#either we’re hitting the deer or the car behind us is hitting us or both

[raeathnos]

.

[honorguk]

STRAY KIDS REACTION » another member walks in on you *doing it*

↳ .•° ✿ °•. navigation ↳ genre: fluff / suggestive

↳ requested: yes!

»•» CHAN

this boy would get so red and flustered!! it was one of those times when you’d been visiting the dorms per usual, but he just couldn’t take his eyes or mind elsewhere but you, so you guys ended up getting caught by jeongin.

he’d instantly rush to cover you up but to no use as the youngest would simple stand frozen in shock before getting shooed away by chan. your boyfriend would then turn to you with am embarrassed smile and hide his face in your neck while you giggled.

“we’re never getting caught doing this again..” (ignore minho in the gif lmao)

»•» MINHO

honestly, an unbothered king. he’d just casually face the doorway where jisung stood and nod in his direction, a gesture that would hint at the latter that he needs to go, now.

minho would then turn to you with a small smirk, and lean in for another kiss, continuing your prior actions.

“so, where were we?”

»•» CHANGBIN

binnie would not know how to react - poor guy was so into it that he lost all control of his mind and volume, so when felix came into the room to ask him if anything was wrong, he was instantly met with changbin and you, both of you looking like two deer in headlights.

“i’ll-i’ll just go,” felix smiled and pointed out the door before swiftly hopping away, and changbin would turn to you with his jaw still hanging open and eyes as wide as before, and you’d shrug to bring him back to reality. he’d gulp, taking the situation into his own hands from now on.

“so, i guess, let’s continue shall we?”

»•» HYUNJIN

would simply laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation when you’ve been caught in the accidentally-left-unlocked practice room by chan, who, in instant second-hand-embarrassment, shuffled out the room before either of you could say anything.

hyunjin would turn to you, still giggling, and seeing your face be colored in a deep red color would not only make him love you a little bit more, but he’d also need to calm you down just a tad before the act continues.

“don’t worry, hun, we’re all just human.”

»•» JISUNG

after seungmin walked in on the two of you in his studio, god, jisung would get so annoyed. though he’s known as more of a jokester in the group, the situation would be handled pretty maturely (in jisung’s standards anyway..)

he’d tell seungmin to ‘piss off’ and ‘knock before he comes in!’ and would then turn to you, ask if you’re alright with the exposure you just had, and after getting your nod of approval, a smirk would appear on his face and he’d start from practically the beginning - kissing you all over and smiling after he has you moaning in a matter of seconds, going a little rougher than he previously was.

“gosh, he’s such an idiot..”

»•» FELIX

he’d blush red but quickly get back to what you two were doing after the member had left, but the embarrassment and shyness wouldn’t hit him until the time when he’d have to face the others (who probably all knew by now), especially hyunjin.

he’d walk into the living room, you following suit not far after, and he’d eye hyunjin from his peripheral vision as to send him a signal - ‘don’t you dare let anybody know’ - and after seeing huynjin’s little smirk, felix would want to disappear into the ground. he’d lead you into the kitchen and you’d search around for snacks, chat, do whatever you could to avoid confrontation.

“this was a bad idea, but god damn was it hot.”

»•» SEUNGMIN

getting caught by changbin wasn’t ideal. actually, it was one of seungmin’s worst fears when you’d suggested to spend some ‘alone time’ in his room, so when binnie accidentally forgot to knock before entering, seungmin would scramble to cover both of you up and after his band mate’s departure, your boyfriend would put his sweats back on, and with a pout you’d put on one of his shirts.

both of you were still horny - it was no doubt, and seungmin would feel so guilty having you be left all needy right in front of him, so he suggested something else. you have a car, right?

“i know we both wanna continue this, but, please, not here..”

»•» JEONGIN

‘minho, what the hell!’ jeongin would yell and throw a shirt he quickly found on the bed towards the door. minho would just laugh and back away into the darkness of the hallway, properly shutting the door behind him in the process.

jeongin would roll his eyes and gently smile when he saw you still a little shocked from getting caught (and how quickly the situation was handled).

“relax, sweet, ignore what just happened.”

[bourbonbees]

Suptober Day 6- Cemetery Boys

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34336042

Rating- G Jack POV

Jack has discovered there are a great deal of things that he loves about being human, he loves eating cake, taking his dog for walks, and swimming, but there’s nothing he loves more than his family. His family is not conventional, he’s got three dads, one of which is an angel, but all of them love him unconditionally. It’s rocky at first with Dean but after some quality time spent listening to Zep and going fishing together, the grumpy hunter warms up to him. It also doesn’t hurt that Jack’s first dad, Castiel, is also Dean’s partner and therefore holds a lot of sway over him, whether he likes it or not. Sam, his third dad was the best! He’s the one that establishes family movie night, Jack’s favorite night of the week!

Sam lets Jack pick the movies pretty much every week, much to Dean’s dismay. This week Jack chooses Ghostbusters as his pick. It’s great, he especially loves the jokes and the Stay Puffed Marshmallow man. He isn’t sure where the writers did their research for the movie though, his experiences with ghosts contain a lot less whimsy and a lot more salting and burning. The movie is just wrapping up when it hits him, they don’t have a name, every great team of heroes has a name.

“Hey, why don’t we have a name?” Jack poses the question, looking to Dean for a response.

“Kid, how much candy have you had? Are you sugar crashing? Remember, me Dean, you Jack, that annoying guy over there, Sam, this adorable ray of sunshine, Castiel.” Dean is concerned, he feels Jack’s forehead and looks him over, his parental instincts kicking in.

“No like a team name! Like there’s The Avengers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, uh The Fellowship of the Ring.” Jack lists off, Sam sending him a proud smile at the last one.

“Jack, hunters don’t really do teams. We’re kinda solitary, it’s our nature.” Sam explains, causing Jack even further confusion as he looks around at his family. They do everything together, live together, celebrate wins together, spend holidays together, work together, is that not a team?

“We’re not a team? Isn’t a family a team?” Jack frowns, worrying that he’s misread a long series of social cues. He is prone to that sometimes, his brain working a bit differently from his dads, neurodivergent, that’s what Sam had called it.

“Jack, oh, of course we’re a team. But more than that, we’re family.” Cas swoops in, reaching over and patting Jack on the shoulder. Cas is always the gentlest of his dads, he gives really good hugs, and is the one Jack goes to on the days where being a human is too much to deal with.

“Would it make you feel better if we had a team name?” Dean offers, following Cas’ lead. Jack doesn’t miss when Cas sends Dean a small nod of approval. Dean has a different parenting approach, sometimes he’s a bit harder on Jack. Jack doesn’t like that but he understands that Dean is trying.

“Yeah, I was thinking Cemetery Boys!” Jack says right away, looking around the room expectantly. Sam chokes slightly on his beer while Cas smiles approvingly, Dean laughs softly, shaking his head at Jack.

“Well we do spend a disproportionate amount of time in cemeteries, so it makes sense to me.” Jack defends, his cheeks feeling hot, blushing, that’s what Sam had told him it was. Sometimes Jack hates being human, blushing is embarrassing and makes him feel a bit like a baby.

“Shouldn’t we be cemetery men?” Dean questions, raising a quizzical brow at Jack.

“Technically speaking, Jack and myself are neither male nor female. So, no.” Cas supplies, shrugging his shoulders at Dean and earning an eye roll. Jack doesn’t understand why his dads enjoy teasing each other so much, maybe annoying someone was another human way to express love?

“So, you’re telling me, I came out as bisexual for nothing because, I’m not really dating a man?” Dean blanches, gently smacking Cas on the shoulder. Hitting people is another love language Jack has learned, but not too hard, he learned that after accidently punching Sam a little too enthusiastically on the shoulder. Play fighting is good, actual violence is bad, he had explained that to him.

“We’re non-binary! Claire taught me that.” Jack is happy to interrupt, always happy to share the latest things he’d learned. He loves Claire for that reason, she’s always full of new things to learn, she is an excellent big sister. “Claire, Me, Cas, and Dean, we’re all LGBLT? Or is it LGBTQ? Either way, Claire is a lesbian, she also taught me that. And Dean, you’re a bisexual! Cas, you’re gay, I think? So, you didn’t come out for nothing, you came out for your non-binary partner.” Ha! Jack is very proud, this is one area he feels confident he knows more about than Sam, Dean, or even Cas.

“You’re surprisingly well informed for a toddler.” Sam compliments, tipping his beer bottle at him.

“The toddler age range ends at 3, I assure you, Jack is 4. He is no longer a toddler. I read all the development books.” Cas corrects, earning a laugh from Dean and a groan from Sam.

“He did, trust me Sammy, made me read some of them as well. Babies are weird man. Glad you came out fully formed kid, it was a relief.” Dean chuckles. Jack is relieved he came out fully formed too, it’s a lot more fun hanging out with his family when he can talk to them like this.

“I’m a celestial being, age doesn’t exist for me. I am as old or as young as I want to be at any given minute. Isn’t that neat?” Jack prides himself on choosing this form, a teenage body, he likes it because he can help his family. He likes going hunting, driving cars, and helping Dean cook dinner, a baby couldn’t do any of that!

“He really is your son-uh I mean they really are your child?” Dean self corrects, Jack notices he does that a lot more lately, again he really is trying to be better. Jack admires that about Dean, it’s something he tries to emulate as best as he can, always working to be a better person and make his mistakes right.

“Oh, I’m comfortable with he/they, just like my dad! I do feel like a boy most of the time.” Jack looks to Cas who nods along with him. They’d talked about it once, Cas explained that Jack could change a number of things about himself if he wished, if it would better match his soul. But Jack is really and truly happy with who he is. So is Cas.

“Yeah that’s my son.” Cas says fondly, pulling Jack into a hug. This is a good hug, the kind that makes Jack feel safe and cared for. Cas always makes him feel like he belongs, that no matter what he has a place in his arms.

That night, Jack sets a plan into motion. He waits until everyone is asleep and gets to work on creating gifts for his family. He uses his powers to manifest a set of matching black crew neck sweatshirts with the words ‘Cemetery Boys’ embroidered on the front in white thread. He then designs a magnet, putting a little ghost and tombstone on it. Once he’s satisfied he goes through the recycling and finds a box to put the sweatshirts in.

The next part is the most dangerous. Jack, creeps down the hall to the door that leads into the garage attached to the bunker. His eyes glimmer when he finds his target, the black 67 Impala, sitting dead center in the garage. Dean had just waxed her the day before so she was extra shiny. Jack likes when Baby is shiny, it makes the sun reflect on his face, nice and warm. He takes the magnet and carefully places it on the bumper, making sure not to scuff or scratch the shiny metal. Then in a flash, he is back in his room, laying in his bed as if nothing has happened.

Dean doesn’t notice the magnet until they are packing for a hunt the next day, a simple salt and burn case in Wisconsin. The whole family is going! Dean has even promised Jack that he will take him to Wisconsin Dells if it goes well and they will go to a place called Deer Park where he could pet and feed a bunch of deer. Jack likes animals, sometimes more than people, they’re much less complicated.

“Oh my god! My Baby is a whore! You gave her a tramp stamp?” Dean gasps, pointing to the offending ‘Cemetery Boys’ magnet on the bumper.

“You like it? I made it myself!” Jack beams with pride, hoping Dean was speechless because he was blown away by his ability to create magnets.

“Also, the term you’re looking for is sex worker. You need to be more sex positive Dean, especially for someone, who from the sound I hear coming from your room at night, seems to enjoy sex a great deal.” Jack blurts out nervously when Dean doesn’t respond. Jack tends to do that, he wishes he could stop, another part of what makes him different from most people.

“Oh, for the love of Christ. Please Jack, no.” Sam is doing something Claire told Jack is a facepalm, meaning he was either embarrassed or frustrated, perhaps both?

“Do not be ashamed of our healthy sex life, Dean. But do but ashamed of your gendered slurs and generally overdramatic demeanor. The car is unharmed, it’s a magnet.” Cas steps in, doing the teasing thing again. Jack really doesn’t understand his dads, but he’s glad they seem happy together.

“I swear one day Baby and I will drive away and leave you all behind. Traitors.” Dean threatens, this is a joke, Jack measures. Dean does that a lot, uses sarcasm and empty threats, at first they used to confuse and frighten Jack but now he just accepts it’s part of his nature. Dean is grumpy. Loveable but grumpy.

“See your theatrics are quite comical. You couldn’t leave us if you tried. Who would open the pickle jars for you, darling?” Cas smirks, Jack remembers witnessing this scene, Dean saying all the “no words” at a jar of gherkins as he struggled for a good 5 minutes, until his dad took the jar and opened it within two seconds.

“It was one time! And I swear I loosened it!” Dean glowers, clearly ashamed by the great pickle debacle of last week.

“Dads, stop. I will remove the magnet.” Jack decides it’s his job to play peacemaker, he steps up and gently takes the magnet off baby’s bumper, Dean visibly sighs in relief. Jack tries to hide his disappointment, he’d meant the sticker as a gift.

Cas notices his mood shift and is by his side, pulling Jack into a side hug. “Hey, you can put it on my truck.” He offers, rubbing Jack’s back and making him instantly feel better, must be magic dad powers Jack figures.

“Thanks dad, this is why you’re my favorite.” He says without thinking, Sam and Dean giving him matching offended expressions.

“Uh-what about me, I’m the one that sneaks you candy when Cas isn’t looking.” Sam makes a good point, he is exceptionally good at sneaking. He and Jack have so much fun together, that’s how they ended up with Miracle the dog. Sam had helped Jack smuggle him into the bunker and once both Jack and Cas had bonded with the dog, Dean couldn’t kick him out. Though Jack knows that Dean loves the dog just as much, he’s caught him slipping Miracle some of the good bacon when he thinks no one is looking.

“No Dean is the one that gives me candy. You help me pull pranks!” Jack laughs as Dean, flinches, quickly busing himself with packing all their bags in the trunk along with the weapons they’d need.

“Dean!” Cas says in his low, ‘oh no you’re in trouble,’ voice. “We’ve dicussed this, Jack’s intake of high fructose corn syrup is frighteningly high. He needs to eat real food.” He adds. Nougat is a food, Jack thinks privately, nougat might be his favorite food in fact.

“He’s a kid, he’ll be fine. Dean and I lived on that shi-stuff as kids and we turned out alright.” Sam, usually the vegetable police, surprisingly comes to Jack and Dean’s rescue, earning a matching raised brow from them both.

“Did you though?” Cas challenges, hand on his hip, sometimes dad gets sassy. Jack likes when dad gets sassy because it’s funny, makes him laugh.

“Well damn, don’t sugar coat it or anything babe.” Dean says in disbelief, opening the passenger door for Cas, Sam climbing into Baby’s backseat before Dean motions for Jack to come sit behind him. “Do I even want to know?” He sighs as he spots the box Jack is carrying.

“Well you’ve all been distracting me, I almost forgot.” Jack pauses as he opens the box and holds up the Sam sized sweatshirt. “I made us all shirts! Team shirts, we’re the Cemetery Boys!” He says proudly, shoving the shirt at Sam, then two at Cas, one for him and one for Dean. Jack pulls on his own shirt right away, stretching his arms and modeling it for them all.

“Can you all wear them for me?” Jack pulls out his trump card for this one, using the ‘look’ that Sam had taught him. He made his eyes big and kept them open just long enough so they were watering slightly, then bit his lip.

“I really screwed myself when I taught you my secrets. Really, using my own puppy eyes on me. Really short sighted of me to teach you that.” Sam sighs as he pulls on the sweatshirt, Cas doing the same.

“Nope, still not doing it. I don’t do matching shirts.” Dean holds firm, shaking his head at Cas when he holds out the sweatshirt to him as they pull out of the garage.

“Dean, the couch in the library is awfully uncomfortable. It’d be a shame if you had to sleep there.” Cas is firmly on team Cemetery Boys, pulling out the big threats to get Jack his way.

“Ugh fine, but no one can ever find out about this!” Dean groans, waiting until he’s at a stop sign at the end of the road to pull it on. Jack lights up, his team is complete, all three dads are wearing his shirt!

“It’s funny how easily emasculated you are Dean. Life is a lot more fun when you stop caring about gender expectations.” Cas smirks, Dean rolling his eyes at Cas and mimicking his know it all expression.

“Dean is sensitive, dad, and he’s really good at making pies! I think he cares less than you think he does.” Jack pauses, pleased when Dean makes eye contact with him in the rearview mirror and smiles. “Besides, I saw the pink underwear he hides when I helped with that laundry that one time.” He adds, Dean’s smile quickly disappearing, his eyes wide as he tightly gripped the steering wheel.

“Jesus Christ, kid, stop selling out all my secrets.” Dean grits between his teeth, now he is blushing. Jack knows Dean hates blushing just as much as he does.

“Oh that’s good! Can’t wait to tell Claire that one!” Sam barks out a laugh, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“You wouldn’t!” Dean hangs his head in shame when they stop for a train.

“Already did!” Sam sing songs, holding up his phone. Jack is sometimes thankful that Claire doesn’t live with them, living with your sibling seems exhausting sometimes, if Sam and Dean are any indication.

“Alright that’s enough Jack, don’t spill all the coffee. Your dad is allowed to have his secrets.” Cas intervenes, gently patting Dean’s thigh.

“Tea, dad, its spill the tea!” Jack sometimes can’t handle how out of touch his dad is. Guess that’s what happens when you’re millions of years old.

“Oh right, what’s the difference?” Cas sighs, laying his head back against the headrest as if he’s exhausted, Jack knows it’s just for dramatic effect because Cas doesn’t sleep.

“Cas, there’s big difference! One is the nectar of the gods and the other is glorified leaf water.” Dean defends, holding Cas’ hand, it’s meant to be a private gesture, but Jack can see it and it makes his heart happy.

“Tea is good.” Sam tries.

“I rest my case.” Dean counterpoints.

The case is a rough one, it turns out to be a bit more than a simple salt and burn. The ghost, a family annihilator was coming from beyond the grave to try to kill his son who had survived his attack. They had split into two groups, Dean and Cas at the cemetery burning the bones and Jack and Sam with the victim, trying to keep him safe.

“Do you think maybe we can take a photo together in our shirts?” Jack asks offhandedly as he and Sam roam the house looking for any objects that might still tether the ghost to the house.

“Why do you care so much about these shirts and taking a photo together?” Sam asks curiously, making Jack pause to think for a moment.

“Because, I’ve been watching a bunch of shows and movies, and all the families in them, they have all these photos together. They make all these memories together and they display them in their houses for everyone to see. I want that. The fact that we don’t have that makes me kind of scared, like this isn’t real. Like you all are prepared to run at a moment’s notice if I go nuclear.” Jack explains, using air quotes around the word nuclear.

“Oh. Oh. Jack, hey, it’s not like that. I guess, well we’ve been so busy saving people and hunting things, we’ve lost track of normal family things. You’re family Jack. Promise.” Sam says right away, pulling Jack into a crushing hug. Sam is strong, Jack hopes to be that strong someday.

“Can we take a photo then, a family portrait?” Jack asks hopefully.

“Family portrait? Family portrait. Shit! Jack, the family portrait!” Sam gasps, letting Jack go and looking around the room with wild eyes.

“Huh?” Jack is trying to catch up before he spots the family portrait hanging above the fireplace, both the victim and his evil departed dad in the photo. He rushes to grab it off the wall and tosses it into the fireplace. Sam pulls out a container of salt and lighter fluid, coating the portrait, then Jack tosses a match, lighting it on fire.

“Good work kid.” Sam grins as the ghost appears and then bursts into flames. “I think you’ve earned that portrait.”

True to his word, the first thing in the morning, Sam helps Jack use the laptop to find the closest portrait studio. It happens to be a JC Penney portrait studio, making Dean groan and complain about cheesy backgrounds and awkward poses that they’d likely endure. With much coaxing and further threats from Cas to relegate Dean to sleeping with Miracle on the dog bed, he agrees to the photoshoot.

Jack gets several copies of the photos made. He hands out wallet sized copies to Mary and Eileen who both coo over how adorable they look. Cas gets it framed and hangs it in the library, Dean never admits he likes it, but Jack catches him stopping to look at it every day, a proud smile on his face.

This is Jack’s family. His team. His Cemetery Boys.

[thiswasinevitableid]

since i am obsessed <33333 with the sternclay fill you did for this prompt, can you do 57 with indruck nsfw?

Here it is! Note: this mentions mating talk.

57: we’re fighting over the last box of half-off valentine’s day chocolate and end up in a “who has it worse” battle

This is it. Duck’s new low. Standing under the high ceilings of Wal-Mart at two in the morning, trying to decide if his dignity can take the hit of someone seeing him scale the shelves to grab the lone leftover bag of valentine’s candy.

Fuck it, those are Ghiradeli caramel squares, he deserves them after today.

Just as he’s choosing his foothold, a large, feathery shape rounds the corner. It figures that the one other customer in the store would need to be in the exact same place as him. He’ll just wait the mothman out.

Duck’s mostly used to seeing random monsters around town; back in the fifties, an interstellar gate opened up in Kepler, making it the home of a small population of cryptids know as Sylphs. When he was younger, he hated the fact he grew up in such a weird-ass place, but these days his brain barely differentiates them from the other Keplerites. They come to the national forest where he works, order their dinners in line ahead of him and, apparently, come to big box stores in the dead of night.

“Ah, excellent.” The mothman chirps, grabbing the bag of caramel squares from the top shelf.

“Hey!”

The antenna-topped head swivels, owl-like, and red eyes regard him with surprise, “Yes? Oh, apologies” he tucks his wings in “I didn’t mean to block your way.

“That ain’t it. I was gonna buy that.” He points at the bag.

The creature cocks his head, “But it was still on the shelf.”

“Yeah, because we ain’t all seven feet tall. I was about to grab it.”

“It’s not my fault you’re short.”

Duck bites back an unkind retort, sighs, “will you just give me the damn bag?”

“Absolutely not. I’ve had a very bad day and this is my conciliation prize.”

“You’ve had a bad day? I went out to a singles night for the first time after gettin dumped a month ago. Figured I’d finds someone to take home, but not a single fuckin person OR Sylph was interested. If anyone needs that candy, it’s me.”

A haughty flick of antenna, “I see your disappointing evening and raise you a reminder that it’s been five years to the day that anyone’s wanted to touch you.”

“Please, this town is crawlin with monsterfuckers, you can’t find someone to mess up those pretty feathers, that sounds like a problem with your personality.”

The mothman chirrs, annoyed, “There’s no need for such remarks. Wait, what was that about my feathers?”

Okay, so maybe Duck has jerked off to mothman porn once or twice. Or a few dozen times. He’s not about to admit that here.

“Uh, I, uh, fuck, I don’t not know, fuck-” he grabs for the bag, hoping to distract the Sylph. It works, but the mothman simply raises it above his head. Duck growls, too committed to his bad idea to back down now, and jumps for it.

A toothy grin, “Since we’re speculating, maybe everyone you encountered tonight was simply in search of a taller partner.”

“Fuck you, I’m five six.”

“What was that? It’s rather hard to hear you down there.”

“That’s it fluffball” He jumps again, fingers grazing the bag before it’s passed to the mothman’s upper set of hands. Mid-leap, he can tell he’s going to fall on his fucking knees, and a broken bone is the last thing he needs. His body acts on panic and wraps his arms and legs around the only stable thing.

“What in the world are you doing?” The mothman trills, lower hands catching Duck’s legs so he doesn’t slide straight to the floor.

“Tryin to get what’s mine.”

“This is ridiculous.” He keeps the candy out of reach as Duck tries to climb him.

“I know, but I ain’t about to let you win.”

“Gentlemen.”

They stop grappling and stare at the beleaguered employee at the end of the aisle.

“Please just get out. Don’t even worry about paying for that, it’s like two bucks and that is not worth dealing with you for.”

They both mumble an apology. Then he lunges up, snatching the bag while his opponent is distracted and bolts for the door. He’s without his car, so he’s half a block from the store when a shadow glides overhead and drops down in front of him.

“That was rude.”

“So was insultin me.”

“You started it.” The cryptid looms over him, “and you only have minor ego bruising to blame for your short temper and poor judgement. I spent the entirety of my day arguing on the phone with government officials until one of them finally listened to me about a dam bursting north of here. I, I deserve something nice.” The last part is said more softly, as if he’s not sure he believes it. That slaps Duck back to his usual sensible state.

Duck sighs, reaches for the cryptid’s arm, “Look man, how about we-”

When his hand makes contact the mothman purrs, then flattens his antenna. Duck runs his hand up the smooth chitin, making the purr double in strength.

“I, I apologize. I didn’t even know this could happen with a human so I did not check the futures for it.”

“For what?”

“I, my kind use playfighting and chase as a mating ritual. Which, combined with those gentle touches just now, means my body thinks you’re a potential partner.”

A thrill creeps up his spine, and he pets the Sylph once more just to hear him purr, “So, uh, what should I do?”

“I suggest you take the candy and” he shudders, “walk home, and we both pretend this never happened.”

“What happens if I run?” Duck sets his hand on the down of the cryptids chest, shivering as it sinks into the fluff.

The mothman looks at him, confusion warring with desire on his face, “I chase you. And since I foresee you asking, if I catch you I will take you then and there unless you tell me not to.”

“Got it.” Duck steps back, smiles when the cryptid tries to follow his touch and then catches himself. He could just walk home and wolf down his hard-won candy. But they’re right by his shortcut through the forest to his house and no one has wanted to chase him for months…

He takes off into the trees.

For the first few yards there’s no sound but crunching leaves and his breathing. Then soft, determined wing-beats glide through the treetops. The canopy is thick here and no one but him knows this path, so he likes his odds of making it home. He even knows where the most troublesome roots are so he won’t trip and lose ground.

Duck’s nearly home when nature betrays him; a deer springs across his path, startling him and sending him to the ground. He scrambles up, listening for signs of the Sylph’s location, but the wingbeats are gone. Did he give up? Is he lying in wait up ahead? Did Duck actually lose him?

The questions spin through his mind as he scans the treetops. There’s nothing, only shadows and bark.

“You know” a voice lilts, coiling around him, “I’d think someone who worked in the woods would know many moths excel at camouflage.”

Red eyes appear in the branches to his right. He gets out a single “fuck” before the mothman swoops down and knocks him into the leaf litter. The candy hits the dirt a few feet away as he’s roughly rolled onto his stomach.

“Holy fuck.” He pants as clawed hands undo his pants and push his shirt up his back, “holy fuUUUuuck, oh christ that’s good.” He rests his head on his forearms as the mothman drags his tongue up his back again.

“Mmmmm, what a lovely little mate I’ve caught.” One set of hands pulls his pants and boxers to his knees while the other caresses his ass, “all dressed up too. I cannot imagine why others passed you up tonight but I am glad they did. Hmmm” claws prick his inner thighs as they’re pushed as wide as they’ll go, “you’re a bit aroused already-”

“Wonder why.” He teases.

“-but I ought to make sure you’re ready to take my cock.” A long, flexible tongue traces circles on his folds. He groans, pushes his hips back in hopes of getting more. The Sylph grants his wish with a purr, thrusting his tongue in hungrily. Duck moans, then snickers into his arms.

“‘At’s ‘o ‘unny?”

“F-feathers, ticklish.” Is what he manages to get out before the tongue curls and finds his G-spot, making it impossible to focus on anything but the being behind him. But the Sylph only gives him a minute of delicious sensation before pulling back.

“There, now you’re ready. I, ah, I suggest you hold on.”

“To whatAHFUCK, fuck, jesusfuckingchrist” his fingers dig into the earth and dead twigs scrape his knees as the Sylph grips his hips and shoves in all at once. The upper set of hands drops to either side of his head as the cryptid hunches over him, snapping his hips while sharp trills and chirps fill the air.

“That’s it sweet one, goodness, years without a partner and the first warm hole I can catch is a tight one, I, I do so love fucking humans for that reason alone, but you, you feel exquisite, ohyes, yesyesyes” he chirrs triumphantly and Duck moans; he’s never been able to feel a partner cum like this. When he glances down his torso, he’s surprised to see the droplets shimmering in the moonlight as they drip down his thighs.

“That was fuckin incredibleAH!” He’s flipped onto his back, the mothmans body blocking out the sky.

“Did you think we were done?” He’s grinning again, the expression as charming as the starlight on his feathers.

“Kinda? Not, uh, not that I mind if you wanna go again.”

“I do.” The cryptid lifts his legs, removing his shoes and clothes as he adds, “again, and again, and again. After all, look how much it likes you” He adjusts so Duck can see his dick. It’s not the size that startles him; it’s the series of ridges on it and the fact that it’s fucking pulsing like it’s got a mind of it’s own.

Duck spreads his legs, “Only it likes me?”

“I’m beginning to share it’s opinion” The tip presses in and the purring intensifies, “though I must say you’ll need to be far more polite and submissive a mate to make up for your--ohgoodness--earlier behavior.”

“Yeah?” Duck smirks, dragging his hands up the soft feathers of his chest, then glides them out to stroke his inner wing “how’s that for a start?”

The Sylph’s chirrs change, growing needier the more Duck pets him, “So very good. No, no one has touched my wings in years.”

Duck studies their sheen, the little speckles of grey and white, and digs his fingers deeper, “Damn shame.”

A soft trill accompanied by three demanding thrusts and then cum spills into him once more.

“Heh, you like when I compliment your feathers? Ohfuckyes” He moans as the Sylph starts thrusting, slower than before but made far more obscene by the sound of his cum being fucked back into Duck’s body.

“I, I do.” He drops his forehead to rest above the top of Duck’s head, “it’s been so long. As you said, this town is full of people who would gladly take a werewolf to bed but have...reservations about one such as me.”

“Their loss” Duck nuzzles the ruff of feathers around the Sylphs neck, runs his hands greedily along his wings, “these alone are so fuckin gorgeous there oughta be a line of folks beggin for the chance to mess ‘em up while they ride you.”

The mothman whimpers, chirps when Duck leans sideways to trail kisses along his right wing. His hips are moving lazily in time with the roll of Duck’s own and he sighs with every thrust, as if Duck is his favorite place to be.

“Got some broken feathers.” He murmurs.

“A peril of fast flights and living alone. It’s better if someone else pulls them free and grooms them for you.”

“I could do that.”

A hungry moan as the mothman noses his hair, “You’re making me wish I hadn’t caught you so soon; had we played longer, my ovipositor would have joined the fun, and you’re so wonderful a mate I ought to lay in you.”

“Jesusfuck” Duck fists his hands into his chest feathers, bucking his hips.

“Oh, do you like that? The thought of being a handsome little hole for me to stuff my eggs in?”

“Yes, holy fuck yes.”

The thrusts turn demanding, “Just one more way in which you’re perfect. You’re strong, you’ve a lovely shape” one hand runs possessively across Duck’s belly and chest, “and it only takes a little bit of vigorous fucking to make you well-behaved and willing to be properly mated.”

“Fuck, fuckin christ that’s goodOH, ohfuckrightthere” one of the ridges is catching his dick, pushing him towards orgasm, “please don’t stop, don’t you dare fuckin stop-”

“Never” it comes out in a growl, “I want to see you be a good little human and cum on my cock while I fill you up. Oh yes, yes” he smiles down at him, “it seems you’re about to oblige meAHhnnnn, goodness you tighten so nicely when you finish” he speeds up, jostling Duck as his climax renders him limp, “yes, yes sweet one hold out just a moment, nnnf, oh, ohyes” He spills into him, Duck’s body unable to contain it all and sending it running down the cryptid’s shaft and the humans thighs. Then the mothman eases out with a low chirp and sits back on his heels.

Duck flops his arms about until he finds plastic, pulling the bag of candy to him as he sits up. He yanks it open, undoes the foil, and freezes. The cryptid isn’t looking at him, isn’t making any noise. He’s just hunched forward, antenna flattening.

“You okay?” Duck finishes freeing the chocolate square.

“Yes” there’s a sniff, “yes I’ll be fine.”

“That ain’t quite what I asked.” He holds the candy out. Antenna twitch, but the mothman keeps his head down.

“I apologize, I, I meant to wait until you left but I, I got overwhelmed. You were so sweet, you let me do all that and I, I don’t even know your name.”

“That’s an easy fix. I’m Duck. It’s a nickname.”

The cryptid finally looks up, takes the offered treat between his claws, “I’m Indrid.” He pops the candy in his mouth and chews miserably.

Duck pulls his boxers on to avoid getting any more pine needle pokes on his ass, then scoots closer, “So, uh, Indrid. Is there somethin special we need for groomin your wings? My place makes the most sense as a next stop, but if there’s a special tool might be better to go to yours.”

Indrid blinks, cocks his head, “You...you want to groom them? I, I thought that was just dirty talk.”

“Can be. But I was serious; now that I got a taste of those wings, I wanna touch ‘em whenever you’ll let me.”

“This is the least likely timeline.” Indrid whispers to himself

“What’d I do in the other ones?”

“Thanked me for a good time and left.”

“See, I thought about that” Duck tentatively moves forward, smiles when Indrid allows him into his lap to stroke his face, “but then I thought, ‘this fella’s fuckin mind blowin in bed, but I wanna get to know what he’s like the rest of the time. Can’t do that if I up and leave.” He offers another chocolate. Indrid eats it out of his hand, then wraps his wings around him.

“I, ah, there’s a special oil for my feathers.”

“Should we go get it?”

“We could. Or” he smiles, hopeful, “we could go to my place tomorrow morning. After we rest at your home and you let me buy you breakfast.”

Duck kisses his fuzzy cheek, “Yeah, let’s do that.”

[b1ksh88p]

Be Mine Chapter 3

Plot: A storm is brewing in Valentine, and you’re in the middle of it. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen Harry and there’s already been a horrendous murder. With tensions high and everyone finger pointing your ex, Edmund, makes everything worse by spreading gossip. With the sting of rejection still weighing heavy on your heart you attempt to clear everything up only to make things worse.

Describing your mood as sour would be a understatement. You were numb. A grey cloud loomed over your usual cheery exterior as you went through day to day activities. Whenever someone asked if you were alright you’d chalk it up to trivial excuses. When in actuality you were torn that you’d been stupid enough to try and have a picnic with a killer. If you were sane maybe you’d tell the Sheriff and get some of his boys in uniform to smoke Harry out somehow but you had no taste for revenge. All you wanted was to move on.

But it seemed your ex had other plans. You worked in the diner, usually taking up the night shifts to rid yourself of boredom. As you were cleaning a table you overheard a couple chatting away about you of all topics. Why your name was in their mouths you didn’t know but from what you got out of it made you want to raise hellfire.

“I heard she goes down there every night to see that killer.”

“Edmund said that the sherif saw her go in with food and came out empty handed.”

“No way, maybe she’s a killer.”

There’s no way you could allow these two peons spread such outlandish babble. You’ve never killed anyone nor would you ever. The thought of murdering another made you sick to your stomach. “Edmund is a long-nosed good for nothing asshole who spends his time making up calumniations and dumping his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day for a dumb blonde with a baby voice. You two and the rest of your bubble headed friends would be fools to believe anything that comes out his mouth.” You finish with a astute turn into the back for a extensive smoke break.

If you saw Edmund or that sleazy sheriff you’d be sure to give them a piece of your mind. And speak of the devil, there he was. Your blood was replaced with boiling water as you stomped your way towards him. He was with the sherif and some other random cop you didn’t know. Both of them saw you coming and started to drift apart before you whistle and jogged towards the two snakes.

“Where we going boys? Running away from the new killer of the town?”

“Now listen Y/N I didn’t mean to start anything.” The sheriff assured.

You weren’t impressed. “You’re just the last one seen in the mines so...it makes sense.” Edmund shrugged.

“And you were the last one fucking the blonde bimbo you cheated on me with and she has crabs....so it makes sense right?” You snap back garnering a chortle from the other cop.

“It’s not my fault you’re a boring bitch who can’t get anyone to date you except for some psycho?!” He growled.

“I’m not dating anyone and I’m not a killer. Instead of gossiping like little girls how about you three go investigate and find the real killer.” You throw down the cigarette and stomp it out beneath your heel.

“We apologize if we’ve caused you any trouble Miss, we’re doing the best we can.” The Sheriff whispered.

“Keep my name out your ass licking mouths and out the fucking paper.” You demand before walking back inside the diner.

After your shift you began to walk home. The ominous glow of streetlights did little to scare you. On your way to you lovely home you stopped by the liquor store. A bit tipsy you ventured the winding fucked up roads. The quiet sounds of the night were ruined by the sounds of sirens. It had been what? 72 hours and some change since the last murder what the hell could the coppers be speeding for? Even in your mildly drunken stupor you noticed where they were heading. The mines. Sober you would’ve kept walking like any sane person but you were running on anger, worry, and rum. A mix that didn’t bode well when making good decisions.

You knew a shortcut through the trees and made haste. By the time you fought through flora and fauna two cars were already there. The sheriff and Edmund were there holding lanterns and guns. You step out from behind the trees, face bathed in red and blue lights. Softly stepping towards the shit show. “What the fuck are you two asswipes doing?!” You call out as you make your way to the entrance of the mine. Before they can stop you you’re in front of the cold entrance.

“You protecting your boyfriend again?” Edmund spat as he loaded his gun.

“You don’t have a gotdamn clue who killed those two. It takes you dumb mother fuckers months to even get close to closing a case!”

“We know he’s down there Y/N and he’s gonna fucking burn for what he did. And if you gotta burn with him so fucking be it!” He aimed the gun at you which almost made you piss yourself. You stumble back as he aims it at you. The thumping of your heart beat in your ears.

“I’m not you enemy! And neither is he!” Your words were bold but hoarse.

“That son of a bitch killed family. I don’t care what you think he’s going to die, and if I have to shoot you to get to him I fucking will!” The sheriffs attempts to calm down Edmund were futile. He had his eyes on you. They were large and red and full of rage. He looked like a rabid animal and you his prey.

“...You’re angry I get that but this is a mob attack not a lawful pick up. You have no evidence-“

“DONT GIVE ME A FUCKING LESSON IN LAW BITCH I AM THE FUCKING LAW!” He shot at the ground beneath your feet sending dirt into your eyes. The muffled scolding from the sheriff did nothing to stop your beating heart. In fact there were bigger problems.

Another shot cracked through the night sending you to the ground covering your head. The grotesque sound of choking made you gag. The Sheriff was on the ground, clambering hands grabbing at the gaping hole in his chest as he bled out. Edmund was in shock. He held the man’s dead hand with wide eyes. Perfect time to get away. You book it into the mines. It was dark and cold, even chillier with a fresh murderer on your heels. At first you didn’t hear him but a shot echoed through the caves followed by some demands for you and Harry to reveal yourselves. That wasn’t happening so you keep running, ducking into random corridors to try and throw him off your trail.

Apart of you was afraid of running into Harry. What if he was angry at you? Running into one killer to escape the other was a chance you really didn’t want to take. You’d rather wait it out and hide. Hopefully Harry would take care of Edmund and you could run away without interacting with either of them. You stop running to hide in a old mining cart that was turned over. Covering your mouth with shaking hands you listen. A heavy set of footsteps past you, Edmund more than likely. It wasn’t like Harry to be so loud. He taunted what you assumed were the shadows to face him like a real man. He didn’t really see him right? You wish you could peek but you were far to afraid you’d get your head blown off.

“So that’s what you look like. Y’know it’s crazy. You don’t look like a monster.” He cocked the gun. “Tell me how you did it. How you killed my dad you fucking monster.” He demanded.

There was no response on Harry’s end. You hear something fall to the ground and then Edmund’s smug laughter. What the hell was going on? You quietly peak from out your hiding space. The minimal lighting made the scene hard to make out but by the looks of it Harry had...given up. He had thrown his pick axe ahead of him, taken off the mask, and dropped to his knees. A gloved hand on the barrel of the gun pointing it to his head. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Was he insane? Edmund goes into a end game spill about how long he’s waited to do this. How he’d pin the Sheriff’s and I’s murder on Harry and walk out the mines a hero. During this you start to crawl towards them, ready to rush him or throw a rock, anything to buy Harry time. Your chest is tight as you hold your breath. Nearing the both of them as quietly as you possibly can. Edmund cocks the gun and says something to the effect of “everyone dies, somebody should’ve take your sorry ass out long ago.” Before you hear a shot.

It hits the ceiling once you use all your might to swing Harry’s pickaxe into Edmund’s head, through his cheek. The blast was so close to Harry he fell back in pain. Edmund leans on the wall holding the left side of his face, still turned away from you. When he does look at you all the blood drains from your body. His tongue hung from the broken jaw like a salivating dog, torn flesh dangled around missing teeth, with so much flesh exposed blood spritzed out every time he moved closer to you. He couldn’t move his jaw so when he spoke it was a gurgled cacophony of rage and disbelief. You lift the pick axe once more but see him lift the shotgun and take aim. This makes you freeze like a deer in headlights. You close your eyes, bracing for impact. But to your surprise it never comes. Instead Harry had gotten up and tackled him, only problem was that he got shot.

The two men fell to the ground. Edmund kicking him off and frantically reaching into his pocket for two more shells. Without thinking you kick the gun from his hands. He tried to get up but you stomp on his chest with all the rage bottled up inside. He looks up at you with that mangled face and large eyes but mercy was the last thing on your mind. You look over him, raise the crude weapon, and allow the cold metal to pierce through his chest. You let out a exasperated scream as you continue your onslaught. Hammering down years of neglect, wasted time, slander, and abuse into what’s left of his broken body. When you’re done he’s left torn apart. Rib cage broken and organs exposed. In all the madness you vomit from the stress and overall exertion of energy you used up. The groans from Harry snap you back to reality and you go to aid him.

“Oh god oh shit hold on hold on.” You ramble. Your hands try their best to cover the wound. He was shot in the side. Luckily it wasn’t a direct hit but without medical attention it was gonna get nasty. You use Edmund’s jacket to help stop the bleeding. He was just staring at you. “What? What the hell are you gonna yell at me for now???” You yell trying not to cry. He lifts a bloody hand to your face.

FIND OUT NEXT TIME ON DRAGON BALL Z

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

The Ides Of March

(A Darren Treacy x Jeanie Turner mini-series)

Prologue - Bad Romance

Word Count: 1815

Warnings: language, violence, murder, mention of sexual assault, angst

A/N: On Saint Patrick's Day, Darren and Jeanie start receiving ominous, cryptic text messages claiming to be from the future. Play the game; save Darren. Jeanie's rules are simple enough: If Dazz can catch her out in Dublin, he can have her any way and anywhere he wants. So how did a night of wild sex and whiskey lead to murder? *Spoilers for Love/Hate series 3*

Sequel to “The Sinner’s Prayer” Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

There are tiny moments that contain millions of choices we all make. It's not a choose your own adventure; there's not always time to think cohesively. Add in copious amounts of liquor and sex and a person may become impulsive. As Jeanie cocked the gun pointed in Nidge’s direction, she found herself in the middle of one of those flip-of-the-coin situations.

She followed every hint, every cryptic text from a burner phone that was meant to prevent this exact instant. But the vile leader of an IRA faction lay slowly dying from internal injuries at her feet. Siobhan, softly sobbing hid her face in Tommy’s shoulder. Darren, behind her, still held the keg by the handle. Nidge was the only one who could square up. He was pacing like a trapped animal, enraged and seething. Jeanie never faltered in her aim.

“We're done here, Delaney,” the words came out distorted. “Right now. This was a nice night. I saw a great concert. I drank loads of fucking liquor. I have had more sex in the last few hours than I have in the last few years. I literally got eaten out in a pub loo. I'm getting divorced, and if Trish was smart she'd get a divorce too.”

“Red-” Darren tried.

Jeanie spun on him, the gun pointed too close for either’s comfort. Darren’s eyes like a deer in headlights. “I'm not losing you. I'm not letting this life eat anymore of you. Siobhan already paid the price.”

“Just put the gun down please. I'm only trying t’put him out, love. Look at the bastard.”

“It's a butterfly effect, Dazz. You're already too much for them.” Tears threatened Jeanie’s eyes.

Darren put his hand on the muzzle of the gun cautiously and pointed it down to the floor. “What the fuck are ye talking about? Jeanie, you've been barking all night. Not that I don't appreciate the craic,” he smirked, “Or the shaggin’. The panic attack when we walked through the door earlier. How did ye know about Git?”

Jeanie fished in her cleavage for her mobile and tossed it to Darren. He opened it up and used his own for comparison. He studied the texts on both screens with confusion in his eyes.

“You've been getting them too, right?”

“But how?”

Only Darren and Jeanie existed right now. And the soft gurgling of Git as he drowned in his own blood. The choked crying of a young woman who had been assaulted. They were alone, but aware. So deeply aware of their situation.

“Oh please, can ye even fire a fucking gun?” Nidge’s voice broke through.

Jeanie whirled again, her arm around the side of Darren's friend. It was all fluid. Her arms moved with resistance like underwater. The gun aimed somewhere towards the back of the basement or front. No one was sure. It was just where she pointed the gun and pulled the trigger.

One by one dominos topped in a new pattern. Siobhan screamed, but the sound was deafening so her panic was muted. The gun kicked back causing Jeanie’s elbow to vibrate. Almost like someone checked her reflexes with a small hammer. A burst of concrete where the bullet hit a wall, and Darren dropped the keg with an even louder crash.

In Nidge’s terror, he went to flee from Jeanie's bullet . His entire weight landed on Git’s face. Nidge’s trainer came down with a sickening crunch like a knife in butter. Git’s face was the butter. The gurgle ceased.

The last domino fell. Jeanie dropped the weapon to her side and staggered backwards into Darren’s arms. He tried to take the gun but she jerked it away.

Instead he switched gears and mumbled nonsensical words of comfort. “I've got yous.” and “Jeanie, it'll be ok” She stared up at him as a tremble rolled through her. Darren put his hand on her face and sort of started fixing her hair. Then, with a turn of her head, Jeanie vomited absolutely everywhere.

“Lovely. Just fucking lovely,” Nidge said. “Typical Americans.”

Darren held Jeanie by the arms and bent to look her in the eye. “Alright, sweetheart? Nidge and Tommy and I have t’ take care of this. Why don't ye call Laura or Ewan, and have them come get the pair of ye. Siobhan too? Get her cleaned up and get some sleep. Crash at my gaff, ok?”

Jeanie was numb. Catatonic almost as Darren and Tommy formed a circle. Their heads literally together as they attempted a plan.

Jeanie straightened her back and made her way to Siobhan who held herself tightly. Like she was trying to fade into the background. She put her arms around the young woman who started with a jump but relaxed into Jeanie. The gun finally out of her hands and on the desk beside them.

“Here's what we're gonna do, ok? Do you want me to call Trish or Mary? You aren't gonna clean yourself or even pee. We're gonna take you to hospital. They'll clean you up and take samples. Then we can get you some tea and a warm shower and a nice bed. Dazz has a nice bed. Then I'll get Layton, and bring him to you. That sound good?”

Siobhan nodded softly in agreement, but her uncle wasn't having it. He shoved Darren and Tommy aside to bellow at the two women huddled in the corner together. His finger pointed in Jeanie’s face.

“She’s not gonna do a goddamn thing you say. You're gonna sit right here while Uncle Nidge and the boys clean up this bitch’s mess.”

There was not a single thought that went through Jeanie's head. Was this how Darren's brain was wired to live this lifestyle? Just react and pay for it later while you're trying to live until the next job.

But she was done, she knew that much. Done being left behind. Treated like she was the good little obedient housewife. Having men tell her what she can and can't do. Shut up, sit still and be a good girl. But open your legs. It was being done that caused her to hold the gun up again and point the barrel to Nidge's forehead.

“Darren doesn't work for you anymore, Nigel. Tommy, you can stay here or you can take care of your wife. No one owes him any loyalty.”

“Come on, I didn't mean bitch. We just have to fix it. Then you and Treacy can do whatever.”

Jeanie cocked the gun again until it clicked, “No. You can call Elmo or Fran. Can't call Aido can you? Seeing as you got him shot. Dazz gave you a lung, the love of his life, his sister and his fucking mind. He's not giving you or this bullshit anything else.”

“Red-”

Jeanie swung the gun on Darren without thinking. He flinched and ducked, But she kept her wits about her. She aimed the gun at Nidge once more.

“Dazz, take your shoes off,” she instructed.

“What?”

“You're standing in this cunt’s blood. Take your trainers off and leave them. Socks too, and stand behind me. Then text Ewan and tell him to meet us here with a car. We're going to your flat, then my hotel to pack our bags after we shower and set these clothes on fire. Then we are getting all of our money, our passports and our IDs. Say goodbye to Mary and the girls, and we are going away. Tibet. Phuket. Bali. I don't give a fuck, but we’re flying first class.”

Darren complied. Jeanie couldn't believe it. They shared a look. She couldn't tell if it was relief or the devil in his blazing green eyes, but she was emboldened by it as she bent to take off her own boots. Her focus on Nidge never faltered.

“Ewan said he'll be here in ten or so. Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“I'm not above shooting this bastard in the head for you, Dazz. I'm not saying we are settling down and having babies and happily ever after or some shit. I'm saying I don't want you to die. If we have to run half way around the world to make that happen..” Jeanie's body started to quiver. The adrenaline was running out. “First I need a Bloody Mary and some French Toast.”

-------

Jeanie exhaled for the first time in nearly 24 hours. The exhaustion finally set in as she laid back in the ridiculous bed chair thing from“upper class.” She and Darren were beyond first class, they were elite now. Even if it was only for the twelve hours it took to get to Thailand.

She could see his far too short hair sticking out on the other side of the wall. She knew at one point he would sneak in to be with her if only for a little while. Jeanie made him look a bit nicer than his typical trainers and hoodies and denim. She was in a sundress herself. They both knew dressing up was not fitting in. Neither felt they fit in here.

“You good, Dazz?”

“I t’ink so. Still trying t’figure out how we went from shagging in coat rooms and back rooms and toilets to watching an IRA boss,” Darren raised his eyes, “to being on this plane. We have forty.. Enough money to live, maybe years where we're going.”

“You couldn't keep living that life, Darren. Nidge was off his fucking rocker, and everyone around him is gonna pay for it.”

“Rosie would've never done this, you know that right?” He looked plaintively over at Jeanie as she climbed up onto her knees.

“Her loss is my gain though. I know you love me, but I'm not sure about my own feelings. I do care about you alot. I'm probably a danger junkie, so we could end up bored of each other without the fear of being caught or you not having any jobs. Or you could wear colors and learn to meditate, and I'll get a pet monkey and cut all my hair off.”

“Don't ye dare!” Darren laughed. “I'll become a Buddhist, just don't cut that hair.” He twisted his fingers up in it before reaching up to kiss her sweetly. Just a hint of his tongue.

“Fine,” Jeanie rolled her eyes. “But I still want a monkey. We should get some sleep.”

They kissed one last time before she laid back down and closed her eyes. Jeanie knew Darren would be on his side when he would begin to dream. His hand tucked under his cheek and head, mouth slightly agape. She pictured it in her head as she drifted off herself.

“How DID we get here?” she thought before dreaming herself of a game that started in sex but ended in murder.

Tag list: @sean-falco @robertsheehanownsmyass @nightmonsters @super-unpredictable98 @elliethesuperfruitlover @slutforrobbiebro @frogs--are--bitches @forenschik @bisexualnathanyoung @sugdenyoung

[10shillingsand6pence]

Can I get a minific of Waylon Jones with his alternate job, like, chasing down Bigfoot or smth? I find that thought to be very entertaining.

(This was fun! Thank you for the request! Sorry it took so long to finish.)

fic request inspired by this initial post of alternative rogue careers

Technical Difficulties

Waylon stood still and let the sound assistant attach the small lavalier mic to his camo-colored vest. At 5'3", she had to reach over her head to clip it in place. He was too focused on the stack of flashcards he was holding, dwarfed by his large hands, to spare her a glance.

He lifted his eyes from his prompt cards to the guy standing next to him. With a bit of a paunch and a comb over, his face showed only excitement (even standing within arm's reach of a man with Waylon's particular, ah, attributes). The siren call of fifteen minutes of fame was stronger than some people's sense of self-preservation, apparently.

"'Kay, er," Waylon began. "I gotta get through all these questions. Even if we already been over it, just answer 'em, yeah? Best you can. And talk slow. Yer always talkin' faster than you think you are, on camera."

The man nodded earnestly.

"And if you mess up, it's fine. Just keep talking. They'll fix it in post."

Another eager nod.

Waylon glanced at the director, who was standing behind one of the two cameramen, checking out the framing of the shot. A whole troop of crewmen filled the clearing in the woods, just far enough from the Gotham suburban line that the mics wouldn't pick up the sounds of distant passing cars. It was still surprising to Waylon that when the footage was all put together, it would look like he and his guest were out in the woods alone.

Seeing Waylon look in her direction, the director nodded. "Let's have a run-through. Make-up, they're sweating. Fix that."

A man holding two containers of cake make-up (for two completely different skin tones) approached and did a quick touch up on their faces, using powder to take away the shine that would look unnatural on camera. Waylon was used to this and bent down so the guy could reach his face, wishing they would hire taller make-up people.

"All right, let's go, people. Quiet! Waylon, whenever you're ready."

Waylon nodded and tossed his cards over his shoulder, where they were scooped up off the ground by an attentive assistant. He straightened his square shoulders and addressed the man. "So, I hear ya got quite a story to tell?"

The man jerked his head down to speak at the mic under his shirt. "M-my name is Dennis Hardey--"

Waylon waved a meaty hand, causing him to instantly fall silent. "Ya don't need to say yer name, the intro'll have the names. And stand up straight, man!"

Dennis nodded like a faithful bobblehead and jerked up straight.

"So tell me what happened the night of, uh, the incident," Waylon prompted again.

With enough enthusiasm to make up for his lack of experience in front of the camera, Dennis launched into a description of the night that landed him an interview on the show. "It was prolly around eleven. Earlier in the day, my wife she had thrown out a big bunch o' oranges that had gone bad, and then I heard a commotion out in the yard, by the garbage bins. I headed out and that's when I saw 'im, goin' right through my garbage."

Waylon peered at Dennis. "Could it've been a raccoon?" he asked in his gravelly voice.

"It was big!" Dennis insisted, holding his hand up above his head to estimate the size. (His hand did not quite reach a height equal to the top of Waylon's head.) "Way bigger'n a raccoon. Bigger'n a bear even!"

Waylon glanced down at his hands and then remembered he wasn't holding his flashcards any more. "Uh... could it have been Man-Bat?"

"Did I say it had wings, son!? This weren't no Man-Bat. This was Bigfoot!"

Waylon didn't answer. He had to halt a moment and process, because no one had ever called him son before. The director sighed and jotted the time down on her clipboard so she could go back and edit out Waylon's blank, deer-in-the-headlights look.

* * *

The next morning, Waylon saw the director reviewing footage and lumbered up to her as quietly as a seven-foot-tall man could lumber. She lifted her head only long enough to wave him closer and then went back to studying the small screen. He looked on over her shoulder.

Their small campsite appeared in the footage, all in blacks and greens due to the use of a night vision camera. It was a steady shot, obviously from a stationary camera set on a tripod. The camp was quiet and empty, a circle of rocks in the center with no hint of a fire, and two tents set up on either side.

Suddenly a furious roar broke out, tiny on the small camera speakers, but the watchers knew how effective it would be in full audio. The camp sprung to life like a nest of ants prodded with a stick. Dennis Hardey and his brother -- who was also accompanying them but hadn't been interviewed yet, and Waylon couldn't remember his name -- burst out of their tent wearing nothing but boxer-briefs and tanks. They stumbled around the campsite. Hardey Brother #2 tripped over one of the rocks around the fire pit and went sprawling.

The giant, shadowy form of Waylon burst out of his own tent, breaking the front poles as he exited and collapsing the front. He didn't pause, only answered with a roar of his own and charged into the forest.

The director forwarded the footage, watching intently as the Hardey brothers circled around the campsite in doubletime. They picked up sticks for weapons and then changed their mind and dropped them, pointed at the camera that was rolling, pointed at the woods, circled some more.

Finally, as one, both brothers turned to the woods where Waylon had disappeared. The director hit the resume button and watched as Waylon lumbered up out of the bushes, towering over the rest of the campsite. His eyes glowed yellow in the night vision camera, tiny headlights in the dark, and his jaw and chest were stained black. The two brothers were statues, unable to look away.

"Uh, false alarm," Waylon rumbled on the screen. He scratched his cheek for a moment, searching for something more to say, then changed his mind and turned, going back into his half-collapsed tent.

The director paused the footage.

Waylon sighed heavily. He opened his mouth to start an apology for messing up the shoot and for damaging company equipment. Before he could get the words out, she slugged the tall man on his armored bicep. "This is GREAT," she said enthusiastically. "We're getting a second season for sure!"

Waylon let his mouth snap shut. He tentatively smiled.

[jawritter]

I Did It Because I Love You

**Warning** Angst, Dean is an asshole. Some language, unrequited/requited feelings. Injured Raeder. Brief description of injury and SPN level violence. Angry reader. Fluff. I think that’s it.

A/N: Cross-posted on Wattpad! Please don’t copy my stuff!! As always feedback is gold!! All mistakes are mine! Hope you enjoy it! If you would like to be added to my tag list let me know!!

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader. 

Word Count: 2689

Want more? Check out my Masterlist.

************MASTERLIST*************

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It had been a long hunt. You were tired, the boys were tired, everyone was in a grumpy mood. So you sat quietly in the back seat of Baby, knowing better than to open your mouth right now. It wasn't wise to test Dean when he was in a good mood, but when he was tired and annoyed; that was downright stupid.

You could feel his eyes on you occasionally in the rearview mirror. You refused to meet his gaze. Looking out the window, watching the Texas countryside fly by. It was all you could do to make it through this hunt, his comments and constant belittling of you didn't help your state of mind either. You were unfortunately stuck with the Winchesters right now, so you just decided the only way to deal with Dean and his constant ability to be an absolute asshole was just avoid, and ignore him as much as possible.

Two days ago you stopped talking to him completely, and barely even acknowledge him when he gave instructions on hunts. It was literally driving him insane, and you knew it, but you just didn't have the fight in you anymore it took to stand toe to toe with him.

Your mind wandered back to the last fight you had with him the day before you left to go on this hunt with him.

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

"I know you don't think you're actually going on this hunt, " Dean said, as you descended the stairs into the bunker with your duffle bag over your shoulder.

"Your brother called, said he needed some help with a vamp nest you boys were about to take down in Southeast Texas, asked me to tag along because I was in the area, is that a problem for you Dean?" you asked the eldest Winchester, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.

"Yes, it is a problem. I don't know why my brother thought we needed you of all people to help take down a simple vamp nest, but we're gonna handle this just fine without you. So you can see yourself out." he said, closing the distance between the two of you, towering over you, trying to use his sheer height advantage to make himself look threatening.

"You need to crawl your little ass back in your car, and find someone else to leech off of sweetheart, we don't need you. Every hunt we have to do with you, I have to step in and save your ass. If I wanted another liability on a hunt, I would have called the Ghostfacers."

You wanted more than anything to knock that cocky smirk right off his face, but you knew Sam would lose his shit if you hit his brother.

"Fuck you, Winchester. I can carry my own damn self. I don't need you to save me, I'm not some damsel in distress..."

Dean jumped in before you could even finish your sentence, almost chest to chest with you now.

"Listen to me bitch, you are a piss poor excuse for a hunter, your reckless, and stupid. You don't think three feet ahead of yourself, and if you had any fucking sense, which you obviously don't, you would walk out that door right now, and go wait tables or some shit, because that's all your really qualified to do."

That stung. You'd been hunting since you were Dean's age, even though he was 10 years older than you. You both got thrown into the life the same way, you both were just kids when your mother's died. Your sister wasn't as lucky as Sammy though.

You opened your mouth to say something, but Dean stepped back and walked off before you could respond.

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

The insults and constant criticism of everything you did from then on got worse and worse as the days passed, and you all worked on the hunt. The vamps nest was bigger than you all had thought, and when you all snuck in during the day, to take them out "easy" according to Dean, while they were sleeping. They weren't in fact "sleeping", but very much awake, and it took all of you everything you had in you to take them all down.

Two of them had you back into a corner, and if it wasn't for Dean, you'd either be dead or in transition right now. It wasn't your fault it happened though, you three had thought you had wiped out the whole nest, and you were walking out behind the boys when two vamps grabbed you and tried to drag you back into the house. Dean and his cat-like reflexes cut both their heads off, but not before they had pulled you down by your hair, and drug you a few feet across the dirty cabin floor, leaving a nasty gash on the back of your leg.

Dean tried to check it before you climbed into Baby, but you refused to look at him or let him touch you. You tie your flannel around your leg tightly to stop the bleeding until you could get to the motel to stitch yourself up, and slammed the car door in his face instead of letting him do anything.

Sam said nothing, just watched the exchange. He had not been thrilled with the way his brother had been treating you this week. Making you sleep on the couch, refusing to share a bed with you while knowing Sam was way too tall to share that little full-sized bed with. Everything that came out of his mouth to you for the past three days was an insult. Even though you just took it, and didn't even speak to him Dean never let up. Sam figured he deserved it, and just smirked getting into the car.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Dean pulled into the parking lot of the rundown dump you were staying at. Getting out of the car you limped toward the front of the hotel where the lobby was located.

"Y/N! What are you doing? Come on let us stitch that up!" Dean yelled after you, but you refused to respond, just kept limping toward the front of the hotel, cursing the guy for putting your room all the way in the back of the hotel when you checked in with the boys.

You could hear Dean coming up behind you, he tried to grab your arm, and you turned on your heels. Before you can control your own actions, anger and hurt won out, and you slapped him hard in the face as you could with your thrown off balance. It was still hard enough to make him stumble backward, which you made a mental note to smirk about later. Right now you were too angry.

Dean looked at you with his hand on the side of his face like a deer caught in the headlights. Which was very funny coming from a big, strong, manly hunter; but you didn't have the strength to laugh right now.

You just turned around and started your trip back to the front of the hotel. This time it was Sam running up behind you. Grabbing you by the shoulders, and turning you around to face him. He was smart enough to keep a hold on you though so you couldn't slap him. You could see Dean standing at the same stop, still looking stunned and holding his face.

"Y/N, where are going?" he said, a look of concern on his face.

"To get my own room. I've had enough of Dean and his shit, I want to put some distance between me and your brother before I kill him in his sleep, Sam."

Sam pulled you into a tight hug, and you felt tears falling down your face that you had held at bay the whole ride back to the hotel. After a few minutes he let you go, Dean still stood at a safe distance watching the two of you.

"Wait here, and I'll go get you a room. Then I'll come and stitch your leg up."

You nodded, not saying anything, wiping your face, and hoping Dean hadn't seen you cry because you knew he'd have something mean to say to you about it.

You hobbled your way over to the bench that wasn't far from where you were standing and sat down to wait for Sam to come back with your room key. When you looked up though it wasn't Sam, but Dean standing over you.

"Y/n... I..."

"Get away from her Dean, she's had enough of you, and I don't blame her," Sam said, coming to your rescue. Helping you get to your feet and he leads you to your room away from Dean.

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

Two hours later your leg had been stitched and bandaged, thanks to Sam, and you had showered and gotten into your favorite oversized T-shirt and boy shorts. Not bothering to put sleeping pants on because the boys were staying in another room down the breezeway from you, and were there alone. Plus it hurt to have too much rub against your injured leg.

You were almost dozing off when you heard a knock on your door. Thinking it was Sam bringing you food that he'd promised he'd bring to you, you just yelled "It's open," not bothering to get up to look at who it was.

The door opened slowly, and Dean stuck his head in your room. You rolled over on your side away from the door as he entered and closed the door slowly behind him. A bag of food in one hand, and a bag from what looked like the drug store in the other.

"Hey," he said timidly, placing the stuff on your nightstand in front of you. Childishly, but you were to weak and tired to run with an injury, you rolled over on your other side. Trying to not look at him, and refusing to answer him.

"Y/N, Please... You need to eat, and I brought you something for pain. I know that's gotta hurt."

You laid there facing the wall, not saying anything, and still refusing to look at the handsome hunter. Even though you were hurt deeply, even though you were angrier than you'd ever been in your life, your heart still skips a beat when those beautiful green eyes meet yours.

Right now though, you hate it, you want to be mad. You have every right to be angry. Dean had been nothing but nasty to you the whole time you were on this hunt with the Winchesters from the point that you walked into the bunker. He'd repeatedly ripped your heart out and stomped on it. Now, even though he's devastatingly handsome, even though you have spent nights when you weren't even with the Winchesters dreaming of just laying next to him, your trust was broken along with your heart, and you didn't even know if you were able to forgive him.

"Listen, I know you're angry with me, you have every right to be... I've been a horrible dick to you ever since you stepped foot in the bunker. That was wrong.. I'm an idiot. I was hoping that if I discouraged you from coming with us you wouldn't be put in harm's way. I didn't want to see you hurt, and I thought I was protecting you." 

You felt the bed dip under his weight as he sat down on the bed next to you, and his hand came down on your shoulder, which you instinctively pulled away from. You couldn't see him, but you could have sworn you felt him flinch.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. I don't know what to do to make what I did better. I don't know how to take it all back. If I did I would. You have every right to be mad at me. Please understand that I did it because I'm in love with you, I thought if you stayed away then you wouldn't be hurt like you are right now. When that fucking thing grabbed you it was like looking at my worse nightmare. I can't stand the thought of having to burn your body sweetheart."

You could feel the tears falling down our face now. You couldn't understand what you were hearing. The Dean Winchester just said he loved you... That's impossible... You must have hit your head harder than you thought, and you were hallucinating... But his hand on your shoulder just now felt very real, his bodyweight next to you, sitting on the bed. That was very real...

Turning to face him slowly you saw he looked horrible. He was paler than usual. He looked completely exhausted. You couldn't make your voice work. All those hateful things he'd said to you still ringing in your head. No matter what he was saying, or how tired he looked.

"I'm not expecting you to forgive me right now, fuck I'll be lucky if you ever forgive me at all, but I'm not going anywhere, Sweetheart. I'm going to stay here and make sure your taken care of. I came so fucking close to losing you today. Our lives are short. We probably will never live to see 60. I only probably got 10 years left if I'm lucky."

You laid there staring at his hand on yours. You didn't pull away this time. When you looked up at him again to your surprise he had real tears falling down his God-like face. It made your heart seize up in your chest in spite of you.

"Please Y/N, say something. I can't take the silence anymore. " 

You knew he was telling the truth. The silence was getting pretty cruel at this point.

"I don't know what to say to you, Dean. You really, really hurt me."

You hated how weak your voice sounded. You were a hunter. Right now though you felt like a child.

He sat there with his head down. He looked tired and defeated, just like you felt.

After a few minutes, he got up and nodded his head. Looking like he'd had his heart ripped out and stomped on himself. Heading for the door with his head down.

"Where are you going?" you ask before you could stop yourself.

"You don't want me here," he said, not turning around, talking to his feet. "You got your own room because I've been such an ass, and you wanted to get away from me... I made you hate me."

Sitting up you looked at the man that was so strong he carried everyone, the man that never showed weakness, he looked so weak right now., so done. It made you realize even though he was always trying to carry everyone else's problems, no one ever tried to help him carry his.

Maybe he was wasn't lying just to make you feel better, maybe he was telling the truth.

"Stay," you half-whispered, but he heard you, turning slowly to look at you.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure Dean, stay..."

He had a lot of making up to do, but maybe it was best to start at the beginning. Relationships are a give and take thing. If one of you doesn't give this was never going to work. He just gave. That couldn't have been easy for him. If you were going to not lose this chance you where going to have to take his apology.

Dean came back over to the bed cautiously. Sitting down on the edge before you pulled the covers up, signaling him to slip underneath with you. Which he did slowly.

"You know it's going to take me a very long time to fully forgive you, Dean," you tell him as you snuggle into his side. His strong arms wrapping around you immediately, pulling you into him.

"I know, I'm so, so, so sorry."

Putting your hand over his chest where you could feel his heart beating you take a deep breath. Breathing in a scent that was uniquely Dean. Gunpowder, whiskey, and his cologne.

Things weren't going to be easy for the two of you, but you had to start somewhere, and here in his arms felt like a pretty good place.

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Tag List:

@deanwanddamons​  @imabitch4jensen​  @rvgrsbrns​  @bi-danvers0​

[scriveyner]

let it rest in peace - 3/4

James made it an hour before he pulled the truck off the highway, onto a deserted exit ramp with old green signs and a bent route number, and not even so much as a gas station. Keith didn’t say anything as James got out of the car and walked down the embankment, away from the road; though after a few minutes James heard the passenger door slam.

“So we’re talking about this now, huh,” Keith said, arms folded, and James, with his back still to Keith, pushed a hand through his hair and exhaled, looking at the pale blue sky.

“Guess we are.”

Read on AO3 or

He didn’t turn around, listened to Keith shuffle and say, finally, “what the fuck was that, Griffin? You said your family died in a fire.”

James rubbed his hand over his mouth, put his hands on his hips and hung his head. “They did die in a fire.”

“Don’t lie to me, James.”

“I’m not. It’s,” he turned now, felt so, so tired. “It’s complicated.”

Keith snorted. “Complicated.”

It felt weird to be discussing this, standing in green grass and under a blue sky. “We lost my dad first. Mom locked us in our bedrooms, we heard the hounds outside, and found him in the cornfield in the morning.” He rubbed his mouth again, looked past Keith, past the cars on the turnoff, directly into the memory.

“So the hounds killed him.”

“No, that’s just it. He was alive. But he wasn’t… there. Lights on, no one home.” His mother standing dead-eyed in the kitchen, the phone to her ear and cord wrapped around her fingers, staring at nothing at all. “I don’t know what they did with him, but you can’t call that alive.”

Keith was silent, watching him.

“I was too young, I didn’t understand it until I heard the horn myself.” Distant again, his brother’s eyes fixed on the window, their bedroom door locked from the outside. “My mom did everything she could to stop my brother from joining the Hunt, locked him in his room when you could first hear the dogs, but.”

Seeing the fire engine and the ambulance both tearing past, the light of the fire illuminating the countryside for miles, the smoke billowing into the air, and just knowing.

Seeing the horned figure in the flames and hearing the bark and bay of hounds that the fire crew, the paramedics clearly did not.

James swallowed, crossed his arms, looked at Keith, and said softly, “my family’s cursed. I’m the last. The Hunt will come for me, someday.”

Keith crossed the distance between them, put his hands on James’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

#

James stretched out on the bed, luxuriated in the faint ache in his muscles, and buried his face in Keith’s pillow happily. He could hear the shower running, listened to Keith hum a little, probably washing his hair, and thought about joining him. His stomach reminded him of other priorities, though, and regretfully he emerged from the cocoon of covers.

By the time Keith wandered downstairs, damp and dressed, James had the coffee on and was scrounging in the fridge, disappointed. “Didn’t even leave us any groceries,” he huffed, leaned on the door with one elbow. “Bacon sounds heavenly right about now.”

Keith fetched his own coffee, leaned against the counter and watched James. “How you feeling?”

“Hungry,” James grunted, without taking his attention off the contents of the fridge. After a moment of silence from Keith, he lifted his head and gave Keith a look. “You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves,” he said. “I’m fine.” Better than fine, actually, he felt rather like he could take on the whole world right now, if only he could get a little meat in him to jump start the engine.

Keith smiled into his coffee, holding the cup cradled between his hands. “I can see if I can’t grab a deer or something,” he said.

James thought about it, imagined he could hear a deer right now, stepping softly between the trees that had been cleared out by the new construction. When he looked at Keith, Keith’s head was tilted, somewhat distracted—and in the direction James had imagined he’d heard the deer. “In fact,” Keith said, placing his coffee on the counter. “Hold that thought.”

Fear spiked in his chest, and James grabbed Keith’s wrist. “On the other hand,” he said, hoping he masked well, “scrambled eggs sound good too, right?”

Keith leaned a little bit away, considered, and finally said, “yeah, that sounds great.”

They ate in the kitchen, at the small table, and James tried not to think about how his mouth watered when he imagined the deer, the meat fresh and hot, flush with blood and entrails, steaming in the morning sunlight.

“You all right?” Keith gave him a weird look, and James stuck a fork full of eggs in his mouth and smiled, nodded, and really, really hoped he was.

#

Summer dawned hot and muggy, and the salt air rolling off the sea bit at his bare skin as Keith straddled him in the bed of the truck. It was deserted here, always was—there was no beach to speak, but the overlooks were fantastic and there was something about fucking in the open air, where he could hear the waves hitting the shore that really drove Keith over the edge.

“No sex on the beach ever again,” James had said in the shower, still scrubbing sand out of crevices he didn’t even realize he had; Keith laughed and carded his fingers through James’s damp hair in response.

Now though, Keith panted loudly, moving slowly as he rode James, sunlight dappled on his shoulders through the trees. James was breathing equally as hard, fixated on Keith’s face, watching the pleasure chase across his expression with abandon. Keith was close, he batted James’s hand away when he reached for his cock, and braced his palm on the window behind James’s head.

James laughed, unsure how exactly his head was still screwed on enough to murmur, “want to come on just my cock, huh?”

Keith shuddered, gave a little moan of encouragement, and shifted his weight, sitting all the way down on James’s cock. There was a weird bit of resistance as Keith shifted, and then it was gone and Keith’s head went back, hair flying loose and eyes wide as he climaxed, tightening on James harder than he’d ever done before.

God, he was so tight—James’s fingers left bruises on Keith’s thighs, holding him, keeping him flush on his lap as Keith milked him dry. Spent, James’s shoulders hit the dirty window and Keith… didn’t move, palm still on the window beside James’s head, other hand stroking his cock now, languid, slick with spilled seed.

Keith lifted his head, pupils blown wide, wet his lips and kissed James. James panted into his mouth in return, and Keith rested his forehead against James’s, looked him in the eye and said, dazedly, “do you have a fucking knot?”

“What?” James asked, surprised his brain wasn’t leaking out of his ears at the force of his orgasm.

“You,” Keith laughed, eyes gone closed and looking content. “God, it’s good, it feels so good, James.” He hummed a little, and when James released his legs Keith pulled slightly, but his cock did not slide free. “Fuck,” Keith breathed, tilting back. “Just, shift a little—“

Obediently, James shifted, moving Keith slightly on his lap—and suddenly Keith jerked and let out a strangled gasp, and his cock dribbled as he shook. “Fuck!”

Later, when he finally slipped out of Keith’s battered hole, Keith ran his fingers down his half-hard cock and over the still slightly-visible knot. “You do,” Keith breathed, wrung-out. “Fucking hell, James…”

#

“So what else have you been hiding from me?” Keith asked, and James, sitting cross-legged on a rock in just his briefs, shook his head.

“I mean, I’ve been able to hear things better and see a little better, but I didn’t think it was worth mentioning, they measured all that shit in the hospit-OW.” Keith yanked on his ear and James smacked his hand away, rubbed his ear. “I’m not a fucking child, Keith, don’t do that.”

“You have a fucking knot.”

“Yeah, it’s news to me too,” James said, dropping his hand and glaring at Keith. “So my senses are a little sharper, I thought it was a win considering I almost fucking died.”

Keith had his arms crossed, standing naked on the shore. He exhaled in aggravation, looked to the water and then back to James. “Can you shift?”

“What? What the fuck, no, Keith, I’m not a wer—“

“YOU HAVE A FUCKING KNOT, JAMES.”

James swallowed hard, rubbed his mouth, looked away. “No,” he said.

“Is that a ‘no, you can’t’, or a ‘no, you haven’t tried’?”

“What does it even matter? The answer’s no either way.” The two men glared at each other in the sunlight, and then Keith groaned and pushed his hand through his hair. James pointed at him. “Don’t you fucking dare call the Blade,” he said. “I do not want to be their lab rat again; besides they fucking cleared me, Keith. Said I was human.”

“I know, I know.” Both hands scrubbed back through his hair, and Keith crouched for a moment, thinking hard. “You don’t want to even try to shift, see what happens?”

The flat look James gave him made Keith groan. He dropped his elbows to his knees, hung his head. Then he laughed a little and pushed himself upright. James eyed him warily, and Keith patted James on the shoulder before walking past, back toward the truck. “What,” James said, turning, and then getting up himself. “Why are you laughing, what? Keith!”

#

They lay side by side on an old quilt under the stars, just like they used to when they lived out of his truck and old motels. James watched the thin clouds scuttle across the night sky, startled only a little when Keith woke, threading his fingers through James’s as they lay shoulder to shoulder.

“I’ll have to tell the Blade eventually,” Keith murmured, sleepy, and James sighed because he knew it was the right thing to do, even if he didn’t like it. “They need to know.”

“Is that a normal thing, to be infected by blood?” James asked, and Keith shifted, turned his head to look at James.

“No,” Keith said quietly, and James laughed softly. “Shiro’s...special,” he said. James knew that much by now, a werewolf unbound by the moon.

“How much blood did he give me?” It felt like something he should have asked ages ago, still in the observation room without windows, but now was better than never.

Keith was silent. “I don’t know. I wasn’t… I wasn’t there, James.”

Lance, in the hospital room, voice haggard and repentant. “It was my call.”

James exhaled, squeezed Keith’s hand. “Well, you’re here now,” he said, and Keith squeezed back, then rose up on his elbow, touched James’s face tenderly, and when he tilted his face into Keith’s hand, leaned down and kissed him.

[headoverhiddles]

Matrimony - Pope x Reader (Let Me Make You A Martyr) [Part I]

Synopsis: You and a skilled hitman are forced to work together to take out a mutual ‘friend’ through teamwork. But together is the opposite of how Pope works, and he already despises you. 

Aka the super filthy, depraved fake marriage au no one asked for :) 

Notes: this will be a three parter, with updates every three days! Enjoy! 

Tagging: (ask to be added) @peachynun​

PART II 

PART III

Pope barely lets the guy finish speaking—he’s already rejected the terms, regardless of the pay.  

“I haven’t even told you the haul yet,” the man who had come to him, Jack Redman, chuckles. Pope does not share his amusement, which he makes clear through a scathing glare. Pope’s glares had the ability to convey a particular type of anger, so intensely that nobody usually challenged him any further… but it meant Redman’s ass if he returned without a yes. 

The two were sitting in Pope’s cabin, devoid mostly of decoration, only the necessities surrounding them. The kitchen table they sat at was low, homemade out of rain-bleached wood from around the area. On their plates, the two had almost finished cuts of red deer meat Pope had offered. It was rare enough for Redman to pick at it, and Pope to devour it.

The propositioner sighs. “She’s a peach. Trust me. Easy on the eyes, all that.”

Despite the bloody mess on his plate, Pope cuts his food with the manners of a King, lifting his fork to his mouth delicately. “She’s a drug runner. I don’t work with drug runners, I kill drug runners.” He has an underlying southern drawl to his voice, a false comfort that eases his targets. Fear always spoiled the hit, just like hunting. 

Redman pushes his plate away in exasperation. “She’s a drug runner who has potential. She wants to help you. This could be an opportunity to--"

“I work alone. That’s final.” Pope gets up from the kitchen table, ending the conversation. Redman shakes his head, chasing after the tall, bullheaded hitman. 

“Fuckin’… stubborn piece of shit… listen, Pope!”  

“I ain’t listening to anything you have to say,” Pope turns, face calm and stern. “I’m done listening. And you’re done talking.” Redman eyes Pope’s rack of guns which he is standing in front of, and swallows.

“Look. My boss is prepared to give you a big fucking bag of dough for this.”    

“How big is fucking big?” Pope asks, taking a pistol off the rack and beginning to clean it. Redman keeps his eyes on the weapon warily.

“It’s a lot, man. At least a million dollars is in this for you if you just test the waters, and finish the job.”

Pope purses his lips. “Half for me, half for this slut I’m supposed to carry around?”  

“Each,” Redman replies. Pope sets the gun down, and the rag with it. He takes his glasses off, polishes them with his shirt, then puts them back on.

“Three days. That’s all it’ll take. We'll see what happens.”

---

You tuck your gun in your back pocket. You’d never had any real reason to use it thus far, since your job, while dangerous, thankfully never got that physical.

Drug dealing seemed a natural path for you to take. Your parents had both been in the business of the black market, your mother an illegal arms dealer and your father working for your mother. Growing up in a family with a “small business”, it had led you to a code of morals that are currently getting in the way.

Morals that say Daegland Pierce, notorious dealer, needs to die.

Since you and your boss both knew you couldn’t carry it out alone, you had been eager to find someone who could carry out the job with you. Your boss got to talking, and as it turns out, there’s some kind of agreement that’s been made. You’re in the dark about the whole thing with him, but all you really need to know is your role in all of it. 

“His name’s Pope.” 

“Any file on him?” you ask, crossing your arms. Lane swirls his drink around. 

“There’s no file for this guy anywhere. He just… is.”

“How do you know what kind of killer he is?”

“Word of mouth. Everybody knows Pope, and nobody knows him.”

“I’m one of the nobodies, would you mind giving me a little more insight, so I know the guy I’m going to be working with?”

Lane shakes his head. “Ask him yourself. You’re meeting him at the rendezvous point, by Exit 19 on the Tollcross back road. Nothing but farmland out there, ‘til you reach the woods Pierce has shacked up in.”

“These the coordinates?” you ask, tapping a map that had been placed in front of you.

"Wrapped up inside. Quit asking questions, will ya? Go do the job, don’t run your mouth at this guy or he’ll shoot it off, and come back richer for the experience." You go to get up, but Lane stops you. "(y/n). I know you think you're real tough, kay? You ain't shit compared to this guy. He'll rip your spleen out if you get on his bad side. So just lay low, do you gotta do, and don't piss him off."

"What makes you think I would?" you ask. Lane sighs, shaking his head.

"There's gonna be two corpses out there by Friday, I swear to god."

--

You drive a crappy throwaway VW bug up a grassy back road, studying the map closely. There's an x marked where you're supposed to meet Pope, and you're coming up on it now. You toss the map to the passenger seat, and crane your neck to see from the sunken seat. There's a black car up ahead, with a man leaning against it.

You park the bug, grab the map, and toss a match in, burning the thing out. You walk up to him, and take a look as you approach. He's tall, got glasses, and has cropped black hair. He's got a few tattoos, maybe more, you notice as he lifts a cigarette up, but most are covered by long black sleeves. How he could wear long sleeves in this heat is beyond you, but you're not here to question his attire. He's actually pretty well dressed, if you'd go so far as to admit it. He's not bad looking either, for a man in his early to mid forties.

The bug blows up behind you, and you smirk.

"(y/n)," you say, sticking out your hand. His dark eyes move over to you boredly, taking you in with a vertical sweep. He finally puts his cigarette between his lips, which are curiously dainty, and shakes your hand. Whatever elegance his features hold are balanced out by the roughness of his hands-- his skin is like leather, and his nails are chipped and dirty.

"You know who I am," he says simply, in a buried genteel southern accent.

You take a spot next to him, leaning against the car as well. He glances sideways at you, but doesn't say anything. He just smokes in silence. You wonder if it'll be like one of those miraculous bonding moments, where he'd offer you a drag, and it would be like some unspoken code of respect had passed between you two.

You lose hope for that as Pope continues to do his best to ignore you. You eventually clear your throat.

"So. I've got a plan."

"No. I've got a plan. This ain’t your show, kid."

You frown. "Don't call me kid."

"Okay, sweetheart."

"Don't call me sweetheart!"

"What do you want me to call you then? Cause I've got a few ideas."

You scoff. What a fucking asshole! Still, your boss' warning is present in your mind, so you shut your mouth, and get in the car. Pope drops his butt, snuffs it out carefully with his shoe, and gets in the driver's side.

"I heard we're going to be taking the cabin next to his," you bring up.  "Must be nice to live out in the woods. Plus, I bet the asshole's place is nice and furnished. He's loaded to hell." You purse your lips. "Is it a long drive to the cabin?"

Pope doesn't answer. Instead, he turns up the stereo, which is just finishing up Johnny B Goode. Then, an old country song that sounds like a bloodhound wailing to the tune of a two string banjo comes on. It's got some lyrics about preaching the gospel, and you sigh, resting your head against the window.

"This is fucking terrible."

Pope looks ahead. "Mhm."

"You seem like a rock kind of guy, not this."

"'Mhm."

“Not even classic rock?”

"Mmm."

With a huff, you turn to look out the window and let the grumpy older hitman, who apparently only knew how to communiticate by varying grunts, enjoy his lovesick religious whining on the radio.

Eventually, you make it down a dirt path, leaves and branches hitting the sides of the car.

“Welcome home,” Pope says, pulling up at the cabin the two of you would be staying at. You get out, looking around. It’s pretty remote.

"Where's his place?"

"Just down the way a little," Pope replies, unloading some things from the car, "Before you ask, no, we are not going over right now. We're setting our rooms up-- far away from one another-- and settling in for the night."

"And lemme guess, you're gonna pour some whiskey sour and spin 'Solitary Man' on vinyl while scraping your boots on the porch?"

He can't even be bothered enough to muster up a glare. He simply gives you a bored look through those wire rimmed glasses, and walks toward the house. You look around, and when you think you hear a cracked twig, follow him quickly.

 ---

Pope sets a lantern on the table, and pushes you your plate of food.

"Thank you," you say. It was genuinely nice of him to prepare food for the both of you, something you hadn't expected him to do.

"Uh huh." You eat in silence for a bit, the crickets outside the window your only accompaniment to dinner. It's a nice cabin, in a pretty nice little thicket of forest. You can certainly see the appeal of living out here-- especially as someone in Pierce's line of work.

Pope finally speaks. "So what kind of drugs do you sell?"

"Why? You interested?" You already know the answer, but so far, it’s been fun teasing him. He tents his fingers.

"I don't fuck with drugs. They dull the wits, and I need those to not die."

"Depends on the drug," you grin. He miraculously cracks a small smile, and you go on. "Just homegrown shit. I don't bother with trying to sell party drugs. That scene just gets the cops all over your business." Pope nods. "You ever get cops on you?"

He cocks his head. "Around here? The three good, upstanding police officers who actually care enough to know what's going on beneath their noses are on my payroll. Any marshals or anything are easily deterred."

"You just use your charm and good looks?"

"Believe it or not, I'm pretty good with people," he says. You scoff.

"That's a good one."

He spends a long time staring at you. You can feel his gaze on you as you eat, and it prickles your skin. You can't tell if you like it or not. You wonder if you should say something else. Eventually, he gets up, taking his plate to the cabin's quaint kitchen. You missed your chance.

He cleans his plate, and stops by the stairs. "Why'd you want to come out here to put two people on a one man job?"

"I wanted to see it get done. I guess I... didn't trust you."

"Do you now?"

"What?"

He looks at you over his glasses. "Do you trust me now?"

You sit forward. "I don’t trust anyone but myself."

He nods. "You don’t trust me cause you haven’t seen me do what I do."

You chew on your bottom lip. You hadn't gotten the chance to tell him your plan, and by all accounts, you know he's not going to like it. These three days may be more difficult than you thought.

After slowly finishing the rest of your dinner, you head upstairs to find the remaining bedroom. As you're passing the doors, you catch a glimpse of one partially open. Inside, Pope is lying awake, staring up at the ceiling. You quickly hurry past, hoping he didn't see you, and find the empty bedroom at the end of the hall. Finding it furnished with a few old blankets, you toss a pillow down. You slip out of your clothes to your bra and panties, and get into bed.

You don’t know what to make of the man in the other room. Until you do, you’d better keep him at arm’s length.  

[thiswasinevitableid]

Laying in Wait (Indruck)

The prompt for the third was:Legend of Hag Hill

When you’ve lived somewhere your whole life, you develop one of two relationships with local legends: complete and utter belief, or the belief that the legend is utter bullshit. 

For Duck, Hag Hill is solidly in that second category. Weird lights, sudden, disorienting fog, ghostly laughter; he’s hid out on the hill smoking or making out or killing time and never seen any of it, no matter how dark the sky is when he’s there. 

He’s here for a slightly new reason tonight, as some kids from his Comp 101 class at Kepler Community College asked if he wanted to hang out and pull some mild pranks on the hill. Sure, hardly anyone comes on it this time of year, because Halloween looming on the horizon always gives the tales about the hill more substance in people’s minds. He mentioned this, hoping he could sway them towards a night at the Wolfe Bar and Grille or maybe just chilling in someone’s apartment or dorm, rather than freezing their asses off on a hillside, but they all insisted. So here they’ve sat, for over an hour, under a midnight moon, with not a soul passing by.

Then again, what else would he be doing? Sitting in his shitty apartment, swearing at the heater and watching some late night, bargain bin movie? The only thing he likes doing at home he can do here. Well, kind off. Odds are the other guys would complain if he started jerking off. 

See, there’s this guy in his entomology class. Tall, with a weird face and a weirder demeanor, and only taking the class because he needs to fulfill his breadth requirements. He sits at the back next to Duck, didn’t say a word to him until two weeks ago, when he asked if Duck would help him study for the upcoming quiz. Duck assumed it was because he was the closest person to ask, but once they sat down in the coffee shop on H Street, it became clear that Indrid, his new study buddy, had another reason.

“Thank you for agreeing to help me. You, ah, you clearly know your stuff.”

“How the fuck can you tell?” He barely spoke in class. 

“I see you filling in the slides with the correct answers well before the professor says them. You know some of this already.”

“You gotta know a decent amount about bugs if you wanna work for the forest service.” He mumbles, bracing for the Smokey the Bear joke.

“Oh! Oh of course, that makes perfect sense. I imagine invasive species, and symbiotic ones, are of interest in that field.”

They hadn't gotten to the notes for the quiz, because Duck got going about invasive insects, which lead to a discussion of moths, which lead to Indrid showing him his Deaths Head Moth tattoo, proudly explaining he’d designed it himself. They met at the cheap Chinese buffet the next night, and did actually study between trading stories about how they came to be in Kepler. Indrid laughed at once point, dyed-silver hair catching the warm light in the dim room, and Duck suddenly found that strange face strangely handsome. 

It’s nice to have a crush, it’s been awhile since he had one on a guy who might one day reciprocate. He’s pretty sure Indrid’s been checking him out this week. It’s hard to tell with those red glasses he wears. 

“Fucking finally.” Colton, he’s pretty sure that’s the guys name, shushes them into position, shattering Duck’s fantasizing.

“Can’t believe he fell for it.” Says the guy next to Duck

“I’m a pretty smooth talker when I wanna be” Colton whispers. 

Duck suddenly has a bad feeling about this, tries to back up only to snap a stick and have Colton grab his arm. 

“Hello?” A voice carries from the other side of the outcropping of grey stones. 

“What the fuck man, let go.” Duck hisses, leaves rustling under his feet.

“I really hope that is a deer.” The voice mutters.

“Now.” Colton pops up, dragging Duck with him, all the boys letting out their most blood-chilling screams.

There’s a responding yelp, followed by a cry of pain as their victim falls backwards into bramble. Duck recognizes the pink and yellow sweater as soon as he sees it, and his heart tries to crawl out his toes when the frightened gaze lands on him.

“You get it?” Colton looks to his left, where one of his friends is holding up his phone. 

“Yep. Fuck, man, you really think we’d invite you to chill with us up here? You’re such a fuckin weirdo.”

Indrid doesn’t even look at the others, his eyes remaining on Duck.

“Is, is that what you truly think of me?” 

“Pfft, see, this is what I mean. That weird way of talking, those glasses, even heard you talking to yourself, which is even fuckin weirder than that thing you do with your hands.” 

Duck likes it when Indrid flaps his hands; it means he’s excited, and an excited, happy Indrid is a sight he’s rapidly grown to adore.

Without a word, he grabs the offending phone, deleting the video before the others register what's happening. 

“What the fuck?”

“You wanna see a funny prank? Fetch, dipshit” He hurls the phone as far as it will go, the others flipping him off and calling him every name under the sun as they run after it. 

Indrid is gone when he turns back, but he’s in time to see a flash of color disappear around the next curve in the trail. The taller man is picking thorns from his sweater, and freezes when he hears Duck’s footsteps. 

“I swear, if you try anything like that again, I will push you down the hill.”

“‘Drid” Duck reaches out, touching his arm to stop him, “I’m so fuckin sorry, I had no idea that’s what they were plannin, I thought we were hanging around to do some silly jumpscare on anyone walkin by, not that they fuckin lured you out here.”

Indrid is clearly contemplating pushing him down the hill anyway. 

“C’mon, I’m tellin the truth. Remember what happened the last time I tried to lie?”

The other man blinks, then snickers, “Ah yes, the abysmal attempt to blame cockroaches for your missing homework.”

“I’m still real fuckin sorry. And, uh, I deleted the video. Hope that phone broke on the rock when I threw it.”

Indrid raises an eyebrow, “Valiant.”

“Hush, I’m tryin to help.”

“I know.” He grins a little wider, “it's a pity, I’ve never lived in a place with a haunted hill before. I was looking forward to observing it with friends.”

“Eh, you ain’t missin much. Place is about as haunted as my apartment.”

Indrid elbows him playfully “Come now, don’t ruin my fun. Is it true people have seen strange lights?”

“That's what they say.”

“And that you get lost in a fog never to be seen again.”

“It's a tiny hill in the grand scheme of things. Hard to get that lost. Uh, where are you goin, by the way?”

“Back to my car.”

“But the parking lot’s-” he turns, finds  low, thick fog behind him, “thataway?”

“I thought it was this--oh, oh dear.” The fog is all around them, seeping into Duck’s skin.

“Okay, uh, well, we now it’s at the bottom of the hill, so all we gotta do is follow the slope.”

“...What slope?”

“The fuck?” The ground is flat, no matter how far he feels out with his feet.

“I propose we keep walking until we either get out of the fog or find the road.” He seems incredibly calm. 

“Good, uh, good plan.” He falls in just behind him, keeps his ears open for cars or other signs of life. He’s starting to worry, gets so distracted by it that he collides with Indrid’s back.

“Duck, are the lights associated with Hag Hill red and orange, by chance?”

“Yep.”

Indrid points to where two lights hover in the distant, dark fog, like the eyes of a waiting beast. 

“Well, fuck.”

“Run!” Indrid shoves him back the way they came, sprinting behind him on his long legs. It isn’t even two minutes before they hit a dead end.

“What the fuck, this cliff bit is on the other side of the fuckin hill from where we were!”

“Somehow I doubt the spirits care where we began, merely where we end up. Quickly, down here.” He tugs Duck behind a large, dying tree, the two of them huddling close together. 

“Dare I ask what happens to people who see the lights?”

“Never seen again.”

A bitter chuckle, “of course.” Indrid scrubs his hands up his face, tilting his glasses up as he does. Then he hisses, “Ouch, damn it all” and pulls a thorn from his finger, “gah, it still stings.”

“Here, lemme see.” Duck gently takes his wrist, “huh, yeah, looks like you got it, so at least it ain’t gonna fester. As for the sting..” Quickly, he dips his head and kisses the skin. Looks up to find Indrid blinking his brown eyes in confusion.

“What was the purpose of that?”

“To, uh, to make you feel better?”

“Are you trying to flirt right now?”

“No, uh, fuck, uh, I mean, I, uh, fuck, Indrid, if we’re gonn get eaten by ghosts or some shit, there’s somethin I wanna do.” 

With that, he grabs Indrid’s forearms and pulls him forward, kissing him. Indrid sighs against his lips, then hums happily as Duck works his way into his lap. He growls a little and Indrid shivers, breaks the kiss to nip and kiss at his neck while Duck brings his fingers up to his mouth, kissing his knuckles before drawing the pricked finger between his lips and sucking.

“Duck” Indrid purrs, nuzzling his cheek.

“Right here, darlin.”

Chills skitter up his spine and Indrid goes dead still in his arms, eyes wide as they stare over his shoulder. 

“Oh dear, our apologies young gentlemen.” The red light forms into a woman as it speaks, the orange light doing the same. Both are dressed like they belong at  a living history museum.

“Yes, we did not know you were lovers. Those for whom our hill was meant.”

“Your hill? But don’t that make you-”

“Hags? Yes, by the language of our fellow townspeople, we were such things due to our magic.”

“I lost my life to them.” The orange-eyed sighs.

“And I mine avenging her. They buried us here, unmarked, not knowing it had always been our favorite space. A space we wished to be for others in love, in our absence.”

“I’m sorry they were so cruel to you.” Indrid says softly. 

“In the end we triumphed, our love stronger than death. We live eternally in our beloved hill, they rest uneasy and miserable in their graves.” Red eyes waves her hand, and the fog clears.

“There is your way to town, should you wish to depart now.” Orange eyes smiles, “and if you wish to tarry, around that bend you will find a place better made for privacy.”

“Thats’, uh, that’s mighty generous of you, but I’m gettin cold.”

“And I ought to check on my rats.” Indrid stands, helping Duck up before bowing a bit awkwardly, “thank you both for your, ah, help?”

The women share an enigmatic smile, and then they’re gone. 

“Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

“Agreed.” 

As they wind their way down to the parking lot, Indrid looks at Duck shyly, “Was your desire to kiss me purely near-death experience related?”

“Nope. Been thinkin about it all week. You, uh, wanna go on a date this weekend? One with less fog and mortal terror?”

“I’d be delighted.” They reach Indrid’s beat-up compact, “would you like a ride home?”

“Sure, thanks ‘Drid.” 

Indrid opens his door, then pauses, fingers drumming on the car, “or you could, ah, could spend the night at my place?”

Maybe it’s a leftover adrenaline rush, or maybe it’s just Indrid, but Duck’s suddenly feeling pretty damn brave.

“Hell yeah, darlin. Let’s go.”

[winchesterbrotherstan]

SPN- No Exit (2.06)

Pairing: N/A, Olive Winchester (OC)

Summary: Ellen forces Jo to hand a new case over to the Winchesters, Dean has to protect yet another person, the siblings find out bad news, and Olive stands up for her boys

Warnings: cursing, a serial killer, blood, ghosts and stuff

Word Count: 5241

“Los Angeles, California.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows.

“What’s in L.A.?” I asked, following him out of the car.

“Young girl’s been kidnapped by an evil cult.”

“Yeah?” Sam raised his eyebrows. “Girl got a name?”

“Yeah.” Dean grinned. “Katie Holmes.”

Sam snorted as Dean giggled. “That’s funny. And for you, so bitchy.”

The sound of breaking glass and shouts came from inside the Roadhouse. I flinched and shuffled closer to Dean. Sam scooped Jinx out of the car.

“On the other hand…” He shrugged. “Catfight.”

“Hell no, that’s scary! Let’s just go. We can come back later.” I begged, tugging at Dean’s sleeve.

“Nope. Come on.” Dean dragged me toward the door.

“Sams?” I looked over my shoulder as I was helplessly pulled along.

He shrugged.

“I am your mother, I don’t have to be reasonable!” Ellen shouted as we slowly walked in.

“You can’t keep me here!” Jo yelled.

“Oh, don’t you bet on that, sweetie.”

“What are you gonna do, ma? Chain me up in the basement?”

“You know what, you’ve had worse ideas than that recently! Hey, you don’t wanna stay, don’t stay. Go back to school.” Ellen snarled.

The three of us cringed. Hearing that was worse than hearing nails on a chalkboard.

“I didn’t belong there!” Jo screamed. “I was a freak with a knife collection!”

“Yeah, and getting yourself killed on some dusty back road, that’s where you belong?” Ellen turned and saw the three of us.

Jinx whined, I froze like a deer in headlights, Dean squared his shoulders and avoided eye contact, and Sam scratched the back of his neck.

“Kids, bad time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, we barely drink before ten anyways.”

“Wait.” Jo snapped. “I wanna know what they think about this.”

A couple walked through the door with their two kids, who were still little toddlers. They were obviously tourists, and they looked between Jo and Ellen with wide eyes.

“I don’t care what they think!”

“Are you guys open?”

“No!���

“Yes!”

The dad backed away. “We’ll just… check out the Arby’s down the road.”

The family left quickly, and the phone went off. Jo glared at it, and Ellen stalked over to answer. She snatched the phone up with a scowl. We sat down at the bar with heavy sighs from each.

“Harvelle’s. Yeah, Preacher.”

Jo shoved a manilla folder Dean’s way, and he backed up in his seat. “Three weeks ago a young girl disappears from a Philadelphia apartment.”

Dean only looked at the folder with wide eyes.

“Take it, it won’t bite.”

“No, but your mom might.” Dean whispered.

I took the folder from her and opened it up. “What else ya got, Jo?”

“This girl wasn't the first. Over the past eighty years six women have vanished. All from the same building, all young blondes. Only happens every decade or two so cops never eyeball the pattern. So we're either dealing with one very old serial killer, or…”

“Who put this together?” Dean looked over my shoulder. “Ash?”

“I did it myself.” Jo snapped.

I hummed. “Nice.”

“I mean, we have hit the road for a lot less.”

“Good.” Ellen hissed. “You like the case so much, you take it!”

“Mom!” Jo whined.

“Joanna Beth, this family has lost enough! I won’t lose you too… I just won’t.”

                                                         ***

“I feel kind of bad…” Sam sighed. “Snaking Jo’s case.”

“Yeah, maybe she put together a good file. But could you see her out here actually working a case?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

Sam and I shrugged. Jinx tugged at the leash, and I pulled back. She wanted Dean, but Dean didn’t wanna hold the leash.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Sam and Dean pulled out EMF readers and I looked high and low, my new glasses on.

“You getting anything?”

“No. Not yet.” Sam shook his head.

“Ol?”

“Nothing.”

Sam ran his EMF over a light switch, and it went off. He leaned over and squinted, looking disgusted.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Dean and I crowded him.

Sam touched a black goo oozing from the switch, and I groaned. He huffed. Jinx jumped at our feet, snorting and sniffing. I touched the goo and groaned. I put my fingers down to let Jinx smell it. She pulled away with a loud whine. She dropped onto her stomach and ran her paws over her face.

“Holy crap.”

Dean reached over my head and touched it, rubbing his fingers together.

“That’s ectoplasm. Guys, I think I know what we’re dealing with here.” Dean got serious, then turned to us with a grin. “It’s the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.”

Sam rolled his eyes and I giggled.

“Dean, I’ve only seen this stuff like… twice. I mean, to make this shit, you’ve gotta be one majorly pissed off spirit.”

Dean sighed. “Alright, let’s find this badass before he snags any more girls.”

                                                           ***

We rounded the corner and continued down the hallway. We heard two voices, and Dean reacted quickest, pulling us both to hide in a corner. Sam snatched Jinx off the floor and held her against his chest. She had gotten big, and Sam was the only one who could carry her without much of a struggle.

“It is so spacious! You know, my friend told me I absolutely have to come check it out, and I have to admit, she was right. You did a really good job with this place.”

I tilted my head and looked at Dean. He looked angry.

That’s Jo.

I nodded.

Definitely.

Dean stepped out first, catching them as they turned the corner.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He hissed in a low voice.

“There you are, honey.” Jo didn’t skip a beat, and she settled into Dean’s side with an arm around his waist.

Sam and I stood back, a bit confused. Jinx let out a whine as Sam put her down.

“This is my boyfriend Dean, his little sister Olive, and their buddy, Sam. This is our doggy! I’m so glad this place is pet friendly.” She grinned.

“Good to meet ya. Quite a gal you’ve got here.”

Dean slapped her ass and I cringed. I couldn’t exactly duck into Sam’s side, since I wasn’t his sister.

“Oh, yeah.” Dean smiled. “She’s a pistol.”

Sam flinched, and I stifled a snort. He was beyond pissed, the irritation dancing over his face was proof enough.

“So, did you already check out that apartment? The one for rent?” Jo smiled at me over her shoulder.

“Yeah. Yes, loved it.” Dean hummed.

“It’s got great flow.” I added.

“How’d you get in?” The landlord squinted at us.

“Oh, it was open.”

“Now, Ed, um, when did the last tenant move out?”

“Oh, about a month ago. Cut and run, too. Stiffed me for the rent.” He sighed.

“Well. Her loss, our gain! Cause if Deano loves it, it’s good enough for me!”

Sam and I shared a look, and Dean slapped Jo’s ass again. I shuddered. I caught the minuscule anger flashing behind his expression, but it was still gross to watch. I felt like I was gonna puke. Sam gave me a sympathetic smile.

Jo pulled out a wad of cash. “We’ll take it.”

                                                           ***

“I’ll flip you for the sofa.” Jo turned to Dean as he finished cleaning his gun.

“Does your mother even know you’re here?” Dean spat back.

“Told her I was going to Vegas.” Jo grabbed the folder off the table.

Sam was sitting at the end, cleaning his shotgun. Dean was sitting on the table, his back to Jo. I was sitting on the table, opposite of Sam. I had my legs crossed and my new gun in my lap.

“You think she’s gonna buy that?”

“I’m not an idiot.” Jo spat. “I got Ash to lay a credit card trail all the way to the casinos.”

Sam and I shared a look over Dean’s shoulder.

“You know, you shouldn’t lie to your mom.” Dean chastised. “Shouldn’t be here either.”

Jo looked to Sam, expecting support. Sam met her eyes and said nothing as he continued to work on his shotgun. She huffed and turned to me. I shrugged, holding the gun in my hands and slowly flipping it over and over.

“Well, I am.” She snapped. “So untwist your boxers and deal with it.”

“Where’d you get all that money from, anyways?” Sam spoke.

“Working at the Roadhouse.”

“Hunters don’t tip well.” I got the courage to speak, too.

“Well, they aren’t that good at poker, either.” She smiled.

Dean’s phone went off and he climbed off the table so he could fish it out of his pocket. He flipped it open and put it up to his ear.

“Yeah?”

His face drained of color and he looked straight up at Jo. Jinx let out a howl, sensing his panic.

“Oh, hi, Ellen.” He walked around to my end of the table, lips curled up.

Jo went right at him as he held the phone to his shoulder. “I’m telling her.”

Jo hissed something back, and he looked ready to jump. Sam shot up, and I put the gun aside and swung my legs over the edge of the table, facing Dean and Jo.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Jo glared.

Dean put the phone back to his ear. “I haven’t seen her. Yeah, I-I’m sure.” A beat. “Absolutely.”

Jo shot Dean a cute little smile as he shut the phone, and he had murder in his eyes as he stared her down. Sam glanced over at me, and I shrugged.

                                                        ***

“This place was built in 1924. It was originally a warehouse, converted to apartments a few months ago.” Jo had the blueprints open in front of her, and she was flipping a pocket knife around.

“Yeah? What was here before 1924?” Dean was pacing.

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “Empty field.”

“So, most likely scenario, someone died bloody in the building, and now he’s back and raising hell.” Sam didn’t look up from his own papers.

“I already checked. In the past eighty two years, zero violent deaths.” She shrugged. “Unless you count a janitor who slipped on a wet floor.” She turned and glared at Dean. “Would you sit down, please?”

Dean pulled out the chair next to me and sat on it, backwards. “So, have you checked police reports, county death records-”

“Obituaries, mortuary reports, and seven other sources. I know what I’m doing.”

I frowned.

Seven other sources? Where’d she get those?

“I think the jury’s still out on that one.”

Sam bit back a smile and I had to scratch my nose to hold myself together. 

“Could you put the knife down?”

She did as he asked, and the tension, along with the bickering, was becoming unbearable.

“Okay!” Sam cleared his throat. “So, uh, it’s something else then. Maybe some kind of cursed object that brought a spirit with it.”

“Well, we’ve gotta scan the whole building then. Everywhere we can get to, right?” Jo looked between the three of us.

“Right. So. You and me, we’ll take the top two floors. Sam, get the first, Olive take the second.” Dean stood.

Sam and I nodded, and Jo scoffed.

“We’d move faster if we split up.” She got up and got in Dean’s face.

“Oh, this isn’t negotiable.” Dean had an irritated smile on his face.

“You know, I’ve had it up to here with your crap.” Jo spat.

I looked down at the floor, then up at Sam.

What do we do?

He gave me a small shrug.

I don’t know.

“Excuse me?”

“Your chauvinist crap. You think women can’t do the job!” She accused.

A snort escaped my nose, and she side-eyed me. Sam scratched his cheek, looking away. Dean gave his annoyed smile again.

“Sweetheart, this ain’t gender studies.” He shook his head. “Women can do the job fine.” He looked my way and shrugged. “Hell, I trust Olive with my life. She can do the job, I know she can. But amateurs can’t. You have no experience.”

She rolled her eyes, and I cleared my throat. I got up and pulled an EMF meter from the duffel on the table and called Jinx over.

“I’ll take her.”

Dean nodded, and I pressed a quick kiss to the side of Sam’s head.

“See you guys soon.”

                                                        ***

The door busted open, and I rolled over, now fully awake. Jinx barked, and I realized she was curled up next to me. Dean had taken the couch, and I had fallen asleep on the floor, leaning next to him. Sam must’ve moved me to the bed.

“Where’s the coffee?” Dean grumbled.

“There are cops outside.” Sam’s voice rang out, and his panic was clear.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “What?”

“Another girl disappeared.”

“Shit.” Jo hissed.

“Alright, let’s move.” Dean clapped his hands.

“Wait, I’m not dressed.” I complained.

“You’re staying.”

“What? Why?” I stumbled out of the bed, socks sliding on the clean floor.

Dean caught me by the elbows and steadied me. “Get dressed. Take Jinx for a walk. Go get some coffee.” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed me a twenty. “Be safe, okay? Love you.”

I blinked, trying to get my eyes clear. “Love you too.”

He kissed my head and gathered his things. Sam pressed a kiss to my forehead, and Jo gave me a soft smile.

“Be careful, guys!” I called as they walked out the door.

                                                        ***

Sam and Jo were looking over the notes, and I was digging into the history of this part of Philadelphia, which was proving more work than I had anticipated. Dean slid back into the room and shut the door behind himself. Jinx jumped up and ran to greet him.

“Teresa Ellis. Apartment 2F. Boyfriend reported her missing around dawn.” He spoke as he bent down to pet Jinx.

“What about her apartment?” Jo looked up.

“Cracks all over the plaster, wall, ceiling. Ectoplasm, too.”

“Well, between that and the hair you guys found in the vent, I’d say this fucker’s coming from the walls.” Sam sighed.

“Yeah, but who is it?” Dean began to pace. “Building’s history is totally clean.”

I huffed as I stumbled upon something. “We’re looking in the wrong place.”

The three of them turned to squint at me.

“What?”

“We’re next door to a prison. Moyamensing prison. Built in 1835, torn down about forty years ago. They used to execute people by hanging them in the empty field.”

“Which is where this building was built.” Jo put it together.

I nodded. “Well, then, we’ll need a list. All the people executed here.”

“I’ll see what I can dig up.” I turned my focus back to the laptop.

“I’ll call Ash, see what he can get.”

                                                        ***

“A hundred and fifty seven names?” Sam groaned as we scrolled down the list.

“We’ve gotta narrow this down, or we’ll be digging up graves for the next month.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Yeah.” Sam sighed.

Sam noticed something on the list and tapped my hand. I stopped scrolling and looked up at him.

“What is it, Sams?”

“Herman Webster Mudgett…” He clicked on the name with a frown.

“Yeah?” Jo asked.

“Oh, shit…”

“Wasn’t that H.H. Holmes’s real name?”

“You’ve gotta be fucking me.” Dean came and sat next to us, eyes on the screen.

“Oh my god.” I breathed out as I pulled up a search on him. “He was executed at Moyamensing. May seventh, 1896.”

“H. H. Holmes himself…” Sam sighed. “Come on, I mean… what are the odds?”

“Wait, who is this guy?” Jo’s eyebrows were furrowed.

“The term multi-murderer.” Dean sighed. “They coined it to describe Holmes.”

“He was America’s first serial killer. Before anybody even knew what a serial killer was.”

“Yeah. He confessed to twenty seven murders. They could only confirm nine, some of the people he claimed to have killed were still alive, and the police put the death toll at over two hundred.”

“Oh, and his victim flavor of choice? Pretty petite blondes.” Dean grunted. “He used chloroform to kill em.” He squinted as he began to think. “Which is what I smelled in the hallway last night. At his place, police found human remains, bone fragments, and long locks of bloody blonde hair.”

“Well, Jo.” I hummed. “You sure know how to pick em.”

“We just find the bones, salt them, and burn them. Right?”

I shook my head as I scrolled through the article. “Not that easy. His body is buried across town, but it’s encased in a couple tons of concrete.”

“What? Why?”

“Story goes that he didn’t want anybody mutilating his corpse. Cause… ya know… that’s what he used to do.”

“Guys, we might have an even bigger problem.” Sam noted.

“How does this get bigger?”

“Holmes built an apartment building in Chicago. He called it the Murder Castle. The whole place was a death factory. Trap doors, acid vats, quicklime pits. He built secret chambers inside the walls. He’d lock his victims in, keep them alive for days. Some would suffocate, others would starve to death.”

“Fuck. That means Teresa could be alive.”

Dean sat up straight. “Alright, we need sledgehammers, crowbars. We’ve gotta smash these walls, anywhere thick enough to hide a girl.”

“Okay. How are we doing this?”

“Jo and I will take the top two floors. Olive, I want you with Sam. You two check the bottom floors.”

I sighed. “It’ll be faster if we split up like we did last time. I’m not blonde, chances are he won’t come after me.”

Dean shook his head. “Not taking any chances.” He turned and shared a look with Sam.

Neither said a word, but I knew what was going on.

We protect them, no matter what.

Sam gave the slightly nod.

Of course.

                                                        ***

“Okay. Call us after you finish checking out the southeast wall.”

“Will do, Jo. Be careful.” I hung the phone up and turned to Sam with a heavy sigh. “They haven’t found shit either.”

He sighed and swept the EMF meter over my head. “What if we’re wrong? What if he doesn’t hide his victims in the walls?”

I shrugged. “I dunno, Sams. We’ve only got a little left. If nobody finds anything, we’ll reassess.”

He nodded. “Alright. Come on.”

                                                        ***

I heard the sound of hurried footsteps before I saw anything, and I squared my shoulders, ready to take somebody on. Dean rounded the corner and slammed into my shoulder, sending me stumbling backward into Sam.

“Hey!”

“De?”

He turned back to us, face pale. “He’s got Jo.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t with her.” Dean began to panic. “I left her alone. Damn it!”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Sam tried to calm him. “We’ll find her, alright?”

“Where?” Dean growled.

“Inside the walls, Dean.”

“We’ve been inside the walls all night! None of the other girls were there, she won’t be either!”

“Okay. Come on.” I grabbed his hand and began to tug him toward the stairs.

“What are you doing, Olive? We’ve gotta-”

“Right now, we’ve gotta calm down and reassess the whole situation. Maybe we got something wrong, maybe we missed something. Either way, we won’t find Jo right now, not like this. We need to calm down first. Okay? Let’s go.”

                                                           ***

“Maybe we got Holmes’ MO wrong.” Sam spoke calmly. “We just have to take a beat and think about this.”

Dean was pacing. “Yeah, well, we’d better think fucking fast.”

I sighed. Dean was totally freaked, because he thought this was his fault. No matter how this ended, he was going to blame himself. His phone rang, and he flipped it open.

“Yeah.”

He stopped cold and looked ready to burst into tears. I squinted at him. He put the phone on speaker and set it down on the table.

“You lied to me. She’s there.”

“Ellen-” Dean tried.

“No! Ash told me everything. Man’s a genius, but he folds like a cheap suit. Now you put my damn daughter on the phone.”

“She’s gonna have to call you back, she uh… she’s taking care of some lady business.” Dean gritted his teeth.

“Yeah, right. Where is she?”

The three of us stared at each other, each calculating.

“Where is she!”

“Look, we’ll get her back.” Dean blurted.

Sam and I glared with wide eyes, shocked.

“Get her back? Back from what?”

“Ellen, the spirit we’re hunting, it took her.” He explained.

“Oh my god.”

“She’ll be okay. I promise.” Dean spoke, and it was more than a promise.

This was an oath. He was swearing right now.

“You promise.” She growled. “That is not the first time I’ve heard that from a Winchester.”

“What?” I spoke up, now confused, and angry with her accusatory tone.

Sam knocked my arm and shook his head. I sighed and he nodded me over, pushing his laptop my way. I squinted at the blueprints of the murder castle and sighed.

“If anything happens to her…”

“It won’t. I won’t let it. Ellen, I’m sorry, I really am.”

“I’m taking the first flight out. I’ll be there in a few hours.”

The line cut off, and Dean let out a small string of curses. He turned to us with gleaming eyes.

“Hey.” I caught his attention. “This isn’t on you.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done, don’t beat yourself up.” Sam spoke softly.

“Please tell me you’ve got something.”

“Look, you look at the layout of the Holmes murder castle, there’s all the torture chambers inside the walls, right?”

“Right.”

“But there’s one we haven’t considered yet. The basement.”

What Sam had shown me now clicked.

“This place doesn’t have a basement.”

“No, but there’s an old sewer system that looks like it hasn’t been touched-”

“Let’s go.” Dean cut me off and picked up his car keys.

                                                           ***

Sam swept a metal detector over the street as we walked. Dean had the shovel in his hand, and I had the backpack with our weapons on. Jinx tugged on her leash. If we died down there, she was safer above ground than in a haunted apartment. Sam caught something and looked, beckoning for us to follow. I hooked a finger on Dean’s belt loop as we followed the trail through an alley, and into an empty field. Sam stopped, and the metal detector let out a steady squeal.

“Here.”

Dean went to work, digging faster than I had ever seen. I shared a look with Sam. It took Dean four minutes before he hit metal and dropped to his knees. Sam dug with his good hand, and I went at it with both, feeling dirt crunch its way under my fingernails.

“Come help, girl.” Dean whistled.

Jinx made her way next to Sam and went wild, dirt flying behind her.

“Alright, here.” Dean stopped us and pushed at Jinx once we hit a metal trap door.

I dug through the backpack and handed Sam a shotgun first. He cocked it, and I handed another one to Dean. Sam looked around, making sure there was nobody watching. Dean tied Jinx’s leash to the bar of the door and patted her head. Sam planted a kiss on Jinx’s head before heading down.

“We’ll be back, girl.” I whispered as I fished out the last shotgun.

She whined, and I checked the flashlight before following after the boys.

                                                               ***

I heard Jo, clear as day, trying to scream. I pushed Sam’s foot, and he grunted, getting the message. Dean reached the clearing first and got to his feet, followed by Sam.

“Hey!”

Dean’s voice, and then a gunshot. Another girl screamed.

“Jo!”

“I’m here!”

Dean looked around, scrambling to find something. I spotted a bar of rebar and snatched it up. My teeth cracked in my jaw, and I groaned as I pushed Dean aside. I wedged the bar into the opening of Jo’s compartment with a deep breath.

“Ol-”

“Go help Sam.”

“Are-”

“Go help Sam.” I closed my eyes and took another deep breath.

The boys became background noise, and a low growl resonated in my throat. I balanced myself before turning and gripping the bar. I pulled as hard and fast as I could, and another growl ripped its way past my mouth. Jo squealed as the door popped off.

“Boys!” I shouted, getting their attention so I could hand the bar off.

I helped Jo scramble to her feet with a heavy sigh.

“Okay, are you alright?”

“Been better.” She eyed my fangs, but said nothing about them. “Let’s get out of here before he comes back.”

“Actually, I uh…” Dean turned with a huff as Sam helped Teresa get free. “I don’t think you’re leaving here just yet.”

“What?” Jo’s eyes went wide.

“Remember when we said you being bait was a stupid plan?” I asked, scratching the back of my neck. “Well, right now it’s kinda the only one we’ve got.”

The three of us turned to Sam. He had Teresa in a hug. She was shaking. He gave a pout and a bitchface, and I sighed. Dean shrugged.

Jo sighed. “Fine.”

                                                         ***

Jo sat in the middle of the chamber. She was silent, but she was trembling. She had her arms wrapped around her knees, but was taking deep and steady breaths. I didn’t see Holmes until he materialized behind her. I made a mental note to not rely on these glasses.

Holmes got closer, and closer, until he was standing right behind her.

“Now!” Dean shouted.

I lunged forward to tug Jo to safety as Sam and Dean shot at the walls. Bags of salt unfurled, trapping Holmes in a perfect circle. Jo shook in my arms as Holmes began to pace, screaming in terror and mumbling gibberish.

“Scream all you want, you dick! There’s no way you’re stepping over that salt!” Jo turned and howled.

“Alright. Come on. Let’s go, we’ve gotta get Teresa out of here.” Sam whispered, guiding us out.

                                                           ***

I sat in the grass and scratched Jinx’s chest. She was sitting between me and Sam. He was standing with Jo at the entrance of the sewer, looking down into the darkness.

“So. This job as glamorous as you thought it would be?” Sam teased.

“Well, except for all the pee-your-pants terror, yeah. But the girl’s gonna live a life because of us. It’s worth it.”

“Yeah.” Sam and I agreed. “It is.”

“Hey, what if somebody finds that sewer down there? Or a storm washes the salt away?” Jo pointed out.

Sam grinned. “Both very fine points. Which is why we’re waiting here.”

“For what?”

The beeping of a truck backing up went off, and Sam broke into a smile. I got to my feet and slid into his side as we watched a cement mixer back into the field. Jinx barked, and I handed her off to Sam as I guided Dean.

“For that.”

I beckoned with my hand, and then made a fist. He stopped right over the sewer entrance. Dean hopped out of the cab with a proud smile on his face. He and Sam set up the mixer right over the entrance.

“You ripped off a cement truck?” Jo was astonished.

“We’ll give it back.” I grinned as the cement began to pour.

Dean threw an arm over my shoulders and sighed. “Well, that oughta keep him down there til hell freezes over.”

                                                        ***

I shifted, uncomfortable. Jinx was sprawled over my lap and Sam’s. Her haunches were pressing on my bladder, and I felt like I was gonna pee myself. Dean was in the driver’s seat, and Ellen was next to him, in the passenger seat. Jo was to my left, behind Dean, and Sam was on my other side, behind Ellen. She was staring straight ahead, jaw set. Dean kept glancing her way, looking horrified.

“Boy, you… you really weren’t kidding about flying out, were you?” He chuckled nervously.

She said absolutely nothing, and Dean glanced at me in the rearview. I looked up at Sam, who was also uncomfortable.

“How about we listen to some music?” Dean tried, and flicked the radio on.

Before the first string of lyrics could come on, Ellen turned it back off. Sam and I looked at each other again, and Dean did the same, begging for help. I shrugged, and he sighed.

“This is gonna be a long drive.”

                                                       ***

Ellen had Jo by the shoulder, and the three of us scrambled to follow.

“Ellen? This is my fault. Okay? I lied to you, and I’m sorry. But Jo did good out there, I think her dad would be really proud.”

Ellen turned around with a snarl, and the three of us skidded to a stop.

“Don’t you dare say that. Not you. I need a moment with my daughter. Alone.” She snapped.

I gulped as Sam and Dean exchanged a look over my head. Sam pulled me along as they trailed out of the Roadhouse. We leaned against the car and said nothing. We couldn’t hear them fighting, but we knew it was going to be bad. There was a strangled cry, and the four of us, including Jinx, perked up. Jo stormed out of the Roadhouse, shot Dean a glare, and kept walking.

“That bad, huh?”

“Not right now.” Jo snapped.

“What happened?” Dean tried. “Hey, talk to me.” He reached for her arm.

“Get off me!”

He backed up. “Sorry. I’ll see you around.” He turned back to us with a confused look on his face.

“Dean!” Jo called. “It turns out my dad had a partner on his last hunt. Funny, he usually worked alone… this guy did too, but… I guess my dad trusted him. Mistake. Guy screwed up, got my dad killed.”

“What does this have to do-’

“It was your father, Dean.” Jo hissed.

“What?”

I felt my heart drop, and Sam gasped.

“John got my dad killed.”

Dean talked again, but I couldn’t hear it. I squirmed away from Sam and stormed into the building. I ignored him as he called after me. I slammed a hand down on the bar and leaned forward, catching Ellen’s attention.

“Look.” I started, tears already forming in my eyes, throat aching. “I am so sorry that my father cost your husband his life. I really am. John was everything I never want to be. But my brothers?”

The tears became too many, and they began to stream down my cheeks.

“My brothers are a completely different story. Those boys are nothing like John. Those boys would do anything for anybody. The second time the three of us hunted together, Sam put himself between a wendigo and three innocent people, even though he knew it would only buy them seconds. Dean ran through the tunnels…” My voice broke. “Defenseless. Just to get them out alive.If saving Jo meant putting their own lives down, they would do it. Without hesitation. So I’m really sorry about what my father did. But don’t you ever think, not even for a second, that my boys wouldn’t die to save someone else.”

Ellen blinked, staring at me. I sniffled, wiped my tears, and backed up.

“That’s all I needed you to hear.”

I stumbled out of the building. Sam and Dean were on the porch. Jo was nowhere to be seen. I fell into the boys, shaking. Neither said anything as they held me.

“Let’s go home.”

Previous Ep: Simon Said (2.05)

Previous fic: Olive the Birthday Kid

Next Ep: The Usual Suspects (2.07)

[paullahotes]

Incalescent- Chapter One

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Fem!OC

Summary: Em just wants to be loved and have a family for once in her life. But nothing has ever gone right in her life before so why should it now?

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: some violence and shitty writing

A/N: Listen, I don’t think I’m a good writer so bare with me this could be terrible! Let me know what you guys think of it!

People say the only thing guaranteed in life is death but for me that's a lie. I had only been on this earth for twenty-three years and I knew death would never come for me, at least not a natural one. The only thing guaranteed for me was the all consuming loneliness and disappointment that seemed to only get worse as each year ticked away. 

Sometimes it would hit me that this was my life forever. The thought alone could suck me into a blackhole of despair, my chest tightening and my lungs fighting to get oxygen. I was thankful this never happened in front of anyone, I could always pull myself out of it before I had to explain anything to my dad. 

My father was just as tense as he usually was with his hands gripping the steering wheel, driving us to our new home. I had lost count over the years how many times we moved, it felt like so many that it would be impossible to even count to the number anyway. With every new place we moved came even more distance between us.

Nothing was ever the same, the only thing the same was my father. He hadn’t changed at all since my first memory of him, no wrinkles on his face or grey peeking through his carefully coiffed hair. He was the reason we had to move all the time, he had been doing so for about three hundred years before I made my appearance in the world. After being in the same town for a couple years, people began to question how he never seemed to age, coupling that with the uneasiness people felt around him we always had to move.  

Keeping our secret was the only way to survive in the world. We wanted to be civilized, living in a house, having a job or in my case continuously going to school and hunting animals instead of humans. We had met others like us, more so like him, over the years of us traveling the world and they were practically unhinged. They never seemed to care about human life, their beady red eyes darting around looking ready to drain every last drop of an innocent without a second thought. 

Meeting other vampires were few and far between, thankfully. My father always made sure to sniff out the town, literally, before moving to it. Vampires who had red eyes were very territorial, their hunting grounds not something to mess with. Even with us explaining we didn’t hunt humans they wanted nothing to do with us but it was fine because we didn’t want to deal with them either. It had only happened twice when I was still little and my dad had moved us to a new town right away.

I understood why we had to move all the time, especially lately with how me and my dad looked the same age. There was no way he could pass for more than a few years as my dad and even that was pushing it. I just didn’t understand his intolerance of me, he tried his hardest not to talk too much with me or have a deeper relationship that I had seen other fathers have with their daughters. Years of my life I felt had been wasted trying to get him to do anything fatherly with me, I had never even heard him say ‘I love you’ to me. 

“We’re almost there,” He muttered quietly to me, if I didn’t have vampire hearing I wouldn’t have caught it. I side eyed him and found he was looking at me wearily, his dark golden eyes became emotionless once again after a minute. I pulled my cardigan tighter to my body and crossed my arms, letting out a small huff. As we passed by a sign that said ‘Welcome to Forks’ it began to pour, loud booms of thunder piercing through the otherwise quiet car. Times like this reminded me that I was half human, everytime the weather even became the tiniest bit gloomy I began to get a severe migraine. 

The whole area we were driving through seemed to be nothing but trees. Huge, drooping trees that were being weighed down by the pouring rain. Rain pelted the car, having not once let up since my father had announced that we were close to our destination. Thick moss covered huge boulders that lined the sides of the road. Deer seemed to be in abundance, practically lining the trees just inside the tree line. 

Bright red leaves caught my eye once we pulled down a new street. The only color besides green I had seen for miles. The tree the leaves covered was huge and almost hid the whole house behind it. The tree was semi wrapping itself around a telephone pole. The trees color contrasted heavily with the plain white house behind it and the surrounding greenery. To the left of the massive red tree was an even bigger green one, a few branches so weighed down with water that they were almost touching the ground below. 

“You can stay in the car if you want,” My dad mumbled to me as he shut off the car. He got out and cold wind whipped into the car before he could close the door. I pulled my cardigan tighter to me again and watched him as he walked toward the moving truck I hadn’t seen before. There were two men standing outside of it, soaked from the rain, waiting for him. They exchanged some brief words before opening the back of the truck and climbing on to begin getting stuff out.

I tried to play around on my phone while they moved our stuff into the house but nothing was interesting. Every article was just another reiteration of the same few stories that had gotten big the past week and I had already read into them. This week I knew far too much about some youtuber who had put out toxic makeup, next week would probably be the same. Endless stories about useless things I used to fill any void I felt.

My eyes lifted from my phone to see my father single handedly carrying in a huge recliner as the two movers stared at his retreating back in awe. The two of them exchanged a look and shrugged, silently agreeing neither of them get paid enough to question it. They moved box by box and pillow by pillow and were done in record time. My father was handing them a tip as one of the movers bravely asked how my dad was able to lift things that were so heavy and move so quickly. 

He chuckled lightly and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand nervously. Then he muttered something about having a daughter who didn’t want to move in the first place, so he wanted to get it done as quickly as possible. The two movers looked over to me as I sat in the car and nodded in agreement with my dad as they probably noticed the irritation on my face.

The two movers said goodbye and got into their truck and took off down the road. Each turn of the tires on the truck made a wet, crunching sound as they pulled off onto another street and out of view. A gust of chilly wind flowed through the car when my dad pulled open the driver seat door to reach in and grab his bag. He said nothing to me as got his stuff and the car keys, slamming the door and marching his way into the house. I watched as the door closed behind him with a small clicking sound.

The rain and my headache had lightened up a little bit but they were both still annoyingly there. It seemed that I had spoken too soon because just as I decided to get out of the car and go inside the rain began to pelt the car harder and searing pain shot behind my right eye and to the back of my head. A loud crack of thunder sounded across the sky, shaking the ground slightly and making me wince in pain. Gritting my teeth I got out of the car and ran through the rain to get inside. 

The front door opened to reveal a narrow hallway and a bulky staircase to the right of it. I could see into the living room just to my left from the front door. My dad was already putting together the TV and wifi, kneeling in front of the fireplace mantle that had our tv displayed on it. He was muttering to himself about how technology these days was useless and combing through different wires he had in a box. Even with his advanced senses he had difficulty with today's technology, which didn’t make sense to me because he had been alive for over 300 years and watched as technology progressed.

“Do you need help?” I asked him, setting my bag down on the couch across from him. He shook his head and didn’t bother looking up at me. “I guess I’ll go set up my room a little bit and take a nap, I have a killer migraine.”

“Sure,” he muttered, pulling the wires out of a box and trying to untangle them. I watched him for a minute, waiting for him to maybe say more to me. Or maybe show that he cared even a little bit about me. Watching him became awkward and disappointing quickly so I grabbed my bag and ran up the stairs two at a time. The door at the top of the stairs was open and I could see my stuff all piled around the room, I hadn’t seen the house beforehand so he had just assigned me a room. 

It wasn’t a bad choice on his part, it was the master bedroom with an en suite. When you first walked in the first thing you would see was a huge picture window with a window seat attached to it and a small bookshelf under the seat. To the left was my bed and to the right was a wall covered by a bookshelf and the door to the en suite. 

My mind wandered to all the different things I could do with this room to try and make myself feel at home. I took out some decorative pillows and a couple throw blankets and threw them onto the window seat. The next thing I did was put my bed together, throwing on my favorite blue sheets and quilt set. 

The distraction of arranging my room took my mind off the weather and my headache, during which time both had gone away. Though my mood and the weather were still gloomy it was nothing compared to earlier. 

My body felt heavy as I got some sweats out of one of my clothes boxes and pulled them on. The freshly made bed in front of me had never looked more inviting so I climbed in and wrapped myself in the quilt. I wasn’t one who usually fell asleep quickly but as I yawned and snuggled closer to my pillows I knew it wouldn’t take long today.

I shot awake what felt like two minutes later, sweat beading all over my body. My breathing my heavy and uneven, the quilt I had wrapped up in now at the end of my bed having been kicked away during my dream. It was the same dream I always had when we first moved to a new town, yet I never expected it.

There was a woman, completely and utterly starved. Her eyes were sunken in and surrounded by the deepest black, worse than any black eyes I had ever seen. Her lips were chapped, white pieces flaking off here and there with deep splits in them covered in dried blood. Her hair was the same color as mine except hers looked like it was covered in dust.

The clothes she was wearing were stained in blood, some fresh and some all dried up. Her chest didn’t move up and down with every breath, she was still. There was no sign of life left in her 

Someone was screaming her name in the background, managing to choke it out between sobs. You could hear the endless chant of “Mary, please don’t!’ and “Mary, please stay with me!’ but there was nothing else the person could do, her eyes were blank as they stared ahead. Whoever she was she was gone and not coming back.

I pressed the palms of my hands to my eyes and tried to calm down. The dream felt like a memory, a distant one. This dream came around all the time but I couldn’t place who the woman was, I couldn’t recall that I had ever seen her. A few years back I had even tried looking up what dreams meant but came up short. 

Taking a deep breath I realized my dad was cooking something downstairs, the scent of garlic was now making its way into my room. I didn’t want to think too much of it but he never usually cooked for me since he doesn’t eat. He would go out and hunt his dinner while I stayed home with stolen blood bag and whatever I decided to cook for myself.

I got out of bed and followed the scent down into the kitchen to see my dad leaning on the counter while something was cooking on the stove. He had a small piece of paper in his hand and he was staring at it, a look of grief on his face. He was so distracted by whatever the paper held that he didn’t know I had come downstairs and almost jumped when he saw me. He shoved the paper quickly into his back pocket and went back to the stove.

The only sound in the kitchen was the popping of the food he was cooking. We didn’t say a word to each other as I went to sit at the island in the middle of the kitchen and watched him cook.I had caught him a few times looking at what I assumed to be the same paper, him never telling me what it was. I noticed the piece of paper sticking out of his jeans so I leapt up from the table and trying to go as fast and as quiet as I could I went to grab it. 

My success was short lived because just as I got a hand on whatever it was he had his hand around my wrist stopping me. He had turned around so fast, his senses alerting him to my movement practically before I even decided to do it. That was the trouble with being on half vampire, you were barely half as powerful as a full one.

“Em,” he whispered, with a threatening hint to his voice. I stared at him for a minute, my chest heaving as I decided on what to do. Without hesitation I threw my head forward, every negative thing I had pent up coming out in this moment for no reason. My forehead hit his mouth, hurting me more than him but taking him by surprise. The paper was still pinched between my fingers, his grip loosened on my arm and I spun around looking down at whatever the paper was.

“Mary,” I gasped, recognizing the woman on the paper. She looked much better here, her bright eyes not sunken in and her hair was exactly like mine, shiny with life. She was smiling widely, her nose crinkled as she laughed at whatever the camera hadn’t captured. 

“How do you know her name?” My dad asked gravely from behind he. For some reason his words came out breathless though he had no reason to breathe, he didn’t need to. Slowly I turned around to look at him. My brain was going over every possible answer to who she was, trying not to go to the one I was dreading.

“I-I dream about her sometimes,” I whispered to him. He looked crazed, his eyes wide and darting from my face to the picture in my hand. I looked away from him and down to the picture again. There was no getting around it, this could’ve been a picture of me if I had ever been given the opportunity to laugh.

“Mary’s your mother,” He stated, his voice no longer breathless. He had straightened his posture when I looked back up at him. He was now glaring at me, disgust written all over his face. The woman in the picture that I had been dreaming about for years was my mother? He had never once talked about her. I didn’t even really know the concept of having a mom until he put me in school and I saw that everyone else had one and when I asked him about my mom he always ignored me or told me not to talk about it.

“You’ve never…” I let my sentence trail off. He wouldn’t talk about her with me and yet he kept a picture of her that he looked at all the time. 

“You killed her.” He spat at me and I froze looking at him through the corner of me eye but not directly. He had backed up into the hallway and out of the kitchen. Whatever he had been cooking was now burning and sending smoke through the house.

“No, I-,” I cut myself off, my eyes darting around trying to remember more of the dream. How could I have killed my own mother? She had never been there and I could remember further back than a human could, I could remember practically back to when I was still a tiny newborn. 

“When she was pregnant you sucked the life right out of her,” He explained quietly and when I finally looked up at him with tears spilling down my cheeks he looked like he regretted bringing any of it up. My stomach lurched and my chest tightened thinking of it. I had killed my own mother? 

“I don’t…” I tried to start another sentence but they weren’t forming. Realization rushed at me so fast I almost fell backwards, I ended up stumbling back a couple steps before stopping myself. I suddenly felt this hatred bubbling up inside me, I hated everything about my life before and now I could feel hatred for myself. I shouldn’t exist, a human and a vampire shouldn’t have made a child. A killer.

“Em, I don’t know what else to say,” my dad mumbled suddenly closer to me. He ice cold hands gripping my upper arms. My eyes met his sorrow filled ones and tears continued to pour from mine. 

“I get it now,” I whispered, shrugging out of his grip. I set the picture down on the island before slowly walking toward the door. Everything in my life suddenly made sense and even though I had clarity I felt no better. I felt worse. My dad looked at me as I slid the backdoor open and turned around to gaze into the backyard.

“That’s why you don’t like me,” I said quietly, as I looked toward the sky. It was pitch black out and rain was falling so heavily I don’t know how I didn’t hear it before. The sky lit up as a flash of lightning struck across the sky, followed by thunder so loud it shook the house and even made me stumble a bit. I looked back at him before continuing to speak. “You hate me because I killed her.”

“Em-” I ran out the back door before he could finish. My clothes became soaked almost immediately, sticking to my skin as I ran as fast as I could through the forest. My bare feet went numb from the cold and I couldn’t feel the ground underneath me but I didn’t care, I kept running as fast as I could. 

My mind was reeling as it made sense of everything. My dad not taking an interest in having a relationship with me make complete sense to me now. He hated me for killing the woman he loved even though I didn’t do it on purpose, I never would. I was half vampire but I couldn’t bring myself to kill a fly, let alone my own mother. 

I heard a loud scream and was startled before I realized it was me. While I ran my body vibrated with anger, nature seemed to agree with me as lightning started to strike more frequently and closer. This was going to be my eternity, wandering the world by my dads side while he hated me.  I let out another scream before I could even stop myself. A loud crack of thunder shook the ground I was running on at the same time. 

Ahead of me was a river so I tensed my body and made my legs push me off the ground as hard as I could. I flew through the air and just as I was about to land on the other side a big mass of fur came out of nowhere and knocked me backwards into the rocky river. As the mass knocked into me I had felt something sharp pierce my right calf. My body turned as I fell and slammed into jagged rocks. My whole right side getting scraped up and my head hitting hard. My breath hitched in my throat as the pain coursed through my body.

I rolled off the rock and into the water, it wasn’t deep but if I laid my head back too much it would be completely submerged. A sob loudly broke from my chest as I used my left arm to try and pull myself up. I couldn't stop my crying but something had just attacked me and I wasn’t going to die this way. My right leg was ready to give out from under me, a huge bite mark was present, most of my pant leg torn away. As I stood and blinked my eyes to clear my vision the huge mass of fur was making its way toward me. I stood completely still, frozen to my spot as I realized what it was.

A huge wolf, at least 5 times the size of a regular wolf was stalking toward me. His silver/grey fur gleamed in the moonlight. I dared a glance up at the sky, the clouds were parting letting the moon peek out. When had it stopped raining? 

“Go ahead and kill me, that’s I deserve,” I sobbed out. There was no way this wolf understood me but he was going to kill me anyway so I might as well make it therapeutic for myself. “I shouldn’t even be alive, I killed my own mother. I deserve to be torn apart, my father would love it.”

The wolf stopped walking toward me and cocked its head to the side. The wolf looked to be examining me, his eyes roaming my body and stopping to look at each gash on my right side. When our eyes locked I could’ve gasped, they looked human. The raw emotion coming from them was unbelievable. He looked as if he was in awe as we stared at each other. Underneath the awe was complete sadness, like he understood what I had been saying.

I didn’t want to risk moving and startling the wolf so I stayed as still as I could but my legs were beginning to shake, ready to give out from how much pain I was in. I could feel the blood dripping down my face, neck and arms from all the gashes I had sustained slamming into the rock. My right arm couldn’t move, whether it was broken or just knocked out of the socket I didn’t know and I didn’t think I’d find out since the wolf in front of me was probably planning on having me for dinner.

After a minute my legs gave out and I collapsed to my knees, clutching my right arm as I went. Hot, fat tears rolled down my cheeks knowing the wolf took this as a surrender and was probably gearing up to eat. When I caught his gaze again there was even more emotion than before, he looked undeniably upset. Sadness and anger all mixed into one. He took several steps back and let out the loudest howl I had ever heard and ran up the rocky cliff and disappeared into the woods. 

My whole body relaxed when he was gone from view but that was short lived because the pain I was feeling before was nothing compared to what I was feeling now. Struggling through the pain I began to inch forward, using my left arm to pull me up the rocky embankment. Before I was even halfway up I heard someone coming down, it wasn’t a wolf this time. Warm arms wrapped themselves around my body and pulled me up gently.

“Are you okay?” The person carrying me asked. My eyes were closed as pain coursed through my body. I would heal quicker than a human but I couldn’t escape the pain. I nodded in response to the stranger and let my body relax in their arms. He was warmer than most humans I had met, the warmth strangely comforting as he walked through the woods.

“We should get out of here quickly,” I mumbled, sounding very tired. “There was a really big wolf and it’ll probably come back for us.”

He chuckled, his chest rumbling against my body. “We’ll be fine.”

Despite knowing better I kept going in and out of consciousness. My eyes not opening even once to look at the man helping me. My mind not even questioning how he was so strong and warm or how he was able to navigate the pitch black woods as a human without enhanced vision. 

Before long I regained consciousness a little and felt myself be laid down on something soft, I could hear voices around me talking but wasn’t aware enough to decipher words yet. I felt a warm, wet cloth on my feet, someone was washing them very gently and muttering something as they did. Before long the cloth was on my face and neck, cleaning up the blood that had probably caked my skin.

“She’s healing really fast,” A voice murmured to someone, different than the voice of the man who had carried me to wherever I was. I felt small, warm fingers prodding the skin of my arm and shoulder. “The injuries she sustained from hitting the rock are practically gone. The bite mark you gave her isn’t though.”

“Maybe she’s a wolf too since her healing is incredibly fast,” the voice was female and very beautiful. The words flowing out of her mouth like a song. I was comforted by the fact that it was a woman cleaning me up and not another man.

“She looked scared when she saw me. If she was a wolf she would’ve phased to protect herself,” another voice said, the same one of the man who carried me here. There was a murmur of agreement between the three voices. The man who carried me here sounded like he was saying that he was a wolf and that would explain the emotion in the wolf's eyes but that wouldn’t explain his existence. But who was I to say anything when my father was a vampire and I was half.

“We’ve dealt with vampires and werewolves before, who’s to say there aren’t more supernatural beings out there? When she wakes up we can ask her but until then she needs her rest, she’s been through a lot.” The female voice was back, taking control of the situation. Her small hands stopped examining my wounds and left my body to be replaced with a blanket.

I wanted to open my eyes and start explaining myself to them and thank them for helping me but I was beginning to drift off again. It took my body a lot of energy to heal, sleeping it off was always my best bet. Before I could even begin to argue with myself that this might not be the safest option I was asleep. 

My senses were in overdrive as I came too a while later. I wasn’t even fully awake, my eyes cracked open just slightly as I leapt off of the couch. My feet hit the floor and a shooting pain went through my right calf and up my body, almost making me fall. I was breathing hard as I tried to concentrate and gather my senses.

Three people were standing around the room, the two closest to me were men and the one furthest sitting at the kitchen table was a woman with violent red scars down her face. The woman had a sad expression on her face as she looked at me, my face pinched up in pain from my leg wound that oddly hadn’t fully healed yet. One of the men mirrored her face, his eyes were sad and somehow he was still the most handsome guy I had ever seen. The man next to him was tense and watching me with weary eyes, he was standing in a defensive position with his hands up as a warning for me to calm down.

“Take it easy,” the defensive man said, trying to relax his position a little so I would feel at ease. It didn’t work, my human side and my vampire side were fighting over what to do. The vampire in me needed to be on defense, ready to fight anything that came my way. The human part of me wanted to surrender because these people had helped me and clearly were not an enemy.

“I’m Paul,” the handsome man stated, taking a step toward me. He gestured to the man next to him as he got closer to me, “That’s Sam and the woman over there is his fiancee, Emily. She’s the one who cleaned you all up and gave you fresh clothes.”

“I’m Em,” I murmured looking around at all of them trying to get my body to recognize that there wasn’t a threat. Paul stepped closer to me, arms reaching out and wrapping one of them around me. I let my legs give out from under me and he easily scooped me up and placed me back on the couch. 

“What are you?” Sam asked finally relaxing and sitting on the coffee table that was just in front of the couch. Emily walked over from the kitchen to join him and I looked around at all three of them. All eyes were on me as they got right to the point, their eyes filled with curiosity. 

“You guys waste no time,” I mumbled, wondering if I should tell them anything. My mind flashed back to before when I was laying down on the couch half awake listening to what they were saying, how Paul insinuated that he was the wolf in the woods that attacked me. “Maybe I should be asking you the same thing.”

“Have you heard the Quileute legends?” Paul asked from beside me. I looked over at him, his eyes already on me. His eyes were the exact same ones the wolf had, both filled with a look of awe as they searched my face waiting for me to answer.

“No, I’m not familiar with anything from this area. Or any area really,” I mumbled the ending quietly, the three of them all exchanging glances. 

“We aren’t going to bombard you with too much at once. Our ancestors, going back for a long time, have been able to shapeshift into wolves.” Sam started to explain, his eyes darting toward Paul who had grown tense next to me. The heat radiating off of him was unbelievable, it was like sitting directly next to a heater.

“So which one of you attacked me in the woods?” I asked looking between the two men. I excluded Emily because judging by the scar on her face she wasn’t a shifter, just someone who had been attacked by one. They had also mentioned earlier that they thought I could be a wolf from my fast healing so the scar on her face was also an indication she wasn’t one of them.

“I did,” Paul said from behind me confirming his story from earlier. When I looked over at him he looked ashamed of himself, like he was ready to jump under a bus from how much he regretted it. I felt the sudden urge to comfort him, the stranger who had attacked me in the woods, I almost laughed from how stupid I felt over it.

“He thought you were a vampire from how fast you were running,” Emily interjected, placing a hand on my knee. My dad, bile rose in my throat as I thought of him, has always been very clear about sharing our secret but I felt safe here and I doubted that they were going to just let me go without answering them. The way they had taken care of me made me think that maybe they could be friends. Maybe they could finally give me what I had been missing my whole life. 

“Well, you’d be half right,” I told them. They all exchanged looks again and Sam leaned back running his hands along his thighs as he spoke. He seemed very unsure of how he was going to say what he seemed to need to to me.

“We have a treaty with some other vampires who used to live here, the Cullens,” he paused and looked at me waiting to see if I recognized them. The way he said ‘The Cullens’ made them sound like a bigger coven than I had ever been used to but he said they were gone now so I didn’t have to worry about a fight over territory. When I didn’t show any signs of knowing them, he continued. “Vampires aren’t allowed on our land, it’s a rule we have to protect our families.”

“Oh,” I whispered suddenly disappointed. The part of me that had let myself get comfortable in their presence was now tense and remembered how my life usually went. To stay alive and inconspicuous I had to hide myself away, only doing necessary things to blend into the town and not be spotted.  

“Maybe if we knew more about you we could let you and only you, come back here sometime,” Emily offered up, looking over at Sam hopefully. Sam was staring at Paul and paying no attention to anyone else. Paul also had the same hopeful look that Emily did as he stared back at Sam. 

“What do you want to know?” I asked them sitting up straighter and waiting for the real interrogation to begin. It seemed to be two against one with Paul and Emily against Sam, who was clearly a leader of some sort to them.

“Are you alone? Do you have like a mate or whatever vampires call their boyfriends?” Paul asked from beside me. That was not the opening question I was expecting. He looked hopeful while I probably looked dumbfounded at the first question, not having expected it.

“Uh, no I don’t have a ‘mate’ but I just moved here with my father who’s a full vampire not just half,” I told them and Sam tensed, his eyes going between Emily and Paul. They all looked nervous and like I just made them think of a million more questions. 

“How does that even work? Being half a vampire, we’ve never experienced that and our legends don’t speak of vampires being on ‘half’,” Sam asked, no one else had wanted to continue. I bit my lip unsure of how to continue too. I hadn’t really known either until a few hours ago and the truth was shocking and not something I want to tell strangers about myself. Especially when they had taken care of me.

“I didn’t know until a few hours ago either, I never questioned it and my dad doesn’t really speak to me so I know next to nothing,” I started, gauging their expressions again. Next to me I could feel Paul staring at me and when I looked at him he was looking at me like I could never tell him anything that would make him not like me. The intensity of his look, we were total strangers so it didn’t make sense for him to look at me like this, knocked the breath out of me.

“Continue,” Sam instructed, breaking me away from Pauls gaze. I felt myself frown a little going over every way I could answer them without telling them the complete, horrible truth. 

“My vampire father had sex with my human mother and she got pregnant,” I relented shrugging my shoulders and looking around at them. “I don’t know much about vampires or humans really so I don’t really know how any of it works.”

“Where’s your mom now?” Emily asked, making my eyes almost bulge out of my head. How could I even go about explaining this?

“I really don’t know, my dad never talks about anything with me let alone my mom,” I replied sounding casual, to me it sounded too casual. They all seem to be satisfied with my answer, as none of them looked like they were still questioning me.

“This is something we’ve never heard of,” Sam muttered and mumbled under his breath about the legends.  

“I thought vampires couldn’t have children,” Emily mentioned sounding puzzled. “Their bodies don’t change, they’re frozen in time.”

“My father only ever told me what I absolutely needed to know about vampires, stay away from the ones with red eyes and hunt inconspicuously. This is all I know,” I said sounding a little defensive. 

“Your father doesn’t have red eyes?” Sam asked, a very little bit of relief present in his face. 

“His eyes are golden, sometimes black depending on when the last time he hunted was,” Sam nodded at me, seeming to believe what I was saying. Next to me Paul scooted closer to me, our knees touching. 

“Do you know anything about a red headed vampire? She’s been coming through Forks and La Push for a while now, she’s after one of our friends,” Paul asked and I shook my head, I had met a red headed vampire a few years back but she wasn’t alone.

“I’ve only met a few other vampires, one of them was red headed but I doubt its her because she was part of a small coven with her mate and a friend they picked up along the way,” I answered them, if it was her they were in trouble. When I met her, Victoria, she had been with her mate James and their newest addition, Laurent. James was the most lethal tracker in the world according to my dad and it had been surprising to him that they left me alone. 

“Was her name, Victoria?” Paul asked shifting beside me and grabbing my shoulders to bring me out of my thoughts. I looked up at him in surprise, my mouth opening but no words coming out. Paul looked worried and cast a look over at Sam who was standing now, looking out a window into the early morning light. I had been here for longer than I thought, it was almost time for my first day of school.

“I’m guessing you’ve met her,” Sam stated not bothering to really ask or look back at me. I shrugged out of Paul’s grip and got up and went over to him. 

“I have never met anyone who has ever made me as uneasy as Victoria and James did, they are absolutely lethal. James is a tracker, once he ‘tastes’ your mind he can find you anywhere, he does not give up,” I said looking around the room, mainly toward Emily. Paul and Sam had some advantage over the vampires but Emily was defenseless. “Victoria I would say is even worse, she can’t be caught. Some vampires have gifts like James does, I know that much about them, somehow Victoria has the gift of self preservation or that’s what my dad heard over the years.”

“The friend she’s after was friendly with the Cullens. James tried to kill her so the Cullens killed him and now Victoria wants revenge,” Paul explained coming over to us. I relaxed a little hearing that James was dead but Victoria alone could be deadly.

“We haven’t picked up her scent in a little while though,” Sam said eyeing me. Next to him Paul tensed up at the look Sam was giving me. “It’s good to have some information on her though, now we can be more vigilant if she shows up.”

“I can always help,” I offered, the look on Paul’s face making it clear he didn’t want me to help but Sam looked surprised. “I only have school, my first day starts soon so I should be getting to that so I look normal or whatever but I can come back...if you want.”

“You’d help us kill one of your own?” Sam asked sounding intrigued. 

“She’s not one of my own, I don’t really have anyone. I guess my dad counts as my own but I probably would fight him too if it was to save innocent people,” I explained, practically wincing when I mentioned my dad. My brain was trying desperately to suppress the events that had taken place back at my house and focus solely on this. 

“You should come back but I wouldn’t want you getting hurt helping us,” Paul replied quickly. My face flushed when he said it was him that didn’t want me to get hurt. There was something about Paul that I liked but I couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

“You can come back but let your father know he isn’t welcome on our land,” Sam told me, he didn’t wait for me to say anything else or leave. He disappeared to a room just off the kitchen, the door slamming shut so loudly that even I flinched. 

“He’ll come around,” Emily assured me but looked over at Paul, more so assuring him. The last few hours had been a lot of information to take in and I was too overwhelmed to question anything more about Paul. Emily was moving around the kitchen quickly grabbing stuff and putting it into a paper bag. 

“Can I walk you home?” Paul asked, taking my attention away from Emily. 

“You can, you’ll just have to leave before we get too close to my house. My dad doesn’t like me talking to anyone unless it is absolutely necessary,” He frowned when I said it but quickly pushed that thought out of his mind.

“Here you go, some breakfast and lunch since we kept you so long and you’re running late for your first day,” Emily handed me the paper bag she had been filling. She had a wide, cheerful smile on her face as she waved Paul and I off.

My heart hammered in my chest at all the possibilities of my new home. In a matter of hours of being here I learned so much, way more than my dad had ever wanted me to know. I felt like I was going to be able to finally become independent from him and able to set my own course in life. I didn’t know what the end result would look like but I knew it was happening.

Tagged:

@angelenemies @twilightxcx

[snarkwrites]

FFT: a visit from the sugarplum fairy; daryl dixon

Notes:

So this kinda.. turned weird. Like a vision / dream type thing in some parts. Pretty sure this would fall in either the timeline where Daryl and Evie arrive at quarry camp married or in their non apocalypse au, maybe both. Anyway, here tis.

Summary:

Daryl has an accident while hunting, that leads to a vision. That kind of comes true to an extent when years later, he meets Evie at a bar his brother Merle frequents and they wind up dating..

Warnings:

uhh, supernatural element - visions, injury mention, vague hints of Shane past and fluff.

Pairing:

Daryl Dixon x OFC, Evie

Everything went black and for a few seconds, Daryl Dixon found himself sort of just lingering, floating somewhere between conscious and unconscious. As he slipped between the two, everything around him outside of his mind carried on.

Daryl shielded his eyes at the blinding pure white light. “What th’ fuckin hell?” he muttered. His stomach churned. He couldn’t be dead. The anger bubbled forth, he was supposed to go out fighting, not be thrown from a damn horse. He was too young to die.

He didn’t particularly want to, either.

Maybe that’s why he called out, “Hey, yo, JC.. There’s a mistake, man. I ain’t dyin today. Not like this. Me n Merle, we’re gonna start our own garage when he gets outta th’ pen.”

His voice echoed.

The light seemed to flicker and pulsate and laughter bubbled out from within. Daryl’s brow raised and he stepped forward, hand raised. Into the light he went, despite everything in him knowing it might not be a good idea.

The lanky 16 year old stood there, watching a leggy blonde move around a kitchen, a little boy who looked like he did when he was a younger kid hot on her heels.

“Momma?”

“Yeah, Daryl?”

For a minute, Daryl thought he was seeing what could’ve been. What life might have been like if his mother bothered to sober up and his daddy was outta the picture. If she hadn’t nearly lit the whole damn house on fire and burned to death in her sleep because of her one last cigarette.

But things were… Off.

The house was too clean. There were things inside it that Daryl had only seen on commericals prior to that point. And his momma wasn’t blonde. She had light brown hair like his. The leggy blonde standing in front of the stove at the moment looked like she’d been ripped out of one of his wildest dreams.

He found himself drawn to her, unable to stop himself from moving closer.

The little boy spoke up again.

“When daddy gets home, think he’ll take me out to shoot my new bow?”

Daryl’s mouth curved upward in a smile and he chuckled. He noticed the calendar and he gaped at the date “December 21st 2009”, blinking and rubbing his eyes.

The little girl with her momma’s blonde hair raced into the room, genuinely excited. Like someone had given her all the dolls in the world, a fairy wing flapping crooked and dirty bare feet.

“Momma! Daddy’s motorcycle’s comin! I’ll get him a plate. I bet he’s real hungry.”

The blonde knelt down to the little girl “It is, huh, praline? Well then, I guess you better go get those hands washed. You let Momma worry about the table, m’kay?” and then she turned to the slightly older child. “You too, son. And I mean wash those hands. Don’t just go in and run water.”

“Momma, c’mon. My hands ain’t dirty.” the boy argued, pouting when his mother gave a firm shake of her head and pointed down the hallway. Daryl’s eyes followed her finger’s direction and he turned his attention back to the blonde and the boy, swallowing hard, waiting. Suddenly, he felt like he was standing on pins and needles. Hot ones at that. Her next words had him nearly choking.

“Daryl Jr, you get to that bathroom and wash those hands, sir.”

The boy slunk away, muttering to himself and making Daryl laugh as he observed it. And then, the strangest thing happened.

The little girl looked dead at him and took off at a run towards his denim clad legs, hugging them. Hazel eyes darted around the room and she motioned for Daryl to bend down, whispering into his ear in a rush, “We don’t have much time.. But I know who you are. And you’re not supposed ta be here, you’re supposed to grow up big and meet momma.”

Daryl swallowed hard as the reality of what was happening hit him like a speeding car. “That’s… I’m… We’re married?” he scoffed about it, a little more than shocked. For one thing, he didn’t really see himself married. For another, he didn’t see someone like her, marrying him.

… ain’t no way a woman like her gon’ marry trash like me… she looks like a fuckin angel… the thought came and Daryl found himself just staring at the blonde, watching the way she laughed, hugging what were apparently their kids. He looked from little girl to little girl and scratched his head, confused. She was there, and yet she stood right in front of him also.

… I gotta be dead, there ain’t no other explanation…

The little girl cleared her throat, making Daryl look at her again. “You gotta remember the name Evie. Cos that’s my momma and she loves you. You love her too.You gotta protect each other, okay? Promise me. Keep her away from a man named Shane.”

The little girl hugged him and Daryl, despite his not being a very affectionate guy, hugged the little girl back.  He couldn’t be the same man his own father had been, refusing to show any form of affection to his own kid.

As the scene around him began to fade away and the little girl began to fade, he asked her one more thing. “What if she don’t want the likes of me?”

“She will. Please, you… have to believe me…” the girl was gone, leaving Daryl standing alone in the darkness to puzzle over what he’d just witnessed.

“Hey, kid! Yo! You alive?” the voice kept repeating, poking and prodding. Daryl shrank away, throwing his arms up as a defense before finally opening his eyes and sitting up. He eyed the other teenage boy suspiciously, there was just something totally off about the guy, from the way he stared down at Daryl like he thought he was better or something to the way he held the hunting rifle over his shoulder.

“Shane, is he good? We need to get my daddy out here?” Another teenage male called from the distance.

The name that the little girl had given him came rushing back and Daryl sprang up to his feet, glaring up at the taller teenager. “ I’m good. Don’t need no goddamn help. From either of y’. Fuck off cos yer scarin off th’ deer I was chasin.”

Shane scoffed at the lanky kid, squaring up and Rick grumbled, moving to step between the two, fixing his gaze on his best friend. “Hey, Shane. Calm the hell down, buddy. Let’s just go… Leave this kid to it. He’s obviously fine, despite us findin’ him on the forest floor.”

Shane glared at Daryl and Daryl glared right back.

As the two teenagers wandered off, Daryl stood there scratching at his head, trying to process, remembering what the little girl dressed as a sugarplum fairy from his dream said in vivid detail.

He shook his head and turned away, taking the opposite direction in the forest, heading back for home…

That whole thing had to be a coincidence. Or a concussion, Daryl thought solemnly as he shook his head and wandered through the door of his father’s old trailer.

XXX

Evie eyed the biker bar and took a deep breath, steeling herself. The biggest step to being independent, to standing on her own two feet was a job. And she needed money. Shivering in the December wind, she made her way inside the bar, trying her best not to stare at any of the men present for too long as she made her way to the back, behind the bar.

One of them, a regular named Merle called out, “Hey! Sugartits! Give daddy a beer, yeah?”

“Dixon, I have a name.” one of the female bartenders called out with an annoyed look at the man. Evie tapped the bartender who’d just spoken on the shoulder.

“Hey, I’m… I’m real sorry to bother but I was supposed to be interviewin for a job?”

The brunette eyed her up and down and smirked, shoving a uniform at her. “You’ve got it, congratulations. Go on back and change, darlin because it’s about to get real hectic out here.”

Before Evie could ask where she needed to go, the brunette bartender had turned away and was pouring a round of shots for a local branch of Hell’s Angels, leaving Evie to her own devices. She hurried towards the general direction the other woman had bothered pointing in and in the process, she collided with a man wearing a sleeveless plaid shirt.

“Shit. I’m.. I’m sorry.” she stammered as the man turned, swearing and on the verge of snarling. Something in his eyes changed and he steadied her, staring at her a few long seconds, almost as if he’d seen a ghost.

“You new round these parts, hon?” the man asked and Evie managed to pull herself out of the depths of his eyes to nod. “I am, yeah.. Tonight’s my first night.”

He chuckled and my god, the sound. Deep and husky. Evie bit her lip and tried to focus anywhere but on his lips. But that lead her eyes straight to his biceps. She felt her cheeks heating up and she cleared her throat. “I don’t suppose you could tell me where a girl needs to go change, right?”

“Ladies room is down ‘at hall and to yer left.” the man stepped a little closer, almost as if to shield her when the group he was shooting pool with started to make little comments. He leaned in a little. “Ignore these fuckin assholes. I’ll keep my brother outta yer hair, he’s always had a thing for blondes and he’s the biggest asshole of us all.”

Evie could only nod… and of course stare like a complete idiot.

“Daryl, it’s yer shot, brother.” Merle staggered over, eyeing the blonde up and down and smirking as soon as he bothered to make eye contact. Evie gulped, backing further away from Merle and as a result, closer to Daryl.

“Merle, go on. Leave ‘er alone. Poor kid’s nervous enough without you runnin ‘er off.”

“What’s yer name, sugartits?”

“It’s Evie. Evie Grimes.”

“You new in town? I never seen you round these parts before.” Merle was inching closer. Daryl’s fists clenched at his side and his jaw tightened. “Goddamn it, Merle.”

“Shoot yer shot, brother.”

“Ain’t shootin shit til ya leave ‘er alone.” Daryl stood up straighter, eye level with his older brother and Merle chuckled, glancing from his brother to the blonde with the killer curves. “I see how it is. Well then, I’ll leave y’all to it.”

Evie let out a ragged breath and Daryl told her in a firm tone, “Best get movin, darlin. He’ll come back in about five seconds, he’s fuckin dumb like that.”

As Evie walked away, vanishing into the women’s room in back, Daryl let out a breath he’d been holding as a December afternoon years ago came flooding back. A dream about a little blonde girl in a sugarplum fairy costume her momma made for her and what she’d told Daryl during that dream.

He scoffed about it, chuckling to himself as he turned his attention back to the pool table.

It was just a coincidence, that was all.. It had to be.

XXX

Shane sat on the couch in his living room, watching the ball drop for New Years. The six pack he’d bought on his way in was long finished and the half a bottle of Jameson was on it’s way to being gone and all he wanted to do was drive to Atlanta and find her.

She had to miss him.

He missed her so much sometimes he almost couldn’t breathe.

… but it was yer own fault, you let ‘er go… you let ‘er think there wasn’t no future for y’all…

He stood and pocketed his keys. Maybe a drive would help clear his head. As he rode backroads and sobered up, all he kept thinking about was Evie and what she was doing in Atlanta. How much he missed her and how badly he messed it all up.

As he got closer to the interstate, rather than turning around and going back home, he kept going. By 2 am, he was sitting in the parking lot of the apartment complex she lived in. He saw a motorcycle zip past, stopping in front of her building. Evie got off the back of it, and Shane felt his stomach sink.

“Well. There went that, reckon.” he mumbled to himself, even though every part of him wanted to say something, let her know he was there and he was sorry.

The urge to do so took hold and before he could stop himself, he was getting out of his Bronco, hurrying towards the two.

“Hey! Evie, darlin.” he called out.

Evie tensed and bit her lip, eyes flitting between Daryl, who she’d just had a nice time with and considered a friend to Shane… Her ex. The one she’d hoped would be her happy ending. She sighed when she saw the look in his eyes because she knew then and there that Shane was only there to be all hot headed and cause chaos.

If he said he was sorry for anything, he wasn’t going to mean it. He hadn’t learned, hadn’t changed a damn thing.. And meeting Daryl had been a real eye opener for her in that she’d started to realize there were several varying degrees of love and sometimes, once you leave something behind in the past, it was best if it just stayed in the past.

“Shane, don’t. You need to leave.”

“I drove all a’ this way to see you, darlin.”

Daryl looked from Evie to the familiar looking dark haired man and the man glared right back at him before turning his attention back to Evie. “C’mon, hon.. Come home. You won’t have to do nothin, okay? I just… I need you.”

Evie swallowed hard. She’d been putting off driving that final nail in the coffin for a while now, but she was starting to see that the longer she just didn’t say anything about their relationship either way, the longer Shane would hold onto hope.

….just like he let you do for so long…. The thought came to her and she tilted her head, looking up at him. “We’re over, Shane. I can’t go back there with you and just pretend you won’t change your mind about us… About me… Every single time something better comes along. I’m not gonna spend my life waitin on you to grow up.”

“Evie, it ain’t like that.” Shane reached out for her and Daryl stood, moving closer, glaring at him as he stood taller and made it a point to put Evie behind him. He didn’t like the look of desperation in the man’s eyes. “She said it’s over. Have some fuckin respect for yerself and git.”

Shane eyed him dismissively. “Who the fuck are you?”

Daryl chuckled, “Gonna be yer worst fuckin nightmare if y’ don’t git gone like Evie here wants y’ to do.” as he stepped even more in front of Evie. He wasn’t sure why but something in the guy’s demeanor felt a little off. He could smell the alcohol on the guy and it made him think back to all the times his dad got out of the way with his mother just because he was drinking and she happened to be there. Evie was a close friend -and maybe he felt a little something more, so he wasn’t about to let her get hurt.

Evie looked from man to man and after a few seconds, she leaned against Daryl’s back and answered the question Shane asked.

“Daryl is my boyfriend, okay? Now will you please just go? Don’t keep at this, Shane. I’ve made up my mind.”

Shane felt like he’d been punched in the gut and he glanced at Evie, who was mostly hidden from his view by the other guy. “Darlin..”

“Go.”

“Get goin, man. She said she don’t want you startin nothin.” Daryl tensed, senses going into high alert as he squared up, ready and anticipating a fight.

Shane looked at them and shook his head, walking back towards his Bronco. “You get tired of playin house with that fuckin guy, just come home. I’ll be waitin.” - and even as he said it, he got this strong feeling that Evie wouldn’t be coming back to him. He got into the Bronco and drove away, the shock wearing off about halfway back to King County and becoming this overwhelming numbness instead.. Like someone who’d just lost a limb and wasn’t used to it yet.

He felt emptier now.

If he had to be alone, so be it. He’d go it alone. Because if he couldn’t have her back, he didn’t honestly want anyone.

Daryl turned to face Evie, staring down at her as he chuckled. “Yer man, huh? That really all you could come up with, darlin?”

Evie swallowed hard, her heart about to beat right out of her chest. Before she could stop herself, it was all pouring out. She stepped closer, her arms going around his neck as she pulled him down to her level, mumbling into his mouth, “Maybe that’s all I wanted to come up with, Daryl. What’s so wrong with that, huh?”

Daryl’s hands slowly moved down from her hips to her ass, fingertips digging into her jeans as he pulled her even closer, bringing her mouth into the kiss deeper answering quietly, “Nothin, darlin. Nothin at all. Just shocked I guess.”

“Happy New Year, Daryl.”

“Happy New Year, darlin.”

After a few more lingering kisses, Daryl nodded towards her apartment building and gave a smirk. “Wouldn’t be yer man if I didn’t walk y’ up.” he held out his arm to her and Evie slipped her arm through his, smiling up at him. “You still wanna go ridin again tomorrow? I really like ridin the motorcycle with you.”

“Anytime you wanna, hon.” Daryl answered, giving her a teasing wink as they walked up the stairs leading to her floor…

[blog-sliverofjade]

Hearth Fires 13: Briefing

Pairing: Remi Denier x OFC

Summary:  Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.

Remi Denier doesn’t know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it’s from herself.

While they’re embroiled in a battle of wills, there’s a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.

Word count: 2128

Hearth Fires Masterlist

Beta read by the magnificent @pandabearer​

A harsh reputation can be the first line of defense.

      -Hawke Snow, alpha of SnowDancer

      Briefing the sentinels on the meeting with Sheriff Shaw was like chewing glass.  The violence simmering under his skin was nearly at the combustion point by the time he was done.  The darkness was taking over, a maelstrom churning in his gut because the strength that came with the frenzy was dangerously tantalizing.  More than most alphas, he knew that strength could harm those it was meant to protect.

      Good alphas maintained order with a balance of heart and harsh discipline.  Without that balance, packs didn’t last long.  The pack haemorrhaged members left and right until only unmated dominants, mostly males, remained.  The subsequent battles for dominance tore the remnants apart.

      He would never hurt their most vulnerable, even if that meant abdicating as alpha.  Both thoughts were abhorrent.  While it would be equivalent to cutting off a limb, he would do it in a heartbeat to protect them from himself should it come to that.

      There hadn’t been time for Remi to take a hard run, which was the only way he could vent the brutality that had been bred into his very bones.  A good, hard fight would be better, but not even his sentinels could withstand the full brunt of Remi’s wrath.  Perhaps later he’d see if Aden was available, the Arrow could take whatever Remi dished out and serve it back with interest.

      Taking a deep breath to cleanse the caustic memories, he clamped down on every vicious tendency with the unbending will that made him alpha and continued.

      “Lark, I want you to negotiate an alliance with StormWillow, see if they’re willing to trade intel.”  Information from an aerial perspective would be invaluable, and RainFire’s network on the ground was stronger than theirs.

      There was already an agreement in place to respect borders- they didn’t fly over RainFire lands, and the cats stayed out of raven territory- but nothing more formal than that.  When things hit the fan, the changelings looked to the predators for protection, and if his gut was right, it was best to start building on that foundation now.

      “Are you picking on me because of my name?”  She narrowed her eyes at him, not realizing he wasn’t in the mood for teasing.

      “Don’t crows eat songbirds, like larks?” Elijah quipped with a waggle of his eyebrows.

      A low growl was the only warning she gave before launching herself across the table at the other sentinel.  They fell to the floor while the others provided a laugh track for the scuffle, some helpfully calling out advice.

      “Hey!” Remi barked and dropped his control for a split second, allowing his power to lash across them all like a whip.  All heads snapped to target on him, the hooligans freezing where they were on the floor.  More than one face went ashen.

      “We’ve got a compromised area on the eastern border, a submissive in recovery from a vicious beating, increasing hostility from Enforcement, and you two think now’s a good time to fuck around?  Can you look Stian in the eye and tell him a little grab ass was more important than protecting the pack?”

      All eyes dropped from him in shame.  He let them stew in their mortification.  Yeah, he could be a bastard, but that was part of the job description.  This was his first true test as an alpha.  If they- if he- wasn’t up to the challenge, word would spread like fire through drought-parched grass.  Other predators would pick them off like wounded deer from a herd.

      “Out,” he snarled.

      After quickly putting the room to rights, they filed out without meeting his furious gaze.  Theo was the last one to leave and paused by Remi.

      “The restlessness is starting to affect more than just the juveniles.”  Without an alpha’s calming presence, teenagers could get aggressive and he sure as shit hadn’t had the internal calm required to maintain order.

      The darkness raised its head at the perceived criticism.  It wanted to rend and maim the offending party.  Fortunately, Theo didn’t wait for a response and made his exit.  Once he was gone, the malevolence settled again.

      The sudden ebb and flow of his ire had him worried he'd inherited the madness after all. Leaning forward to brace his hands on the table, Remi took a steadying breath, though his muscles remained tense as ever. Perhaps it would be best to give Aden a call sooner than later, before he did something he couldn't take back.

      Lorel fussed with the plate one last time; no matter how delicious they were, scones were nearly impossible to arrange aesthetically.  Pressing a hand against the cobalt blue teapot, handmade by a local artisan, she checked the temperature again.  Still warm.  Should she have made herbal instead?  Probably would have been the better choice, judging by the way her hand shook from the three cups she’d already had.

      There was a knock at the door, and she jumped.  Definitely should have made decaf.  She’d been too distracted fretting over the food that she hadn’t heard the car pull into the driveway.  That wasn’t too difficult when hover mode was used, but she normally would have heard it park.  Hurriedly scrubbing her palms on her black capris, she went to answer the door.

      “Tien, thank you for coming.”

      The woman on her doorstep wore a dusty pink ao dai with three-quarter sleeves over flowing white pants.  The long, clean lines of the clothing emphasized her slender form.  Lorel smoothed her own pear green sweater and wondered if she looked like a big, fat apple, because she sure felt like one in comparison to the other woman.

      The little rituals of hospitality as she welcomed her guest helped ease some of her nerves.  Once they’d settled in and been plied with pastries and tea, she sprang the reason for inviting Tien to afternoon tea.

      “As you no doubt heard the other night, I haven’t lived with other changelings since I was six years old,” she admitted, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear.  “I know nothing about what it’s like living in a pack.”

      “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laid into you like that.”  Tien gently laid a hand on her arm, easing another knot of anxiety in Lorel’s gut.  “I get a little protective, but that’s no excuse.”

      “You already apologized.”  She laid her own hand over the other woman’s with a small smile.  “Would you mind giving me a Cliff notes version of what it’s like?”

      “Oh, honey, you’re going to regret asking me that!” she tilted her head back and laughed, onyx-black hair sliding like silk.  “That’s like asking a grandparent about their grandbabies; they’ll never stop!”  Lorel’s natural smile slipped into the customer service one and she took a quick sip that she didn’t need.

      “As I was saying, however poorly, we can’t afford to appear weak.  RainFire isn’t as big, powerful, or as established as DarkRiver or SnowDancer.”  Even Lorel had heard of those Californian packs.  They were involved in the events that had changed the world and worked to build Trinity.  “Some might see a pack unable to run off a stray cat and think we’re easy prey.  Our laws help keep the peace; without them, it’d be the Territorial Wars all over again.”

      “It sounds like a dictatorship.”

      “Hm, it can be in unhealthy packs,” she conceded after a moment, looking out at the middle distance of the backyard.  The tiny sunroom off the kitchen was set up as a dining nook, and Lorel left the French doors open to take advantage of one of the last warm afternoons of the season, giving them an unobstructed view of where the civilized backyard gave way to wild forest.

      “And in healthy ones?” prompted Lorel when it was apparent Tien wasn’t going to continue in that vein.

      “Anyone, even Jojo, can approach Remi.  Whether or not he actually does what we suggest is another matter because he has to weigh in all the factors.”  She grinned, no doubt imagining the types of proposals her daughter would come up with.  “The mark of a healthy pack is the cubs and submissives.  If they don’t feel safe and secure, then they’re not happy.”

      “So, you’re not a submissive, but you’re not a soldier?”

      “I’m mid-range.”  A slender hand held horizontally and tilted side to side.  “I’m what’s called a maternal.”  Drawing back, Tien gave her an appraising look.  “You’re a little hard to peg, but you’re probably either submissive or maternal.  Definitely not a dominant; you don’t strike me as stubborn, competitive, arrogant, domineering, aggressive…”

      “Don’t hold back, how do you really feel about them?”

      “Dominants will both treat you like spun glass and push and push until you set boundaries.”  Tien chuckled at her wry tone.  “And even then they might try and test those boundaries.”

      “Maternal or submissive?  Makes it sound like I should be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.”  Practically radiating feline mischief, Tien gave Lorel’s bare feet a pointed look, then slid her eyes towards the kitchen a few feet away.  “You know what I mean!” she laughed.

      “Maternal doesn’t just mean motherhood.”  More throaty laughter that instead of being directed at Lorel, encouraged her to join in.  “We’re the ones that keep us all together, organize fun things like the party the other night.  A submissive’s role isn’t about power, it’s about love.  They help the rest of us maintain our humanity.  If we were all dominants, we’d end up at each other’s throats before long.”

      A familiar ache stabbed through her chest and she turned away on the pretext of topping up her cup.  Once she had herself back under control, she found Tien staring at her with the unblinking intensity of a predator in her dark, triangular eyes.

      “Uh, does that happen often?” she coughed, hiding behind a quick drink.  “Turning on each other?”

      “Dominants are built to protect, but too many of them for too long and it usually doesn’t end well.  Packs need a balance of dynamics.  It’s up to the alpha to ensure that, and really, in the end, the alpha can either make or break the pack.  Like humans, we have our own tragedies and evils,” she sighed and rubbed a thumb along the handle of her cup.  “As far as I know, and I’m not an expert, we’re no better and no worse statistically speaking.  Some of us in RainFire come from… less than ideal situations.”

      “Jojo?”  Both ocelot and woman were immediately on alert, bristling at the thought of any harm coming to the little girl.

      “Oh no!”  Eyes widening in earnestness, Tien put a reassuring hand on Lorel’s shoulder.  Surprisingly, she found herself leaning into the touch, even imagined what it’d feel like on her bare skin.  It wasn’t anything sexual; it just felt so good that Lorel imagined her skin was greedily soaking it up and feeding it directly to her soul.  Even her animal- usually an angry, semi-feral thing- calmed until it was practically purring.

      “Not my family,” she shook her head and removed her hand to take another apple cheddar scone.  The cat snarled at the loss of contact, its typical surliness rushing back in to fill the void.  “I just meant that some of us didn’t really know how to live in a pack, either, so I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

      Lorel’s primal half, hurting and denied release from the prison she kept it in, lashed out in the only course it had left.

      “I’m not an idiot, I know where I’d stand in the hierarchy and I’m not about to be anyone’s bitch.”  The vitriol in her voice, harsh and throaty with the cat, startled even her.

      Utter silence reigned.

      Cold slithered down her spine.  Normally, given its druthers, her ocelot would always choose fight over flight, deranged thing that it was.  But some long-buried instinct in the cat surfaced, warning that Tien was more powerful.  Experience taught that, that always boded ill for her.

      The animal she kept so tightly controlled scrabbled to escape, raking her insides bloody in a demand to be set free.  It needed to run and save them both from the situation it created.  She’d long ago learned to allow fleeting bits of freedom to that aspect of her nature before it grew too wild, too painful to contain.  Because of that balancing act, it had been years since she last lost control and shifted involuntarily.

      The pain and ecstasy of the shift didn’t even register to the cat.  Not pausing to settle her fur, she bolted out the open doors, leaving the woman to call after her in surprise.

[omnivorousshipper]

12 Days of Shobbs: Day 10- Christmas Decorations

Summary: This is a serious of prompts following the relationship between Luke Hobbs and Deckard Shaw through the twelve days of Christmas.

Day 9              Day 11

On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… 

The airport was crowded to the point Luke was sure that there was going to be a fire hazard. Gently as possible, he navigated through the crowds, thankful that he was much taller than most, and could see over everyone else to spot Hattie.

Jumping out of the way of large family, Luke finally made it to her, his patience frayed thin. 

“And here I thought the LAX was horrible,” he said in lieu of a greeting. 

“Lots of people would prefer flying than driving here,” Hattie shrugged and led the way outside to her waiting car. 

“So, what do you and your brother need help with?” Luke asked, once they were in the car.

“Nothing too exciting,” Hattie replied as she effortlessly made her way out of the airport parking lot and into traffic. “Mum got into it with the local mafia. Now they put a hit out on me and my brother, so we decided to take the fight to them first.”

“And where’s you mom?”

“Not completely sure. India maybe?”

Luke stared at Hattie. She was wearing a thick sweater and a grey beanie, and looked way too casual for someone talking about a hit being put on her. After a minute of silence, she final glanced away from the road and sent Luke a confused look. 

“What?”

“Let me get this right,” Luke started to rub his temples. “Your mom pisses off the mafia. The mafia puts a hit out on her children. And then she runs off to India, leaving you guys to fend for yourselves?”

“This isn’t the first time,” Hattie said, confusion coloring her voice. “We’re able to take care of ourselves. Mum doesn’t need to protect us.”

“I get that,” Luke sighed. “But, it just seems a little…”

“Unmotherly?”

“Yeah.”

“Mum’s always been there for us. She’s not your stereotypical mum, but she loves us and trusts in our abilities,” Hattie explained. She sounded far too casual about the situation in Luke’s opinion. On the other hand, Luke knew he didn’t truly know all that much about the Shaw family, so maybe being hunted down by the mafia really was common place for them.

“Wait. Do you even need help? Sounds like you have it covered,” Luke asked and could feel a sense of dread. “You don’t need me here. Why did you ask me to come?”

“Fine. You’re right,” Hattie admitted. And it seemed like the fight went out of her as her whole body slumped. “Deck’s been mopey lately. Usually he’s in a good mood around this time of year, but lately he’s been melancholy.”

“And you want me to do what?” Luke narrowed his eyes at her.

“Just stay for a few days. He seemed happy when he came back from your last mission.”

“He survived getting crushed by a building. I would think he would be happy.”

“I mean,” Hattie emphasized. “He seemed to have enjoyed his time with you and your daughter.”

“And? I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Obviously,” she muttered under her breath. 

“Hey!” Luke glared. “I just don’t see why it’s my problem that your brother is being a mopey idiot.”

The only response he received was an eye roll. Luke was about to continue, but Hattie was pulling off the street and parking. Getting out of the car, Luke looked around.

“Uh, Hattie? Is your brother homeless?”

“What?” She looked at him like he had grown two heads.

“We’re at a park. Does he live here?”

“For the love of…” Hattie said exasperatedly. “We’re here to do some Christmas shopping. There’s a Christmas market not too far away.”

“But I thought we were going straight to your brother’s?”

“No. We’re currently banned from his place until he’s done decorating.”

“Why?” Luke asked, not understanding how everything Hattie said kept confusing him further and further.

“Says we’d just get in the way,” Hattie shrugged and ignored the odd look he was sending her. “Now come on, I need help buying a present for one of my coworkers. She’s always a pain to buy for.”

“For the record, I have no idea what is going on anymore,” Luke responded, but followed after Hattie anyway.

“You get used to it,” a voice said next to him.

Jerking forward in surprise, Luke whipped his head towards the person who snuck up behind him. Standing there with a smug smirk on his face, was Owen Shaw. He was dressed similarly to Hattie with a thick blue sweater, but was wearing white earmuffs with cat ears on top of them. 

“Why the hell are you here?” Luke grunted, glaring at the other man, who’s smirk grew wider.

“Enjoying the market,” he said simply and gestured down to the small tray of fries he was holding. “They usually have the best food.”

“What the bloody hell did you put on those chips?” Hattie demanded, her disgust obvious as she scrunched up her nose. 

“What? I usually eat them like this,” Owen said defensively. 

“Doused in motor oil?” Luke joked.

“It’s only ketchup and barbecue sauce,” Owen glared and held his fries away from the other two.

“And what’s up with the earmuffs?” Luke gestured to the top Owen’s head. 

“They were a present from Mum.”

“She thought they were cute?” Luke deadpanned.

“Yeah,” Owen said slowly. “Why?”

“Nothing. They look great on you,” Luke answered sarcastically.

For the next hour, Luke and the siblings wandered around the market, making comments about the countless stalls of food and homemade goods being sold at them. Several times, Owen would disappear and reappear with a different food item, and even brought a churro back for Hattie at one point.

Spending the afternoon with the two Shaws was almost surreal for Luke. To see two dangerous people so relaxed and comfortable in his presence was a new phenomenon to him. He had fought both of them and knew just how much damage they could do to him and all the stalls around them. But, watching as Hattie stole the cat earmuffs off Owen’s head without him noticing, Luke couldn’t wrap his head around how he ever saw either of them as a threat. 

They were about halfway through their second lap around the market when Hattie stopped suddenly, looking down at her phone. 

“Deck says we can come back to his flat,” she said, but her eyebrows were furrowed as she reread the text. 

“What?” Owen asked and looked over her shoulder. After reading the message, his face mirrored Hattie’s.

“What’s wrong?” Luke asked, not liking the way both siblings were standing perfectly still with looks of confusion.

“Well, the text says: ‘you better come back’. Not that he’s done with the decorations,” Hattie explained. “Do you think something happened?”

“Well you did say that the mafia was after you guys,” Luke mentioned. 

“Oh. Those were the guys that attacked me earlier?” Owen asked.

“When did you get attacked?” Hattie asked, eyes wide with shock.

“Right before I met up with you two,” he replied casually.

“You got jumped by some random people and then went and bought food?” Luke nearly shouted in surprise.

“Yes?” Owen sheepishly glanced between Luke’s look of disappointment and Hattie trying to stifle her giggles. 

“You know what,” Luke finally said, shaking his head. “Let’s just go check up on Deckard, ok?”

~~~

 It only took ten minutes before they were in front of Deckard’s apartment, Hattie leading the way, until a noise caught Luke’s attention. It sounded like a hollow knocking, and set alarm bells off in Luke’s head. Quietly, he tapped Hattie’s shoulder, catching both her and Owen’s attention. Bringing a finger to his lips, Luke slowly drew his gun and ushered the other two behind him. Not noticing their twin looks of surprise, Luke crept towards the door, that he noticed was slightly ajar. 

Looking back at the other two, he saw that Hattie had her own issued gun out, while Owen had a knife in each hand. Nodding, Luke turned back to the door before placing his foot flat against it and shoving it open. Storming into the apartment, he saw a scene he never imagined he would ever witness in a hundred years.

All around the living room were unconscious bodies scattered amongst upturned boxes of Christmas decorations. On a few of the bodies were shattered Christmas tree ornaments, while another had tinsel wrapped around it, and in the corner, a body was tangled in a half decorated Christmas tree. At the epicenter of the chaos, stood Deckard, who was fighting the last attacker off.

Well, more accurately, Deckard was choking the last attacker, who Deckard had pulled to his chest and had Christmas light pulled taut around their throat. Hearing the door open further, Deckard jerked his head up to stare at the three standing in the doorway. All the while, his grip on his attacker didn’t loosen as he stared like a deer in headlights. 

“I can explain?” He joked, a small smile on his lips. 

Luke stood frozen to the spot, gun still pointed straight ahead. Behind him, he could hear Hattie and Owen laughing. In Deckard��s arms, the attacker finally went limp, and Deckard let him drop to the floor with a thud. 

“What the fuck happened?” Luke finally found his voice. Putting his gun away, he entered the apartment further and counted ten attackers in total scattered across the room. 

“I’m guessing they’re part of the mafia,” Hattie commented as she pulled her phone out and dialed a number. “I’ll call the agency to come pick them up.”

“And you accuse us of breaking your Christmas decorations,” Owen called out to Deckard as he pulled the body out of the tree.

“And I still hold to that,” Deckard huffed, taking in the damage he had done by himself. Seeing the nearly forlorn look on his face, Luke felt his heart twist. 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure we can salvage most of it,” Luke assured, walking up to Deckard. 

The smaller man looked up at him, eyes searching Luke’s. Confidently, Luke looked back, willing the other man to believe him. 

“As long as we keep those two out of the way,” Deckard smirk and gestured to his siblings. 

“I fully agree with that,” Luke smiled, and felt his heart twist in a different way at the large smile Deckard gave him in return. 

… Ten assassins a-killing

Nine buildings exploding

Eight racers a-racing

Seven criminals a-stealing

Six missiles incoming

Five grenades!

Four stab wounds

Three fast cars

Two loaded guns

And a punch to the face!