help you officer?”

Rick maintained his smile, upholding it against the scrutiny of her heavily lashed dark eyes. “Actually, I was hoping I could help you.”

If she could roll her eyes, Rick knew she would have. Scoff at him and rightfully tell him to state his real intent. But this was King’s County and Rick could sense the tension in the air as she carefully contemplated her next move. Rick wanted to make it easier on her, feeling the burden of the situation and knowing he was responsible for it.

A little less forced and a lot more friendly, he attempted to disarm her cautiousness with old fashioned, gentlemanly charm, the kind his dear grandmother taught him to embrace. “I was just on my way home when I saw you and thought; Hey now Rick, what better way to earn them shiny stars pinned to your shirt so handsomely than to assist this young lady on this fine evening.”

He was careful to introduce himself using his Christian name, trying to distance his true self from the uniform he wore. Yet he could do nothing to shield her from the truth. Her expression, still every bit as guarded signaled to him the realities of the world she lived him. She was tall, taut and terribly beautiful even in her indignation.  

The woman replied almost instantly in a Northern accent betraying her as a newcomer. “I’m almost done so no need to bother yourself. Thank you for your time Officer.”

Dismissed but not defeated, Rick pushed forward. “You sure?” He asked because he knew he couldn’t walk away. Not with an audience as enthralled as Romans spectators, ready to rate this performance with a devastating signalling of their thumb. No, he could not leave her, not to the lions.

“Am I under arrest?”

“Excuse me?” Her bluntness surprised him.

“If not, I’d like to be on my way.” She was smart enough not to move until he gave the okay. Rick felt increasingly uncomfortable with the choices he was being presented him.  

“Look, there is no need to worry. Like I said, I was on my way home when – ”

“I heard you.”

Again, Rick was surprised. She cut him off mid excuse – mid lie. Despite her disinterest in his self-serving speech, Rick still foolishly believed he could walk away from this interaction smelling like roses. Sincerely and softly, he made his final mistake. “Then what’s the problem ma’am.”

Then, finally, came the scoff he deserved.

“I could ask you the exact same thing. Which one called you.”

It was enough to render Rick speechless. The jig is up, the measured tone she spoke with could not hide the fury behind her words.

“Which of those disrespectful racists, cowardly peeking from behind their blinds called you.”

Rick did his best not to flinch at her use of what would be deemed the real hard R in these parts. He swallowed hard, truly hating this place and the people in it.

“I just wanna know how I can help with these posters.” He tried again, wanting to so desperately distance himself from the truth. He was their tool, but he could also be here for her. If he could just stop her from tarring him with the same brush. “Maybe even show a taxpayer like yourself that I take my job seriously.”

She wasn’t the problem, Rick wanted to tell her but at the last minute deciding to keep his mouth shut.

She hesitated for a moment, not speaking again but Rick got the message loud and clear.  

You expect me to buy this bull?

Please do, Rick’s eyes begged.

The desperate look in his eyes may have done the job as she sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Fine you’re gonna protect them. I get it. But I need to know for real, am I being arrested?”

It was a sincere worry and Rick knew he could no longer disrespect her by dodging the question. He shook his head and continued to offer further clarifications on his part. He took a step closer, careful not to spook her but also trying his best to create some privacy before confessing his truth.

“It’s an election year.” He whispered.

“Honestly it’s a pain in the behind trying to be that extra police presence.”

“An election year.” She repeated, a frown forming on her face as she processed the meaning of his words.

“Yep. The bosses got a burr in their saddle about it. So unless you have a baby I can kiss or a hand I can shake – I’d like to do my job and help with those posters, if you don’t mind that is.” Rick’s charm finally worked, he could tell by the relaxed look on her face as she nodded in agreement.

Grateful for the reprieve, Rick nodded courteously before helping her gather her bags, papers, and stapler to move onto the next row of bare lampposts. She had every reason to continue to hold him at arms length for what almost transpired this evening, yet past experiences and perhaps a kindness in her heart had told her that Rick was one of the good ones.

Or at least he was trying to be, her slightly raised eyebrow revealed as they walked, side by side, still somewhat uncomfortably.  

“So, what are we dealing with, a runaway pup or –

“A ‘fly out of the window of a speeding car’ teddy bear.”

“Ah an exotic pet.”

She managed to crack a smile for him and Rick’s heart fluttered slightly.

They decided to set up at the first of the lampposts, the joke acting as a much needed ice-breaker and allowing them to work quickly in perfect coordination; Rick passing her the sheets of paper and her carefully using the staplegun.

The teddy bear photo was printed in black in white, a small scruffy looking thing being held in arms of a toddler with big eyes and an even bigger grin on his face. Underneath, a description typed out with love and desperation – Help Mr. Bear come home to Andre.

“He belongs to my son. He’s three and I really need it back.” There was a real grief behind her words, her dark eyes not watery but not very far from it.

“I get it.” Rick said staring at the side of her face as she turned away from him. “I really do.” He repeated, careful to just be expressing empathy from one parent to another and internally reminding himself of his own commitment as a father and husband. “He can’t sleep without it right?”

“Something like that.”

“Right. Well let’s get this street and the next done, so you can get back home in time for tuck in time.”

“Thank you, Officer.”

“You’re welcome Ma’am.”

Things were going well and soon this watchful stranger was replaced by incredibly interesting company. 

Pulling a face of mock disgust at the proper way he continued to call her Ma’am, the woman finally just told him her name. It was one he’d never heard before but liked the sound of anyway. Michonne from Manhattan. An art teacher and painter looking to find new inspiration in the Deep South. A mother. The new owner of the Old Kent Farmhouse, self-renovating the crumbling place after the death of the owner and looking to make a home here in this town. Rick listened to her talk and was surprised to see how animated and easy going she was. Deep within him, he felt the shame rising up again from their initial introduction. Her hostility had been understandable, his behavior had not. Still, he was glad he took the call and glad it was him that got the chance to meet this charming woman with the most infectious smile.

She asked him about this town and Rick told her that despite all its faults, it was home and he hoped it could be hers to. She responded optimistically and Rick fought back the urge to apologize for what he knew she had already figured out about the people that lived here. Instead he told her tales about his own son Carl, now twelve years old but still somewhat sentimental about his favorite childhood toy – a dusty blue, stuffed elephant called Frump. He made sure not to tell her about his wife Lori, who had won the stuffed toy at the summer fair when they were seventeen and still in love.

If his job was just a job these days, then his marriage was one too. It was exhausting knowing what waited for him when he arrived home later. For weeks now, his wedding band pinched at his finger uncomfortably, from the weight gained from the drive-thru burgers he ate in his car as he agonized over the state of his marriage with his bachelor pal and partner Shane Walsh. Today, however, he had made plans to make it home for dinner and face the problems head on. Instead here he was, cherishing a few moments of casual conversation about his day that dazzled Michonne but would’ve drained Lori.

And to Rick Grimes, Christian, Father, Husband – this was was devastating.

Still, they got talking and Rick had almost gotten away with it.  

That was until reality came crushing down in the form of the always delightful Ed Peletier, marching up the street like a bull. Red in the face and practically foaming at the mouth, Ed did what Ed always did.

“Sheriff Grimes.”

Rick managed a curt nod in response for a man he so openly despised. “How can I help Ed?”

“I’d like a word.”

“Sure thing, as soon as I finish up with Michonne here. She’s new to town. Michonne, this is Ed Peletier – local entrepreneur of sorts.”

Read between the lines you redneck asshole. Rick begged, hoping that by revealing Michonne’s status as a homeowner and a part of this community, the information would be enough to put a muzzle on Ed.

Ed however was predictably impatient, after darting a brief but filthy look at the hand Michonne had courteously extended, the gruff man continued to completely ignore her and keep his wild eyes on Rick, whose own hands were itching to punch the man.

With a resigned expression and a quick apology, Rick handed back the posters and followed Ed across the street to the front of his house. There they were met by Carol Peletier, Ed’s patient wife, standing at an open door with a concerned expression on her face.

“Evenin’ Carol.” Rick called out, a genuine warm smile on his face. As much as he despised Ed, he pitied Carol. A small, fragile looking woman with graying hair beyond her years.

“Hello Rick.”

Pleasantries aside and out of Michonne’s earshot, Rick turned to the man who dragged him away from her. “What do you want Ed.”

He dropped the friendly act in favor of a venomous look, bearing no good will for Ed Peletier and the company he kept in this town. 

“I wanna know what you’re playing at Grimes.”

“Families live here. Children.”

Rick could barely maintain his composure, his head tilting at the implication of Ed’s words.

“You have a job to do. Get rid of her.”

“Now on what grounds would that be Ed?” Rick asked. His voice now a low, menacing growl. Ed’s blue eyes were bulging out of their sockets at the audacity of Rick’s question. All too familiar with her husband’s temper, Carol Peletier, placed her hands bravely onto Ed’s arm, holding him back for his own sake.

Rick scowled, frustrated at the woman’s gesture. Carol had no business protecting a man who put her in the hospital on more than one occasion. Despite their struggles, Rick couldn’t even imagine ever laying a hand on his wife. Still, despite the help offered to her, for a reason only known to her – Carol Peletier remained the dutiful wife.

It was a heartbreaking reality Rick had come to accept.

Carol’s actions worked, the brutish looking man was reminded that Rick Grimes was not a friend of his and if given the excuse, would be more than happily fire six warning shots into the thick head wearing that Braves’ baseball cap. Breathing heavily and polluting the air with whiskey fumes, Ed made his next move.

“She don’t belong here.” Ed finally spat out, unable to put things anymore delicately than that.

“She’s passing through.” Rick said firmly, his eyes unblinking and angry. He remained as calm as possible, knowing he wouldn’t have to do much when it came to Ed Peletier. Sooner or later, he’d be hauling his fat ass into that patrol car and back to the station. It was a dance that was all too familiar to the three figures standing at the doorway of the Peletier residence.

Ed was never a measured man and Rick’s challenge made him foolish enough to continue shooting his mouth off. “She’s loitering! Her and that garbage she’s pinning to our lampposts.”

Ed’s bellowing was drawing an audience from his young daughter, Sophia. The girl was the same age as Carl but with a sadness in her eyes that aged her the same way it did her mother. The shouting was enough for a curious and concerned Michonne to abandon her things, cross the street and walk towards the Peletier’s house.

“Is everything okay?” Michonne asked, politely leaning in over the fence stopping at her waist.

It was an innocent enough query and the woman never entered the property but as far as Ed was concerned she had crossed a line.  

“It’s your job to do something about shit like this. Fucking negroes encroaching upon our domicile like this! Disturbing the peace! It’s not decent I tell you!”

Rick snapped at the slur. “Decent? Like your wife-beating, racist, drunken ass would know the meaning of the word!”

And that was all it took.  

The situation escalated in mere minutes. Ed, ready to swing a fist at Rick, only to be intercepted by his quick thinking, self-sacrificing wife. The small woman clung onto her husband’ ham of an arm for dear life, causing him to explode in further fury and her at the receiving end of a closefisted hit from the free hand. It would have been enough to stop there, for Ed to realize he made his point as Carol fell back toward the open door, into their hallway and onto the hardwood floor – taking their poor daughter down with her. But in the eyes of Ed Peletier, any act against him was unforgivable insubordination, something he could not let go unaddressed.

Rick and Michonne were no longer on his radar.

Within seconds, he began shamelessly pounding on his wife with everything he had, completely disregarding the fact there were witnesses standing a few feet away, one of them being an officer of the law.

In between a flurry of violent, merciless kicks and punches, Ed managed to call his blameless wife a stream of obscenities, ignoring the desperate screams coming from his terrified young daughter and the shout to desist from Rick.

It took a full minute for Rick to finally pull Ed off of Carol and away from Sophia. Furious at how much damage Ed managed to inflict, Rick didn’t hold back when he had the chance, roughly shoving the bastard’s face into the gravel of the footpath outside the house. Ed struggled under Rick’s weight, choking on the stones and dirt he was getting a mouth full of. Still full of rage, he continued to make threats against his wife who was covered in red welts and bleeding from a bust lip and cut eyebrow.

Rick expected to see Michonne still standing at the gate, shell shocked at what just occurred before her or at least in angry tears at the racial slurs that were being hurled in her direction. Instead, Rick was surprised to see, she was knelt by his side, stone faced and strong – helping secure Ed as he put on the handcuffs.

She had his back during the struggle. Leaping into action the way only a trained protector would. She told him she was an art teacher, Rick thought briefly, curious to know the rest of her story once all of this was over. 

Ed, unlike Rick, did not appreciate Michonne’s proximity to his sweaty, dirt covered body. Despite being cuffed and beaten, he managed to turn his head just enough to spit violently at Michonne’s chest and face.

In that moment, all Rick saw was red. His weapon was drawn in an instance and threateningly pressed against the back of Ed’s neck.

Michonne jumped up and away from Rick but he could barely register the look of shock on her face at the way events escalated. It was Sophia and Carol’s screaming, however, that he found harder to ignore.

The mother and daughter were pleading with Rick – for Ed’s life. Tears streaming from their face and their anguished cries of “Please, please, please! Jesus Christ – oh God, no please” drawing a crowd. Suddenly, the street was flooded with residents. Curious murmurs turning quickly into panic. But Rick couldn’t see the faces of the community he swore to protect. He could only hear their voices.

“Someone do something!”

“Someone call the police.”

“He is the police.”

“What is happening Honey?”

“Who is she?”

“Rick.”

Her voice, in a sea of buzzing white noise, it cut through to him and for a brief enough moment, Michonne brought him back. 

Suddenly, Rick was surprised more by his own actions than the reaction of the people around him. Ed was scum but he was handcuffs. This wouldn’t be self-defense but a coldblooded murder. 

“Rick.” Her voice again but this time in his own mind, gently trying to remind him of what had promised her. 

He was one of the good ones. 

That thought was enough to finally sober Rick’s mind. The deafening drumming inside his skull stopped, rage no longer pumping blood and adrenaline to his trigger finger. In between deep breaths he managed to calm himself enough to place the gun into its holder.

Ed, who had been as stiff as a corpse finally relaxed as Rick stood up. Carol threw herself onto her husband’s cuffed body, sobbing still, her eyes never leaving Rick – more afraid of the man protecting her than she was of the man who hurt her for years.  

For a while, no one spoke. They stood there, processing what just nearly happened.

Finally, Sophia stepped forward.

“Leave.” She said looking Rick in the eye. “Before I call the police again.”

Again.

Rick couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. So it wasn’t any of the people gawking or some ignorant prejudicial neighbor from across the street who had called the station; it wasn’t even Ed, an out and proud white supremacist – it was this small, fragile, eleven years old girl. 

“Please.”

She wasn’t begging him. Trembling slightly, she straightened her shoulders to face down a man with a gun, a man she admits to having called in the first place.

But why?

Rick wanted to ask, but it took a quick look at the deep purple older bruises on Carol Peletier’s exposed shoulders and the evil the mere presence Michonne had brought out in Sophia’s father, for Rick to realize the answer for himself.

She was trying to protect them, including Michonne. 

The crowd was growing, neighbors having knocked on other neighbors doors regarding the drama Rick knew they deep down had been expecting – but probably with Michonne as a tragic player not a baffled bystander.

Distracted by the righteous anger beginning to bubble up inside him, Rick decided to address the prying eyes.

“Alright folks, now that Ed here’s calmed down a bit I’m sure you can all agree there are more interesting things that await you inside your own homes.”

“I think we’d just like to know what all this commotion is about Sheriff Grimes.” A familiar voice asked.

Rick felt a twitch in his neck, but replied as calmly as possible to the elderly man with questioning eyes sitting under a dark set of eyebrows and sunhat. “Ah I’m sure you all already do, Dale.”  

Dale let out a sad sigh, showing some humility and awareness. Rick had run into him on previous call outs to this neighborhood. He knew the retired educator to be a good man, taking it upon himself to help out Carol on occasion - administering First Aid or giving her a car ride to the hospital. That said, the same couldn’t be said for the rest of these vultures.

“You heard me first time people. I won’t say it again. Clear out. NOW!”

Rick stared down the residents, knowing very well this would find a way of getting back to his superiors but frankly not giving a shit.

“Right now, let the officer do his job. Come now, time to get out of this heat and back to our couches.” Dale’s mild waves had the power to disperse a crowd far quicker than a water canon and Rick was grateful for the powers of the former school principal.  

The elderly man was about to make his exit when Ed piped up again.

“Where you going you old Jew bastard?” He cried out, flailing on the floor like a sea lion. “You all saw what he did, he’s not a cop. He’s a thug. You’re my witness!”

“Oh Edward, you were a bully in school and you’re just a bigger one now. Don’t make things worse for yourself.” With a disapproving glare and a sigh of disgust, Dale Horvath returned to his own home, a couple doors down from the Peletiers.

Relieved the excitement was drawing to an end, Rick let out of a sigh, he turned to Michonne, who during the uproar had returned to the guarded state he met her in. She was however gently tending to Sophia, her arms protectively around the girl’s shoulders. 

“You okay?” He asked and she relaxed, reassuring him with a small smile.

“You okay?” She asked him back and he did the same.

Rick then turned to the little girl in Michonne’s arms, knowing he too needed to somehow comfort her. “I’m sorry.” He told Sophia, truly meaning the words. “But I’m taking your father in. I have to and I think you agree.”

The girl glanced down at her mother’s battered body, lain over a man who continued to curse under his breath about being betrayed by his own blood.

“Mom.” She said weakly. “Please.”

When Rick began to approach Ed, Carol didn’t start up her screams in defense of her husband. Her daughter’s plea had rendered her speechless. Michonne stepped forward, carefully placing her arms around Carol’s shoulders and with gentle words coaxed her away from the toxic man she had married, instead steering her toward the daughter that needed her. The three women, then stood by, letting Rick do his job. Neither his daughter nor wife were treating Michonne with the same revulsion Ed had, instead grateful for the cover and calm she provided them with.

Rick knew it was a sight that in the future would cause daily bitterness to the prick he had just dragged up from the ground and that warmed his own heart significantly.

Heading to back to his police cruiser with Ed Peletier in tow, Rick Grimes felt a burst of optimism. Maybe things could be different in this small town full of stone throwers. Perhaps some honest to God good could be done, by those willing to commit to acting on their conscience. Something to shock the small minded, their stale sermons and suspicious stares.

Rick took one last look at the trio of women in his rear view window. The sun was almost gone, but as he drove away the white of Michonne’s blouse remained visible in the amber rays. Striking as a knight’s armor, Rick thought, affectionately thinking back to her noble quest for a lost bear.  

“That bitch made the mistake of her life tonight.”

Ed Peletier said from the back of the car, spewing his hate like the last rings of smoke coming from a defeated dragon. His intoxicated, blood shot eyes reflected back at Rick’s calm blue ones but there was no need for a response as Ed slunk back into the seat looking smaller and more wretched than he’d ever looked before. Nothing but a pain parasite, severed from its source of strength.

It had finally happened.

He was finally done counting the times he had to let this man go back to hurting that family all over again.

Rick told himself this lie with little else to fear.

But with all things concerning this town of his, this job of his and this frequently disappointing life he was committed to – Rick Grimes’s optimistic outlook would be a premature one. Just over the horizon there waited the all too familiar failure of busted jaws, and broken promises.  

In a month’s time they’d end up in back in this place.

And the month after that, Rick would be praying to be back here once. Back to a time where things weren’t all that bad – dealing with bruises instead of a bloated, lifeless body. 

[writinanon]

Goddess of War II

Rook had known she was different from the first time that her mother put a spear in her hand and showed her how to throw it. Normal mothers apparently do not do this. How was Rook to know? Normal mothers also don’t call you after the Ancient Tongue that mortals cannot speak for it became Taboo and then they simply forgot. Normal mothers are mortal. And mortal mothers are not Freyja. But Rook wouldn’t trade her mother for anything in the world. When it was time to be on her own Rook chose the northern Hemisphere of the New World for she had heard it had many forests and many fields. The southern Hemisphere was filled more with jungle than forests, though she would like to see the salt flats reflect the sky.

The first signs that Rook was very different came when she decided to join the police force. She was living in upstate New York; lush and green why would anyone want to be in that forsaken city? But they had almost laughed her away, claiming her beauty was too much. That she couldn’t have any idea how hard it would be to be a cop. As she excelled in firearms and in law and being a stronger and better protector than anyone else they whispered she was sleeping around to get her grades, that she was an air head. She chose to leave policing, it was too prejudice to accept her. She searched and searched until she found some place that reminded her of home, she was sick for it. Her talks with her mother were infrequent and she wanted someplace to feel herself again. Hope County, Montana was perfect. Rural and secluded it reminded her of the valley she was raised in. She took the position as soon as possible.

The Sheriff was kind, benevolent and warm. He viewed her as young and inexperienced but that wasn’t a bad thing, merely something it would take time to correct. He didn’t comment on her looks or her body. He praised her skills and welcomed her with open arms. It was nice to have a man to look up to. Rook’s uncles were distant at best of times, at worst they were Loki and teaching her magics her mother didn’t want her to know until she was older for good reasons. Staci was also kind, a more familiar brotherly teasing like Rook had with her cousins and with Hel’s children. Joey was distant, from what Rook gathered it was her partner that she was replacing and that Joey felt responsible for his death. Soothing the pains of death was not a skill that Rook had but her mother told her patience and sincere foods were a good start. The final Deputy, Nancy, made chills crawl down Rook’s spine the first time they met. There was something wrong with her. It wouldn’t be until much later that Rook learned of Nancy’s involvement with the Cult, but the sensation of ill intent had been there before.

Being the daughter of the Goddess of Fertility, Love, Beauty, Sorcery, and Gold would have been simple enough. But Freyja was also the Goddess of War and a Goddess of Death. These parts of her nature were ignored by many, especially with Christianity rolling through if it didn’t destroy her completely it rendered her helpless. Freyja was not helpless. Rook was not helpless, but even fighting the criminals of Hope and having that be her ‘war’ to take tithe from was leaving a burning itch under her skin.

“I’m happy here, I am. I just… Sometimes I feel like razing it to the ground and sitting among the ashes.” She confided to her mother.

“Oh I expect you’ll have more fun than you realize soon enough Kit.” Her mother stroked her hair as several of her new kittens crawled over her. Rook hummed and smiled as one had finally managed to climb up her side and was now seated on her chest.

“If the government would listen to us I could pluck Eden’s Gate from were they have settled. I would enjoy rooting out their vines and ripping them from the ground.” It was rare that she allowed herself to revel in such thoughts, mostly to keep those that she had come to love in the time she’d been here safe. Rook was a Goddess herself, in her own ways. She lacked her mother’s sorcery gifts but held beauty, she suspected most all Immortals did it was rare that they were ugly and even if they were it was still better than mortal standards, fertility, she could make anything grow, and love with ease. But the things that her mother passed to her that had taken deepest root were War and Death. It was why she became an officer of the law, she could ‘fight’ crime. She had briefly considered military life but concluded it would end in more bloodshed than it would be worth.

“Hm.” Her mother hummed to regain her attention. “Is that Little Man giving you troubles?” Her mother’s smile was frightening.

“You know of Joseph Seed?” Rook sat up and turned to fully face her mother. Freyja chuckled softly.

“Shortly after you left he came, visiting Home. Your grandmother had Foreseen him, had Seen them all really and so I took a look. He’s an amusing Little Man, isn’t he?”

“I haven’t met him personally but the Sheriff fears him, in truth they all fear him.” It worried her, this undercurrent of fear that the County lived under. It was oppressive. It was cruel. It beckoned to that violent nature she kept tightly under lock and key.

“Perhaps you’ll have your chance to destroy him for them then.” There was a warming thought. To take away the fears of those she cares for. She said nothing but knew she had to return home shortly. “I hate that you went so far, was Iceland truly so bad?”

“I must make my own way Mother, all of us must.” Freyja wrinkled her nose but pressed a kiss to Rook’s forehead.

“Be safe my little Kitten. Reign hell upon thy enemies.”

“Be safe Mom. Slay those that would oppress you.” She stood and made the necessary portal back to her ranch. Magic was not her strong suite but what she could manage she was a master craftsman. She stepped through and stood in her bedroom. Tomorrow would bring good things.

“God will not let you take me.” Joseph Seed was issuing her a challenge. His eyes were boring into hers. He offered his hands, as though he wanted her to fast them. She almost wanted to, here in this moment she felt weak for the first time since she was a child. Weak to a man of all things. She shook it off and took his hands to cuff his wrists. There was recognition in his eyes, he remembered her mother. She almost smirked at him, almost told him that he didn’t understand what he was asking for with his challenge. “Sometimes it’s better to leave well enough alone.” He whispered to her, eyes tracing over her face. Her stomach clenched and she almost kissed him. Instead she pulled him away, to the helicopter that would crash. She had no doubt that they wouldn’t be reaching their destination. She made sure to slow time just a little. Just so she could speak with him.

“If you want war, you’ll get it.” She promised, smile curling onto her lips. Yes, this was what she wanted, she wanted to take everything he held dear and crush it into dust, prove she could. She would prove her strength to him, show him that she was not a mortal that she was a Goddess. For a long moment he just stared at her and then a strange serenity took him and he started to sing. Amazing Grace.

John’s hands on her shoulders held her under and she struggled. Not that this would really kill her but emptying the lungs of water was painful. And then Joseph came. Stating she was to be saved, hinging John’s salvation on it. She watched them, waiting. She wondered if Joseph intended to try and convert her, truly convert her, to his side. How interesting. It would take much groveling and promises and tithing but deep in her heart she knew it possible. But first her friends would need to be freed. Who said she had to follow the whims of a Man? He wanted a War and she would give it to him.

[missingverse]

Missing Chapter Nineteen

Once again I need to apologize for a long delay. I'm in the process of moving house and it's adding stress to my already busy schedule,  but thankfully because the entire country is on red alert for a storm I get to take a break for a little while.

Also, a note: don't worry that this might be close to the end, I still have quite a lot of story to get through.

…..

The hell of it, according to Ambrose Palmer's internal thoughts, was that he wasn't even supposed to be in Warleybridge that day.

The police station had called him a month before to ask if he would mind coming down to pick up some of the belongings Ed had left behind after thirty-four years being their deputy clerk. He had assured them he would, but he put it off for as long as he could. It was a long drive, the weather was bad, he had to arrange for someone to look after his dog while he took the trip....

(mostly because he had just about finished clearing all of Ed's other stuff and life was getting back to normal again)

...but eventually he manned up and tackled the drive. There wasn't even that much to pick up, just his coffee mug, a small cactus, a framed picture of the two of them from that trip to Kansas City two years before Ed died, three notebooks and a whole bunch of pens. Barely worth the trip, but Ambrose was glad he took it.

On his way back, it was getting dark and he was zoning out, there were no other cars on the road. When the lights picked up on something he managed to swerve just in time to avoid hitting it.

At first, he thought it was a deer, a fawn maybe. A moose calf even. But as he focused, he realized it was a person. Not just a person, but a child. A child in very bad shape. If it wasn't walking on the road, he would have thought it was dead.

He got out of his car and called.

“Hey....you okay?”

It was a stupid question, because the child was decidedly not okay, but what else was he supposed to do? It was moot either way because the child apparently didn't hear him. Leaving his car, mumbling uncomfortably to himself, he ran after it.

Her.

“Oh Christ....hey kid, can you hear me?”

She stopped in the road and stared at him, unblinking. She was skeletal, her face was covered in blood and the rest of her was covered in mud, insect bites and long thin scratches.

“Okay....okay....” Ambrose muttered, reaching gingerly for her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “We need to get you to a hospital.....you're gonna be okay, all right? Everything's going to be fine.”

It was the same kind of panicked babbling that Ed made fun of him for as he was nearing the end, but it was better than nothing. The girl seemed to agree, because the next moment her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell into a dead faint. Ambrose caught her just before she hit the asphalt.

“Shit,” he muttered, lifting her into his arms and rushing back to the car. “Oh lord....just hang on, sweetie, we'll getcha to the hospital, they'll fix you up good as new....”

He wrapped her up in an old blanket sitting in the boot of the car and drove with her stretched out on his lap, so he could make sure she was still breathing. Warleybridge had a small hospital-slash-respite home, he'd been there a lot with Ed.

He talked all the way back to Warleybridge, a non-stop outpouring of reassurances, promises and whatever the hell else popped into his head. If she heard any of it she gave no sign.

…..

She was checked against the Jane Doe registry, because of course she was. It was standard procedure.

The fact that she wasn't immediately identified as relatively-well-known-missing-child Helga Pataki was down to a perfect storm of circumstances that might not have happened had she ended up somewhere else.

*Firstly, the most recent pictures of Helga Pataki weren't really that recent. The one used on the national database was taken when she was eight, the other few that showed her between ten and eleven were deemed too blurry or too distracting to be useful.

*She had lost a lot of weight in captivity, and due to emaciation didn't look anything like her picture. Some of her hair had fallen out and her eye sockets were too bruised to take a good comparison photo. The doctors that treated her put her age at between seven and nine.

*The teeth that had been removed caused swelling in her jaw, knocking the entire lower half of her face out of kilter.

*Warleybridge was a rural area, and though they had internet it was slow and spotty. Loading pictures even in the sheriff's office or the hospital took longer than average, and after searching through pictures of little blonde girls all day with no clues people got fed up and left it.

*DNA taken from the girl didn't match anything in the system, and she could not be identified via dental records or any other medical procedures. As far as could be told, she hadn't had any medical care of any kind in her life.

*A backlog of work had been building up at the sheriff's office since the death of their clerk and they were having trouble finding a replacement. Therefore, they had been cutting corners on a lot of things, including calling around other sheriff's offices in nearby states.

*There were 'hillbilly' families in the area who lived off-grid and mostly under the radar of any kind of social services. Occasionally they popped up when someone was very ill but it was rare. Farming accidents were common with these people, as were hunting accidents, and it was thought likely that the girl had been left for dead after something like this.

So, for five years, even as reports and stories and podcasts and TV programs and forums and blogs all wondered what had become of her, Helga Pataki was lying in a hospital bed in Warleybridge, anonymous and mostly ignored.

…..

The name 'Serenity Doe' was a quip courtousy of a local who thought she was in a coma. Coma was not quite the right diagnosis, nor was she in a persistent vegetative state. What she had was closer to catatonia, she had moments of waking and even lucidity.

One month after she'd been brought in, she woke up but seemed to be incapable of speech and frustrated that she couldn't make herself understood. Paper and pens were given to her but when she tried to write it was an incomprehensible scribble. She was holding the pen correctly, though, so they knew she was educated at least a little. She was back sleeping within twelve hours.

The next time she woke, it was the middle of the night, and she tried to get out of bed but only succeeded in spraining her weakened ankles. Tube-feeding was helping her gain weight but it was slow, and she had mild atrophy from being in bed for so long.

Ambrose Palmer visited once a week, and when she woke for the third time she seemed to recognize him. She still couldn't write recognizably, but she managed to fold a piece of paper into an origami crane to give to him. The following week, he brought a guitar. She was back sleeping again, but he played for her and she could be observed smiling in her slumber.

Fourth and fifth times she woke, she managed to drag herself to the hospital kitchen, made herself a sandwich, ate it and then vomited because she couldn't handle solid food yet. A year had passed and she had ceased to be an interesting story to the town, but was still a patient the hospital staff were very protective of.

In her second year, she woke just three times. Once was just as Ambrose was arriving for his weekly visit, and it was thought that hearing him talk to the nurse in the hallway jolted her awake.

She woke more the third year, but for shorter lengths of time. Instead of twelve to twenty-four hours, she would have spells of lucidity for three hours or less. She did speak some recognizable words, mostly 'home' 'baseball' 'bridge' 'notebook', names of objects but never anything descriptive.

In year four she managed fragmented sentences, out of context and garbled. Talking about baseball games she had played when asked what she wanted to eat, complaining about the cold during a heat wave, telling Ambrose over and over (as he nodded along patiently) about some history report she had gotten a B- on. At the very least these 'conversations' ruled out the possibility that she was an off-grid hillbilly kid; she was educated and had a mild inner-city accent.

Year five was the most dramatic. She spent more time asleep than she had since the first year, but she could speak coherently and clearly when she was awake. She still couldn't explain who she was, where she had come from or what had happened to her, but she could answer simple questions, tell the doctors when something was hurting and hold a full back-and-forth exchange with Ambrose on his visits.

She seemed to be under the impression that she had only recently arrived at the hospital, and was convinced that she had just been somewhere else with someone whose name she couldn't quite recall. She had done his homework for him, apparently, and went on bike rides sitting in his basket. The nurses giggled, not unkindly, that she had an imaginary boyfriend.

By now she had gained much of the weight she had lost, though she was still thin and pale from living indoors and in bed for five years, and if they had checked they might have seen a resemblance to Helga Pataki. But by now all thoughts of trying to identify her had been put out of their mind, and they preferred to take care of the person they had now with the hopes that she would some day be able to live a normal life.

St Jude's Hospital and Convalescent home ticked along nice and quiet right up until a boy turned up claiming he knew the girl who had been sleeping for five years.

…..

In the motel, he squirmed and paced. Arnold wanted to get to Warleybridge as fast as possible. If there was even a small chance that Helga's body was there, dead or alive, he needed to see for himself. But just his luck that he would find this out just as Helga had gone into one of her long sleep cycles.

Should he message Phoebe? He wanted to. But if he turned up at this place and it turned out to be a false lead.....

But again, she had asked him not to keep things from her. He had to respect that.

                        Phoebe, I need to tell you something.

What's up? Did you find her?

            Yeah, I did. We're at a motel in Tappenack.

             But I found something else out here.

What is it?

            A missing girl was found on this

            highway five years ago. She's been

           in a coma in the local hospital ever since.

Are you serious? Arnold,

if this is some sort of joke,

it's not funny.

        I wouldn't joke about something like this,

        Phoebe. I'm going to check it out as

        soon as Helga wakes up.

Call me as soon as you get there.

The next bus to Warleybridge was due in two hours. It was a half-hour walk down the road. He had already gathered his stuff, and there was nothing left to do but pace and wait.

He felt sick. He felt elated. He felt weak and energetic and exhausted all at once. He resisted the urge to try and shake Helga awake, trying to wake her up had never worked before.

Thankfully, just as he was starting to really panic, she did wake up. She was rubbing her eyes as he marched over and pulled her out of bed.

“What the hell...?” she grumbled drowsily.

“We need to leave now,” he told her sharply. “I'll explain on the way.”

…..

When he did get to the hospital, he must have looked a state; unshaven, sweaty, bouncing on his heels. The nurse at the front desk eyed him warily.

“Can I help you?” she asked in a frosty tone.

“You have a patient here,” he babbled at her. “She's in a coma....Serenity Doe?”

“Mm,” the nurse said, lowering her eyes. “We have a strict D-notice on press here, even school newspapers. Your teacher should have told you that.”

“What? Oh, I'm not press,” he stuttered.

“No bloggers either,” the nurse said sweetly.

“No, no, that's not why I'm here....”

“Then you're a ghoul. We got a big D-notice on those two. You can take your 'fascination' somewhere else, kid. Maybe the asylum will let you in for a gawk.”

“No, you don't understand,” he growled, taking out his phone and dragging up an internet image of Helga. “I think I know who she is. She went missing five years ago, she hasn't been seen since.”

He pushed the phone in front of the nurses' face. She looked to it, then back at him.

“And who are you to this girl?” she asked.

“A friend,” he told her. “We grew up together....there was a bunch of new evidence found, she was taken by a serial killer who was holding her near Tappenack, but her body wasn't there. It's been all over the news, and the timelines match up. If it's her, I can identify her.”

The nurse stared hard at the photo. And then she stood up.

“I need to talk to the resident on call,” she told him. “Stay here. Don't talk to anyone.”

Helga had hung back behind him, and she stepped lightly to his side once the nurse was gone.

“What if it's not me in there?” she asked. She had been subdued on the bus, in contrast to how jumpy Arnold was.

“Then we look somewhere else. We won't stop,” he told her.

The nurse arrived back with a jovial-looking man who towered over Arnold.

“So you say you know our Serenity Doe, eh?” he said with an airy tone, though his eyes glittered with something hard, angry. “And what makes you different from the other nuts who turn up here with the same story?”

“Same story?”

“Yeah, you're not the first,” the doctor laughed, a little cruelly. “We get all kinds.”

“Uh, well, I'm not a nut,” Arnold tried to explain. “I came across a news article, the timelines match and so do the locations. I could identify her if I saw her.”

“Uh-huh,” the doctor sniffed. “And what makes you think that you could identify her when five years' worth of trained professionals couldn't?”

“Because I know her,” Arnold told him, a hard edge creeping into his own voice. “I'd know her anywhere.”

“Fine, fine,” the doctor shrugged. “Tell you what, if you can give me some information about your friend that matches what we have on file, I'll let you in to see her. Something nobody else would know.”

“Okay....” he agreed as the doctor opened his file. “Um, she fractured her eye socket when she was eleven. She said it was a baseball injury but really it was because she fell into a door.”

The doctor hummed noncommittally, wrote something down. Arnold wanted to tell him about her missing teeth, but that had happened after she was taken. The scars on her head and torso, too. What else was there?

“She's had no dental work done,” he told them. “That's why she has no dental records. She had the measles too, she was never vaccinated.”

The nurse pursed her lips and looked to the doctor, whose expression didn't change. Arnold wracked his brains for more.

“She has really distinctive eyebrows,” he said. “They were really big when she was a kid, not so much now I'd say. Her hands are callused because she was the batter in Little League. She took her bat everywhere.”

“This is all pretty basic stuff,” the doctor said. “Anything else?”

That panicky feeling was rising in him again. He had grown up with Helga for eleven years, mourned her for five, sheltered her for months....how could he know so little?

Just then, Helga whispered in his ear, and he repeated it.

“She has a burn mark on her knee shaped like the letter L, from when her dad threw a lit cigarette at her,” he recited. “A whole bunch of freckles on the back of her neck....if you join them up, it makes a really wonky-looking puppy....her left arm was broken three different times, first time was when she was four....oh, and a sickle-shaped scar on her back. She fell out of a window. There's a mole just beside it.”

By now, the nurse was ashen-faced, twisting her cardigan in her hands. The doctor's anger had left him, and now he was smiling wryly.

“Sounds like she was a rough-and-tumble kind of girl,” he said, scribbling on his notes.

“The roughest,” Arnold sighed with relief. “Half the kids at school were afraid of her.”

“All right, I'll let you in. You have ten minutes.”

…..

It was her.

She was smaller and paler and thinner than she had any right to be, and she was peacefully sleeping as lights blinked and tubes dripped and little monitors beeped and booped and did their jobs around her. The ghost of her looked more alive than she did, except for the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she took in air the ghost didn't need.

There was the star-shaped scar, but it had faded into white scar tissue and a tiny spot where hair would no longer grow. It was proof she was alive, and healing.

Arnold was rooted to the spot, afraid if he stepped forward something would change. Maybe this was a dream and he would wake up to find none of this had happened at all. But once again, the ghost Helga jolted him out of his stupor.

Her face was stoic as she drew up beside her living body, looking down on it as though she was observing from a great height. To Arnold's dismay, she was beginning to fade.

“This is why I came back,” she said. Her voice had an odd echo to it. “This is why I came to you. So you could find me.”

Arnold shook his head, not knowing how to react.

“I knew you wouldn't give up, and you didn't,” she said, her voice wavering and distorted in the air. “I was supposed to lead you here.”

He was beyond elated that he had found Helga, alive and well, and beyond horrified that the shade he had sheltered in his home, the spirit he had laughed with and comforted and talked long into the night with and loved had fulfilled her purpose and now had no reason to be by his side anymore.

“Thank you,” she said as the first spectral tears started coursing down her rapidly fading face. “Thank you so much....”

“You don't have to go,” he said with a strangled gasp, and upon opening his mouth he tasted his own bitter tears. “We can go home, the doctors will take care of your body here. She might never wake up.”

“I do have to go,” she said, smiling as she held her body's hand. “We were separated from each other, I needed your help to bring us back together. Everything's going to be fine.”

He crossed the room in three steps, and just about managed to gather her into his arms and kiss her where the star cut through her hair before she faded away entirely and, he knew, for good.

He was properly sobbing when he sat in the chair across from Helga's body; it felt like something had been torn out of him. He took her hand, the one the ghost had been holding before she faded, and brought it to his cheek.

“I'm sorry,” he gasped. “I'm so sorry I took so long to find you.”

The body's eyes fluttered open and the head turned to look at him. She frowned a little at him, and he gave her a watery smile back.

“Hey,” he managed to say with a graceless croak. “Welcome back.”

Her mouth opened, just a little, but no sound came out. She was trying to say something. He came in closer to hear, but nothing. He watched her mouth the words before he could understand what she was trying to say.

Football Head.

[hekate1308]

Grease The Wheels

Part of my Wheels series, human hunter!Crowley, Team Free Will case fic. Enjoy!

He was playing fetch with Juliet in the woods behind the bunker when Dean came looking for them.

“Crowley, we got a case in –“

Juliet jumped up to catch the ball.

Considering neither of them could see her, it looked rather funny.

“Huh” Dean said, “She’s getting better every day. In the beginning she’d just devour it.”

“My girl is smart, aren’t you?” Crowley scratched her behind the ears as at treat. “What kind of case?”

“Don’t know yet. People have been dying of an unidentified disease in North Caroline. I know how this sounds, but the symptoms appear to be the same as that of the sweating sickness.”

“The sweating – as in the English sweate? Tudors style?”

Dean nodded. “Yep. All dead within twenty-four hours.”

“But no miracle recoveries as of yet?”

“Nope. Could be a witch.”

“I’ll call Mother, then.”

Dean nodded. “Must be rather an old witch too, if it is. Don’t think anyone younger than... two hundred years would come to think of the sweating sickness of all things.”

“I don’t remember much about it... was a bit before my time.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what books are for. Sammy and Cas are already at it, the little nerds.”

“So you didn’t immediately identify the illness in question?” Crowley raised an eyebrow.

Dean grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Peaches. Juliet!”

As always she immediately trotted to Dean’s side. He reached down to pet her. “Any idea how big she’ll eventually be?”

Crowley shrugged. “Hellhounds really just... keep growing if they aren’t killed.”

“Ah well, we’ll see. Let’s go.”

“The old Sweate? Crowley, that’s old-fashioned even for us!”

“I know, Mother.”

“Old Gobbert – you remember his mill from back in the day? He always thought he’d catch it even though there hadn’t been an outbreak in two hundred years –“

“Yes, Mother, I do remember. He used to get drunk and then ramble through the village.”

“The good old times, ay. But Crowley – this is not to be taken lightly. I remember how scared people were of the Sweat, even though two centuries had passed. No one who’s lived through it should wish it upon someone else.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“And I’ll try and see if I can contact some other witches. Maybe they know something.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, and if you should happen to talk to Sheriff Mills, greet her from me. We just had tea the other week.”

He hung up, wondering what they could possibly have talked about.

“Mother is working on it” he told the others, stepping into the war room.

Dean nodded. “Guess we’ll be on our way, then.”

As it turned out, they didn’t need Rowena to find the witch, nor to do any digging.

Instead, the Impala had barely rolled into town when Crowley saw the culprit. “Father Roy” he breathed.

“What?”

“Keep driving” he instructed Dean, fighting down the impulse to duck down. Even if the priest saw him, he wouldn’t recognize him.

Crowley didn’t know him here. They had met in another universe.

Stumbling through the wasteland Michael’s and Lucifer’s price fight had left behind, human, hungry and tired, the single hut had seemed like Paradise incarnate.

If he hadn’t been just resurrected human, if he had had all his wits about himself, he would have asked some obvious questions.

For example why someone who had literally lived through the end of the world would feel the need to isolate himself from human company.

But, as it was, Crowley had seen the light shine through the windows of the building and had decided to knock.

The man who opened it wore a priest cloak and didn’t seem surprised to see him; two other signs that should have tipped him off.

“Hello there. You look like you could use a good meal and a place to sleep.”

In his defence, Crowley was rather unaccustomed to being met with kindness.

“Thank you.”

“Please. It’s the end of the world; we have to help one another to survive, wouldn’t you say?”

His brain came back online when he was served dinner. “No offense, but how do you find meat here?” he asked casually.

“Oh you know, you just have to know a little bit about hunting.”

The grin he gave him was nothing short of predatory.

By now, alarm bells were ringing in his mind. Dean – no, he was trying not to think of them – would have considered Roy a “grade A creep” no doubt.

“I see.”

Despite the hunger gnawing at him, he only took a few bites. It was a good decision; otherwise, his new life would have ended before it began.

Crowley was starting to feel strangely drowsy when he noticed Roy getting up and reaching for something –

He sprang up.

Roy was brandishing a hatchet, grinning at him. “You’ll do just fine; meat for months –“

He might have been human, but he had also been the King of Hell, and survived nearly a decade of knowing the Winchesters.

The ensuing struggle was short, fuelled on Roy’s side by desperation and insanity, while Crowley not only fought for his life, but also felt rather disgusted at the thought that he’d just been served human flesh.

Eventually, he managed to wrench the hatchet out of Roy’s grasp.

“How?” he demanded, looking up at him.

“I’m Crowley. It’s how I roll.”

“Please” he begged, “Please, I promise I won’t do it any more –“

Crowley felt his now-human heart beat wildly in his chest and knew that any killing from now on would be followed by remorse.

He slit Roy’s throat.

Sometimes it was just worth it.

A week later, when he stumbled upon the camp that had taken in Mary as well, it was surprisingly this slaughter of a serial killer that got him into their good graces. When Bobby was questioning him, he mentioned his little problem.

He raised an eyebrow. “You survived Roy?”

“I killed Roy.”

He was taken in immediately.

“Let me repeat that. Your very first day as a human, you murdered a serial killer?”

“It was self defence.” Roy’s death had brought him far less sleepless nights than anything he had done as demon.

Dean hummed. “Doesn’t mean he has to be one hear as well, though.”

“It’s...” he shook his head. “It’s not quite like that. The basic... settings of everyone I met were pretty much identical to those in our world. Bobby was just the same loveable curmudgeon he was back here, and from what he told me about Mary, she was the same kind of hunter she happened to be in our world.”

“Hm. Is killing people by quick illness instead of eating them a step up or down the ladder?” Dean asked.

“Squirrel, I would say both are offenses that would ensure you ended up in Hell.”

“Regardless” Sam interjected, “We should make sure we have the right man before we do anything against him.”

“A priest who’s also a witch” Cas said. “A rather interesting combination.”

“Especially if you add Hannibal Lecter into the mix” Crowley answered. “But yes, I agree, we should probably not judge him too hastily.”

Dean turned to him, grinning. “I have an idea.”

And somehow, he knew exactly what that idea was.

Sam had had his choice of words to say on the matter of course, while Cas had just huffed and shaken his head.

Their former angel friend still wasn’t the best at impersonating others, although he did make a good FBI agent these days.

And so Dean and Crowley ended up calling at Roy’s dressed as priests who were just passing through.

“You saved me from writing a rather dreary sermon – Bless their hearts, some people are too specific when it comes to their wedding.”

He seemed perfectly friendly and welcoming, but then that had been the case in the other world too.

Crowley caught Dean’s eyes.

Soon enough, the hunter excused himself to go to the bathroom.

“Say, you seem familiar. Are you sure I haven’t seen you before?” Roy asked casually.

“I don’t think so” he replied simply.

He shrugged. “Maybe in another life.”

The statement was too accurate for Crowley’s liking, even though the man could know nothing. No, it was remembering; remembering these first few days as a human with nothing but hunger and pain and confusion, and thinking that he’d never see the boys again.

Dean returned and Crowley knew immediately that he’d been right. They said their goodbyes soon afterwards.

“Don’t know much about priests, but I am guessing most of them don’t keep a shrine for the powers of Darkness in their bedroom.”

“You would be surprised. I have sold many of them deals over the centuries.”

“Don’t doubt it, but I don’t think we got a demon involved. Just a priest become witch become serial killer.”

Only it got a little more complicated than that, because Dean began to feel ill soon after they had returned to the motel.

“Dean” Sam said immediately, “Is it –“

“I think so. Damn it. Must have realized something was the matter with us...” Dean mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“No matter how tired you get, you can’t fall asleep” Crowley said immediately, “It was thought lethal at the time, if I remember.”

“And you need to sweat it out” Cas said, unflappable as always, but Crowley could tell that underneath the surface he was panicking just as much as him and Sam.

“I’ll call Rowena.”

She picked up at the third ring, thank God.

“Mother, Dean is sick. We need a way to break this spell now.”

For a few seconds, she didn’t answer, and suddenly he found himself waiting for a quip how she could do very well without Dean Winchester in her life, or that she wasn’t beholden to them, like there would have been before – before.

Instead, she said, “I’ll come as quickly as I can. Don’t worry, we’ll get him sorted out.”

She hung up and Crowley was left with the unfamiliar feeling that she had been trying to comfort him.

Dean was getting worse by the minute.

Cas, while trying his best, was clearly fretting because he could no longer heal him.

Crowley could sympathize. Once upon a time, he would have snapped his fingers and transported his mother here.

She came soon enough, four rather miserable hours later, with them trying to do research while keeping Dean conscious.

“Hello boys –“

“That’s my line” Crowley mumbled. She ignored him, naturally.

“Oh dear. He looks rather poorly. Alright, I need to read this spell, give me a few minutes.”

She did indeed work remarkably quickly. “The witch who cast the spell has to die for it to unravel, it seems.”

“That won’t be a problem” Crowley said lightly. He didn’t very much like anyone going after a member of their team.

She waved towards the door. “Just go. I’ll look after him.”

When they hesitated for a moment, a strange expression crossed her face. “You boys cared for me when I was too weak to walk. He’s safe with me.”

They left.

They always kept enough witch-killing bullets in the booth of the Impala. That wasn’t the problem.

No, the problem was that none of them had considered that Roy might use an old tracking spell on them.

In their defence, it was old. Older than Crowley, for one thing. Demon years included.

And so Roy was waiting for them.

Crowley was really getting tired of being thrown around, especially at walls.

“Thought you would immediately come if I dropped a little spell on your friend. Rather special, isn’t he?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. What was it with this man and gleefully trying to taunt him?

Thankfully, a well-timed bullet shot by Cas did him in when he opened his mouth again.

“Good shot” Sam breathed.

Crowley got a text.

Dean is doing fine. Mother.

“Everything’s alright” he announced.

And for that evening, Rowena staying for dinner, everything was.  

[haughtbreaker]

Thank you so much for the reviews and comments y’all have been leaving. @jaybear1701 and I appreciate all of them. The posting schedule is going to have to be pushed back starting next chapter. Updates will be made on Mondays now to let y’all process episodes over the weekend. :)

“I was in your arms thinking I belonged there, I figured it made sense, building me a fence, Building me a home, thinking I'd be strong there, But I was a fool, playing by the rules The gods may throw a dice, their minds as cold as ice, And someone way down here loses someone dear The winner takes it all, the loser has to fall, It's simple and it's plain, why should I complain.”

    Nicole shook her head as the yellow convertible full of young, boisterous women went screaming down the road, their music turned up so loud that the bass rattled her bones even from a distance. Some things never change, Nicole thought. She couldn’t remember how many times she had stopped a car filled with bored Purgatory teens looking for a little excitement and inevitably finding trouble.

  Nicole had half a mind to call dispatch and have them tell whoever was on highway patrol to keep an eye out for the convertible. She doubted the number had changed in the past two decades. But she didn’t. That wasn’t her job anymore. She had left the cop back in Purgatory all those years ago and in its place stood a criminal defense attorney who hoped the young women didn’t end up with a reckless driving charge or worse.

  The sound of squealing tires pulled Nicole’s attention away from the disappearing blur. She turned and saw a red SUV peel out of its spot down the street. She thought she caught a glimpse of familiar brown hair and she nearly went into cardiac arrest. But the car and its driver were soon long gone before Nicole could be sure. She inhaled sharply, taking in the familiar scent of dust and gasoline fumes that always seemed to permeate downtown Purgatory, and marveled at how ridiculous she was being.

  What were the chances of seeing Waverly Earp the second she set foot in town? Slim to none, she knew. She barely resisted the urge to smack herself upside the head for being so foolish. And yet, for some reason, her chest continued to twinge as she watched the car drive away.

  Before she could dwell on it long, the hotel’s bellhop, a young man who barely looked 18, approached. Something about him looked… familiar… but Nicole couldn’t quite place why.

  “Welcome to the Wainright,” he said cheerfully, straightening out the ill-fitting red cap that sat crookedly on his shaggy hair. “Can I take your bags, Ms…?”

  “Nicole,” Nicole answered, feeling an inexplicable need to keep her identity a secret. Though, she wondered if the kid had even been born when she was last in town. She popped the car’s trunk. “I appreciate it.”

  Nodding eagerly, he retrieved her luggage and waited patiently as she checked in. He walked beside her as they moved through the lobby toward the elevator. Nicole had to swallow past a lump in her throat when they came across the grand staircase where Waverly had once taken Nicole’s breath away. In a shimmering seafoam dress, Waverly had looked like a -- what had Nicole written on her blog all those years ago? A mermaid, Nicole remembered. A perfect, radiant mermaid.

  She kept her gaze trained straight ahead even as the memory of Waverly’s smile, and the way it had made Nicole’s heart stutter out of rhythm, played crystal clear in her mind’s eye.

  “Are you here ‘n Purgatory for business or pleasure?” The bellboy interrupted her reverie when they stopped in front of the elevator.

  Torture , Nicole almost said. But she bit her tongue and plastered on a smile instead. “Pleasure.”

  “The wedding?” He asked knowingly as he pushed the call button. Off Nicole’s startled look, he added: “Lucky guess. It’s the only big thing happenin’ ‘round these parts, if you don’t count Christmas o’ course.”

  “Right.”

  “Bride or groom?”

  “Bride.” It wasn’t a lie, per se.

  They stepped inside the elevator. The boy pressed the number 4 and whistled. “Whitney Earp. I swear she is the prettiest, sweetest girl in the whole town.”

  Nicole couldn’t stop herself from smiling at that tidbit. Like mother, like daughter . The bellboy continued rambling when they got off on the fourth floor. “I’ve always had a huge crush on her. Don’t tell her I said that now.” He wagged a finger at her. “She and my big sis used to babysit me.” He eyed Nicole curiously. “How d’ya know the Earps?”

  She wanted to tell the kid it wasn’t any of his damn business. But being defensive would just call more attention to herself. And she wanted to keep as low a profile as possible.

  “Her mother and Aunt, we go a ways back,” she said. They finally reached her hotel room, and Nicole hoped the kid would drop his small-talk interrogation already.

  “Ms. Waverly’s terrific too.” He unlocked the door and led her inside, placing the suitcase on a fold-out luggage rack. “As for the deputy…” He made a face that coaxed a chuckle out of Nicole.

  “She’s something else,” Nicole offered along with a couple of dollars.

  “That’s one way of puttin’ it.” He gratefully accepted the tip with a nod. “Enjoy your stay, Ms. Nicole. If you’ll be needing anythin’ else, do lemme know. Name’s Nedley. Randolph Nedley. But everyone calls me Randy.”

  Nicole did a double take. “I’m sorry, did you say…?” She shook her head. “Are you related to Randall Nedley?”

  Randy beamed. “He was my papaw.”

  Was.

  Guilt surged within Nicole. She had gotten the funeral notice, but hadn’t been able to attend because she had been in the middle of a huge trial. If she was being completely honest, a small part of her had been somewhat relieved. She had wanted to remember Nedley as he had been -- gruff and unpolished and very much alive . She hadn’t wanted to see him lying in a box. Lifeless. A glaring reminder of their mortality. She also hadn’t wanted to see Waverly. There was only so much heartache Nicole could take.

  Did that make her a coward? Yeah. It probably did.

  “I was sorry to hear about his passing,” Nicole said earnestly. She made a mental note to bring flowers to his grave. “He was a good man. An even better friend. And a terrific sheriff.”

  Randy’s smile grew even wider. “You knew him?”

  Nicole nodded. “Used to be one of his officers.”

  Randy smacked his leg and hooted. “Well I’ll be hot damned. Small world.”

  “Who’s the sheriff now, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “My ma, actually, if you can believe that.”

  Nicole nearly choked on her own spit. “Chrissy?”

  “Yes ma’am.” Randy hooked his thumbs on his belt, now looking so very much like a younger version of Nedley that Nicole mentally kicked herself for not seeing it sooner. “Gonna follow in both their footsteps someday. Hopefully.”

  “I have no doubt you will.” Nicole smiled. “It’s in your blood.”

  Randy grinned and dipped his head forward. “Remember, if you need anything…”

  “I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  He nodded one last time, pleased, and left room. When the door clicked shut, Nicole wasted no time. She unzipped her suitcases and meticulously unpacked. She took her time, pulling out her pants and shirts, underwear and socks. She laid them neatly in the hotel’s dresser. She made sure to hang the dress she brought for the wedding in the closet, which smelled like mothballs and must. She placed her toiletries in the bathroom. Grabbed the bucket next to the small coffee pot on the counter and fetched ice from down the hall. She did everything she could to avoid texting Waverly to tell her she was in Purgatory.

  Eventually though, Nicole had done everything that needed to be done and she found herself sitting on the edge of the mattress. A dull ache formed in her chest that crept down her arms and numbed her fingers. It was hard not to recall how she used to dream about becoming Purgatory’s sheriff, keeping the town safe with Waverly at her side. But it just… wasn’t meant to be.

  She pulled out her cell phone, which notified her that she had several missed calls and emails, most work related, and a couple of unread texts from her sister.

  Becky: Where are u????

Becky: It’s almost Christmas Nicole ffs

  Nicole rolled her eyes. She didn’t reply. Instead, she input the number Waverly had emailed to Nicole in reply to her wedding RSVP. Slowly. One-by-one. She wasn’t brave enough to call it. She took a deep breath and typed out a quick message:

  Hi. I’m here.

  Her thumb froze, suspended over the send triangle. She could still turn back. It wasn’t too late. It would be so easy to just pack up her bag and head back to her car. Drive out of town and never look back with no one the wiser. But she couldn’t. She was tired of that. So, so very tired of running and avoiding. It was now or never. Clenching her jaw, she pushed send.

    “I’m serious Jenn!” Whitney’s voice could be heard through the thick wooden door as Waverly pulled up to the homestead. She hadn’t expected it to be completely quiet, not with the construction, but she didn’t expect a verbal battleground.

  The drive back from town had done little to clear her mind and heart of the lingering ache 20 years of memories had dredged up, even when she’d driven right past the homestead and circled back around once or twice.

  “Oh my God!”

  Waverly could recognize the sound of her bridezilla daughter easily and she found herself momentarily tempted to dawdle just a bit, maybe drag her heels in the snow. It wasn’t an unfamiliar thought, as she’d done a few times in the past. When she’d hear Gus and her young daughter arguing, she’d always take a minute to check the tires or rearrange the grocery bags, really any menial task she could find before committing to an appearance.

  But just the idea of being alone, allowing the unpleasant memories to impregnate her mind… or even worse, the pleasant ones. The ones that engulfed her with the scent of spicy vanilla and the feel of silky smooth skin under her fingertips. The memories that were beyond senses, beyond touch, but the memory of what it was like to be loved.

  Not just to be loved, but the love that only came from someone you couldn’t live without. It was looking into those eyes and knowing how desperately Nicole had not only loved her, but needed her.

  So no, Waverly decided as she shook her head, she wasn’t going to hang around outside in the cold with phantoms of a life she no longer lived. Besides, she really needed a drink, and to talk to Wynonna.

    “They’re ruined.” Whitney could feel her stress level hitting the roof as she fingered one of the carefully crafted pieces of a centerpiece. They had been meticulously wrapping bottles with twine to be used as flower holders for the centerpieces, each one compiled of a bottle, 3 candles, and a small sand filled glass bowl with a succulent in it placed on a natural cut wooden slab.

  The already wrapped bottles had been put in a crate which had somehow fallen over. With Jenn being the closest, there was no one else to blame, and with half the bottles shattered, there was definitely a need for blame.

  “I didn’t even touch it!” Jenn was helping to pick up the bits of broken glass and twine.

  Whitney sighed as the front door opened, letting in her mother who gave her a look that could only be labeled as cautious. “This is why people elope!” She sighed in frustration, dropping the broken pieces and stalking off towards the kitchen.

  She was looking through the liquor cabinet when Waverly entered, arms crossed over her chest. “I’m not in the mood for a lecture, Mom.” She liberated a bottle of gin after a bit of digging.

  “Well I’m not here to give you one.” Waverly took the bottle from her daughter’s hand. “I’m just here to point out that these damn center pieces need to be finished and I’m not going to let you be drunk all day. It’s bad enough you’ve got those two in there chugging back $5 bottles of wine.”

  “I thought you weren’t going to lecture me.” Whitney complained under her voice, almost a whine.

  “And I thought you graduated kindergarten years ago.” Waverly narrowed her eyes, daring her daughter to respond.

  “Ugh!” Whitney gave up her search for vermouth with a growl. “This is just bullshit! That's a lot of work now in the trash.”

  “Hey.” Waverly stepped up to her aggravated daughter, sliding her arms around Whitney’s tense frame and hugging her roughly until she relaxed. “We’ve still got a few days. We’ll do what we need to do to get everything situated.”

  Whitney sighed softly, trying to take a calming breath. She knew her mother was right, but her nerves were on high alert. Scheming had been fun until she was faced with having to tell Jesse everything. Why hadn’t she consulted him in the first place? There was no reason for it and she was going to be in for a fight.

  Excitement had turned to guilt which then blossomed into anxiety. Adding that to the anticipation of waiting for… the phone on the counter buzzed, catching both her own and Waverly’s attention. Thankfully her mother turned to return the gin to the shelf and grab a bottle of vodka because seeing the name Nicole Haught crossing her screen might have been a little alarming to say the least.

  Hi, I’m here, was all the message read. 20 years and all she had to say was Hi I’m here ?

  Pursing her lips, Whitney felt her heart skip a beat. She was in the same town as Nicole, the woman who had supplied the egg, her biological mother. She’d been wanting this moment since finding the journal. Maybe her life would make a little more sense after meeting her. The woman who contributed to her DNA. Her tall stature and unforgivingly red hair.

  Would Nicole think it was an insult to her? That she dyed her hair?

 Whitney shook her head, looking up to see eyes watching her. She couldn’t risk sending a message while her mother was right there. “I’m gonna... go back to Shorty’s… pick up more empty bottles.” Her words were too delayed, dripping with deception and she had been the daughter of the very investigative Waverly Earp for 20 years.

  Waverly’s eyes narrowed. “Is that all you’re going to be doing?”

  Whitney froze, her blood running cold. She could hear the thud of her heart in her ears and she gave a tight smile. “Of course.” She laughed and she could hear her own guilt. “What else would I be doing?” She begged herself to just shut up, stop talking like a moron.

  Waverly crossed her arms over her chest, saying nothing.

  “Seriously, Mom. We need bottles.”

  A single eyebrow rose. “And you’re not going to say… sneak off and see a certain deputy who’s on duty right now?”

  A wave of relief crashed through Whitney and she couldn’t stop the smile from spreading. “Well… I mean I’m going to be in town anyway. It would just be rude to not stop by.”

  “I knew it!” Waverly cheered herself, turning back to grab two glasses from the cupboard. “You can’t fool me.” Pouring a small amount into one glass, she paused, unsure if she should be pouring the second. “Where’s your Aunt?”

  “Sulking in the barn. I think she’s trying to contact Xavier.” Whitney whispered, passing by her mother so she could get her bag and coat.

  Looking at the one shot, Waverly quickly swallowed it with just a slight wince. She noticed even the James family’s whiskey was no longer on the shelf and she sighed, taking the vodka bottle with her as she moved to the front door where Whitney was wrapping up. “Hey… Aren’t you taking the posse?”

  “No. They need to keep making centerpieces.”

  “Are you ok to drive?”

  Whitney nodded. She wasn’t even buzzed anymore, a fact that was almost depressing. “I’m good. Please make sure they don’t destroy everything.”

  “Mmmhmmm.” Waverly looked at the two that were drinking more than gluing. Practically nothing was going to be done while Whitney was gone and she knew it. She stood in the door, watching her daughter pull away before she looked to the barn where she saw someone moving inside. With a sigh, she took a pull from the bottle of Vodka before heading out the door towards the barn.

    Nicole’s nerves jumbled and jittered with each step she took down Main Street, still waiting for Waverly’s reply. Perhaps chugging down a cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso at the hotel’s cafe hadn’t been the best of ideas. Now her heart wouldn’t stop racing and she felt like she’d pass out from anxiety.

  She tried to focus on anything but her still silent phone, taking in the town after two decades away. At first blush, it appeared as if nothing had changed. Purgatory still seemed like the same mundane municipality that time forgot. Every so often, however, Nicole noticed something different. Nothing astonishingly groundbreaking. But small, blink-and-you’ll-miss-them changes that signaled some form of movement, even if only incremental. The ancient laundromat had been rebranded the Sixpence All the Cleaner Coin Laundry, with more modern machinery than the beat-up, ‘70s-era washers and dryers that Nicole had used. The buildings on the block that included the bank, the surplus store, and the antique shop all had their facades brightened with new paint.

  Hell, even Nicole’s old apartment building was graced with newish shutters, navy blue popping out against red brick with more vibrancy than the previous faded gray. She paused across the street from it and trailed her eyes up three floors to the second window on the left. The curtains were drawn and she wondered who lived there after she had left and whether they had ever repaired the leaking bathroom faucet that Nicole never fixed.

  It was a shitty little place, Nicole recalled. The floors creaked. The rooms were drafty as hell and the radiator heater never seemed to work. She swore she’d seen sheets of paper thicker than the walls. It was nothing like the high-rise condo she now owned in Chicago, with its sleek, modern appliances and pristine views.

  And yet… the cramped little apartment in Purgatory had been home. Never more so than when Waverly was there.

   Nicole sat on a rickety chair at her equally unsteady kitchen table. Waverly stood in front of her, facing sideways so that Nicole was at eye level with Waverly’s bare hip. It was a sight Nicole would normally welcome with a cheeky come on, if not for her shot nerves. For the past 10 minutes, she had been pressing an ice pack to the muscles just behind the jut of Waverly’s hip. Nicole’s fingers had gone numb from the prolonged cold and she hoped that meant Waverly’s flesh was similarly desensitized.

  “You ready?” Nicole asked, reaching up to caress the small of Waverly’s back with her free hand. She heard Waverly take a deep breath before covering Nicole’s freezing hand with a warm palm and squeezing.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” Waverly said, glancing down at Nicole.

  Nodding, Nicole removed the ice pack from Waverly’s skin and set it down. Working as quickly as possible, she ripped open an alcohol swab and cleaned the rubber stopper of the glass vial on the table. It was filled with a yellowish oil. Next, she picked up and uncapped a syringe with a long, 18-gauge needle.

  “Jeez, that thing is huge,” Waverly commented, a slight tremor in her voice.

  “Don’t worry, baby,” Nicole reassured her as she pulled back the plunger to the 1cc mark. “This is just to draw out the progesterone, remember?”

  “Right.” Waverly bit her lip, eyes still worried.

  “It’s gonna be okay.” Nicole gave Waverly what she hoped was a reassuring smile before focusing back on the task at hand. She pierced the rubber stopper of the vial with the needle and injected air into it. Turning the small bottle upside down, she carefully withdrew the correct dosage of progesterone. She triple checked that she had the right amount. Her hands shook as she pulled the needle back out and removed it. She replaced it with a smaller one and flicked the syringe to dislodge any air bubbles. Waverly caressed her shoulder. That fleeting, but reassuring touch was enough to ground Nicole. She pushed up on the plunger until a few drops formed at the needle’s tip.

  Nicole looked up once again at Waverly, who watched her with a soft expression on her face.

  “Okay?” Nicole asked.

  “Okay.”

  Nicole wiped the side of Waverly’s left buttocks with another alcohol pad. Once it was dry, she picked up the syringe, holding it like she was about to throw a dart at Shorty’s. She inserted it in one swift jab. Waverly inhaled sharply and Nicole froze.

  “Wave?”

  “I’m good,” Waverly breathed out. “Keep going.”

  Swallowing hard, Nicole pulled back on the plunger to make sure she didn’t hit a blood vessel. No crimson blooms entered the vial. She sighed in relief and slowly injected the progesterone, pushing past the muscle’s resistance. Once she was done, she carefully extracted the needle. Waverly pressed a piece of gauze to her skin while Nicole disposed of the used needles in a sharps container.

  “C’mon.” Nicole stood and led Waverly to the couch where a heating pad was ready and waiting. Waverly lowered her good side onto the cushions and Nicole sat next to her, placing the heating pad on the injection site and massaging the area as gently as possible.

  “I can’t believe we’re really doing this,” Waverly murmured.

  “Yeah, baby, we are,” Nicole said, heart expanding at the unadorned affection in Waverly’s gaze. “You and me. We’re gonna get through this together.”

  Smiling, Waverly ran her fingers through Nicole’s hair, lightly grasped the back of her head and leaned forward to place a tender kiss on Nicole’s lips. “Ready for your turn?”

  “More than ready.” Nicole nuzzled the tip of Waverly’s nose. “Let’s make a family.”

  The buzz from her cellphone broke Nicole out of her reverie and she nearly jumped straight out of her skin. She dug a hand in her pocket to retrieve her phone, shaking so hard that she nearly dropped it once she freed it from her jeans.

Meet me at Shorty’s. 45 minutes.

Heart in her throat, she read the text again. Then re-read it. That was just enough time to get cleaned up at the Wainright before heading to the saloon. Nicole glanced back up one more time at her old apartment before turning on her heel and walking away.

She freshened up quickly in her hotel room. Washed her face and brushed her hair. She debated changing out of her jeans and sweater, before shaking her head at herself for being ridiculous. Nicole didn’t want to look as if she was trying too hard. After one last glance at the mirror, where the few strands of gray in her hair and the slight wrinkles on her face somehow looked more pronounced than ever before, she headed to Shorty’s.

Her heart pounded harder the closer she got to the bar, until the roar of blood in her ears was all she could hear as she pushed past the wooden double doors and stepped inside. It was just as she remembered it, the smell of alcohol sharp in the air and an old country song twanging from the jukebox. She didn’t recognize any of the patrons or the servers behind the bar. And no one paid her any mind as she moved further in and slid onto a barstool in the same spot she used to sit when she visited Waverly all those years ago. She ordered a classic martini.

Just as the bartender set the glass in front of Nicole, someone completely unexpected sidled up to her. The strength of his cologne alone should have given him away.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat drug in,” came the grating voice of a person she hadn’t missed once in 20 years.

Nicole resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she swiveled toward the intruder. “Champ,” she said, terse.

Champ Hardy look like a bloated version of himself from 20 years ago, with his slicked-back hair and a scraggly goatee. The years clearly had not been kind.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face ‘round these parts, Haught.” He sneered. “And just what the hell do you think you’re doing here, huh?”

Nicole clenched her jaw so hard she thought her teeth might crack. “That’s none of your goddamn business.”

“Oh I beg to differ.” Champ moved into Nicole’s personal space. His breath reeked of stale beer. She resisted the urge to clothesline him again, for old time’s sake. “Because if you so much as upset Waverly…”

“Dad!” A new voice cut in.

They both turned as a young woman approached, long brown hair trailing behind her. There was… something ...about her. Something so unexpected that it made Nicole’s heart clench and she had no idea why. When their eyes met, the woman hesitated, but only briefly. She focused on Champ and clapped him on the shoulder

  “What are you doing here?” The young woman -- no, Champ’s daughter -- asked him. “You’re supposed to be trying on your tux. Make sure the alterations are all fine.”

  “Right,” Champ nodded, moving away from Nicole. “I didn’t forget,” he said in a way that completely belied his claim.

  The daughter’s eyes drifted to Nicole. “Who’s your friend?”

  “No one,” Champ said. “She was just about to leave.”

  “Actually,” Nicole interrupted. “I’m just getting settled in.” She smiled at the young woman and offered her hand. “I’m Nicole. Nicole Haught.”

  “Whitney,” she replied, ignoring her dad and grasping Nicole’s hand with a warm, dimpled smile that felt achingly familiar to Nicole. Her grip was firm, yet gentle. “Whitney Earp.”

  It felt like the floor bottomed out from beneath Nicole. A wave of vertigo made her unsteady even though she sat firmly on the barstool. “Whitney Earp,” Nicole repeated, her voice sounding hollowing in her ears.

  “That’s right,” Champ butted in proudly, placing an arm around Whitney’s shoulders. “Whitney Earp . My daughter.”

  Whitney made a face and wiggled out of Champ’s grip. “You really should get going, Dad. You don’t want to be late…”

  They continued talking, but Nicole stopped listening, her stomach sinking with the realization that what she had once feared was true.

  “I’m serious, Becky. I’m not cut out for that crap,” Nicole sighed in frustration, pulling the rental car into the parking stall. The town’s parking lot was nearly full as it always was on a weekday in the municipal area. The few stalls along the street had been taken and she cursed the nature of small towns.

  “So you’d rather waste your life being a cop in some backwater shithole? You got a damn 178 on the LSAT, for Christ's sake.  If I'd gotten that,  daddy would have given me a corner office. ”

  “You have a corner office…”

  “After damn near 10 years!”

  Nicole just felt...tired. “I already told mom and dad this. I have a life here. I love Purgatory.”

  “No you don’t. You’re just there for her!”

  “You don’t know anything about my life.” Nicole rolled the window down a crack just to get some air before turning the car off. She’d been gone for three months. A quarter of a year and she couldn’t stay away anymore. Even if she had to pound down the door, she was going to talk to Waverly. She didn’t care that the youngest Earp had changed her number not long after she had left.

  They were only supposed to be on a break, why the hell did she cut off communication? She should have come back then. She shouldn't have let the anger build so much. She had thought the distance would give them a chance to think … absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that bullshit.

  “I know that when you got here you were moping around like a baby until we gave you casework to do,” her sister started in again, “and don’t even pretend you didn’t enjoy helping dad with that deposition last week. You were made for this, Nic.”

  Nicole sighed in frustration. “I don’t really want to talk about this with you. I have to go.”

  “Nic, wait.”

  Nicole hung up the phone, looking at herself in the mirror, running her hands through shoulder-length dark brown hair. Hopefully Waverly wouldn’t hate it. She’d allowed her sister to talk her into it, citing a change was necessary, that it would make her feel better. It hadn’t. She felt like she had lost a part of herself, like she was changing who she was. New hair… bullshit paralegal work for her parents’ firm...

  Waverly was going to hate it.

  Taking a deep breath, she nodded. The thought of entering her apartment after sitting stagnant for 3 months made her cringe so she'd gotten a room at the hotel. She’d check in,  shower and head over to Shorty’s. Or maybe the homestead. Maybe that would be better, to be away from the public for whatever could possibly happen. Waverly did have quite a tempter.

  “JUST STOP!”

  At first she’d thought she’d imagined it, but when she realized it was real, Nicole froze, the familiar voice sounding across the parking lot.  She turned to see Waverly’s rigid form walking right past her car, apparently not recognizing her and stopping at the passenger side of a very familiar pick up.

  “I really don’t know why you’ve got your panties in a twist.” Champ strolled up beside her, twirling his keys around his finger.

  “I’m fucking pregnant, Champ.” The strength of the curse word sounded strange as Waverly crossed her arms over her chest.

  The breath was robbed from Nicole’s chest at the words. Pregnant. She looked back and forth between Champ and Waverly, small puzzle pieces clicking together and revealing a very sickening picture.

  “Well duh.” Champ gave her a look that was very Champ. “You knew that already. You took like 20 of those stick test things.”

  “What the hell am I going to do?” Waverly’s voice wavered. Even from where she was sitting, Nicole could see the tear slipping down a flushed cheek. “I can’t… it’s not…” She shook her head, unable to find the words. “What the hell was I thinking?”

  Champ unlocked the door with a roll of his eyes. “So get rid of it. I mean they got doctors for that, don't they?”

  His nonchalance was sickening. Nicole felt nausea bubbling up in her stomach, fueled by anger and jealousy with a hint of grief. It was taking everything in her to stay seated,  her hands balled into fists, nails biting crescent marks into her palms as she fought the urge to punch his lights out.

  Waverly showed no such restraint.  “You asshole!” Waverly pushed Champ roughly, knocking him back a few feet. “How can you… how…” She shook her head, ripping open the door. “Take me home.”  She growled, slamming the door closed.

  Champ looked around to make sure no one was paying any attention before he shook his head. “Chicks,” he complained, jogging around to the other side of the truck and getting in.

  Nicole felt herself shaking, unfurling her hands to see tiny wells of blood. She could barely breathe, barely think, barely even make sense of the train of thoughts and images running through her had. Pregnant. After almost a whole year of trying and failing, injections and implantation,  all it took was… Champ.

  It was like her heart was breaking into a million pieces. She couldn’t bare to talk to Waverly, not now. Waverly got what she wanted and she didn’t need Nicole to get it. With a shaky hand, she picked up her phone, dialing a familiar number.

  “Are you going to hang up on me again?”

  Nicole watched as the truck pulled out into the street, tires screeching as it headed out of town, tears slipped down her cheeks. There was no way she could stay,  but if it meant watching Waverly and Champ raising a kid together…

  “I’m coming home.” she decided, feeling a Waverly sized chasm forming inside her.  Starting the car, she pointed it in the directing leaving Purgatory. She could hire someone to pack up her apartment.  She didn't ever need to come back.

   Whitney grimaced as she watched Champ leave. She really hadn’t wanted to talk to Nicole with him there. Slipping behind the bar, she noticed Nicole was sitting there with unseeing eyes, obviously lost in her own thoughts.

  Not that she could blame her, Whitney decided as she looked Nicole over. She was… beautiful. Older now, obviously, but she looked… like money. Her clothes, make-up, jewelry… they all spoke of a well-off life, away from towns like Purgatory.

  No ring, Whitney noticed with a small smile. Not that she hadn’t known anyway. Thank god for the internet.

  “Did you want another drink?”

  Nicole jumped, shaking her head to refocus her eyes. “I’m sorry?”

  Whitney pointed to the empty martini glass. “Did you want something else?”

  “Yeah.” Nicole looked longingly at the empty glass before nodding. “Whiskey.”

  With a small chuckle, Whitney grabbed a shot glass, setting it in front of Nicole and grabbing a bottle.

  “So… You’re Whitney Earp. Quite a popular girl around here. ” Nicole picked up the glass, licking her lips in a brief pause before drinking.   

  Whiney nodded, refilling the glass as it was slid forward. She had a million questions. Why did she leave? Didn’t she want a daughter? How could she have left her mother pregnant?

  “I hear congratulations are in order. You’re getting married.” Taking another pause, Nicole looked at the shot longingly before shooting it back.

  “I am.” Whitney rose an eyebrow, refilling the glass. She hadn’t planned on getting her new-found mother drunk, but maybe she could get more information that way.

  “Married… are you even old enough to be getting married?”

  Whitney snorted. It was something everyone brought up. She knew she was young, but she loved Jesse. What difference did it make if they got married now instead of dating for years before they were considered old enough to wed. “I’m 20 thank you.”

  Nicole paused with the shot halfway to her lips, her brow furrowing. “20? Are you supposed to be working behind a bar?”

  With a laugh, Whitney shook her head. “Drinking age is 18, Ms.Haught. This isn’t Chicago.”

  The shot pausing once more, Nicole’s brows rose. “How do you know I’m from Chicago?”

  Whitney could have smacked herself in the head. Instead she bit her bottom lip. She was such a horrible liar. What the hell did she think she was doing with all this? “I have a confession,” she started. When she got no response, she laughed nervously. “I know exactly who you are.” She admitted, watching as Nicole’s eye… eyes that looked exactly like her own, doubled in size.

  Well… she’d committed now. Whitney reached into her back pocket, pulling out the photo and setting it on the bar. “You’re Nicole Haught,” she repeated from their earlier introduction, “and I guess you dated my mom.”

  Nicole’s hand shook as she lifted the photo. She didn’t say anything, instead just quickly drank her shot, waiting for Whitney to fill it again.

  Filling the glass, Whitney felt a little guilty about what she was about to say. “I sent the invitation.” She winced as the shot almost made it to Nicole’s lips before it froze, eyes locking with her own. “I changed the contact info a little bit on it... I guess what I'm saying is my mother doesn’t know you’re here.”

  The shot glass fell from tapered fingers, hitting the bar in a splashing thud.

[collecting-stories]

cats + columbo | jughead jones

I orginally posted this on a Riverdale blog that I started ( @rivervixen9) but then I deleted it because I don’t really want to get bogged down with another blog. But I figured I’d keep it here, in case any of you enjoy Riverdale and wanna give it a read. 

“I know it’s 3am but I can't find my cat” 

You hadn't exactly lost your cat, per say. You had been attempting to sneak out of the house and your cat, Matlock, had slipped his pudgy body through the doorway with you. So now, instead of the much needed sleep you had been looking forward to, you were trekking around in search of a fat grey Scottish fold whose parentage likely consisted of a pack of wolves.  

That entirely was how you ended up at the drive-in. It didn't occur to you, in your tired stupor, that Jughead also being at the drive-in at 3am was odd. You were too concerned for the health and well being of a disgruntled Matlock who you had followed all the way here.  

“What in gods name?” Jughead had emerged from the building looking both attractive and disagreeable, his usual appearance, and was clad in pyjamas (which you still didn't find odd).  

“Jughead!” You were relieved even though you had never actually socialised with the American Horror Story extra in training. “You haven't seen a cat have you?”

“A…cat?” Jughead wasn't sure he was hearing correctly.  

You stood before him in a onesie and uggs, clutching your phone and using it as a flashlight. He must have been dreaming, there was no way his sleep was being disturbed by some River Vixen at 3am because you couldn't find a cat.  

“Yes, particularly my cat, Matlock.” You commented, flashing the light around the dark lot in hopes of finding your questionably domesticated cat.  

“No, I’ve seen no cats. Why don't you just leave some food out for it.” Jughead followed you as you walked further through the lot, toward the large screen set up at the end. He realised he should just go back to sleep but he had a feeling you wouldn't let him.  

“Matlock won't come around for food, he’s too prideful. I’m just worried if he stays out to long he’ll pick a fight with a den of foxes. He has a lot of pent-up aggression that my mom’s cat whisperer thinks stems from our insistence to keep him indoors.”  

“Is one of us on drugs right now?” Jughead questioned, fighting the urge to laugh.

“I'm not.” You replied, “what you do in your free time is up to you Juggie.”  

He wrinkled his nose at the sound of the nickname, “don't call me Juggie.”  

“Anyway, I’m concerned that Matlock is out here somewhere attempting to cross Sweetwater River and join a band of feral cats on the other side where they’ll begin their life of crime.”  

“I’m sorry, you can hear yourself speaking right now correct?” He asked.  

“Oh yeah I’m the weird one for being reasonably concerned for the wellbeing of my cat but you, a Truman Capote wanna-be named Jughead, are normal.” You replied pointedly.  

“Touché.”  

“I heard you got questioned by Sheriff Keller.” You commented.  

You and Jughead had wedged yourselves through a hole in the fence of the drive-in and had made your way into the woods. He had taken out his own phone and was using it as a secondary flashlight, checking for any signs of a non-descript cat.  

“So?” He looked over at you curiously.  

“I don't think you did it, not it's any consolation to have a stranger tell you that.”  

“Thanks?”  

“Besides, if you had done it, how boring and cliché, you know? Like, oh the loner/weird kid did it, so original.”  

Jughead genuinely laughed, “is that your Sheriff Keller impression?”  

“It's pretty spot on right?” You laughed. “I know I’m not supposed to speak ill of the dead and I’ll probably be struck down by lightening for it but no one is perfect, Jason Blossom included, and I think turning it into one of those bullied by a jock/revenge plots is boring.” You concluded.  

“Well thanks I think.” Jughead mumbled.  

“It's a compliment, means I think you’re intelligent.” You remarked. “Matlock!”  

“Matlock!” Jughead repeated a moment after you, then, “you think I’m intelligent because I didn't kill someone? What sort of logic is that?”  

“Not because you didn't kill someone, because you didn't kill Jason Blossom.”  

Both you and jughead continued wandering through the woods as the sun started to come up. The clearing for Sweetwater river came up and you stopped at the bank, shining your phone light along the edges. Jughead did the same, continuing to call for Matlock but having no luck. You didn't want to walk too far away from him or get separated in the woods. It was silly but ever since they found Jason’s body in the river you were afraid of going near Sweetwater alone. It was only your determination to find Matlock that led you this far out.  

“I don't think your cat is here.” Jughead commented.  

“Jughead, I think you may be right. Well do you want a cheeseburger?” You asked, heading away from the water.  

Jughead jogged a little to catch up to you. He considered how ridiculous the both of you must have looked, him in his pyjamas and you in your onesie, wandering the woods at daybreak in search of a cat. The only thing that usually brought him near the river these days were writing or sleuthing with Betty. Not girls and their cats.  

“Do you ever like, take that hat off?” You asked, stealing a glance at the crown beanie that covered Jughead’s hair.  

“Occasionally I shower.” He commented.  

He wanted to ask if he was supposed to have given up looking for the cat or if Matlock was still definitely missing and in need of being found. You didn't terribly concerned for your pet, though you still flashed your phone’s light around every so often as you walked. You went back through the woods, passed the drive-in, and along the road to Pop’s Chock-lit shoppe.  

“Matlock! There you are!” Even from the entrance of the driveway you recognised the cat sitting under the sign on the curb. “I should've known, he loves the French fries here.”  

“I would just like to reiterate that he is a cat.” Jughead pointed out.  

“How do you feel about take out Jug?” You asked, “Pop’s isn't a fan of Matlock.”  

“How shocking.” Jughead muttered. He watched as you picked the cat up off the ground. It went limp in your arms, cuddling into you. “That is the loudest purring I’ve ever heard.”  

“He’s very aggressive about his happiness.” You replied.

“Is that what the cat whisperer says?” Jughead asked, reaching a hand out to pet the cat.  

You laughed and nodded your head. You and Jughead went inside Pop’s, sitting Matlock in a booth before ordering three cheeseburgers and two fries to go. You threw in a strawberry milkshake at the end and told Jughead you would treat. “Since I made you look for my cat with me.”  

The food was taken back to your place because your mom would have already left for work by 5:30. You fed Matlock before getting out sodas and plates. Jughead and you sprawled on your couch as if you and he were best friends and did this sort of thing all the time. You turned on early morning reruns of Columbo and explained in great depth why Peter Falk was the greatest on-screen detective of all time.  

“Second only to Mark Sloan.”  

“Mark Sloan doesn't count,” Jughead laughed, “Dick Van Dyke wasn't a detective he was a doctor.”

“But did he ultimately solve the crime?” You asked.  

“Yes.” He admitted.  

“That's what we need.”

“Dick Van Dyke?”  

“No! Like, a great detective like that. I mean you and Betty are doing a pretty bang up job but we need a Columbo, someone who knows how to ask the right questions.” You commented.  

“How'd you know Betty and I were working on the murder?”

“For the blue and gold right? Cheryl was talking about it.” You replied, “very Scooby-doo of you.”  

Jughead tossed a fry at you but didn't say anything else. You laughed and kicked your feet out, trying to poke him. He jabbed you back, his foot shoving you in the thigh. Soon you and he were kicking each other's legs furiously, laughing.  

“Surrender! I’m king of this couch!” You shouted, twisting to the side to avoid being kicked.  

“Never!” Jughead laughed, jabbing you in thigh and causing you to fall off the side of the couch. He jumped up on his feet, balancing on the cushions, “who’s king now?”  

“Still me!” You laughed and grabbed his leg, pulling him down.

He flopped onto the couch and then slid the rest of the way down to the ground beside you. The two of you sat in a heap on the ground, huddled practically on top of each other because of the way Jughead had fallen.  

“Okay, that was good.” He said, catching his breath.  

“Oh god it's a school day isn't it.” You fell back onto the floor, stretching out.  

“It is.” Jughead nodded, “and I’m still in pyjamas.”  

“Well let me change and I’ll walk you back to the drive-in. Then we can go to school.” You got up off the floor and headed for the stairs.  

“I uh…” he thought about the best way to make some excuse for why you didn't need to come or his clothes were at the drive-in or something else entirely.  

“It’s cool Jug, you listened to me tell you my cat duels wild foxes.” You shrugged, “it can be our secret yeah?”  

“Sure. Thanks.” He nodded.

Sorry for breaking up the flow of only posting Peaky Blinder, Taboo, and Penny Dreadful.

[shirtlesssammy]

Mommy Dearest: Recap

Welcome to our last Mary Winchester rewatch recap! There’s so much in this episode --not only for understanding season 6, but also watching the parallels of season 12 unfold.

Then:

Crowley’s dead, and Eve is on the loose creating hybrid monsters (not relevant to season 12 at all)

Now:

Two young fans of the sportsball run into Eve outside a bar. They continue on their way while Eve wanders into the bar, where she proceeds to raise holy hell give everyone a “gift”.

Meanwhile, in Bobby’s basement (man, I’m really missing that place in light of the potential threat in the bunker these days), Dean is making special phoenix ash stuffed shotgun shells. They’re not having much luck locating Eve, and Bobby suggests it’s time that Dean “made a call.”

MY GOD SHOW. (if we’re messing with paralleling previous seasons and righting past wrongs, I mean, will season 12 be the season we course correct this performing!Dean statement?)

Cas reports that Eve is hidden from him. Sam suggests finding a friendly monster. Cue brief montage of trying to find a friendly monster (in books in Bobby’s basement?), when Cas flaps in with Lenore, the friendly vampire from season 2. They want to discuss Eve, but Lenore wants nothing to do with her. They eventually talk her into telling them her location --which in turn means Eve knows they’re coming-- and Lenore asks for one small favor in return: kill her. Cas smites her without hesitation. “We needed to move this along.” Sigh, it’s always so hard to watch this season in retrospect. Cas, buddy, this hurts.

Grants Pass, Oregon

Cas zaps Bobby and the boys to Eve’s location. Everything seems on the up and up so they head to a diner to grab lunch and allow Bobby time to research any weird happenings in town. Cas volunteers to search the town for any Eve shenanigans.

He can’t fly though --he’s powerless. Dean’s incredulous. And I’d say this whole exchange counts as a parallel to season 12 as well! Dean insults Cas. Cas gives Dean the silent treatment. Good times.

Bobby does find something --a doctor called in an unidentifiable illness to the CDC. The patient? Ed Bright, one of the sportsball dudes from the top of the show!

Dean and Cas head over to the doctor’s office to check up on Cas’s painful burning sensation. The doctor’s out though. Dean decides to break into the clinic. And while his bickering boyfriend is a tad impatient about his lock picking skills, Dean notices something strange from a side shed. Inside, they find the dead body of Ed Bright.

Meanwhile, Bobby and Sam make small talk with the local law enforcement while checking out the doctor’s home. The foursome reconvene to discuss strategy. They decide to interview Ed’s roommate next. Before even entering the apartment though, they notice an Ed look-alike.

Sam suggests he and Dean head in to interrogate the “roommate” while Cas and Bobby stand guard, and shoot whatever comes out. Cas worries, “I’m fairly unpracticed with firearms.” Season 12 alert! He gets to hold the Colt in episode 19. Parallels!

Sam and Dean burst into the apartment, ready for action. They find a bunch of dead Eds instead.

One “Ed” isn’t dead though. He’s near death but the brothers are able to ask him what’s happening. He’s not Ed, just a friend. Before Ed got sick, they were at a bar and met a girl in white. He dies before telling the brothers anything more.

The group surmises that it’s Eve’s work, but something doesn’t add up. These shifters are dying. Why bother making them? They then head to the bar to find death and chaos everywhere. Upon inspection, they discover the dead are all hybrid monsters.

Dean: What do you call these?

Bobby: Congrats, you discovered it. You get to name it.

Dean: Jefferson Starships. Because: They’re horrible, and hard to kill.

Dean Bean.

They continue to discuss the odd circumstances around the dead starships when the local sheriff’s department bursts in. Sam, Bobby, and Cas are cuffed and hauled away, while Dean hides and is super thankful they didn’t do even a remotely cursory sweep of the joint.

Once at the police station, Sam pleads with the sheriff, and then notices his glowing eyes! “Jefferson starships!” Sam yells as he head butts the sheriff. Team Free Will starts fighting while handcuffed but don’t have to wait long before Dean shows up with a machete, chopping heads-- on all but one starship.

Bobby interrogates the captured starship but makes no progress. Suddenly, they hear a sound in the station and the Winchesters go to check it out. Sam and Dean come across two young boys sitting trussed up in the jail. Sam and Dean settle down with their younger selves the boys and reassure them that they'll get them free of the cuffs and home safe. Dean warns them that he's got to test them to make sure they're human. All tests passed, they question the boys about Eve but they claim to know nothing.

Cas interrupts. Now is not the time to save two boys when the fate of an entire town is at stake. Sam and Dean can't look away from their younger self stand-ins, however, and they scold Cas over his priorities, then take the boys home.

Cas stares moodily out the window as Sam and Dean drive the kids home. Bobby wanders in and tells him they won't be long. Cas grumpily replies, “they may find more wayward orphans along the way. Pardon me for highlighting their crippling and dangerous empathetic response with 'sarcasm'.” Oh sassy Cas, you're the best. Bobby manages to convince him to stop sulking and interrogate their prisoner more.

Dean and Sam drop off the boys at home to a happy reunion with their father. Yay! A Win!

At the interrogation room, Cas demands five minutes alone with starship. He may be powerless but he's still a fucking angel. Cas pulls an address from the guy...and maybe his guts as well? He emerges with the address while wiping clean his bloodied hands.

Later, Dean hands out their magic anti-Eve bullets and the team heads to the diner where Eve is holding court.

Dean comes up with a foolproof plan. He and Sam will go in and try to make the kill. If they fail, it's Cas and Bobby's turn to try. Bobby all but shakes his head at this plan and calls everyone idjits. The Winchesters head in and settle at the diner counter after which they realize they're completely surrounded by starships. Just as they're thinking about hightailing it out of there, Eve walks up in the guise of a young waitress. Gadzooks, they're cornered!

The starships pick up their weapons bag and Eve sniffs out the phoenix ash bullets. Dean bitches about all the crazy creatures Eve's been dredging up. She tells them that she was fond of the natural order: monsters turn humans, humans hunt monsters. There's a balance. But now that balance is tipping wildly. Her children and firstborn are getting kidnapped and killed at an unprecedented rate. But don't believe her? Maybe they'll believe...

...Mary! Eve speaks to them through Mary's visage. She doesn't want to hurt the Winchesters. She just wants to kill Crowley. Dean tells her that she's out of luck; Crowley is already dead. Nuh uh. She knows he's alive because she sees his face in every monster he tortures. And she knows what he's after. “It's about the souls.” The power of souls from Purgatory could give Crowley the most delicious power boost. Eve won't stand by while that happens. As retaliation, she'll turn every soul into a monster so that Crowley can starve out in a Hell that will never get any new soul ever again.

Furthermore, Eve's not here for her health. No, she's on Earth to build the perfect beast to enable her world domination plan. And she's hit on a good formula too. She's incredibly tickled that Sam and Dean have been hanging out with her super beast the whole time. Little cute Ryan!

Cut to little cute Ryan's family...where the big brother was recently mauled/turned. Together, the boys attack their father. Cue blood cannon.

Eve cooks up a super great deal. They find Crowley, bring him to her, and she lets them live. Dean is a hard pass. They've still got a plan B!

Oh wait, what's that at the door? Ah, it's plan B taken prisoner by starships. Bobby and Cas are ushered inside, Cas just as surly as ever. Eve taunts Cas for his lack of powers – she's older than him and knows how to switch off angel power. Neener neener neener, etc.

Dean gives Eve the “you might as well kill us you sick bastard” speech. She offers to just turn them monster. Eve presses into Dean threateningly and he tells her, “bite me.” She chomps him good on the throat. Almost immediately she begins gagging. When she wasn’t looking Dean drank down the phoenix ash from the spare bullet in his pocket and it chokes Eve. She begins to ooze at the edges until she collapses. Suddenly the starships start to go crazy, no longer under control.

“Shield your eyes,” Cas yells and mojos out, smiting all the starships.

Cas heals Dean who says they've got to leave immediately. He admits that he was wrong and the boys they saved were turned. “Dean you are such a pain in my ass,” Cas says with his eyes. At the boys' home they discover the dead father – and two dead kids. There's sulfur on the floor. Demons came and killed them so the Winchesters try to parse out the higher meaning. Who's in charge?

Dean reveals that Crowley is still alive. Cas is all wide eyed astonishment at this. He burned his bones! He must check it out. Cas flaps away. Bobby and Sam walk soberly off to the side. They wonder how Crowley managed to escape. Bobby wonders if Cas is working with Crowley. Dean doesn't believe an inch of it but Sam's got some doubts.

At the diner Cas surveys the damage. Crowley walks in and asks Cas how many times he's going to have to clean up his messes. GASP!

Natasha: Thanks for reading along with our Mary Winchester recap series. Remember, you can read through all our old recaps on our archive page. While the next Hellatus is still about a month away, you should know that we’re VERY EXCITED to recap all the Ben Edlund episodes while we’re waiting for season 13 to arrive!

Quotes, Get Outta My Ass:

It's not like Cas lives in my ass.

Cas, get outta my ass!

I was expecting more Zombieland, less Pleasantville

Without your power you're basically just a baby in a trenchcoat.

You know who whines? Babies.

I’m bathing in Purell tonight.

Jefferson Starships because they're horrible and hard to kill.

He wants purgatory right? Location location location.