#fuck jack's hair even after 2 years it's still a pain to draw

[mitsundere]

guess who watched all of the jackcarly moments again

[hyunjilicious]

The safest white - harry styles

Summary: When things with your abusive boyfriend reach a new level, Harry comes to the rescue. 5.7k Warnings: mentions of abuse. I hope you enjoy this! Please tell me what you thought! Your words make my day ❤

Never in your life had you thought you’d end up in a situation like this. Growing up, you got used to the idea of an ideal relationship, and for whatever reason, fell for the glamourized Hollywood look of the downs people went through as they fought for their partner. Real life hit you like a ton of bricks, put a cloth over your mouth and cut your legs from the knees down. Knowing you have to fight for what you want and know is right, even if faced with facts that contradicted your beliefs, you found yourself alone, screaming at nothing in the middle of a sea of darkness. Your own house. And you were screaming internally, because once again, you feared the man you used to call ‘love’. Droplets of sweat tickled your skin as they rushed down your sides, and your hands and feet, although cold, were damp too. You stood in the middle of the bedroom, facing the door. In some twisted way, you knew there was no chance for you to hide, so you stood there, ready take no more hits without hitting back. And harder. After pampering yourself with a pep talk, you ended up feeling quite confident. Confident that you’d get the fuck out of there with your head held fucking high, but it was a confidence that dissipated once the sound of your own phone ringing reached your ears. “Fuck” you mumbled to yourself, after you jumped out of fright. “No, no, no! Y/n. Get. Yourself. Together” You muttered these words through gritted teeth, repeating them over and over again, until the layer of unshed tears in your eyes became too thick and rushed down your cheeks, forcing you to fall to the ground. The impact made your knees sting, but the pain in your heart had already numbed every nerve ending in your entire body. You were at the edge of collapse, and you phone was still ringing. Wiping your face with the sleeve of your shirt, you crawled over to the bed and picked up your cell, only to see Harry’s smiling face on his ID photo along with the pouting emoji you added to his name. It didn’t even take a moment’s worth of consideration before you pressed the red button and declined the call. Not that you had any power left in your body to communicate with another human right now, but you also knew that if it was something important, he’d also send a text, letting you know the matter was indeed urgent. And it came. The text came about 15 seconds later in real time, but for you, it was all a haze. Again, you didn’t think about it. If you declined his call and he still insisted, something must’ve been up. 'Love, I’m stuck at the studio for at least another hour and my mum is coming over’ 'She’ll be at my house in about 20 minutes’ 'If I leave rn I’ll have to come back tomorrow and I want to spend the day with her’ 'Can you go over there’ 'Let her in and hang out or something’ 'Or if you’re busy can she come to you and wait for me there?’

No, way. There was no way you could face his mother right now. She always saw right through your bullshit. Starting with when you and Harry were 18 and started denied your feelings for one another and up until this year, when she sensed something was off with you. When you saw her 2 months ago, it took you about 3 hours to convince her nothing is wrong with you for the sole purpose of keeping Harry out of your relationship. All it took for her to notice you weren’t comfortable with your boyfriend was the way you answered a question about his whereabouts. After that, you had to make up a whole story to prove to her she didn’t need to worry. And they say actors are good liars. You felt you were going to choke with every lie to told her, and frankly, you were surprised she believed you in the end. Maybe it was just how much she trusted you. Nevertheless, you weren’t the person for the job.

You stared at the messages on your phone, and breathed out from the deepest depths of your lungs. You hated that you couldn’t help him right now, but knowing at least 3 other friends of Harry's should be available, you locked your phone and fell back down, leaning against the side of the bed. The mere thought of Harry and Anne calmed you down a bit, but when you went back to reality, another wave of misery hit you. You still had to get out of there, but opening the door to your bedroom was probably the most frightening thing on your mind. There was not much time for you to gather your thoughts and plan your next move before your phone buzzed again. 'You hung up on me. I know u can see these. Everything ok??’ Instantly, you palm connected to your forehead as you rolled your eyes in disbelief. “How did he-” you muttered, unlocking your phone, to assure him you were ok. As it turned out, your text wasn’t enough to convince him you were good, so he called. But for this, you didn’t have the power. This time you didn’t bother to hang up, you turned off your phone completely and fell down onto the carpet. The minutes that followed were excruciating. That is if there was even a matter of minutes, your sense of time wasn’t even hazy anymore, it was gone altogether. The cries you tried to muffle out of fear Jack would hear you from the other room, created an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach. If up until now it was all psychological, the spasming of your abdominal muscles were sure to force out everything you hadn’t eaten in the past two days. Just gastric acid was threatening to come up, but this feeling alone wasn’t enough to get you to stand up. By now, leaving the house wasn’t the problem anymore. It was the part of you that allowed yourself to be treated like trash that you didn’t know how to get rid of. At this point, the only thing you felt like doing was cracking your own chest open to rip out your heart and pick apart the broken parts. And not even that was good enough, you were afraid you’d be left with nothing. Since there was nothing you could do right now, you slowly stood up, and decided to head to the bathroom and clean yourself up in order to sneak out of the house. Messy hair and running mascara would draw attention to yourself on the street, and that was not something you could risk. As you walked across the bedroom, when you moved past the window, your eyes landed on Jack’s frame. He was sitting at the table in the back garden, drinking straight out of a bottle of Jack Daniels that was more empty than full. As messed up as that was, this sight gave you a rush of confidence. In this state, it was highly unlikely he’d hear you leave the house, and even if he did, you were positive you’d be able to outrun him. Once in the bathroom, the woman you saw in the mirror was not you. You refused to accept that you were in this state. It was a momentary lapse of character, from which you’d bounce back. You had to. In the shower, although feeling like you could break down all over again, you forced yourself to remain on track, and about 20 minutes later, you were back in your bedroom, putting on whatever clothes you found first. You checked the window. Jack was still there, scrolling on his phone. If you played your cards right, you could leave without your eyes landing on him again. You gathered your essentials - phone, charger, wallet, keys and whatever else you found completely necessary and walked over to the door, where you stopped. “I’ll take you less than three minutes to get to your car, Y/n” you whispered to yourself. “You can do this” You mumbled these words to yourself a few times, and when you raised your hand to open the door, the knob turned by itself and your heart fell two stories down. Already in overdrive, your adrenaline kicked in, sweating out of every pore as you instinctively looked for an object to use to defend yourself. All these defence mechanisms crumbled to the ground when you heard his voice. “Y/n?” because it was Harry, “Are yeh in here? Please, answer me!” You breathed out in relief, something you didn’t know you could feel again. You rushed to unlock the door, and he hurried inside at ungodly speed. “It’s Jack, ain’t it!?” he questioned with anger filled words, “I just got off with the phone with my mum, why didn’t yeh two say anything?” “I told her it was nothing” you mumbled, trying to avoid his eyes, but the way he held onto your cheeks made it impossible for you to look at anything else. “You did, yeah.” Harry nodded with despair, “And she believed yeh and now she’s blaming herself. Tell me. What happened? Where is he?” “God” you cried out and tried to lean your head back, but Harry stopped you and prompted you to look at him again. It worsened gradually, but by now, you barely managed to breathe properly as tears cascaded down your cheeks. “Hey, hey, hey” he breathed out, “Look at me, love. I’m here, ok? It’s over. I’m here. I got yeh” You tried to nod, but all you did was choke a sob and collapse into yourself, Harry barely managing to catch you. Holding you tight to his chest, he rocked you in his arms and rubbed the back of your head, “Its me, love. Its Harry”. He tried to chuckle, but pain was audible in his voice too. “Nothing will happen to yeh, ok? I swear on anything that I am, yeh're safe, yeah?” You wanted to nod, but when he moved his fingers up a bit across your scalp, you winced in pain, and he caught sight of it in an instant. “Did he hit you, Y/n?” he asked, pulling away to look into your eyes. You nodded no. For whatever reason, that was what you considered was the right answer. “Don’t lie to me, angel. Yeh don’ ever have to lie to me, ok?” “Ok” you muttered. “So did he?” “Yes..” And that was then the light in his eyes died. They started shining a particular type of darkness that terrified you to your bones. You froze. Your mind was too numb to act on your emotion, but when he brought you to his chest again, you finally realised your fear was unrooted. “Where is he?” Harry groaned in a deep tone. “Please, don’t” “I just want to talk to him” he fibbed. “Harry, I’m serious-” you cried, “Don’t do anything, I don’t want this anymore. I want it to be over. What if he tries to-” “Listen t' me, angel” he said sternly, looking straight into your eyes, “You’re crying. Shaking. I’ve never seen yeh like this. Ever. Not even close. Yer whole body shivered when I touched you. That man, hurt you. I don’t even want to think about what he actually did to you right now. Yeh’re the happiest, strongest woman I met in my entire life and he managed to bring you in this state. I won’t have that, ok? I won’t sleep again if doesn’t pay for this.” “Please, Harry” you whimpered, wiping some of your tears away. You placed your hands of top of his, and grabbed them tightly, “What if he does something to you, what if-” “Think about the girl that will come after you, hm? What about her? He’ll go on with his life thinking he doesn’t need to pay for his fucking demented behaviour, and she’ll walk straight into the lions den” “What if he hurts you?” “It won’t get to that, love. I’ll just talk to him. But I have to do this. I can’t not do it, you understand that, right?” After you reluctantly agreed, mostly because he wasn’t showing signs of giving up and you didn’t have it in you to fight him at that moment, you headed downstairs and he walked you to his car. Harry opened the door for you to climb in, but before that, you pressed yourself against him again, craving his touch and the feeling of safety it provided. “Oh, love” he sighed, rubbing your back. “I got yeh” You didn’t want to let him go, but you knew you had to. Eventually, you got into his car, but turned to him before closing the door. “You’re just gonna talk to him, alright?” you sniffled, “And then you’ll be right back, yeah?” “Yes, darlin’” Harry nodded and leaned in to kiss your forehead. “I’ll be right back” And with that, he left. You watched him walk into the house, your eyes remaining trained on his back until he was out of sight. Not knowing what was going on was driving you insane. Your phone was surely not going to provide any kind of distraction, you felt out of place, like you were sitting on a pile of nails as a train was approaching you at full speed. But there was nothing for you to do about it. Going in and joining the conversation was sure to make things worse, for all of you. It hurt that the right thing to do was sit and wait, you hated it, but you had to be patient. In need of something you keep your mind busy, you opened the glove compartment, and started rummaging through the junk that had pilled up there over the past few months. Mostly napkins, candy wrappers, McDonald’s straws, and seemingly, irrelevant stuff. Eventually, you came across some other things, like your old phone case, which you ended up discarding after you bought a new one while you were shopping with Harry for a birthday gift. There was also there a bottle of perfume, the kind you’ve been wearing for years, and in this one, there was barely anything left. Jumping jacks were taking place inside your heart. You knew Harry was the kind of guy every girl deserved in her life, but you wanted him for yourself only. It was mostly junk, and useless little things anyone would have forgotten existed, but he kept them. It didn’t take long before you got lost in thought again, but in the end, you decided to ignore any rush feelings you might be having, taking into consideration the emotional break down you have just been through. “Hey, love” Harry’s voice filled the air inside his car, as he flung the door open and climbed in in one swift motion. “Did you talk to him?” “Yeah” he said distraught and nodded, before turning around in his seat to check if it was safe to pull out. “With my fists” Your eyes snapped to his knuckles. Skin cracked and little droplets of blood peaking to the surface. However, he gripped the steering wheel as if it was nothing, and kept his smile on. What was most surprising, but actually not quite, was that he looked genuinely relieved. You sighed, “H, what happened?” “Nothing, love. I got there fuming ready to beat the guy to the pulp. But he was drunk outta his mind. I stopped then, I promise. I told him what I had to say but I doubt he understood a word I said” he confessed, grabbing your forearm and giving it a squeeze. “You said you were only gonna talk to him…” “That’s what I was planning on, I don’t- I don’t know what- anyway-” he mumbled, in between ragged breaths, “We’ll deal with it, ok? You won’t ever have to see him again. And he’s fine. He deserved so much worse, but I’m- I’m uh, I’m not-” “Thank you” you whispered, looking down at your hands, knowing any moment now the tears would come back. “Yeh don’t need to thank me, angel. I should have known sooner, this should never have happened” “I know… I’m sorry” “What’re yeh sorry about?” Harry asked, eyes trained on the road ahead, “None of this is your fault” “Then whose is it?” you exclaimed, “Hm?” “Fucking his!!” You tried to change the subject, but all you managed to do was drop this one. Nothing else held. Nothing was of interest, and even if it was, the timing was wrong. There was no way you could have started talking about what movie you just saw, and Harry clearly didn’t feel like boasting to you about what a great time he’s been having with his friends and family. Needless to say, for about 10 minutes, it was you, Harry and the sacred uncomfortable silence. “Can you drop me off at a hotel please” you asked, cringing a bit at your own words. “No, why?” He was clearly surprised, if not offended. “I- uh” you mumbled, too ashamed to use a normal tone of voice. “It’s your mum, H. I can’t see her right now. I don’t want to talk about this anymore, nor do I want someone else to worry about me. I promise I’ll be better tomorrow, and I’ll come hang out. Get a coffee or something” “Is that the only reason you want to go to a hotel?” “Yeah…” “Perfect” Harry nodded, “She’s not at my place. Didn’t expect you to be in the mood for company. But you shouldn’t be by yourself. I can drop you off wherever ya want, but not if you’re gonna be alone”. He took your silence for an answer. “My place it is, then” And you got to his house, and even if you had been there millions of times before, you felt out of place. You were afraid he bought you here out of mercy or sympathy, despite what he had just said. The atmosphere was different, and for whatever reason, you didn’t feel like home. For years, his house and anywhere near him, you felt your safest, yet today, you were afraid anything you’d say or do would be out of place. “Yeh know how this works” Harry said, walking into the kitchen, “It’s your home too, don’t shy away” “I know” you chuckled, and it did sound fake and it was obvious he noticed, but none of you pointed it out. “Are you hungry? Want something to drink? Tea? We can order something-” “I’m fine, thanks though” you sighed, slowly advancing towards him. You leaned your hip against one of the counters, silently awaiting his next move. But he didn’t quite do anything, except change his expression into one of maybe confusion. This must have been hard for him too, you didn’t know what you needed to hear, how could he have possibly known what to say? “Do you wanna watch something?” you asked, wanting to relieve some of the pressure. To be fair, you were not in the mood to watch any movie, but you figured laying down next to him would be calming and an easy way to avoid unwanted conversation. “Yeah, 'course” Harry nodded. “Actually... Got any wine?” He seemed completely taken aback, but soon enough, he came back to reality, offering to get the alcohol while you picked something you wanted to watch. It wasn’t a difficult choice. Seinfeld was a sure option, since you both liked it and it required almost no concentration at all. Just as you laid down on his couch, Harry came back into the living room, two tall glasses in his hands, and a bottle of while under his arm. “Figured white wine was safer, dunno how much we’re gonna drink, and nothing is worse than a red wine hangover” “Just how drunk do you think I wanna get?” you laughed, taking the glasses from him. “As drunk as yeh want, love” Harry smiled, pulling out a corkscrew, “The choice is yours” “Just don’t let me start ranting or anything” “Yeah…” he cringed, sucking in a deep breath as he squinted his eyes, “Can’t promise yeh that. Ya know I’m a sucker fo’ yer drunken ramblings” “Oh shut up” you scoffed. “And why did you bring these?” you questioned, pointing to the glasses, “Don’t you know me at all? Or are you suddenly grossed out by my germs?” “When you put it like that, it sounds gross, yes” Harry laughed out loud, before clutching the corkscrew tight into his hand and opening up the bottle, “But still, I’d be happy to exchange germs with you” “Oh wow” “Wha'?” Harry belted, playfully offended, “Yeh started it!” “Well, it sounds so much worse when some else says it” None of you could ever win this. He came over to the couch and motioned for you to scoot over. During the first episode, you kept your distance, but as the minutes passed and as the level of wine slowly lowered, so did the space between your bodies. By the third episode, Harry was laying down on his back with his knees bent, as you leaned back against his calves. That was when you opened up the second bottle. Still white wine, still safe. Harry's words. Every now and then one of you would chuckle, and in case too much time would pass without one of you making a sound, the other would gently ask an “You asleep?” even though both your minds were way too busy to be able to relax enough to drift off. When you almost finished this bottle too, Elaine was throwing a fuss, in the middle of Jerry’s living groom over some guy she went to gym with. “He wiped his hand on the top of the bottle when I offered him water” she said offended through the TV screen, making you stand up and turn to Harry. “This is the universe, love” he laughed but instantly you shushed him, knowing what line was next. “Are you kidding?” Elaine said again, “He should be craving my germs!” And at that, you both burst into laughter. “I had no idea this was the episode” you barely managed to say in between your crazy giggles. “Is it a coincidence?” Harry smirked, “Think not!” “You’re drunk” “So are yeh!” he defended himself, as if it would change anything. “You know what else I am?” “What?” You picked up the bottle and finished whatever was left in it, and then turned to him with a proud smile on your face, “Ready for the third one” “Stand up” Harry commanded and pointed to the space right in front of the couch. “Why?” “Do three pirouettes and if yeh don’t stumble I’ll open another one” “Buzz kill” you pouted and slapped his legs, “No” “I’ll do it with you” he laughed, and when he stood up, you reluctantly did too. When he motioned for you to do the pirouettes, another smile crept up your lips, “At least put some music on if you want to see my moves” “Oh, is that how it’s gonna be?” he laughed, walking over to his phone on the table, “Are we gonna dance in the living room like the crazy people in those sappy chick movies we used to watch?” “Why do you have to be an asshole?” you joked, leaning your head to the side. “Because-” was all he managed to say before the music turned on, making him stop talking as he silently laughed. “Why-” you exclaimed, “On Earth, were you listening to My Heart Will Go On? Is Harold in love?” “I have a good explanation!” Harry jumped to defend himself, pointing a finger at you, “I tried to learn it” “On guitar I hope” you teased. “Ha, very funny” “Oh my god, Harry!” you burst into laughter, “I’m assuming you nailed it on the first try” “Yess!” he threw his head back, cheeks all red, “Celine stand back, I’m coming for yer money” “What would it take to convince you to sing it to me?” “Sing it with me” Harry responded in an instant, and it might have been the alcohol, but it didn’t even take a second before you agreed. You both grabbed one of the empty bottles as microphones, and sang your hearts out. Even though Harry had the vocal capability to reach some of those notes and sing full verses correctly, nothing that came out of his mouth sounded right. And if you were to carefully listen to the atrocities that came out of yours, you’d feel the need to hide for a week to finally get rid of the embarrassment. But you didn’t care. And neither did he. Harry only got like this if he was in a truly good mood. He wasn't always bubbly and childish, especially not today after everything that happened, and you knew a bottle of wine wasn’t enough to awaken this side of him, but still, he danced his hips into exhaustion, providing you with all the good energy you didn’t think you could possibly get. Your performance ended when some Creedence song started, and you walked over and pressed yourself against Harry’s chest. Since you got to his house, you gradually started to feel better, but it all came so naturally, you literally had to stop and check in order to actually realize it. “Thank you” you mumbled into his shirt. “Don’t need to thank me, love” Harry said softly, rubbing your back, “Seeing you loosen up and smile makes me feel better too” His words warmed up your heart from the inside, and it was probably the amount of emotions that you felt in the last 12 hours that caused you to have so little self control, but your eyes watered. At that point, thinking someone’s happiness relied on yours, was too much for your mind to process. Especially considering that for the last few weeks, it had been quite the opposite. A lot of things came to mind. There were a lot of things you felt like saying to him. Somehow, you couldn’t escape the need to thank him again and again, you wanted to tell him how amazing he was, how much of a blessing he was. Right then and there you got emotional you wanted to rant your heart out, but in the end, you lacked the courage. For some reason, even though you had nothing but good things to say, you were afraid to do so, embarrassed even. “Still-” you said softly as you pulled away from his chest. Your eyes rose up to meet his, and he welcomed you with the same warmth he had been showing all day, “I don’t know how to exactly say this, but I know that there’s no one in my life who would have dropped everything and came to check up on me, but you did. And I know you don’t want to hear me thanking you again, but I’m so so grateful you’re in my life” you confessed, breaking into a light sob. The change of atmosphere was too sudden. He didn’t see this coming, and you didn’t know you wouldn’t be able to finish your statement without a cascade of tears streaming down your cheeks again. “Love” Harry cooed, grabbing your cheeks and wiping your tears away with his thumbs. The heat from his palms gave you a newfound sense of reality, forcing your thoughts to spiral again. “Y/n, I love yeh. So much. Yeh need to realize that someone taking care of you isn’t out of the ordinary” “It is for me, Harry” “I’ll fix yeh” he chuckled, and it was so weak, and his eyes cried because he had to do so. “And we can talk about it, or you can talk and I can listen, tonight, tomorrow, three weeks from now at 3am. Whenever yeh’re ready, I’m here for you, ok? I fucking love yeh so much, Y/n. Don’t push me away, because I’m here for you no matter what, ok? I want to be” His words, his tone of voice, calm but also disturbed and with traces of pain audible in it, the way his hooded eyes bore into yours, the way his chest rose and fell with every breath he took, was all too much. “I don’t wanna talk about it right now because I’m afraid I might say things I shouldn’t” “If you mean it, you have the right to say it. It’s that simple, love” he smiled reassuringly. You contemplated telling him how much you loved him and how it has been him all the time, but you were afraid he would put it on account of everything that had happened during the day, and that he would brush it off. The last thing you wanted was for Harry to believe your feelings for him weren’t solid. And on top of it all, up until a few hours ago you were in a relationship, and it felt wrong to admit that all this time you have been thinking of another man. “Maybe some other time” you finally said, pushing aside the topic and putting some distance between the two of you. “Whenever that may be” he nodded, “I’m here, yeah?” A whole pile of tangled emotions filled up your chest, and you needed an escape. A chance to put your thoughts in order before you said something you’d later regret. The wine was threatening to force out some confessions, and you decided a shower would be the perfect opportunity to delay them. You stayed in the bathroom for a questionable long time, but when you walked out, wrapped in a towel, Harry was still awake, watching the TV. He had laid on the bed some clothes of his for you to wear, and you couldn’t help but giggle to yourself when you finally understood why there were two shirts. The first one was neatly folded, but you didn’t really pay attention to it. The second one, a bit to the side, was obviously recently worn, so you didn’t think twice when you chose this one, the scent of his cologne tickling your senses. After putting the pair of sweatpants on too, you headed back to the living room, where Harry was comfortably laying down on the couch. He signaled for you with his arms open to join him, and you did so in an instant, cuddling into his chest. “There’s only a bit left of the game. 10 minutes tops. Mind if we watch this? I can put Seinfeld back on if you want to” “Oh, no. It’s ok.” you shook your head, “Just tell me who we’re rooting for” “The blue ones, love” Harry laughed kissing the top of your head. After you both shuffled a bit and settled back down in a more comfortable position, with his arms wrapped around you and your head buried into his neck, you only managed to comment on a few moments of the game before falling asleep. Next thing you knew, Harry was rubbing your arm up and down and whispering softly to get your attention. “Let’s go to sleep, Y/n” “No” you mumbled, turning your head so he couldn’t see your face. “Its much more comfortable, angel, I promise” he laughed. “I said no” you giggled back. “I’ll let yeh sleep here then” When he tried to pull away, you tightened your hold around his middle, “No” “Do you know any words other than no?” Harry laughed out loud. “No” His chest shook as he chuckled at your antics, “We’ll sleep here then” “Yess” you smiled and turned to face him again. He seemed amused, but even so, he looked down at you with awe in his eyes. After taking his shirt and his watch off, you both resumed your position on the couch, but this time, you had your back pressed against his chest. “I knew you were gonna chose this shirt” Harry spoke up a second after you closed your eyes, “But it’s weird because you smell like me now” “Harry?” you questioned, playing with his fingers, “Are there things you want to say, but you’re too afraid to?” It took a while before he answered, but you waited patiently. “Yeh mean in general?” “No” you said and squeezed your eyes shut, cringing in anticipation. “I mean now” This time he didn’t answer. Maybe he would have, but when you figured enough time passed, you turned around in his hold. If the answer was no, there would have been no reason for him to hesitate, so you took his silence for a yes. It was a risk you were willing to take. “Good night, Ni” you said and pressed your lips against his; it was hurried, it barely lasted for two short seconds but you put your soul into this kiss and it sent your heart into overdrive. After you pulled away, you turned around immediately and settled back into your spot. He was silent, not one of his muscles flinched. Maybe it was the wine. You shouldn’t have done that. You wanted to move. Not touch him anymore, never see him again. It felt like you ruined the best thing that ever happened to you, all because you couldn’t control yourself. And you were so close. You should have just laughed at his remark about the smell of his shirt and then go to sleep. Why wasn’t he saying anything? This was wrong, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. “Would yeh have done that if things with Jack happened differently? If they ended on good terms? Or if we weren’t drunk?” “Yes” you whispered, your voice cracking, “I wanted to do that for a long long time. But I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry, forget it” “Will never” he said, and then brought you closer to kiss your neck, “And don’t be sorry” “I love you, Harry” “I love yeh”. He kissed your scalp and spoke into your hair, “The most”

-

Hey, guys! In case you read this far and thought this sounds similar (or maybe exactly the same) to another fic posted on here, it’s because I had previously uploaded it to another blog. It was a Niall imagine at first but then i was like hm... Harry! Anywayyyy i hope you liked this! Please don’t hesitate to tell me what you thought!

[biotic-boshtet]

Aftermath - Chapter 2

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Chapter 1

Sugar?

Kaidan steps through the door into the medbay, greeted by the smell of antiseptics and the doctor’s warm smile. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, I’m having a bit of a problem with our dear Commander, she’s locked herself in her quarters with a migraine, and normally I wouldn’t fuss, but she’s been in there since yesterday, and when I stopped by to check up on her this afternoon, she wouldn’t open the door. As far as I can tell she hasn’t so much has poked her head out that door since she shut it. I did consider calling Jeff down to check on her, but I’d hate to bring him all the way here and have Shepard turn him away. You’re the one best equipped to handle the situation at hand.”

“And you said she’s been in there for 24 hours?” Kaidan knew the stress of the 2 weeks since Virmire was taking its toll on the Commander, and that she’s been working through a migraine, but he’d never seen her down for more than a few hours.

“A little longer than that, really, she stopped by yesterday around noon to tell me she was locking herself in there until the worst of it passed. I believe her exact words were ‘Once my brain stops trying to implode and ooze out of my amp jack’.” Dr. Chakwas grimaced at the description as she repeated it. “I offered her a dose of painkillers, but she waved it off and went on her way.”

“Yeah, ouch, I’ll see if I can’t convince her to at least eat something.”

“Thank you, and good luck.”

-

Thermos of coffee, water bottle, and hot leftovers in hand, Kaidan leans against the wall beside the door as he sends off a message to Shepard. Hopefully, she was awake. Knocking wouldn’t work, the chances of her hearing aids being on were slim. He’d noticed she had the habit of turning them off when things started to overwhelm her. Feels like they’ve been off more than on lately. He breathes a sigh of relief when the indicator light flashes from red to green, and the door hisses open. As the door shuts behind him, it’s clear that she’s turned off every light she possibly could. The emergency lighting along the floor is still on, though he’s sure she considered cracking into the electrical panel to deal with them.

Walking further into the dark room, he almost believes she isn’t there. Almost. He spots her curled up with a pillow over her head as he pulls a chair up to the side of the bed. Her field feels different without her amp in, softer around the edges, but it still vibrant enough to pop and fizzle against his own. As he sits down and sets the food and drinks on the end table, Shepard moves her pillow to squint at him. He tries not to let his eyes linger on her bare arms or the near meter of hair spread across the mattress.

“Doc told me it was a nasty one.” Kaidan signs, “So I came with coffee. Pretty sure it’s strong enough to give a Krogan heart palpitations, so it should help.”

She pulls herself up to sit against the headboard. She looked like hell. “Sugar?”

“Plenty, don’t worry.” He uncaps the thermos and passes it into her waiting hands. As she takes a sip, her eyes slide closed and Kaidan swears he’s never seen such a blissful look on her face. He lets her enjoy the coffee for a moment before catching her attention again. “If you’re feeling up to it, I’ve got some leftovers too. If you don’t eat soon, I think Chakwas might break down your door and sit on you until you do. Or worse, drag you to the medbay.”

Shepard almost reluctantly sets the coffee down, reaching for the container as Kaidan snaps open the lid and sticks a fork in the steaming spaghetti. The second she takes a bite it’s like a switch flips and the second and third bites follow soon after. Half the container is gone before she pauses to take another drink of coffee and glances up at Kaidan. “I know this is just leftovers, but fuck, it tastes so good I could kiss you.”

Kaidan laughs as his cheeks redden, and he brings up his omnitool to check some emails while she finishes her food. He needs to distract himself from the fact that he wants her to kiss him. He makes sure to send one off to Chakwas, reassuring her that he’s gotten Shepard eating and at least caffeinated. He moves the bottle of water closer to the coffee, waving his hand next to it catch her attention and let her know its there.

“So. Ears are on now, by the way, don’t worry about signing. I had an idea, to boost morale. I can’t be the only person on this ship cracking under the stress, so I’m gonna see if I can’t work out some kind of sparring match in the cargo bay. Prizes and stuff, plus something extra for the first crewmate who can get me down on the mat.”

“Yeah? You sure anybody’ll go for it?” He spoke softly, the way she kept her eyes half closed told him the pain was still very much there.

“Oh, you know, I’ve overheard a conversation or two, some of the other marines are totally sure they can take me, just, without the biotics. Remember, some of these jarheads have never actually seen me in the field.”

“Yeah, or they’d never dream of going toe-to-toe with you. What’s your grand prize?”

“Probably some credits and a few pistol mods? I don’t know for sure yet.”

“I think it’s a great idea, help everybody loosen up a bit.” He checks the time; he drew the short straw for the watch in the CIC. “Alright, I’ve got my watch coming up soon, so I’ll get out of your hair. Go check in with Chakwas if you can brave the lights out there.”

“I’ll try.”

Kaidan makes it halfway to the door before he remembers the chocolate bar in his pocket. The good chocolate. Not impossible to get ahold of in space, but also not high on any Alliance requisition lists. He walks back to the bed, partially melted chocolate in hand.

“I forgot about this. A good bar of chocolate almost always helps a migraine.”

She looks reverently at the chocolate, hand outstretched, but not grabbing it. “Are you sure? This is definitely not on any of our supply lists.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got a few more stashed away, don’t worry about it.” He presses the bar into her hand, closing her fingers around it. He’s halfway out the door when she speaks again.

“Kaidan? Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

-

Kaidan watches what has to be at least 2/3 of the crew milling around the cargo bay, navy and marines, humans and aliens, all chatting and joking around. He’d picked a good spot, back near a wall, next to Joker. Near the center of the bay, he hears a thud as the Commander puts another marine on the mat. She offered up a prize of 300 credits and a few choice pistol mods to the first person who could get her on the mat, no biotics, no tech, just good old fashioned hand-to-hand. At least Shepard’s got the decency to help them up off the mat after she kicks their asses. Still, even after half a dozen crewmates beat, there’s still plenty looking to try their luck at beating Commander Shepard. She doesn’t even look like she’s broken a sweat.

Kaidan fiddles with his omnitool, pretending he isn’t interested in the match. Another marine hits the mat, and his eyes flick up watch Shepard help Fredricks up onto his feet, and this time she looks right at him, a mischievous glint in intense brown eyes.

“You up for a challenge, Alenko?” Her voice carries clearly over the chatter and general noise of the cargo bay.

Kaidan knows he’s got the look of a deer caught in headlights but recovers gracefully enough. “Oh, no, Commander, I’m content just watching you take out every other marine on board.”

“What, are you scared you’ll beat your CO? Don’t worry, you won’t.”

Joker leans over, with a hand up to his mouth for an especially dramatic stage whisper. “You know if you walk away the crew will never let you live it down. Neither will Norah Jean. She’ll be bringing it up for at least the next 10 years. Believe me.”

Kaidan looks between Joker and Shepard, who’s still standing on the mat, hands on her hips and already looking like she’s won. Then he sighs and wades through the onlookers. Once in the ring he looks down at her. “You know, you’re a real pain in the ass, right?”

“I try.”

Kaidan makes his way to the table set up a few feet from the edge of the mat and makes a show of taking off his uniform shirt, then unplugging his amp, setting both on the table beside hers. Slowly they begin to circle each other.

“Think you can beat me?”

“Shepard, I have no illusions of how this is going to end. I watched you bring Fredricks down in 6 moves. He’s twice your size. My chances aren’t looking good here.” He throws a jab at her left side, testing her reflexes, and she blocks it easily.

They trade blows, trying to whittle each other down, and Adams is clearly about to call it in a draw when Kaidan lunges forward. Then the cargo bay blurs and his back slams onto the mat, knocking the wind right out of his lungs. Shepard is beaming above him. She offers a hand to help him haul himself up, and he moves for his discarded shirt and amp.

“Uh, yeah, Shepard, remind me not to get in your way.”

She pats his shoulder and gives him a thumbs up as she drinks her water.

[outlier-rookie]

Of Blood and Greatness - Chapter 2

Chapter 2/?? - Money Trouble

AO3 Link https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305741/chapters/64050937#workskin

***

*repeatedly bonks head against wall*

I split the original chapter one into two parts to cut down the word count but it got even fucking longer

***

A lone jackrabbit darted across the ground as four horses broke through the trees surrounding Horseshoe Overlook. The constant rhythm of their hooves mostly drowned out the natural ambiance of the world around them as the horses thundered down the worn dirt path. Despite having only just gotten back to camp, Arthur couldn’t find himself complaining about being back out on the open road again. With a click, he nudged Admiral on and spurred the horse to pull ahead of Charles and Javier until he was alongside the teen.

“So, where exactly are you leading us?” He asked as the kid lead their strange little group down a less-traveled path along the base of Horseshoe Overlook. As they started down the shallow incline of the land, Arthur could easily make out the shimmering waters of the Dakota River ahead of them.

“’s a place called Cattail Pond.” The teen responded. “It’s a nice little area. Good for fishing and the water’s fresh from up the mountain. Fortuna likes it a lot up there. Don’tcha girl?” They continued, giving their horse, apparently named Fortuna, a loving pat long her neck. Fortuna nickered in appreciation, lightly tossing her mane as they rode on.

“Can’t say I’ve heard of it,” Arthur admitted. “Sounds like a decent place.” (Y/N) made a noise of agreement and nodded along to his words.

“Sometimes, a couple of deer will show up to graze and get a drink!” Arthur nodded and turned to look away from the kid as a small smile graced his features at the excitement dancing in the kids' words as they spoke.

“Ya hear that Charles? If we’re lucky we might be able to bag some deer for Pearson since he’s always going on about not having enough meat.” Arthur called back.

“It’d certainly save me from going hunting tomorrow.” Came the other man’s reply. The conversation petered off from there, and Arthur was content to let the silence hang between them as the teen continued to lead them along the Dakota River.

Arthur found himself occasionally looking to the teen as they continued along the horse worn roads. Once again he found himself taking note of their ratty hat, too-big shirt, and tangled, dirt covered hair. Unconsciously, Arthur found himself thinking of things better left in the past. About Mary and her choice of a clean society life over him and his life of killing and thieving. As much as it had hurt him to his core all them years ago, he had long come to terms with the fact it was the right choice for her in the end. A life on the run as a killer's wife was no life he wanted for her and by god did she deserve better. And what if they’d had a kid? Would that kid have grown up to be like (Y/N)? Dressed in clothes slightly better than rags, listening to folks in town talking, hoping for a sliver of promising information? How soon before Dutch started insisting they run jobs like him and the others? Would he have had to bury his own kid after a shootout gone to hell?

What about Issac?

His boy.

His beautiful little boy who would forever be barely older than Jack was now.

Arthur was forcefully brought out of his self-pitying thought spiral when Admiral cried out, rearing up and unceremoniously throwing him from the saddle. A cry of warning that probably came from Javier rang in Arthur’s ears as he landed heavily on his back, the crash stealing the air from his lungs. His world spun something fierce and he was vaguely aware of the feeling of the earth rumble beneath him as he lay there trying to breathe. Groaning to himself and muttering a quiet, pained curse, Arthur gingerly sat up as Charles appeared at his side offering a welcome hand up.

“You alright there Arthur? I almost ran you over.” Javier asks as Boaz came to a halt.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” Arthur replied, grunting as Charles pulled him back to his feet. He back protested as he carefully flexed his muscles, trying to lessen the pain racing up and down his back.

“You alright mister?” Arthur looked up and caught the worried look (Y/N) was sending him and nodded with a grunt as he looked around, quickly finding Admiral ten or so feet away, ears flicking back and forth. Arthur could hear the stallion’s huffing even with the distance between them. Sighing, Arthur called out calmly to his agitated horse, gently drawing Admiral’s attention to him as he shushed and soothed the animal. Seeing his human approaching, Admiral dutifully strode over to Arthur and less than gently shoved his entire head against the man’s chest as soon as he was within range, snorting as Arthur ran a hand along his neck.

“Yeah. You’re ok boy.” Arthur said softly as he fished out a peppermint as a reward for calming down so quickly and returning without much fuss. “Now why’d you go a buck me off like that boy?”

“Did you not hear me when I said to look out for the snake?”

Arthur looked up again at (Y/N) spoke and felt a tiny bit of heat upon his cheeks.

“Ah. No, sorry. Was lost in my thoughts.”

“That’s not like you Arthur. Everything alright?” Charles’ deep voice was like a welcome balm on his bruised pride. Still, Arthur waved off the other man’s worry with a small smile.

“Well, we’re nearly there so mount up and let’s get going.” (Y/N) commanded, turning Fortuna back around to the direction they were headed.

“Pushy kid, aren’t ya?” Arthur commented as he swung himself back on to Admiral’s back.

“We still gotta ride all the way back to camp. And besides, Cattail Pond may be out of the way but it isn’t completely untravelled.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s get going then.”

The remainder of the ride was again spent mostly in silence, as Arthur winced with every jolt of Admiral’s gait. The trip from then on out was almost entirely uneventful, save for the poor fella they passed who was yelling every profanity under the sun as a lone wolf chased his horse. Taking pity on the poor man, (Y/N) drew their repeater and without commanding Fortuna to slow, fired a few warning shots at the wolf, who decided his fleeing target was no longer worth the effort and fled the way he’d come. The rider didn’t even look back.

Arthur was mildly impressed at how at ease the teen was when needing to shoot from the saddle and when he commented as much, they simply shrugged and replied “Like I said, I can shoot any gun and I don’t miss. Those bullets hit right where I wanted them to.”

It wasn’t too much longer before (Y/N) was leading the three outlaws up the slope of the mountain.

“We’re coming up on where I hid everything.” They called back. “There’s a little abandoned house near Cattail Pond. The whole thing doesn’t look like it’s been touched in years.”

“And you’re sure it’s secure?”

“I sure am Mister Arthur!” They said, turning back to look at him. “Only way in is a window with loose boards but it’s too small for adults. Especially you and Mister Smith.” They finished with a laugh. “There it is!”

Arthur turned his gaze from the cheerful teen and true to their word, a smallish boarded-up house sat perched upon a ledge.

“Uhh, shouldn’t there be a pond? It was in the name…” Javier asked in confusion.

“It’s a bit further up and just over the rest of this part of the mountain.” (Y/N) clarified. Fortuna came to a halt with a tug on her reins as (Y/N) dismounted, the three men following their lead. Arthur briefly checked his ammo out of habit, noticing from the corner of his eye that Javier and Charles had done the same before following the teen up the mountain path. Naturally, the house had seen better days. The door and windows were all boarded up and almost looked more secure than several prisons Arthur had found himself inside for one reason or another.

(Y/N) walked with a purpose to one of the windows that looked just as inaccessible as the door, yet without pausing they grabbed one of the board and gave it a few tugs.

“Charles, could you give them a hand?” Arthur asked.

“No no no! I got it!”

“You sure kid?”

“Yup!” They replied, punctuated with another tug. “It comes off! I promise! I just made sure it wouldn’t fall off on its own while I was gone.” Arthur nodded as the teen grunted again as they struggled with the board.

“Almost got it-!”

With a final groan, the board finally came loose and sent the teen stumbling back into Arthur. He caught the falling teen with ease and barely more than a soft ‘oof’ at the collision.

“Told ya it comes off.” (Y/N) grinned. Arthur rolled his eyes fondly as they (h/c) haired youth dropped the board to the ground and went back to grab the next. As suspicious as he was of them when he first heard their claims, he found the teen had grown on him in the very short time he’d known them. A little voice in the back of his head whispered that they could still be planning some sort of trap but he tampered it down. He could not for the life of him explain why, but whenever he looked at them a strange feeling welled up inside of him. It was warm and kind of tingly but it also made his chest tighten and made his lungs feel like they weren’t working properly. Again he was brought back to the haunting blue pools of their eyes.

Arthur continued to watch silently as (Y/N) removed two more planks of wood until there was enough of a gap for them to fit through. Slinging their repeater off their back and placing it against the house, (Y/N) pulled themselves through the newly opened window. Javier and Charles silently fanned out to scan the surrounding area while Arthur watched (Y/N) through the window as they walked over to the fireplace and reached up the chimney, pulling a satchel from its hiding place. Next, they walked to a nightstand and pushed it away from the wall, revealing a hole with an old saddlebag sitting inside. Arthur let out an amused chuckle at the sight. The kid was pretty smart to have split up the money inside the hiding place.

“Grab this for me, will ya?” (Y/N) said from the window, holding a lockbox out to him. Stepping back and lifting the lid, Arthur felt himself grinning upon seeing the neat wads of cash lining the interior of the box. He looked up as the kids dropped two old saddlebags and the satchel out the window, all bulging at the seams with money, and onto the ground before once again crawling through the window.

“Good work kid.” Arthur smiled. The grin the kid gave him reminded Arthur of a cat that had gotten the cream or eaten an entire salmon on its own. “How much would you say is in those bags?” He asked Javier and Charles. “I think there’s around five thousand in this little thing.”

“Close to ten in the satchel, I think.” Came Charles’ reply. Javier let out a long whistle.

“At least thirty between the saddlebags. Certainly heavy enough to be that much.” Arthur nodded happily.

“’S good. Real good. Alright, let's load all this up then.” The packing away of the newly retrieved money was a quick affair and it wasn’t too long before Admiral, Boaz, and Tiama all had their saddle bags stuffed as full as possible. Still, there was some that still needed putting away. Arthur put most of it into his own satchel but decided on a whim to hand the kid the old satchel with a few thousand in it. “We’re trusting you not to betray us now kid.”

“Course not!” they replied with a scoff. “Like I’d damage the goodwill I’ve worked up with you now!”

“Right then. Well, where to next?” He asked as he prepared to mount Admiral. “We’ve gotten a good amount of our money back, is the rest nearby?”

“The rest?”

“Yeah, the rest. We got nearly fifty thousand right now but we’re still a long ways off from the total.”

The silence that followed was near deafening before the kids' quiet voice spoke up.

“B-but. This is everything!”

Arthur’s gaze shot over to the kid, their eyes wide as all hell as they repeatedly opened their mouth to speak only for the words to get stuck in their throat.

“You said you had all our money!” Javier interrupted angrily as he stepped closer to the scared teen.

“I did! I, well, I thought I did!”

“What do you mean you thought?” Arthur asked, his voice soft, despite the mild sting at the idea the kid had lied to them.

“I mean when I went to grab the money, this is all that was hidden there! I didn’t know there was more than this!” Arthur bit out a curse and ran a hand over his beard, thinking about what he should do next. The kid seemed genuinely upset at the revelation that they hadn’t actually gotten all of the gang’s money.

“You gotta believe me Mister!” They begged. Tears were starting to gather in their eyes and the sight made Arthur’s heart clench. “I-I swear! I thought I had gotten it all! I- I didn’t know! I-“

“’S Alright kid, I believe ya.” Arthur sighed, walking over and giving what he hoped was a reassuring pat on the kids shoulder. “Let’s just get back to camp so we can figure things out from there.” With a gentle push belying his anger, Arthur guided the distressed teen back to their horse, quietly telling them to mount up before swinging himself back onto Admiral’s saddle.

The ride back to camp felt slower. The horses all seemed to pick up on the less than cheerful moods of their riders and showed no desire to speed things along. Arthur was about to reassure (Y/N) that everything would be fine when the loud crack of a gun startled the horses and sent Arthur into fight or flight mode.

“Thems Dutch’s boys! Get em’!” A nasally Irish accented voice called out and Arthur heard Javier say, what was probably a curse, in Spanish. Arthur frantically looked around for somewhere to take cover but they were as good as sitting ducks. Yelling out a one-word order, he spurred Admiral into action, drawing his revolver as the stallion raced across the trail.

“Ride!”

The O’Driscolls whooped and hollered as they gave chase, firing wildly at the retreating men and teen as they made their mad dash over Cumberland Falls. One shot hit too close to Boaz and the horse reared, nearly bucking Javier from the saddle. As Admiral was practically running up Boaz’s behind, Arthur had no time to react and the two collided with such force, Arthur once again found himself flying from his saddle. With no time to catch his breath, Arthur sprang back up, running to the bank where several large rocks sat and slid down behind one. Taking a second to compose himself and draw his gun, Arthur peeked out from behind the rock and the world seemed to slow as Arthur picked his targets and lined up his revolver with the men trying to kill him. He breathed out slowly and squeezed the trigger and nailing one of the O’Driscolls right between the eyes. Sweeping his gun and gaze across the horizon, Arthur sent three more bullets flying towards his enemies with each hitting their mark in the other fella's chest.

A burning pain slashed across his upper arm of his off-hand and sent him ducking back behind cover, allowing him enough of a reprise to give his arm a once over. A tear in his shirt sleeve showed that he was little more than grazed by the bullet. Swallowing the pain dancing up his arm, he poked up from behind his measly cover again and prepared to return fire only for the O’Driscoll he was aiming for to go down with a spray of red mist as a bullet tore through his skull.

Chancing a look in the direction of the shot, Arthur was surprised to see (Y/N) behind another rock glaring down the barrel of their repeater, nailing O’Driscoll after O’Driscoll. The dumb Irish bastards, not expecting a majority of their forces to be taken out by a teenager, stagged and balked giving Charles and Javier, who had recovered from Arthur and Admiral crashing into him and Boaz, plenty of time to take down the rest of them.

When the last O’Driscoll fell, only the sound of the waterfall echoed around them as Arthur breathed out a sigh of relief.

“You alright there Arthur?” Charles’ deep soothing voice called out.

“I’ll live, just a graze. Stings more than anything.” He sighed, feeling the sudden tension and adrenaline fade from his body. Tiredly, he whistled for Admiral and quietly patted his neck. “You’re alright boy.” He muttered quietly before turning back to the others. “Any other injuries?”

“None here.” Javier replied, Charles nodding silently beside him. Arthur nodded and turned to ask (Y/N) the same only to see them staring at one of the dead O’Driscolls.

“Y’alright kid?”

“Hmm?” (Y/N)’s eyes stayed fixated on the dead body, a thin ribbon of pinkish-red water trailing from the hole in the man’s head.

“Come on.” Arthur said gently, guiding them towards Fortuna who perked up at her approaching rider and quickly attempted to eat some of the kids hair drawing a laugh from the quietly distressed youth. Arthur left (Y/N) to gather themselves as Javier silently signaled him over.

“We got a problem.”

“Besides the O’Driscolls?” Arthur said, gesturing to the dead bodies in the river.

“I can’t find the saddlebag you gave me.”

“What?”

“I think it might have fallen off when Admiral ran into Boaz.” The Mexican gunslinger continued. “If I had to guess, it went over the waterfall.”

“Shit.” Arthur spun around and walked up to Admiral, seeing that he too had lost the saddlebag filled with some of the money. “We can’t stay to look. Someone likely heard the shooting and I’d rather not be around if some lawmen show up.”

“What are we going to tell Dutch?” Charles asked, calm as ever, as Arthur swung himself back onto the saddle. “We already had less than believed and now we have lost even more of it.”

“Leave Dutch to me. Let’s just get goin’.”

Within a matter of minutes, the four of them were back on their way to camp, the air quiet like before but with a completely different feeling in the air. Gone was the jovial hope and promise of a fat stack of money awaiting them. Instead, a quiet disappointment and unease hung around them; especially from (Y/N). Silently, Arthur waved Charles and Javier ahead and slowed Admiral down till he was side by side with Fortuna. (Y/N) didn’t respond to Arthur’s presence, quietly fiddling with a few strands of Fortuna’s mane, their hands barely holding the reins. Arthur took a moment to note that Fortuna made no attempt to throw her head or wander elsewhere as her rider neglected to guide her.

“Hey.” He spoke up quietly. “Y’all right?”

(Y/N) shrugged one shoulder, not looking up from their fiddling, but stayed silent. Their ratty hat was pulled low over their face obscuring their eyes but Arthur got the feeling that the kid was doing their best to not cry in front of him.

“Hey.” He said to them, voice still far gentler than he’d heard himself sound in a long time. “Look at me.”

(Y/N) peaked out from under the brim of their hat and just like Arthur suspected, their eyes were wet with unshed tears.

“It’s goin’ to be alright. Dutch’ll understand.” The kid didn’t react and Arthur got the distinct impression they didn’t believe him. Were Arthur a different man he might have been bothered by the fact the kid had little to no hope of things being alright. The world was a dangerous place, especially for kids all on their own. He knew it, John knew it, and countless others too. Still, something he couldn’t put into words made him want to reassure the kid and make them believe in those words again.

God, he was acting like a damn a sentimental fool.

“Shit happens in life kid. But you know what? You still got us a good amount of money.” When the kid replied, Arthur had to strain his ears to hear their mumbled reply.

“I lied though.” They sniffled. “I said I got all your money but I didn’t! And then, most of it fell off the damn waterfall. All because of those damn Malakas!” The last word didn’t sound like English and had a weird foreign quality to it and Arthur made a mental note to ask the kid about it later because it definitely wasn’t a polite word. Realising he was starting to tune out (Y/N), Arthur snapped his thoughts back to them just in time to hear them complain more about the O’Driscolls.

“What happened with those O’Driscoll bastards weren’t your fault kid. Dutch won’t hold it against you. And besides, you helped us take care of em. You’ve definitely proven yourself as a capable person, despite your youth. I’m sure Dutch will be more than happy to have you with us.” The last sentence slipped out of his mouth before he could think better of it but the way the kids eyes shined with hope stopped Arthur from physically kicking himself for practically promising such a thing.

“You really think so Mister?”

“Course!” He continued with a hearty laugh. “You weren’t kidding when you said you didn’t miss. Nailed all three of those O’Driscolls right between their eyes! Poor bastards didn’t know what hit em’.”

The kid made half chuckle noise of agreement but frowned.

“Wish I didn’t have to prove my sharpshooting like that. I was thinking more about hunting for food. Not, killin’.”

Before Arthur could stick his foot in his mouth again by saying something stupid again, Bill’s gruff voice called out from the forest making Arthur realise that they were back at camp.

***

Thank you for reading!

If you have a spare 5 seconds please consider leaving a comment. It helps my motivation and encourages me to write more when I can see proof people like my stories.  A like and reblog also let me know people are enjoying this story.

[beerecordings]

Poison - Chapter Seven

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l Part Six

Hi guys! Though this is the last plot-heavy section of the story, there will be an epilogue to tie up loose ends :) Hope you enjoy this final section! It has been a long ride with maximum whump haha. Thank you for reading.

Trigger warnings for hospitalization, needles, death threats, traumatic flashbacks, and mild eye trauma.

I’ll post a last-chapter summary later because I just posted chapter six but be sure to read that before you read this one :)

It was easy, honestly, once the doctor was shaken up.

He didn't have to be Anti or Chase. Anyone could have seen that Henrik was a mess, all trembling hands and reddened eyes and grieving, guilty, heart-broken mouth. Poor little doctor, aww. And he'd been waiting for an opportunity for days.

He considered riling him up more, but Henrik only gets stiff and scared and frozen when too much is going on, so he soothed him instead, pretending to wake up warm and sleepy and whimpering for his big brother, begging to be unrestrained just for a few minutes, please. Desperate for good news and aching for one of his best friends, Henrik quickly abandoned caution in the hopes of comforting Chase.

And he let himself be held for a moment, and Henrik was warm and soft and comforting, and he cannot deny that he liked it for the time he let it last – the smell of coffee and soap, the hot pressure of another body, the familiarity of human skin.

But he had more important things to do than this.

He held Henrik's throat until he passed out and sedated him in an act of vengeance, exchanging clothes and leaving Henrik tied up and unconscious on the bed where he had been trapped for days.

He could have hurt him further. He should have hurt him further. He should have killed him.

But he did not.

Where are we going? He asks himself, trying to keep his wavering legs steady enough to walk without drawing suspicion. What will we do?

I'm not sure. Should we just go?

We could.

But I don't want to.

Why not?

There's – things to stay for?

Don't go getting fucking attached.

He loved me.

We should cut them out.

What do you mean? The magician?

Yes, cut him out, because we keep thinking about it, thinking – oh, he loved me.

If we're cutting him out we should cut all of them out.

We should have killed the doctor.

Yes.

Let's kill the magician at least.

He called me amata.

Shut the fuck up!

But there's a sensation now, one he's hated as long as he can remember, and he must stop to put his hand against the wall and cover his eyes, biting down on a groan. It feels like his blood is trying to separate from his bones.

He loved me...

Be quiet. My brain is turning against me. Where's his room, do you think?

Ask the receptionist.

But we look like his doctor. We ought to know.

Tell her we heard he'd been moved without our permission and we need to check which room he's in.

Good, yes. The accent...

We can do it, but the magician – my brother –

Stop! Just – if we can do the accent, fine, just come on. I need to make this confusion stop, now.

“Clara!” Thank God for her nametag. “Did they move my brother out of his room? Where is he now?”

Haha, you're so bad at it!

He's so bad at it too so it doesn't matter!

Hahaha.

They come back together under the amusement of it and his bones settle.

“Oh, no, Dr. S, looks like he's still in Room 413. Did you change your hair?”

The fake Henrik rushes away before he can be forced to answer, heading toward the elevator. He's up and about, yes, but he's still much too weak from the drugs and the week of rest to take any stairs.

He gets a few weird looks from nurses on the stairs, but that could also just be because he's Schneep.

I don't – I don't think I want to do this.

Be quiet. Be quiet. Be quiet.

I don't think we want to do this!

There's only one of us! Just be quiet!

“Hey, are you alright?” someone asks him.

“Just leave me alone,” he snarls, leaning against the wall of the elevator as his skin threatens to tears away from his muscles and his skull splits down the center. “Just leave me alone.”

They back off and the elevator falls silent.

I'm doing this. I'm doing what I have to do. There's only me and I'm doing what I have to to ease the pull between us. Now hush and get ready. We won't have much time before Jackie comes.

Jackie... he loved me...

Anti grips his head, furious and despairing, and bites on his tongue until blood wells. It’s time to cut these feelings out of their shared chest before they are both destroyed.

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

“So, as you can see here,” explains Dr. Corrin warmly, holding up some pictures of his brain. “It's in the language-producing center of your brain over here, called Broca's area, which is why you're having difficulty with both spoken language and sign. As a bit of good news, aphasia is something patients often recover from even without speech therapy, though there may be some lasting difficulty in finding the right word, and it's possible the aphasia could give you problems for up to a year. You're already speaking again, though, which is excellent news. And you're having no comprehension difficulties?”

Marvin shakes his head slowly, stroking Jameson's hair.

“That's good.” She keeps her voice soft to let his little brother sleep. “I know this must be hard right now, but I have high hopes you'll make a near-full recovery. There is some other minor brain damage around the same area, but as long as you don't notice any significant impacts on your day-to-day life, I think our best option is letting the brain do what it does best and find new pathways to keep you going. Are they any questions you're able to communicate with me just now?”

He hums sleepily. “Ssssshhh,” he manages, his mouth sliding on the word like it's waiting for more to be there. “My? My?”

“Schneeplestein?” She notices him looking at her coat and badge. Marvin smiles, pleased he's managed to get his point across.

“I'll ask him to come see you soon, okay?” she says, smiling back at him, and he nods his head and lets her get up to go.

The room falls quiet again without her, but he doesn't mind. His pain medication is up nice and high again and after the scary part of the night everything became warm and pleasant again.

He's drifting when the door opens.

“Shhh,” he calls again, happy with the sight of his white coat and glasses. “Pi.”

He reaches out for the book, setting it on his lap over his card pack and waiting for his little brother to come over and read to him.

But one step, two – it is not Henrik standing closer to him.

For a moment, Marvin thinks it's Jack.

Then the syringe comes out of his pocket.

Marvin does not quake or shrink in on himself. His eyes fix on the needle. He looks back up at his little brother.

Anti – Chase – his eyes are unreadable, full of something Marvin does not recognize in blue eyes.

But it doesn't scare him.

“Amata,” he whispers, smiling. “Here.”

“Shut up,” he snarls, rounding the bed, and it is only when he approaches Jameson that Marvin begins to feel afraid. “I'm going to kill you.”

Marvin shakes his head and Jamie's shoulder. JJ comes awake with a snuffle, rubbing at his face as he looks up, and then, before his eyes can even widen in alarm, Anti has grabbed him by the throat.

It is, perhaps, a sad fact of Jameson's life that this is not the first time in his life he has woken up with Anti about his throat, but it is the first time he's woken up with Anti about his throat and a brother high on morphine in the hospital bed beside him, and the terror Marvin sees in his eyes is as clear and as deep as the burn of light in the bulb of an angler fish. But if Henrik freezes up and Marvin becomes careful and reasoning, Jameson's reaction to a sudden attack is exactly what Jackie always hoped it would be – fucking fight.

Marvin would like to tell you he helped – that he screamed, that he thought to press the call button, that he threw something, anything. Marvin would like to tell you he even watched. But the truth is that the moment he saw Jameson rear back with a knife drawn from his coat pocket and Anti recoiling to meet him in battle, he was back in chains and convulsions, watching Anti kill Cottonmouth in his little brother's body.

“Darling,” he wails, once, twice, because he cannot even cry his name. “Darling!”

He hides his face and curls in on himself on the hospital bed, holding his shoulders, trying to breathe. Cottonmouth crumples into her own blood in front of him and he pushes his palms hard into his eyes and groans, gritting his teeth.

“Anti,” he whispers. “Chase. Don't.”

But when he hears the thud of a body slamming into the ground, he knows it isn't Anti.

For a moment, there's only Anti's breathing and the shaking of his own heart in his chest. He peers out of his fingers, needing to know if JJ is alive, but all he can see is his little brother's face turned away from him on the tiles of the floor, still.

Anti stalks forward and grabs him.

To his credit, Marvin does not scream or sob even as his flashback near consumes him. He clings furtively to Chase's hands and closes his eyes. The rapid thudding of his heart suddenly stops registering on the heart monitor as Anti manipulates the tech. The nurses won't notice anything wrong.

“What did you wake up in me?” hisses his brother, pushing him down hard against the hospital bed. Needles shift in Marvin's body and he whimpers. “Why are you all making me feel a thousand different things? This is worse than I first melded into this fucking flesh.”

Marvin breathes in, out. Trying to stay steady. Trying to stay steady.

“Look at me,” snarls Anti.

Marvin does not. Marvin does not open his eyes.

“Look at me,” screams Chase.

“Hear you,” warns Marvin in a croak, sliding open his eyes and glaring up at him even as tears run down his cheeks.

“Stop crying,” he answers, his face darkening with frustration. “Stop!”

The needle of a syringe leaps up in his hand and presses into Marvin's throat. He closes his eyes again and lets it sink against the first layer of his flesh, threatening to go deeper.

“Too high to be afraid of me? Huh? Is that it? I'll make you fucking beg.”

Marvin almost laughs. If this isn't terror – if the memory of being hung up in those chains as the poison coursed through him isn't real terror – he doesn't know what is. But Anti's hands reach out to adjust his drug dose and Marvin's heart drops with his morphine levels. Almost immediately, he feels the effects. It's like his skin, his body, his heart has become real again, real in a world much colder than he remembers. He's being recreated. This is what it feels like, isn't it?

Cosmic and mortal at the same time, his atoms are flung into arrangement after long years of drifting, and he is a tree raised from the earth, suddenly standing, suddenly bodied, suddenly aware and alive and staring at the world.

Drifting, confused, scared. Yeah, he remembers. This is what it feels like to be created.

He just doesn't remember it hurting this much.

He doesn't remember anything ever hurting this much, because he's been trying not to think about what happened to him that day on those chains, and oh, oh, oh, it's here with him again now.

The needle presses deeper into his throat. He can hear Anti – no, Chase, his Chase, his Chase in pain – breathing harshly above him, trying to make himself do it.

“Don't feel guilty,” he hears himself sob.

“What?”

He clings to his wrists. He clings, clings, clings to his little brother's wrists. Amata, amata, Chase, the only word left on his mouth, the only thing left that matters, his heart, his heart.

“I love you.”

Aphasia, or the inability to produce language, is not an uncommon result of brain damage. An interesting fact about this condition, however, is that, at times, while it may be impossible for a person to form the sentences or words they'd like to say, it may well be possible for them to recite memorized or familiar phrases. For example, someone might not be able to express their congratulations to a family member on their birthday, but when everyone begins singing “happy birthday,” they are able to join in just as loud and as clearly as anyone else.

There are phrases Marvin knows. There are recitations imprinted on his heart. And if you had told him that a week ago, he would have laughed and made fun of you, because, as he would assure you, that is much too soft for him, but this is not a week ago.

This is now. His kidneys have failed twice. He was tortured for three hours straight. His little brother has been missing for six months and now, here he is.

It is Anti also, or somewhat, or sort of, or something, but Marvin has never known Anti beyond legends and a battle or two, and what he sees – what he feels, what he hears, what he smells – this is Chase, Chase with his sad, lovely eyes, Chase with hair that goes gold in the right light, Chase with this bizarre and ever-present vanilla smell on his tired palms, Chase, Chase, Chase.

Marvin is laughing before he knows why, laughing as Anti tries to put the needle in his neck.

“I love you better than stars and suns,” he recites, his own spells, his own poetry. “I would like to make a constellation of you, stella amata, beloved, my heart. Blue eyes, brother. Amata, I'm here. Amata, I'm here. Come lie down with me. I love you. Chase, do you want to come with me? Just breathe deep. What can I do to help? Are you with me? I know how hard you're trying, I know you're doing your best.”

A litany of remembered things, left over from every time Marvin has comforted him or been comforted by him. A litany of their brotherhood.

“Stop,” he cries.

Marvin begins to quote in earnest. Brothers and songwriters and authors.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Stay with me, my brother. Here I am. I can't lose you. The weather would be just right, requiring a light sweater mornings and evenings, and something short-sleeved midday.”

“You're just babbling,” he howls, pressing him down bodily into that hospital bed, until they are chest-to-chest but for the book on Marvin's chest and the cards beneath it. Marvin's head is clearing again the longer he looks at it. He knows he needs to try and speak on his own again. He knows he needs to try and save him. His brother. His Chase.

“Scared,” he whispers, touching his cheek, and he groans and ducks his head, holding that needle against his throat in a trembling hand. “I know. Scared.”

“No... No, I'm not s-scared...”

Marvin could sing for Chase's stammer. He caresses his beard, dark and unkempt. His free hand traces down his own chest, careful.

“Don't feel guilty,” he murmurs, reaching back to touch his hair, to stroke his head like he had Jamie's only minutes before. “If pain. Me, darling.”

“You should be worrying about yourself, not us!” he shrieks. “We're not going to feel guilty for killing you! I'm not! And I'll, I'll... I'll take the black and white one with me again! Yes! Our baby brother! And he'll quiet all this noise! I won't feel alone anymore!”

“Not feel alone anymore,” whispers Marvin, tears hot and red on his cheeks, from the pain, from the fear, from the love of him. “Not alone.”

“I'll make it stop, I'll make it stop.” He is shaking his head back and forth above him and they both know he does not believe himself. “We have to make it stop, we just want – I just want – ”

“Chase,” whispers Marvin. “Cast him out.”

“I c-can't!”

“Yes, Chase. Yes.”

“No, I can't, I've tried, I've tried! For months, Marvin, for months, I tried so hard, I did. I wanted so badly to come home to all of you.”

Marvin sobs and clings to his face, his free hand finally reaching his card pack.

“I was so scared, I just want this to stop, we both do!”

“Cast him out. Cast him out. You – you are my sunshine, I'm here, stella amata, the weather would be just right... Chase, here, here.”

“Marvin!” cries Chase. “Please, please help me.”

“No, stop,” shouts something else beneath his skin.

“It hurts!” they both shriek, falling slightly away from the bed.

Marvin grabs their hand.

For a moment, Chase and Anti both stare at him, and there is a silence and an ocean between them, and the world is a rocking, moving thing, and they are anchored together in white palms and white fingers and twin tattoos along their right arms, and they see each other.

“Get the fuck out, Anti,” says Marvin, and he pulls out his King of Hearts and finishes the spell he meant to finish in that basement a week ago.

Light burns between the two of them and they scream as they fall back, their flesh singed by the force of the spell, a black heart scalding into their neck. He – they – whoever and whatever this creature is – trips back over Jameson and falls to the ground beside him.

“Marvin!” Screaming down the hall. “Marvin!”

The door opens and slams into the wall. Jackie does not hesitate even to look around, just pounces towards Anti.

“Stay back!” he screams, scrabbling to his feet and bringing Jameson's body with him, the syringe pressed against his throat. “You stay the fuck away from me!”

“No, you get the fuck away from him,” cries Jackie, teeth snarling. “Let him go. Anti, you're bleeding already. Give up.”

He's right. He realizes with a start that blood is tracing its way down his cheek, bleeding from his eye. Or – is it blood? It's dark as ink.

“Big brother,” croaks Marvin. “Careful, careful.”

“I'm here, Marvelous, I'm here. Anti, stop!”

He's maneuvering toward the door. With JJ in his arms, unconscious and pressed against that needle, Jackie doesn't know what to do to stop him. His first instinct is tackling, as it always is, but that might not end well.

“I've got a tracker on JJ,” says Jackie. Well, he's got his location on on his phone, anyway. “If you try to take him or any of my brothers away again, I'll find you.”

Anti bites his teeth at him, standing in the doorway with JJ slumped across his chest. He can hear more people coming. He's sure Jackie brought security.

But those are the least of his problems right now.

The sensation of his bones and his blood separating, of his skin peeling off from his flesh, of his heart pulsing to get out of his chest, of something being wrong inside him, of something needing to escape every cuticle of his flesh –

This is worse than it's ever been.

He turns his head, and, when he is sick, something black is leaking out of his mouth.

What is this? What's happening? He did something to me!

That's... you? Isn't it? The real you. Without me.

He slams Marvin's door shut behind him and drops Jameson in front of it, shoving him against the crack beneath the wood to slow Jackie, turning to sprint down the hall.

No, please, we can't run. I'm so tired...

Stop fucking whining!

His gait stumbles and he falls, crashing hard to the ground and drawing startled gasps all around him before he can get up again, throwing himself into a closing elevator. He shares a tense elevator ride with a terrified-looking twelve-year-old who won't take her gaze off his own bleeding eyes, trying to get his breath back before sprinting back out of the elevator and into the world.

Please, I want to go back to my brothers! I want my brothers to look after me! I think we can get separate again, please!

But he isn't listening to the voice inside his head right now.

His bones are splitting. His nerves are unraveling. Inside his head, neurons don't know which way to go.

He's coming apart. And when it's over, he doesn't think he'll have a body anymore.

He's afraid.

He runs.

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

Jackie knows where to go.

Jameson is bleeding heavy from the shoulder and his neck is blue with bruising. Jackie heaves him up in his arms and deposits his little brother gently in the bed beside Marvin's, checking for the pulse of his heart beneath his injured throat before turning to race after Anti. He hollers something about nurses, security, cops. Doesn't know what. They're safe here. Jameson and Marvin and Henrik will be looked after. They have to be. What matters now is Chase.

And he knows where to go. Jamie showed him.

He sprints down the street, down the pavement, panting hard, his body working like a machine, his feet pounding sturdy and swift against the concrete. People pass to let him go. Perhaps they can see the ferocity in his face.

He lost Chase once. Last week, he lost Marvin. All his life, his family has come and gone, through kidnappings and comas, imprisonment and loss. But today?

Today he brings his brothers home.

He picks up his pace and the wind makes way for him too. Today, he will not be late.

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

His gait slows.

His gaits slows to a snail crawl.

He staggers

He staggers

He staggers away from the building.

Lights burn around him in horrible gold and white, stinging against his aching eyes.

He can hear a low, desperate keening –

“Marvin... Marvin... Marvin...”

Over and over again.

That's not his voice, is it?

He's pretty sure he's the one groaning. He's pretty sure he's the one everyone's staring at, pausing on the pavement to call out in concern and whisper.

He's pretty sure he's covered in somebody else's blood.

His brain has turned to mush as everything inside him tears about and he no longer knows where he's running. Hot tears course down his cheeks. He clutches at his shirt and realizes he's aching for something soft to hold. A hand, a warm body, or maybe just a plush seal toy squished into a stuffie pancake.

“My baby,” he hears that distant, familiar voice whisper. “Hunter... my son...”

He has no child. He has no family. He is what remains and what remains is all that there is.

A sting cuts through his neck again and he screams, staggering against the cold wall of an alleyway. Something is in his blood! He can feel it! Poison, poison!

“What is happening to me?” he screams. “Something's inside of me! Marvin! Marvin! Marvin!”

He wants his big brother. He wants his big brother right now.

There is no big brother, there is no one left that he loves, if Marvin were to show his face to him he'd drive a knife into his heart and put a bullet through his skull just for good measure!

The sting pierces through him. The hot burn of something purer than his tainted blood. He is sobbing, heaving, sinking down beside a garbage can in a dirty alleyway beside a road to towards the hospital, wrapping his arms around himself. When did he get so skinny? When did he forget so much of himself? He can't even remember his name – a C? An H? An A?

Marvin spoke it. Marvin spoke it like it was the only word left that mattered. Marvin loved him.

I won't be thrown out of this flesh now! This body belongs to me! This body is me! I don't... what happens if I'm torn apart?

“A – Anti,” stammers his aching mouth. “Anti.”

“That name no longer means anything.” He is alone. He speaks to himself. They speak to each other. “Do we really have to go back to struggling?”

“I feel like I'm always struggling... I can't remember...”

“We don't need to remember. I have you and you have me. There is nothing left of the man you once were. If we could just settle down again!”

“P-poison... you are a poison... Marvin is sending you out...”

The pain lances through his ribs, spreading out across his body. He wails as the hurt only grows and grows, hyperventilating against the cool metal of the dumpster.

“You stole me from them!” he screams, trying to think. “I was going – I was going to see my child! My children! You stole me away from my children! From my brothers! Marvin! Marvin!”

Quiet. Something hateful and commanding arises in his head for the first time in weeks and he chokes, grabbing at his hair. I spliced you into myself once already. I will do it again. Marvin is gone and his magic was weak. You are alone with me. And if someone is leaving this body, then I will be the one to drive you out, Chase. This could kill me. I need to be separated but what if it kills me? What if I die here?

“You're... scared...”

“Chase!” someone shouts. “Chase!”

And then Jackie is there, Jackie is there, Jackie is holding him.

“Please,” he begs, he sobs, he wails; he writhes against Jackie's arms, struggles with him on the cold cement of the alleyway. “Please, it burns me!”

“Let Anti burn away,” he pants, only holding him tighter, only holding him tighter the harder he struggles. “Let Anti burn away. Come back to me. Come back home. I never meant to let you go. I'm sorry. It's me, it's Jackie. You have to remember who you are.”

Jackie smells like home. Pressed into his sweatshirt, Chase can hear again every word that Marvin spoke to him, can feel the touch of Jameson's forgiving body wrapped around his own, can see Henrik looking after him even though it terrified him.

“You know who you are,” whispers Jackie, sinking down to the pavement with him, holding him, careful with the heart-shaped burn singed into his neck. “Come back to me.”

We discover who we are in many ways. Perhaps most of all, we see ourselves in the love we have for others. In the way we love, in the fierceness with which we do. Chase knows himself, yes, after long months. He can see himself in the way Jackie is holding him and in the way he hugs him back, clinging to his brother's sweatshirt, burying his face against his chest.

Trusting his family to save him.

He is terribly ill for long minutes, sick and convulsing as the poison leaves him. Jackie's shirt soaks with the most horrible black ink. It won't come out in the wash. He doesn't care. Chase is here.

“I've got you,” he says, holding one-fourth of the world in his arms. “I've got you. I won't let him take you away again.”

The black ink runs down the brick of the alleyway where Jameson was standing a few days past with his little tray of hospital food. He knew this place would be important. He knew they would have to come here again.

Chase shudders, cries, stills against his chest.

Jackie looks down and sees the blackness creeping together as though magnetic on the brick, and then it is rising, it is forming, it is standing; it is Anti.

His face is drizzling so much black ink he can hardly keep his simulated body together, slumped and staggering, hollow and dazed. His eyes are dead. Jackie has never seen him stand still for so long.

His head rises, exhausted, and he does not breathe or move or speak a word. He only looks at Jackie. The blackness drips off of him – plink. Plink. Plink.

Jackie holds Chase. Jackie stares at him.

Anti closes his eyes and his mouth, and he lifts his hand to his chin, and then draws it away again in one of the first words of sign language Jackie ever learned.

Thank you.

Jackie should get up and hurt him. Jackie should find a way to hurt him. Jackie should kill him.

He doesn't.

The blackness collapses back into liquid. A rat scatters by. Anti's essence fills the squeaking animal up and, a moment later, they are both slipping away down the drain together, leaving nothing but drips of inky blood on the red brick behind them.

Jackie pulls Chase slightly away from himself to look at his little brother. Dazed and still bleeding sluggishly from the eyes, Chase can only snuffle and blink thick and slow, his eyes half-way closed, clinging to Jackie's shirt.

“I got you, Chaser,” whispers Jackie, slipping his arms beneath him. Chase sighs sleepily and wraps his arms around Jackie's chest as he is lifted into his arms, pressing his face against his brother's warm chest. “I got you. And I won't let you go again.”

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

A white

room.

White lights. White bedsheets. White brothers, haha. Marvin grins. He's on morphine again, but he's still crying by the time he comes to, hot wet tears tracing softly down his face.

“Marvin,” someone whispers.

“Jackie,” his mouth manages, and they share a smile there over the whiteness of the bedsheets, holding each other's hands.

Marvin's eyes drift to the rest of the room. His heart warms like grass in the sun. The bed across from his own is, at last, full.

“Okay?” he asks.

“He will be,” answers Jackie softly. “We'll make sure.”

Just like they always do. Just like they promised each other when they were young. We'll look after them. No matter what it takes.

Marvin looks down at himself.

This, he thinks. This is what it took.

“Hey,” he mumbles, pointing at the clock beside his table. It's 9:03. “Survived... night.”

“Survived the night? Oh. Yeah. That last kidney scare was yesterday. You survived the rest of the night and then the day and then this night too.” Jackie smiles at him. “Sleeping beauty.”

Marvin throws his hair in mock pride for his Aurora-levels of beauty and sends Jackie into a mini giggling fit, bent over his hand and squeezing tight.

“So... okay?” he murmurs, pointing at himself.

“There will be some complications,” says Jackie gently. “With your diet and your speech and your... your mental health, too. But everything's going to turn out alright, Marv. You made it. You're a survivor, Marv. And you helped Chase too.”

Marvin smiles up at him. Jackie praises and reassures, massaging at his palm, his eyes full of warmth. He has to keep quiet, though, because it appears they've gotten into a habit of sleeping in this room – Henrik is at Chase's side, crashed beside his brother's legs, snoring into his knees. Jameson is sitting up in the middle of the two beds, quiet and still, his throat bandaged.

“Darling?” asks Marvin. “Okay?”

JJ turns slowly about. His eyes are bright silver.

“Uh-oh,” says Jackie, reaching out his free hand for him. “Got a trance, looks like. Doing okay, buddy? You with us?”

JJ's mouth quirks dazedly and he nods.

“Good,” says Jackie, reassured. “You're getting a better handle on it already.”

Marvin reaches out his hand for him too and Jamie turns to take it, smiling warmly at him.

“See?” signs Marvin, not quite able to find the words for 'what happens now, Jameson?'

The tilt of his mouth blooms into a full smile.

“I see you, and me, and Jackie, and Chase, and Henrik,” he says.

“Is that all?” asks Jackie.

“No,” says JJ. “But that's all that matters.”

Chase shifts in his sleep and his hand finds Henrik's. All five of them are warm in the hospital room. Outside, the snow falls white and glowing in the morning sun.

[almost-jack]

It’s official. I’m a filthy, Jack-simping fuck monster. Chapter 15 is out and it is a smut bucket.

I just posted the smuttiest chapter that I’ve ever written for public consumption. It doesn’t even really require context (other than basic Borderlands 2 knowledge) to read because it is pure FILTH. I’m pretty proud.

Please enjoy and either leave me a comment here or on AO3 (guest comments and kudos welcome) or wash your eyeballs, depending on how you feel about it.

This chapter on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27921886/chapters/69799560

Or read below:

Chapter 15 : More Than He Bargained For          

Summary: Axton willingly puts himself in Jack’s way and gets fucked. Hard. Oof.

Notes:

Forgive me lord, for I have sinned, but so help me god, I'll fucking do it again. And again. And again...

Thinkin' about changing the fic's title to "The Lion's Den". What do you guys think?

*Warning: Uhhhh....Axton might take a bit of a beating with some mild non-con mixed in there. He likes some it, though. *shrug*

The tower was just a short walk from the bar and the pair was entering the massive living room of the VIP suite within minutes. Rei retrieved a bottle of Jack’s fancy champagne and poured three glasses, setting one down on an end table to wait for Jack, then she sat down on an ornate couch with gold upholstery and patted the seat next to her. Axton joined her, staring around at the lavish, ostentatious suite.

“Wow, this place is uh…”

“Excessive? Yeah, I know. Jack’s aesthetic is something along the lines of, “You can’t afford this,” and, “Is there enough black leather in here?”” she said, laughing.

“Well, you can never have enough black leather, darlin’,” said Axton, reaching out and stroking her cheek.

He leaned in and caught her lips with his own, kissing her firmly, yet gently. Without breaking the kiss, he threw a knee up onto the couch and began crawling forward, crowding her back against the armrest until he was straddling her. Rei ran her hands up his chest, feeling something cold and metallic hanging from his neck. She pulled away to look at the rectangular tags in her hand. Dog tags, and for some reason, a wedding ring. Rei knew better than to ask why.

“A soldier, eh? Your battalion isn’t going to be happy about you fraternizing with Handsome Jack and friends, you know.”

“Don’t have a battalion anymore, I was discharged a while back. I’m a mercenary now, honey. A vault hunter, in fact.”

“You’re a…what?” she said, taken aback.

“He’s a vault hunter. Well, he was a vault hunter. For me,” growled a voice from across the room.

Jack was leaning in the doorway of the suite, arms crossed, brows furrowed in a thunderous scowl. He strode over behind the couch, gripping the edge of the headrest with white knuckles, looming over the pair. Then he sighed, screwing his eyes shut and rubbing his temple.

“Kitten…why? Why do you do this shit to me? It’s like you’re trying to get us both killed.”

“Jack…I don’t understand…”

“I hired this joker as a vault hunter and then tried to kill him. Did you forget that part, Axie? The part where I wanted you dead?”

“Nope, I remember. Crazy bus explosion. Lotta fun,” said Axton, sitting up. Rei slid out from under him and began backing away from the couch, feeling the weight of the grave error she had made.

“So why the hell are you here? Do you need to get fucked by Handsome Jack so badly that you’re willing to risk your life for it? I can’t blame you, but…pretty stupid move, kiddo,” snarled Jack.

“What if that’s exactly why I’m here? Is that so hard to believe?” asked Axton, pouting up at him playfully.

Jack grabbed the burly man by the hair and bent his head back at a painful angle. Axton grimaced but remained still. Jack leaned down so his face was mere inches away, staring at the man in his grasp with fire in his eyes. Rei had seen that expression before, and, although she knew this was about to take an unfortunate turn for Axton, she couldn’t help but feel excited for what was to come. When Jack was at his worst, he always fucked her the best.

Rei sauntered over to the armrest next to Jack and sat, looking quizzically down at Axton.

“I don’t think we believe him, do we, J?” she drawled lazily.

“No, I don’t believe we do. So why don’t you tell us why you’re really here, cupcake?” hissed Jack through clenched teeth.

“Fine, fine, I might have been paid to keep an eye on you two. Uh, do you mind?” he grunted, trying to jerk his head out of Jack’s grip. Jack released him, drawing his pistol and pointing it at Axton’s head instead.

“Well that’s not much better…” mumbled the soldier.

“Who are you working for? I want answers, now,” snarled Jack.

“No can do, big guy. I gave you as much of an answer as you’re gonna get. The rest is classified.”

“Maybe you should fuck it out of him, J.” said Rei, examining her shimmery, black nails disinterestedly.

“Kitten, you always have the best ideas!” crowed Jack, his scowl morphing into a wolfish grin. He tossed her his gun. “Watch him for a minute.” He turned and left the room.

“That was pretty dirty trick, soldier boy,” she said in a low, ominous voice, cocking the gun and aiming between Axton’s eyes.

“I wasn’t trying to trick anyone, just saw an opportunity for some fun on the job and I took it,” he said, shrugging out of his jacket and throwing it over the back of the couch.

“Jack is almost certainly going to kill you once he’s done. Why would you risk that?”

“Ah, darlin’, you underestimate me. I wasn’t a commando for all those years because I’m bad surviving dangerous situations. Jack doesn’t scare me. Also… I wanted to spend a little time with Jack’s girl. See what makes you tick. See if you’re a threat. See…what you have on under that dress,” he said with an impish grin, eyes twinkling up at her.

“Well, you might just get some of what you wanted…and a whole lot you didn’t,” she said, smiling sweetly back.

“Ok kiddos, time for some fun!” announced Jack gleefully, returning to the couch and slipping his gun back into its holster. He held a jumble of straps and chains. Jack separated the tangled items in his hands and flipped a black leather gag over to Rei. “You get his mouth, I’ll get his wrists,” he said, giving Axton a hard shove to the back, forcing him face down on the couch.

Jack yanked Axton’s arms behind him, clinking a pair of thick metal handcuffs around his wrists so quickly that the soldier barely had time to react. Rei snickered at them as she undid the buckle on the gag.

“Yeah, I don’t know about the gag, darli-nghhh!” protested Axton as she stuffed the leather strap in his mouth and fastened it around his head.

“You wanted to see what I have on under my dress, right? Be a good boy and I’ll show you.”

“Oh he said that, did he? Cheeky little bastard,” chuckled Jack, unbuckling his belt. “Kitten, why don’t you come over here and get this party started, hmm? You’re in for a real treat, Axie. Getting to watch my kitten blow me is a real privilege.”

Jack pulled Axton upright by the back of his shirt and plopped down next to him, throwing an arm over his shoulders. He hooked a finger under the chain of the soldier’s dog tags and toyed with it gently, giving him a devilish grin. Rei knelt between Jack’s legs a shoved his pants down, mouthing at the exposed skin of his upper thighs.

“Hmm, I think I have another good idea,” she said softly, pulling a small baggie of purple powder out of her bra.

“Oh you just keep that Eridium concentrate stashed on you at all times, eh, kitten?”

“This stuff is close to my heart. Literally,” she giggled.

She poured a trail of powder down Jack’s thigh and snorted it in one fluid motion. She then tapped a line onto the back of her hand, holding it out to Jack, who sniffed it up appreciatively. He threw back his head and sighed happily, then turned to Axton, positively beaming, and clapped him on the back.

“Holy hell, kiddo. Looks like I’m gonna be fucking you all night long,” he purred in Axton’s ear, pulling himself out of his pants and giving his near instant erection a few assisting strokes.

Rei licked the tip of his cock and Jack’s hand dropped to his side, letting her take over. She sank down on his member, almost to the hilt, making him groan loudly at the hot silkiness of her mouth and her tongue ring gliding over his shaft. She lazily dragged her tongue back up to his cockhead and sucked gently, stroking his slit with the tip of her tongue. Then she picked up her pace and began bobbing her head while pumping his length with a firm grip, getting faster and sloppier with every passing minute. Jack let out another low moan and dug his fingers into Axton’s shoulder with the hand that was still dangling carelessly over it.

“Oh, fuck, kitten. Take it easy, our friend is still waiting for a turn on my dick.”

“I think it’s only fair that I get first dibs, I found him after all. And since I won, shouldn’t I be calling the shots?” she said, sitting back on her heels and wiping her mouth.

Jack raised his eyebrows at her. “Oh yeah, doll? Hey, if that’s what you want…” He shrugged. “That ok with you, buddy?” he said, hooking his arm around Axton’s neck and pulling his head into his chest.

“Mmmph,” came his unintelligible reply. The look on his face was something akin to curiosity with a hint of apprehension, probably at the prospect of being subjected to whatever insane things these two cartoonish villains could think up.

Jack laughed derisively. “Like it even matters what you want at this point, kiddo.”

“Bedroom. Let’s go,” said Rei, snapping her fingers at the two of them.

“You heard that hot little piece of ass, up you get,” said Jack, dragging Axton to his feet and pushing him down the hall.

They followed Rei into the bedroom, Jack hauling Axton onto the bed with him while she waited at the foot, arms crossed. Jack threw an arm over Axton’s shoulders once again, watching her intently. Once she had their full attention, Rei slowly, almost teasingly, unzipped her dress. She let it slide off her body and pool at her feet, revealing black, lacey lingerie with yellow stitching. She bent to remove her silver pumps, but Jack cleared his throat insistently. She stopped and put her hands on her hips, cocking them to one side.

“What?” she said sharply.

“Do me a favor kitten…uhh, boss-kitten…. Leave ‘em on? Please? For daddy?” he pleaded, sticking out his lower lip.

Rei rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a crooked smile. “Fine,” she said climbing up onto the bed and crawling towards them, catlike. She knelt between Axton’s legs and reached behind his head to unfasten the gag.

“The hell are you doing that for? I don’t wanna hear this guy complain all night,” whined Jack.

“He’ll be too busy putting that mouth to work to complain, don’t you worry. Isn’t that right, soldier boy?” she purred, grabbing Axton’s chin and stroking his lower lip with her thumb.

“Mmhmm, whatever you want, darlin’, as long as I get to touch you,” he murmured, his eyes raking over her body hungrily.

Rei smacked his cheek lightly, but firmly. “You don’t get to make demands. The cuffs stay on. Trade places with me.”

Axton awkwardly shifted onto his knees and shuffled out of Rei’s way as she took his spot next to Jack.

“Sit right there, lover boy,” she snapped her fingers at him and pointed between her legs.

He quickly obeyed, keeping his head low to avoid letting the pair see his pleased grin. Rei hooked a leg over his shoulder, pressing into his back with the sharp stiletto of her shoe.

“Down.”

He bent slowly and began kissing a trail up her thigh, nipping at her thong when he reached her pubic bone. He looked up at her and raised an eyebrow questioningly. She gave him a nod and he pulled the garment down with his teeth, tenuously inching it down her legs.

“Lemme help you with that, kiddo,” said Jack lazily, shrugging out of his jacket. He fished around in his pants pocket and produced a switchblade, flipped it open, and hooked it under the waistband of Rei’s panties. Before she could protest, Jack had severed both sides with a flick of his wrist.

“Jack! I liked those!” she hissed in irritation.

“So I’ll buy you another pair,” he murmured, pocketing the knife and kissing his way up her neck before enveloping her mouth. Their lips moved against each other languidly, tongues intertwining, hands tangled in each other’s hair.

Suddenly Rei broke away, moaning wantonly with her eyes screwed shut as she felt Axton’s mouth descend upon the heat between her legs. He lapped at her folds eagerly, dragging his tongue up to swirl around her clit, then back down to dip into her now dripping entrance, kissing and sucking every part of her along the way. After short while, Rei felt the weight of the bed abruptly shift, then heard the creak of a drawer opening. The weight shifted back and Axton cried out, jerking his head up. Rei whined at the loss of contact and sat up on her elbows to see what was the matter.

“Hey, man, are you serious?! You can’t put that on me!” complained Axton, trying to shake off Jack’s grip around his neck.

In the hand that wasn’t clenched around the back of Axton’s neck, Jack held a black leather collar (a plainer version of the one he had given Rei) connected to a chain-link leash. Rei laughed. Jack definitely had an aesthetic, and that was black leather absolutely everywhere. She sat up and folded her legs under her, reaching down to grab Axton’s face and still him.

“Cooperate, or the gag goes back on,” said Rei silkily.

She clenched his jaw in her palm while simultaneously stroking his cheek with her thumb, as though making both a threat and a titillating promise. He huffed in annoyance but slumped down, dropping his head into her lap and allowing Jack to collar him.

“Good boy,” she praised, stroking his hair.

“Thanks, kitten. So can I have a go at him now, or what? Don’t leave me hanging, here,” said Jack impatiently, gesturing towards his ever present, Eridium enhanced erection, still bobbing out of his open fly.

“Aww, you feeling neglected, J? Sure, have at him,” she cooed, crawling over to where Jack knelt behind Axton and sitting up on her knees to nuzzle and nip at his neck.

Jack wound the leash around his hand, curling it into a fist, and when it was short enough, gave it an experimental yank. Axton jerked backward and sputtered, almost losing his balance and toppling back into Jack’s lap. Jack smirked maliciously, the fire still glinting in his eyes.

“Ok, pumpkin. Let’s see what you’re made of,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“I, uh… I mean, it’s not my first time at the rodeo, but uh... Don’t go too hard on me, ok?” said Axton, nervously eyeing Jack’s impressively sized cock.

“We’ll see.”

“That means there’s no fuckin’ chance” Rei whispered in Axton’s ear, undoing his belt and pulling down his fly.

She giggled and smacked his ass, urging him up onto his knees while she pulled his pants and boxer briefs down, before unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it down to his elbows. Jack was busily pulling off Axton’s shoes and kicking off his own, then yanking off his vest and shirt without undoing all the buttons. He reached over to the already open drawer beside the bed and pulled out a bottle of lube, slicking up his throbbing erection, and hungrily descending on Axton, forcing his chest down into the bed with a thud. He pressed a hand to his back and held him there while he adjusted Axton’s hips and slid his pants the rest of the way off. Jack began to teasingly press his achingly hard cock between Axton’s cheeks.

“Aw, hey, come on Jack, at least give him a few fingers first,” said Rei sympathetically, although a wicked grin remained fixed across her face.

“Kitten, I don’t think I can wait much longer. I can’t tell if I want to kill something or fuck something, but if one of those two things doesn’t happen soon, I’m definitely going with kill,” Jack said in a strained tone.

“Oh, fuck, come on man…” mumbled Axton into the sheets. He raised his head to glance over his shoulder at Jack, a pleading look in his eyes. “If I survive this night, don’t you want me to at least tell people you’re a good lay? You know they’re gonna ask what Handsome Jack is like in bed …”

Jack shot him one of his signature “if looks could kill” faces and made an exasperated growl deep in his throat in response.

It was clearly taking every ounce of willpower he had to restrain himself from plunging balls deep into the command splayed out before him, but he begrudgingly lubed up a few fingers and got to work. Axton groaned as Jack pumped one large finger into his tight hole, and after a few pumps, another, far too soon for comfort. Jack worked him open quickly, drawing mostly grunts of pain from Axton as he carelessly fucked his fingers into the cuffed man.

“Think you can fucking take me now, cupcake? Or am I still too big for you?” hissed Jack, still pumping his fingers in and out.

“Shut up and do it already, douchebag,” retorted Axton. Jack abruptly yanked his fingers out, making him shudder in pain.

“You reaaally need to remember your manners, or I’m not going to be able to help you, Ax,” Rei said, her voice soft and sickly sweet. She was hovering next to Jack, her arm draped over one of his broad shoulders, her head resting on top of it.

“Oh, sweetheart, nothing can help him now,” growled Jack, lining his cock up with Axton’s quivering hole.

“Maybe he just needs a good dicking. Go on, J, fuck the shit out of him,” urged Rei, her tone absolutely poisonous.

Jack sank into Axton far too quickly, making the commando yelp and writhe underneath him as Jack pressed the weight of his powerful chest into his back. He fell still as Jack gave him a moment to adjust, his breath coming in heavy pants.

“Thaaaaat’s it, deep breaths. Relax, pumpkin, this is nothing. Things haven’t even begun to get bad for you, yet,” crooned Jack as he started to move his hips.

Jack groaned in relief as he slowly thrust his throbbing cock into Axton, the friction easing his frustration. Axton, on the other hand, was struggling not to whimper as the older man began pounding into him, his rhythm going from gentle and controlled to full on jack-hammering in less than a minute.

“So tell me, Axie, did you really think I’d fuck you nicely? That I’d suddenly change my mind about wanting most of you annoying fuckin’ vault hunters dead? You willingly entered the lions’ den, expecting not to get torn to pieces. What the fuck is wrong with you, kiddo?” Jack laughed and punctuated his sentence with a particularly hard thrust, eliciting a satisfying yelp from the man beneath him.

“Guess I’m just a glutton for punishment,” grunted Axton, a hint of amusement in his voice. It seemed as though he was beginning to enjoy himself, and Jack, while pleased that the commando was getting off on being manhandled and tormented by him, wasn’t about to let him enjoy it without consequence.

“Hey, kitten, why don’t you show our friend that little stunt you pulled on Pandora? The one that nearly broke my face?” said Jack, roughly yanking the leash towards himself, forcing Axton to sit up and lean back into his chest. Jack hooked a few fingers under the collar and slowed his thrusts to keep him anchored in place.

Rei, who had been running her nails down Jack’s back and murmuring words of encouragement in his ear, giggled. She reached into Jack’s thigh holster, still bunched around his thighs with his pants, slid out his gun, and turned it on Axton.

“Woah, woah, hold up, at least make it a fair fight if you’re going to try and kill me,” he rasped against the pressure of Jack’s pull on the collar.

“Don’t worry, hun, safety’s on. Doesn’t make it much safer for you, though,” she said with an amused grin, drawing back her arm. She swung the gun down on him, even harder than she had on Jack, decking him across the face, and causing the commando to cry out in pain and surprise. Both Rei and Jack cackled as Axton spat blood onto the bed.

“That all you got, babe?” he said dazedly, giving her a bloodstained grin.

Jack gave the collar a sharp tug.

“We can go harder if you want, kiddo. Just keep running that mouth of yours, see what happens,” he growled. He shoved Axton back down on the mattress and returned to his punishing pace, pumping in and out of him. Axton let out a low moan, his cuffed hands balling into fists behind his back.

Rei watched Jack begin to pant, the muscles in his back tensing. She moved to his side and leaned over Axton to pull Jack into a heated kiss, burying her hands in his hair and digging her nails roughly into his scalp, drawing a soft moan out of the man. All he needed was a little more pain to push him over the edge. She let her lips glide from his mouth, to his jaw, and then down his chest. Rei dragged her tongue over the firm muscles, stopping to lave over his nipple. Suddenly she bit down hard on the tender bud, sending shudders through his body.

“Ah, fuck, kitten, you’re gonna make me cum…” he groaned desperately. “You hear that, Axie? I’m gonna fill your tight little hole and make a huge mess for ya. Let’s see how well you march after being fucked senseless and filled with cum, soldier boy,” he hissed in Axton’s ear.

“Hey, hey, not in-“

Axton tried to protest, but it was too late. Jack was already hunched over his back, one hand buried in Rei’s hair as she continued sinking her teeth into his pectoral, the other between Axton’s shoulders, crushing him into the mattress with all his weight. Jack threw back his head, eyes screwed shut, and gave a final, brutal thrust, sinking his cock all the way to the hilt and letting go. He groaned loudly as he spilled into the man beneath him, his cock twitching and spurting for what felt like ages, pain and pleasure rippling through his body. Finally, he sank forward to lean on his hands, torso still hunched over Axton’s back, head hung low in exhaustion.

“God…damn…that was good. Really fucking good,” he panted, slowly pulling himself out of the commando. A thick stream of cum trickled out of Axton’s abused hole and dribbled down his thighs.

“Fuck you. What the hell,” grumbled Axton, displeased at the wet, tacky feeling of Jack’s cum dripping between his legs.

“HAH! Nope, pretty sure you’re the one who just got fucked here, princess,” said Jack, descending into peels of laughter. “I’ll tell you what, since you got me off so good, I’m gonna let you fuck kitten and get her off that good, too. If she wants. You want that, kitten?”

“About damn time,” she purred, stroking the hair on his chest.

“Well if I’m going to be doing any actual fucking, these cuffs gotta go…”

“Hmm…I do kind of want to see what you’re capable of… Should we trust him, J?”

“Hell, why not. Kid’s earned it. But just to be safe…” Jack pulled his pants back up to his hips, tucking himself away, but leaving the fly open. He removed his gun from its holster and clicked off the safety. “No funny business, ok, kiddo? One wrong move and I’ll blow brains out. And- trust me- it won’t even ruin the mood.”

Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, then went about unlocking the cuffs. Rei slid up the bed to rest her back against the headboard, waiting in eager anticipation.

“Can I go get cleaned up, at least?” asked Axton, sitting up and rubbing his wrists.

“Here,” said Rei, leaning forward and pulling his shirt, still bunched around his elbows, the rest of the way off. She tossed it at him with a derisive laugh.

Axton grumbled but took the shirt and wiped down his legs and ass. He then turned to Rei and slid close enough to nudge her legs apart with his knee, a hand planted on either side of her hips. A devious smile began to play across his lips. He glanced over his shoulder at Jack, checking to see where the gun and leash were in proximity to himself. Jack had given him some slack on the leash to move around, but still had the gun pointed threateningly at his head. The older man moved to kneel beside Axton, also dropping down to lean on his hands, and pressing the gun into his back.

“That good dicking I just gave ya made you a little hard, huh, Axie? You fuckin’ love the abuse, don’t you?” he said, dipping his head to mutter huskily in his ear. Jack licked a hot stripe up Axton’s neck, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine.

Rei reached for Axton’s semi stiff cock and began giving it slow, languid strokes, pleased when he let out a low moan as he hardened beneath her fingers. He leaned in and kissed her, more aggressively and sloppier than he had earlier, and pulled her down underneath him so their hips were flush. He began to grind his now erect length against her pubic bone, enjoying the way her breasts pressed against his chest. He ran a hand down her leg, then suddenly threw it over his shoulder, ignoring the sting as her stiletto dug into his skin. The commando reached between them and began to rub her clit in small circles, making her arch her back as she squirmed underneath him in pleasure.

“Fuck me, soldier boy,” moaned Rei, rolling her hips up to meet his.

“Go on kid, give it to her,” growled Jack, watching the pair lustfully.

Axton positioned himself at Rei’s entrance and sank into her slowly while sucking kisses onto her ankle. He drew himself out almost entirely, just his cockhead teasing her lips, then slowly slid back into her warm, wet heat and repeated the motion.

“Come on soldier, I know you want it rougher than that. We just beat the crap out of you, aren’t you gonna give it right back to us? “ Jack hissed in his ear, as if he was the devil on Axton’s shoulder.

Axton ignored him, opting instead to lean down and suck Rei’s nipple. She moaned and dragged her fingers through his short cropped hair.

“Let’s go kid, if you don’t fuck her proper then I will,” snarled Jack, hooking a finger under his collar and giving it a sharp, warning tug. He was already hard again, waiting, wanting, and aching.

Axton wheezed and glared over at him, but slightly picked up his pace. Rei responded with a pleased little mewl, bringing her hips up to meet his in synchronized rhythm. Axton groaned hotly into her ear, surprised at how close to finishing he already was. He loved danger, and apparently his cock loved it, too.

Suddenly Jack was wrenching him back, sending him toppling to the side.

“Sorry, kid. You had your chance and I’m fuckin’ tired of waiting,” Jack said, shoving his pants off the rest of the way.

Jack pounced upon Rei with a feverish hunger, pulling her legs around his waist and roughly thrusting into her, making her gasp.

“Hang on tight, kitten,” he murmured in her ear, before dropping to his elbows and begging to slam his cock into her at a brutal pace. She gripped his back, her nails digging in deep enough to cause tiny pinpricks of blood to form on the surface of his skin.

Rei was moaning desperately at full volume, unable to control the sounds that Jack was wrenching out of her as he pounded away. Jack himself wasn’t much better, groaning huskily in her ear between heavy breaths, lost in a haze of chemically enhanced arousal.

Rei alternated between moans and whines and whispering filthy things in his ear, egging him on. She dragged her teeth down his neck, biting down hard when she reached the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Jack shuddered in pain and pleasure, feeling a familiar heat pooling in his groin.

“Jack, oh fuck, I’m so close,” she whispered breathily in his ear, eliciting a low, sinful groan from the man.

“Scream my name, baby. You know how I like it. Scream my name while you cum for me, kitten,” he growled.

And in moments, Rei was writhing underneath him, her hips bucking up into his, howling his name in a breathy, high pitched whine. Jack sucked in his breath as her pussy clenched around him, milking his cock, dragging him to the edge. He gave a few more uneven, hitching thrusts and came, slamming his cock into her and spilling inside her with a roar. He continued to press himself as deeply as he could, giving little thrusts, while he rode out the throbbing, twitching spurts of his orgasm, nuzzling her neck and groaning in ecstasy.

After several minutes, Jack raised himself up on his hands, shoulders hunched and panting hard.

“Well,” he said, sounding winded, “that’s how ya do it, kiddo.”

He looked over at Axton, who was leaning against the headboard next to them, one arm behind his head and the other being used to leisurely stroke his very hard cock.

“So, uh… You gonna get out of the way or what?” asked Axton gruffly, his eyes dark with lust.

Jack raised his eyebrows skeptically at him, then sat up and gently maneuvered Rei’s legs to the side. He turned to face Axton.

“Come ‘ere, kid,” Jack ordered, curling a finger at the other man.

Axton shuffled forward obediently, thoughts only focused on getting the relief he so desperately needed.

“Yeah, I’m done sharing,” Jack breathed huskily, “but I’ll tell ya what…” He licked his palm and reached down between them to grab Axton’s cock. The commando grunted and bucked his hips at the contact.

“Ooh, are you gonna help him out, J?” giggled Rei, coming up behind Axton and draping herself over his shoulders.

“I sure am, kitten. I’m just a real nice guy, what can I say?” said Jack cheerfully, beginning to stroke Axton’s leaking cock. He reached up and curled the other hand around Axton’s jaw, holding it firmly.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

Axton kept his eyes shut, not wanting to ruin the sensations coursing through his groin by being eye to eye with the man who once tried to kill him.

“I said look at me,” Jack hissed dangerously.

Axton grudgingly opened his eyes and was met with the manic, fiery glare of one blue eye, one green. Jack’s stare chilled him to the core.

“Don’t forget who’s jerking you off right now, kid. When you’re beating it to this later in whatever shitty, filthy part of the galaxy you came from, just remember that it was Handsome Jack making you cum all over your stupid, pathetic self. Remember that I can kill you just as easily as I can get you off because you’re weak, Axton. You could try to stop me, if you wanted to. But you don’t want to. You’re like putty in my hands. Now cum for me, soldier boy,” said Jack in an unnervingly calm and measured tone, as if he wasn’t jerking off a man he’d just tortured for hours.

Axton screwed his eyes shut again, trying to ignore Jack’s order, willing himself not to give in… But it was all too much. The fast, rough friction of Jack’s hand, Rei’s tongue gliding up his neck and over his jaw, her nails scraping across his chest, and Jack’s words, combined with his dominating presence, his face mere inches from Axton’s own, were all too much. Before he could stop himself, Axton was shooting rope after rope of warm, sticky finish all over his own stomach. He jerked and moaned in Jack’s hand, finally slumping forward, his head hanging low, breath coming in pants. Jack wiped his hand on Axton’s shoulder, grinning maliciously, then went to retrieve his pants and slip them on.

“So now that we’re all squared away here, let’s get down to business. What do we do with you, hmm, Axie? Does he live, or does he die? That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” mused Jack, pulling his gun from its holster and spinning it around his finger.

“Maybe he’s ready to tell us who sent him. That might improve his odds, don’t you think?” said Rei sweetly.

“How about it, kid? You ready to talk, or would you rather take your chances?”

“I’m a gambling man. Love that adrenaline rush. So, in other words… you’re not getting shit out of me, old man,” laughed Axton, tauntingly.

Jack stopped spinning his gun, face suddenly contorted with rage.

“Oooh. Ok. Uh-oh. You just-” Rei began.

Jack drew back his fist and slugged Axton squarely in the gut with all his might, knocking the wind of him. The commando bent double, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath.

“-made things worse for yourself.” she said with a sigh.

“Good…arm..." wheezed Axton.

"Yeah. The age thing is kind of a sore spot for Jack."

"Not as sore as he's about to be," muttered Jack under his breath, quietly fuming.

“Ok, ok. Missteps aside, what are we going to do with him?”

“Well, first of all…”

Jack snatched the abandoned handcuffs from the foot of the bed, and, taking advantage of the soldier’s momentary vulnerability after getting punched by what felt like a wrecking ball, wrenched Axton’s arms behind him and slapped the cuffs back on without much of a struggle.

“And now obviously I’m going to beat the ever-loving shit out of him until he gives me useful information, or he dies. We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the blah-blah-blah, too late, tough shit, you already chose, pal,” sneered Jack.

A sudden chiming came from Axton’s discarded pants on the floor. Jack cocked an eyebrow and slid off the bed to retrieve them, pulling the commando’s Echo from his pocket.

“Well I’ll be damned…” he breathed.

“Don’t answer tha-“ Axton began.

“Lilith! To what do I owe the pleasure? Have a nice nap?” said Jack cheerfully, picking up the call.

“Oh what the hell, why do you have Axton’s Echo, you prick?” said Lilith’s scowling hologram.

“I don’t know; why don’t you ask him? Axie, baby, say hello.” Jack turned the Echo’s camera towards him, still naked, collared, and cuffed on the bed.

“AXTON! NOT. AGAIN,” yelled Lilith in frustration. She pressed her finger tips between her eyes, squeezing them shut momentarily.

He hung his head sheepishly, avoiding the hologram’s fierce glare.

“Sorry, Lil.”

“You had one job. ONE. Kill them. Not fuck them. KILL THEM. You couldn’t even stop them from drugging me and Roland! Is it too much to ask that you keep it in your pants for just one night? JESUS!”

“I mean, come on Lil, we both knew this would probably wind up just being a scouting mission, unless an opportunity presented itself. And it did!”

“And you still fucked it up,” she hissed.

“Woah, woah, woah, can we go back to the part about this little shit stain trying to kill us? You hired sweet cheeks here to be your assassin?” asked Jack incredulously.

“Yeah, what of it, Jack?” grumbled Lilith.

He was silent a moment, staring at the hologram in surprise. Suddenly he burst out laughing, cackling so hard that he bent double and clutched his sides.

“Nice work, cupcake! You really know how to pick ‘em,” he said, wiping a tear of mirth away from his eye. Then his voice dropped about two octaves, the laughter abruptly disappearing from his face. “I think we’ll keep him,” he said, his voice quiet and deadly.

“What? No! You can’t-“

“Eye for an eye, sweetheart. You try to fuck us, we try to fuck you… And then we all just end up fucking poor Axton. Well, mostly just me, actually.”

“No, Jack, wait, we’re willing to negotiate.”

“You got a vault key, princess?”

“No…”

“Well then you’ve got nothing I want. And I suggest you don’t come anywhere near the VIP floor unless you want to tango with fifty Badass Loader Bots, ten turrets, and my main man, Wilhelm. He’s around here somewhere. Who knows, maybe he’s even on his way down to you already! Cia!”

“Wait! What about-“

Jack hung up the call.

“So much for that truce, huh? What a cunt,” he said, turning to Rei.

She had pulled a pack of cigarettes from the bedside table and had one dangling from her mouth, and was now sitting with her back against the headboard, arms crossed, glowering. She pulled a lighter from the pack and lit her cigarette, inhaling deeply, then exhaled a slow, steady stream of swirling smoke.

“That bitch. I made sure you didn’t kill her, or even harm her, just so she could send an assassin after us? Un-fucking-believable.”

“That’s what people do, kiddo. They’ll smile to your face while stabbing you in the back. Although… this guy wasn’t much of an assassin, now, was he?” he said, ruffling Axton’s hair.

“You two gonna kill me, or what?” grunted Axton.

“Honestly? Haven’t decided yet. Make yourself useful, and who knows, maybe there’s a job for you at the Rhysie Pole. You definitely won’t be a free man ever again, though, that’s for sure. Now, as much as I want to stay and play, we should probably put some distance between us and the fire-bitch. Get dressed, kitten.”

“Back to Helios?” she asked, flicking her cigarette.

“Yep. Looks like we’ve got some work to do,” he said, cracking the leash over Axton’s back like a whip and cackling as the commando howled in pain.

[mail-me-a-snail]

House Keys

chase…oh chase i love you so but you’re in for it now. chase brody, the former bro average superstar, comes home for the first time in a year.

part 1 part 2 part 3 Even if Chase Brody had moved out the year prior, he still has the keys to his brothers’ house. He stands now on the crisp, green lawn and swings the key-chain around. He cards a hand through his hair and rubs his eyes—he doesn’t get much sleep these days. Three years before he moved into his brothers’ house, he was sleeping in the back of his car. He’s been conditioned to fall asleep on the hard leather of the car seat, not in his own bed. He didn’t have a bed those weeks. Stacy and him still don’t talk.

He shoots Marvin a text.

hey bro im outside. will come in with the keys. jackie okay? are you all okay? There’s no response. Chase shrugs and tucks his phone into the pocket of his jeans. He’s a little hurt, but it’s fine. It’s Chase’s first visit since he’s moved out. It’s exactly as he remembers it. The lawn is in immaculate condition, with the hedges trimmed neatly and flowers springing up all over the place—Jameson was always in charge of that. He has an eye for lawn care. He takes after Jack. The door and porch are dark mahogany, though it’s washed in orange now as the sun is starting to set. The house itself is painted an egg white. The tiles of the roof are black. Potted plants litter the porch, some new, some old, but all beautiful and trimmed to perfection. No doubt it’s Marvin’s work. The sidewalk he stands on is decorated with faded chalk drawings. Robbie. Of course. Chase is standing on his own face drawn in chalk. It’s a wonderful likeness and Chase can’t help but smile. Robbie even got the faded green in his hair. He steps off. He doesn’t want to ruin a masterpiece. The light in the wide upper story window—Henrik’s room—is off. The doctor’s probably getting his much needed and deserved forty winks. The only light on is in the living room. He takes a deep breath, the kind that pulls his shoulders up like he’s shrugging, and walks towards the door. Anxiety wriggles in his belly. He clutches the keys tightly in his hand—they bite into the skin and leave an impression with their teeth. He remembers the call with Marvin the night before. He had been in his apartment putting together some videos when his phone had rung. Marvin had explained everything to him; finding Jackie bleeding out in the city, teleporting him home, the surgeries…all of it. Jackie was okay, Marvin had assured him, and that he would heal. But the fact that it was…was you-know-who’s work… It hadn’t stop his hands from shaking as soon as he said goodbye and dropped the call nor did it let him breathe. His panic attacks were always bad, but he managed the one he had that night fine. And the one in the bathroom this morning. On the drive here, too. He doesn’t have everything under control yet. Being here again reminds him of all the times you-know-who had been there. He had been there, for Jack and Henrik. It went the same way; a phone call. A panic attack. The fear. Now it’s happening all over again. Why can’t he ever escape the demon? Why can’t any of them? Even a year after…he still looks over his shoulder and tosses and turns at night. When will he stop being afraid? The keys bite into his palm like his old dog had lovingly done. He misses him. Stacy had to take that away from him, too. The sting and the thought of Bulls-eye grounds Chase and he lets go, letting it hang by the key-chain instead. Deep breaths. He slides the key into the lock and turns. The door opens. Chase looks around as he steps into the hall. It’s just the same. The walls are orange. The umbrella stand to the right of the door filled with Marvin’s props, the coat hanger opposite, and the stairs upwards at the very front. To his immediate left is the closed door to Henrik’s makeshift clinic. To his right is the doorway to the living room. There’s a movie on, though Chase can’t identify it as the volume is set way down low. He doesn’t know where to go first as he stands awkwardly in the middle space. “Hello?” He says to the seemingly empty house. “Is anyone home? Marv? Schneep?” “Chase,” His heart skips a beat when he hears the raspy call from the living room, but he brightens when he recognizes the voice. “In here.” Chase has to stop himself from running into the living room. Brown couch, flat screen TV (playing Die Hard, of course), wide windows, and white curtains that blow softly. The coffee table has coffee mug rings on it and abandoned medical supplies like gauze, cotton balls, and antibiotics. Henrik’s neatly folded coat, too. Jackie sits on the couch in a black t-shirt with the brightly coloured graphic of a cartoon dog on a bicycle. He wears the flamingo shorts to accompany it. It’s the first time Chase has seen the hero out of his supersuit; it almost feels wrong. His hair is the neon green Chase remembers it to be. He’s wearing his mask. The only sign he’s been hurt at all are the bandages around his neck and forehead. He’s hardly watching the movie. He has a big smile on his face, the toothy kind of sunshine Chase missed so much. “Jackie,” he breathes. Chase wants to cry with relief. He settles with hugging Jackie as tightly as he can. “I missed you, Jackie,” he says, muffled as he buries his head into the hero’s chest. “I was so worried about you!” “O-ow, ow,” the other hacks out a laugh and winces, patting Chase’s back. “I missed you, too, bud, but…stab wound.” “Shit, right, sorry.” Chase lets go, albeit reluctantly. “Dude, how are you? It’s, I mean—I’ve never been stabbed before.” “I don’t recommend it,” Jackie grimaces. There’s humour in his voice but he also sounds exhausted. “You get here okay?” “Parked out front,” he says, “Came in with the keys. Still have ‘em.” He holds them up to confirm that. He drops them in his lap. “How’re you holding up?” “This thing—” Jackie pats his stomach, presumably where the wound is. “—is a bitch and a half of pain. The neck thing I can handle. It just hurts to talk.” He coughs. It sounds like shaking a dead bush. “Really hurts.” “Oh, I can do the talking, if you want.” “No, it’s okay, Chase. Marvin did something to me, I think, when I was out. Makes my mouth and throat taste like mint. Pretty soothing, actually. Besides, I haven’t seen you in forever! I want to talk.” How can he be so chipper even after he almost died? Chase doesn’t understand it. He really is a comic book superhero. Always getting back up again. “Aw, it hasn’t been that long,” Chase ducks his head, sheepish, but straightens right away. “Can I ask, though? What…what happened?” The silence is thick with tension. Chase bounces his leg, the sole of his sneaker squeaking against the hardwood floor, and pulls at the rubber bracelet around his right wrist under his hoodie sleeve. He picks at the multicoloured bandages on his fingers and arms. Jackie turns the TV off just as John McClain launches himself through a window. He turns to Chase. Their knees touch. “This is what I remember,” Jackie says, and begins. He had met Anti during one of his day patrols, but it wasn’t the song and dance number they usually did; it was in the back-alleys where no one could see them. Maybe that’s what Anti wanted. Maybe it wasn’t. “Anti had…had said something to me,” he mumbles, “that I’m not the hero I think I am. That all of what we do, this hero versus villain thing, is just a show. I-I don’t know why he’s been pretending this long, or…or what he hopes to gain, but…” Chase watches him closely. Jackie stops, shakes his head, and moves on. That’s how the hero has always been. Hit a wall? Just go around. Forget about the wall and keep going. He remembers the fight—and the pinning stab through the gut. The words Anti whispered into his ear. Chase is trembling with raw anger as he sees the large dark bruise marks wrapped around Jackie’s neck where Anti’s hands had been. “But after that,” he growls in frustration, “I can’t remember anything else. By my wound here, I can guess what finished me off.” He taps his neck. “Everything else is beyond me.” “Fuck him” Chase breathes, voice quivering with fury, “You’re a hero to me, to everyone. To Jack.” Jackie flinches when he hears those words. “I don’t have any powers,” Jackie mutters. “What? Yeah, you do! That—that super strength of yours!” “Anti can manipulate objects,” Jackie shoots back, “Time and space, just like Marvin can. How do I know he hasn’t been doing it for me this whole time?” “I…I don’t know.” The anger evaporates as quickly as it came. “I-I don’t want to talk about this.” Jackie throws his hands up. “Please, Chase, let’s…let’s talk about you, okay? I want to hear about where you’ve been—what you’ve done.” Chase bites his lip, trying to find a way to stop the subject from changing. The one frustrating thing about superheroes? They build walls around them, shutting the people they love out hoping to save them from whatever inner turmoil they’re wrangling with. …Chase isn’t stupid or in denial. Even he can admit the similarities between them. But that’s just it. Chase knows he does it—Jackie doesn’t. He’d rather not push further and get into an argument, spoiling the whole visit, so Chase drops it. It’ll sit in the back of his mind, though. He tells Jackie about the new apartment; it’s spacious and less of a dump than the last one. Modest kitchen, shower instead of a tub. “I miss the tub here,” he says forlornly, gesturing to the stairs. “And my little rubber ducky. Shower’s okay, though.” He earns Jackie’s laugh. The apartment is far into the city, maybe ten blocks away from the alley Marvin had found Jackie in, and just across a coffee shop. Having cleaner, more colorful walls than ugly white granite that popcorned helps a lot to take his mind off more…painful things. He hung up posters, bought a flatscreen, had a whole new gaming rig up for himself—he’s doing okay for himself, he thinks. The therapy, the talking, has brought him out of the hole he was in three years before. He tells him about new friends. Baristas at the coffee shop who’ve recognized him as a regular. YouTube is more fun than anything for him right now. The Bro Average brand was dissolved, but he couldn’t care less. It had been time for a fresh start. His channel is up and running and he’s been invited to panels, talks, and conventions. Some people from AA said they had watched his videos. He tells Jackie about how good it is to just. Work. To produce content for others to consume, to make people happy, but not at the cost of his own happiness. He notices he’s rambling when Jackie says nothing and keeps beaming at him. He falters and lets his words trail off into silence. “What?” Chase says. “I’m so proud of you,” Jackie replies, and the pride is trembling in his voice. “Chase, you’ve gotten so far without us. You’ve got a job, a new house—you’re practically shining!” “You’re…you’re proud of me? You mean it?” Chase feels himself smile, too. “Yes. I’m proud.” Jackie puts a hand on his shoulder. “You’re my bro. You’re the bravest damn person I know and you’ve come out of this so strong, so…it’s…Jack would be proud too.” Chase understands why he starts crying. That’s all he ever wanted. To hear those words come out of Jackie’s mouth. It means he’s done it. He’s gotten better. Maybe not recovered fully, not just yet, but better. Even in his joy, he hates himself for crying because whenever he cries he bawls like a big baby. He buries his face into Jackie’s chest, shoulders shaking. He’s staring at the cartoon dog through blurry, teary eyes. The dog says, in a neon bubble, “RADICAL!” The other rubs his back in soothing circles. “That’s it, buddy,” Jackie whispers, “I’ve got you, bro.” Chase swallows thickly, sniffles, and wipes his face with the back of his hand. Jackie hands him a tissue and he blows. His eyes are stuffy. He looks up into Jackie’s eyes, milky white, hidden behind the film in the mask, but he can tell they’re full of soft, unspoken love. The hero holds his cheek. “Chase Brody Mcloughlin,” Jackie declares, “I, your loving bro, will never stop being proud of you. Don’t forget that.” “Thanks, Jackie,” he sniffs, wiping his eyes. “Thank you. It’s…i-it’s nice to hear that what I’m doing is finally right.” “We’re all proud of you.” Jackie’s hand drops but gives Chase’s shoulder one last firm pat. “S-speaking of,” Chase clears his throat. “Speaking of…where is everyone?” Jackie blanks. “Uh,” he says, unsure. “Good question, actually! No idea. I woke up, like, ten minutes before you came in. I kind of assumed Henrik went to work, and who knows where Marvin is at any given time? JJ and Robbie are out on vacation or something. It’s just Henrik, Marvin, and I.” “Huh,” Chase frowns and stands. “You wait here, Jackie. Henrik can’t have gone to work; he’d never leave you here alone.” “Marvin would be watching over me!” He argues. “This is Marvin we’re talking about!” He shoots back as he leaves the room. He considers going upstairs but stops before he can do it. He notices, to his surprise, that across the hall the clinic’s lights are on. How did he not notice that coming in? The harsh white fluorescents bounce off the tiles and under the door. Chase knocks. “Doc? Marv?” He says, “Yoo-hoo. Anyone in there?” Of course, unsettling silence follows. Great. Chase has played enough horror games to know that whatever’s on the other side is bad. He flinches as glass shatters behind the door. A shadow moves under the door. “Henrik?” “Schiesse!” comes a muffled curse to answer. Angry German swearing? Yeah. That’s Henrik. “What the hell was that?!” Jackie says from the couch, halfway to standing. Chase notices he’s wobbling like a newborn deer. “Jackie, get back on the couch,” Chase scolds the hero, “You’re in no condition to walk!” He turns back to the door. “Doc, I’m coming in.” He takes a deep breath, grips the doorknob, and turns. What he finds on the other side isn’t horrible, so he releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Henrik, hair messy and eye bags seemingly darker, clutching his head, is kneeling among shattered glass. From the way the metal table beside the hospital bed is on its side, Chase surmises that Henrik knocked it and the beakers that were on it to the ground when he tried to stand. “Doc!” He exclaims, rushing over to Henrik. He takes the doctor by the arm, helping him up, and looping the arm around his shoulders. “Danke,” Henrik grumbles, eyes still squeezed shut. “Chase, is that you?” “A-are you blind, Henrik?” Panic momentarily flares up in him. “Oh, jeez, I can get something for your eyes. Maybe ice—” “No,” Henrik sighs, but in the most affectionate way possible. He opens his eyes halfway, tired grey-blues looking up at him. “Chase, relax. I’m not blind. It’s these damn fluorescents—they could make me go blind. I don’t know why I thought they were a good idea. This nausea…it’s like someone took a hammer to my skull. Might as well have… I see enough of those lights in the hospital. Is it any wonder I wear glasses…” Henrik reaches into his pocket for something. He swears again as he brings out the bent and cracked frames of his glasses. “Oh, that is just great,” he hisses under his breath, “They must’ve gotten smashed in the fight.” “T…the what?” This is plenty strange already, but of course, he just has to notice only now that Marvin is crumpled in a desk chair, long, flowy hair messy and tangled, falling behind him as his head leans back, showing his neck. “Oh my God—Marvin!” “He’s okay,” Henrik straightens, though he’s still too weak to stand. Chase helps him into another chair. The doctor sits down with a sigh of relief, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. “What the hell happened here?” Chase gestures vaguely to the entire room. “To Marvin? Actually, to you? Was it…was it you-know-who?” “Anti,” the doctor spits. Chase winces at the name. “It’s not right to fear his name. He and I had an…encounter last night. I thought I was going to die.” He briefly touches his neck. Chase sees all the scars crisscrossed there; it’s why the doctor wears turtlenecks to work. He’s always been insecure about them. “I thought it was all over but…but I woke up here. My head hurts like a bitch but I’ve got no other wounds. My neck, my concussion—they’re healed, like they were never there. "So, I have reason to believe,” he continues, “Marvin used the full extent of his magic to save me. It’s probably why he’s passed out.” “He’s always been shit at restoration magic,” Chase jokes, but turns serious right away. “Jesus, doc. Are you really okay? Why the fuck did you-know-wh—I mean,—A…Anti go after you?” “Teach me a lesson? Finish me off?” Henrik raises his shoulder in a shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine. God, I’m sorry, Chase, that this is the scene you’ve returned to. You’ve had enough of this…this Anti business, and now we’re dragging you back into it. Forgive me.” “No, doc, don’t say that,” Chase waves him off, “it’s not your fault. Besides, the guy’s messing with my brothers. That’s not gonna fly with me.” His voice shakes. He knows how unconvincing his moxie is. He swallows the stone in his throat and turns away before Henrik can call him out on it. The man crosses the room and takes a trauma blanket from the cabinet—he practically knows the clinic as well as Henrik does—and drapes it over Marvin. The magician barely stirs. He’s completely out. “CHASE? IS EVERYONE OKAY?” Jackie shouts from the living room. Chase startles and nearly knocks some important doodad over. Henrik’s blue eyes crackle to life at the sound of the hero’s voice. “He’s okay,” he says more to himself than Chase, “Oh, God, he’s okay.” To Chase, he says, “Chase, help me up—I must see Jackie.” “But what about Marv?” “He’ll need rest. Neither of us are strong enough to move him upstairs. Please, Chase, let’s go.” Henrik is almost begging. The tone unnerves and stirs Chase into action. He helps the doctor, slowly and surely, into the living room. “Henrik?” Jackie breaths, “What happened to you? Why are you limping? Is Marvin o—” Henrik launches himself from Chase’s arms and onto Jackie, nearly tackling the hero into the sofa. Jackie grunts in pain. “You idiot,” Henrik growls, though with utmost love. “You had me so worried! You could’ve died.” He hugs Jackie tight, despite his weak state. “Don’t ever do that again.” “What, get stabbed?” When Henrik glares up at him, he sobers. “Okay, okay. I won’t. I promise. Chase, where’s Marvin?” “Getting some rest,” Chase explains, “He used a whole bunch of his magic to heal Henrik. A-Anti attacked the doc last night.” “He…what?” Jackie’s tone is dangerously quiet. His shoulders are tense—he looks like an apex predator. It takes everything in Chase not to back away. “Calm yourself,” Henrik cautions, “I’m okay now. Marvin made sure of it. It is true; I had a fight with Anti and…I did not emerge the victor. But it’s alright. I’m alright.” Jackie deflates and hugs Henrik back. “I’m glad you’re okay, doc.” “You too, Jackie.” Chase bites his lip and leaves the room. He knows what he said about Anti, that he’d be ready to fight the demon again, given the chance. It’s one big lie, because he is fucking terrified of Anti, terrified of the fact that this is all very real, and that it had gotten all too real very fast. He wants to run away in that stupid little way of his, where he drives and drives until he can’t or locks himself up in his room, anywhere where Anti can’t reach him. He’s managed not to see the demon for a full year. He can’t do this. He can’t. Not again. Not again. – Chase goes up to his room and finds the hatch to the roof still unlocked. He goes out and sits there, on the uncomfortable tiles, and stares up at the stars. It’s somewhere around 11:30, maybe midnight. He doesn’t check his phone. Henrik’s gone to sleep. Jackie had helped Chase move Marvin to the couch. The both of them weren’t nearly strong enough to bring him up to his bedroom. Some part of Chase is telling him to relapse. To drink. He snaps the rubber bracelet against his wrist over and over instead. It makes an angry red mark. It’s a distraction. It makes him all the more ashamed of how fast he crumbles in the face of all this. He’s hasn’t gotten better. Even in the darkness, he knows what the bracelet says. He’s seen it, worn it ever since the last time Anti had tormented him. Alcoholics Anonymous, in white letters against a garish neon green. His mouth tastes of smoke. His eyes are heavy. He is tired and deflated. His brothers nearly dead—what a sight to come home to. At least now, he’s here for them. He is so tired, he doesn’t turn around when the hatch opens and Jackie sits beside him. He’s changed out of that cartoon dog shirt—he sports one of Henrik’s striped shirts. “Hey,” Jackie greets him softly. Chase can see the hero watching the bracelet snap repeatedly against his wrist, which he doesn’t stop. “Hey.” Silence. Cicadas. Snap. Snap. Snap. “How long have you been sober?” Chase knows how much Jackie wants to say more, but he doesn’t. It’s a simple question. “A year.” An exact year from the last time Anti hurt him. He and Jackie match in scars now. Not on the neck, though. “Dude, that’s awesome. I’m proud of you.” The words are hollow. He doesn’t deserve them. Snap. Snap. Snap. “Chase?” Snap. Snap. Snap. “Welcome home.” Chase breaths shakily. His wrist stings. He cries, the fourth time that day, and bites back the urge to scream. “He’s g-going to f-find me again,” he says through quick breaths, “I’m n-next.” “Chase…” The man shakes his head furiously. “I-I’m not leaving. If he think he can fucking s-scare me,” Chase hiccups, “he’s w-wrong. I’m tired of r-running away. I’m going to fight.” Nothing, for a moment. Then, Jackie says, “It’s what Jack would’ve wanted.” Chase cries harder at that. He wants to toss his house keys off this damn roof and never see them again, because they remind him too much of the doors he’s just opened up. He’s not afraid. Shaking and sobbing, he is not afraid. He is furious.

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

California

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x OC

Warnings: Mentions of bodily harm, implied sexy times

A/N:  A reminder that Parts 11 and 12 run concurrently from different view points.  I love this chapter and it was almost cathartic to write it.  While obviously this is all fiction, I think we can all follow Shirley’s lead in this chapter and show ourselves a little love.

Reminder: I haven’t seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle, so I’m just using the Wikia, IMDB.com, some gifs, and my own weird ass brain to make up this whole ass story.

Tag List:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @tarrevizslas , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 [please message me to be added or subtracted]

[PART 1]  [PART 2]  [PART 3]  [PART 4]  [PART 5] [PART 6]  [PART 7]  [PART 8]  [PART 9]  [PART 10]  [PART 11]

Part 12 

Forgiveness

Several hours after she killed Agent Port, now known as Kirsch, Shirley spent time with Dr. Orange talking about the ordeal.  She found herself worried that she felt no remorse over killing someone.  If anything, she felt like she could kick up her heels and dance a jig with Merlin. Was she an unfeeling monster like him at heart?

“No.”  Said Dr. Orange.  “Five years ago, you experienced a severe trauma and while you may have gotten your life back, a little part of it was still held captive by the experience. Knowing he was still out there has been dogging you this entire time.  He’s gone and now you’re free.”

“Free.”

“Yes, free.  As a therapist I should tell you differently, but I think I can bend the rules just this once.  Shirley, you did the right thing by killing him.  You saved more lives, your actions will give comfort to the families and co-workers of the agents missing or dead, and for the love of god, you’re free to live your life without fear.”

Shirley’s eyes teared up because she knew what Dr. Orange was saying was right.  She had been living, but not really.  She never left HQ alone on the rare moments she did leave, she was granted permission not to be sent to another office, and she turned the library into her life. Even her interactions with her friends and Jack were stunted, limited by the weight of her scars and the man on the run who caused them.  Now, she could be herself again.  A fully bloomed flower.  A sunshiny Marigold.

They talked at little longer and after a long hug, Shirley left the office feeling pounds lighter.  Free.

---***---

Several Days Later

 The sun pouring into the bedroom nudged Shirley awake and she slowly opened her eyes.  For the first time in years, waking up felt truly pleasurable and she remembered what it meant to feel rested.  She shifted a bit before stretching like a cat.  Jack’s arm tightened around her waist, but he never woke up and she could feel his even breaths against her neck.  She laid in bed a little longer before she got up.  Jack mumbled in his sleep but rolled over to his back and quieted down again.

She padded across the room to begin her morning routine, the same one she had since she moved into their apartment.  Gathering her clothes to dress elsewhere so Jack wouldn’t see her scarred body, she went into the bathroom to clean up.  After washing her face and brushing her teeth and hair, she began to strip out of the long pajamas that she slept in.  

As she bent over to take off her pants, her eye caught her reflection in the mirror.  She noticed the scars along her chest were faded to almost nothing, small specks of silver as if a fairy kissed her and left marks.  She surprised herself at the thought – so opposite of how she saw those scars all these years.  Kiss marks on her chest made her think of something completely different.

“Moonshine, you are killing me in that dress.”  Jack groaned.  The wrap dress she wore was simple enough, almost knee length with three quarter sleeves. A modest number in purple with white flowers dotted all over it.

“This dress?  You’ve seen more skin than this before.” She laughed even as he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her flush against him.  He bent down and kissed the laughter from her mouth and she gently placed her hands on his forearms.  When he lifted his head, they were both panting, with want pooling heavy in both their stomachs.

“I could fuck you in this dress right here.”  She sighed as his lips made their way down her neck and to her cleavage.  She rested her cheek against the top of his head and moaned a little.  They had to leave soon, but she didn’t want to move. She loved it when Jack kissed her, touched her.  It made her feel alive.

“Jack, baby.  I’ll let you fuck me every day in this dress when I get home from California.  But we got to go, we don’t want to be late for lunch. Champ wants the meeting to start on time and I need to prep before I leave tonight.  The case can’t wait.”  He groaned slightly before kissing back up the path he forged and for good measure, kissed her again on the lips.

“You’re free.”  She whispered to herself.  She stripped off the rest of her clothing and as she stood there in just her underwear, she forced her eyes to really look at her body.  The one she had hidden away from everyone, even Jack.  It took many long months before she let him touch her intimately again, but rarely fully naked or in the light.  And even then, she still flinched at his touch and sometimes found herself fretting over Jack’s opinion of her body despite never been given a reason to do so.  The brain convinces us of the strangest things.

She turned her body this way and that, looking at healed scars.  Most of the back of her was covered in a network of scarred skin that had been burned in the explosion.  But after so many years, the skin had softened and didn’t look nearly as horrible as she remembered.  God, how long had it been since she really looked at herself?  The long scar along her hip was barely visible and she really couldn’t be certain where they had cut her open to insert the stabilizing rods in her ribs.

Had she really spent so much time fearing her own body that she completely ignored the healing of it?  The thought sobered her greatly.  All these years and she never once forgave herself for surviving.  She never once celebrated her body as it healed from devastating trauma.

Today would end that.  

---***---

She stood in front of the floor length mirror and started with her toes, wiggling them.  She smiled, she always thought she had cute toes and looking at them, they still were. Her eyes dragged up to her ankles and then her calves.  She smiled wider when she saw a small round scar on the side of her left calf.  It was her first one after her cousin accidentally shot her in the leg with a BB gun when she was four.

“Boone, I told you not to point that damn thing in the house!” Aunt Lisa hollered through the kitchen.  “If you don’t take that back to the damn shed, I’m gonna toss it into the damn landfill.”

“Okay, momma, no need to get huffy!”  Boone rolled his eyes and started to turn when he tripped, fell, and dropped the gun.  It went off, pinging against the stove and hitting Marigold, who was sitting on the table, in the leg.  She started to wail at the pain and began screaming when she saw the blood.

Aunt Lisa turned around in horror as Marigold’s mother soothed her child. Lisa’s eyes narrowed and she whipped her head around to look at her idiot son.  Boone took one look at his mother and ran out of the house screaming.

Shirley quietly giggled at the memory.  Her cousin was such a ridiculous creature and when she wanted to be silly, she’d recreate the scene for her friends. She turned the memory over in her mind before moving on.

There were her knees and her thighs.  They were softer these days, like everything else about her.  She wasn’t young anymore and stationary work was more her speed.  But they were strong and for a moment she had a memory of Jack’s head being cradled between them.  Her breath caught in her throat.

She kept going, looking at her hips and the swell of her mound under her panties.  She lightly touched herself and thought of all the times she woke up with Jack’s head laying on this very spot, snoring softly while his hands curled lightly around her hips.  He would claim he never slept better than on those nights.

Higher her eyes went to her soften belly, rounded and almost cute. Her waist was as straight as a board as it always had been, but Jack didn’t care.  He loved wrapping his arms around it when they hugged or slept side by side in bed.  She could almost feel his touch and her breath hitched again.

Her eyes dragged upwards to her breasts, where more of those little silver scars dotted her skin.  Like her stomach and thighs, there was a new softness that had settle there.  She decided the softness more was suited to her than it had ever been.  She thought of the time Jack ghosted his fingertips along her skin, tracing circles until her nipples peaked and she was breathless with want.  When he stopped touching her, she nearly cried, but gasped when he replaced his hands with his mouth.  She remembered her eyes opening wide with shock and pleasure, taking in the deep blue Wyoming sky above her.  She felt as if heaven settled all around her that day.

Grinning now, she scraped her eyes to her neck, where the scars wrapped around from the back.  She touched the skin and felt saddened at the loss of surface feeling.  She had loved it when Jack lightly placed his lips against the side of her neck and around to the back.  But the scaring was lighter and if there had been no wrinkling of the skin, one would never know she had been burned there.

Shirley held out her arms and looked at the three treated cuts on her left arm. Cuts that would also heal quietly back into nothing.  The slightly scarred skin of her upper arms smoothed out into her delicate hands.  She always had small hands, but they were capable. Capable enough to kill a man.  Her eyes flew back to her face a moment, but she felt nothing.  It was a moment in time and now it was gone.  She reminded herself that these same hands built her beloved library and were cradled by her friends in dark hours.  These hands were full of tenderness when they’d lightly skim across Jack’s face and down his neck and even lower.  He loved her hands, they brought him to ecstasy many times over.

She looked back at her face.  She had the comfortable softness of a woman in her thirties, where time reminded her of a life lived and yet of all the time left to live.  That she will live because she is here, breathing and alive. She was convinced her face even looked more radiant than it ever had, realizing that she carried the weight of worry on it for so long.  Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle at the thought.  They looked upwards after a moment.

Her hair was always a mousy brown, but this morning the sun highlighted the many silver strands that wove through it.  Most women avoided grays like the plague, but she ran her hands through her hair and smiled.  She loved them because she couldn’t wait to go grey – a salt and pepper look would better fit her than the current brown every could.  But she loved all of it, it was long and soft to the touch.  Jack could run his fingers through it for hours and she’d never tell him to stop.

She stepped back and looked at herself in the mirror again.  Wrapping her arms around her waist and dropping her chin to her chest, Shirley closed her eyes, giving herself the hug she deserved so much.  Digging deep into herself, she banished negative thoughts about her body.

“I love you.”

[jackstoney]

My relationship with the “abusive wife”

Maaaaan this is gonna be a loong explanation, but with the recent shit that has been going down between her and her current husband, I feel like I have to speak up, just to give further context that this woman IS indeed very manipulative, if not straight up abusive… I can personally attest to it.

Now, I don’t wanna breach her privacy too much, because I feel like all people deserve at least some privacy, and i’m not sure if she’s ever said her real name on here, so I’m gonna refer to her as Mel for the remainder of this post.

I had been friends with Mel for over 3 years before we started dating. I met her when she was 14, and I was 16… for those 3 years we never really did much other than talk to each other and draw each other art, but we were still very close, and I never felt as if she was an abusive person whatsoever because she never really exhibited that type of behavior… all I knew is that she was VERY childish, but again, that didn’t really bother me.

March of 2017, I ask her to be my girlfriend… It didn’t happen right away because her mother wasn’t to sure of me, considering the fact that we were merely online friends (and she was also 17 at the time, only a month away from being 18) But eventually, we ended up as a couple on Saint Patricks Day.

A couple months pass, we’re staying up really late talking to each other pretty much every night, sending each other things in the mail, just doing regular shit that couples would do in long distance relationships.

In May 2017, her mother buys me a plane ticket to Ohio so that I could visit her for 2 weeks for her high school graduation, it was pretty much her “graduation present.” I ended up flying from California to Ohio all by myself to meet this girl who I thought I was in love with, but this is where things start to go downhill….

Mel was a very, and I mean VEEEERY clingy person. She barely ever left my side, barely ever let go of me in general, constantly wanted to kiss me, said “I love you” every 15 minutes… In the beginning this didn’t really bother me, but after 2 straight weeks of this constant behavior it became VERY exhausting.

Along with the clinginess, came her childishness. She was VEEEERY childish, despite the fact that she was 18 at this point, not 14. She had a stuffed dog named Andrew that she legitimately pretended was one of her best friends and constantly carried around as some sort of comfort, which kinda weirded me out because I would think that an 18 year old DOESN’T need to carry around a stuffed animal with them at all times. There was also the time when me and her went to Build a Bear workshop together and I made her a Rocket Raccoon plush, which I jokingly started calling “our son” because we made him together. Well, she got REEEALLY into that and pretty much turned it into a serious thing… that was when I started to feel legitimately uncomfortable.

I remember, for like the entire last week of our visit together, every single night in our hotel room i’d have to just lay in bed and comfort her because she would constantly cry about the fact that I was going home in “Just 1 week” or “Just 4 days” and so on. She had a hard time living in the moment and focusing on the fact that I was still there in that moment, and instead focused on the fact that I was leaving soon. Even though I loved her at that point, and wanted to comfort her, I couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed at the fact that this was a CONSTANT THING for an entire week… Just laying in bed, listening to her cry, clinging to me and not letting go for hours… it was just an uncomfortable experience.

About 2 nights before I had to leave, I had a panic attack in our room due to some personal issues, and i’m prone to anxiety so those tend to happen. Melissa wanted to hold me and constantly say things to me, but when i’m anxious those types of things do not help me AT ALL. I had to tell her multiple times in a shaky voice “Mel, when i’m feeling this way, the best thing to do is leave me alone and let me get through it”. Well… Mel didn’t like that very much. She began to breathe heavily, seemingly out of nowhere, and she said “I’m sorry Jack, I don’t know if this is gonna work out… I don’t think this can work” Then suddenly curled up into a ball and started profusely hyperventilating… I don’t like to sit here and claim this because i’m still not sure, but I feel like she was faking a panic attack to manipulate me… the whole thing seemed very forced. It was as if she had a fake panic attack just to turn everything around and make me comfort her… I kinda just had to force myself out of my panic attack (which didn’t entirely happen, I was still panicking) and tell her to breathe deeply, which somehow got her panic attack to end almost immediately… it was very fishy.

The day finally comes where I have to leave, of course she cried her eyes out in the airport, I get on the plane, make it back to california, yada yada.

But then… once I get home, she decides to send me this VERY long paragraph about how mad she was at me because she pretty much thought I was talking shit about her behind her back because I wouldn’t let her look at my phone. The reason I wouldn’t let her look is because, instead of asking, she would randomly try to peek at what I was doing and I would turn my phone away from her because I wanted her to respect my privacy. I ALWAYS respected hers. This caused me to stop talking to her altogether for a while.

When I got back to california, I was dealing with alot of life problems. I was constantly looking for a job to pay rent, and I ended up being very depressed for almost a month after the trip ended because I felt like life was going downhill… and I also found myself kind of ignoring melissa because she wasn’t making me happy at that point, and because of the whole privacy thing. I was only able to associate her with clinginess and annoyance because of what I had experienced in her presence. So, with that, on July 9, 2017, I broke up with Mel. but I had to send her voice messages to do it because I KNEW that if I did it over a call, she would freak out, hurl insults at me, and use her signature line “You knew what this was going to do to me, and you did it anyways!” basically manipulating me into feeling like the bad guy because I was having life problems and couldn’t even take care of myself enough to constantly babysit her anymore.

2 months pass, I end up missing her alot, and I message her again. I pretty much give in and act like the bad guy in the situation to get her to forgive me.. I literally cried my eyes out to her over the phone she was eating that shit up, hurling more insults at me as I cried to her over the phone how sorry I was. She told me that, after we broke up, I caused her to do the following things: -Use my Old Spice shampoo that I left in Ohio because it reminded her of me, but it ended up destroying her hair

-Burnt popcorn in the microwave and ended up calling the fire department because she was scared

-Acted like a zombie and started incorporating traits of my personality into her own, pretty much turning into a “Mini Jack” because she missed me

Just… so much bullshit. She’s the worst at coping with things and actively does things to make the coping process worse for herself, yet she’ll just blame it on the other person.

Eventually, things settle down, we become friends again, but… Dillon is back in her life, and she was thinking about dating him again. Yes, Dillon is her current husband which went missing recently.

Throughout the next month, she went back and forth between dating me and Dillon because she was indecisive… and eventually, I grew so tired of it that I decided to just break everything off entirely and tell her that i’m done dating her for good. That apparently sent her into multiple panic attacks and caused her to go to the hospital (or so she told me… most likely a manipulation tactic) and again just resulted to hurling insults as me… and so, that ended my association with Mel. I broke everything off with her entirely, didn’t even wanna be friends with her anymore. I was done.

Literally only a month after I stopped talking to her, she got engaged to Dillon. I had no idea that they had even gotten married yet, and I had no idea that their marriage was even going this bad… last time I heard, they were doing just fine together… Dillon was apparently the love of her life, and even Dillon was happy with everything.

Now, Dillon was never personally nice to me, so I was never that fond of him, but now realizing that Melissa has been possibly even WORSE to him than she was to me, causing him to want to run away without saying a word…. I feel his pain. Honestly I hope he’s able to escape the marriage somehow unscathed, because knowing Mel… she’ll probably do everything in her power to fuck up his life. She’s very petty in that sense.

Anyways, long story short, Mel is not a good person to be in any type of serious relationship with. I hope I was able to convey everything properly, and there are some things I left out of this because I don’t wanna completely destroy Mel’s reputation, despite her being an abusive person, and for the privacy of others as well. There is really so much I could say about her to completely destroy her. But just be aware, she’s not a good person. She has major problems… Actually, major is an understatement.

[peremadeleine]

The Empathetic Dog Thief, Episode 1

Alternative titles: “Will: Deer Hunter and Dog Dad,” “Crimes Against Costuming,” “What Year Is It: A Crime Drama”

Armed with a gin & tonic and one sleepy cat, I finally gave the NBC show another shot.

I didn’t know Will had a superpower. Cool...?

How come he’s play-acting the murderer, though? Just because he can think like a killer doesn’t mean he needs to be reenacting it himself. That’s just confusing for the audience?? The way they did it in the Red Dragon movie was still effective without coming off as “aw, Will’s playing serial killer”

“This is my design” what

Plaid shirt and striped tie, truly a costuming sin. I didn’t love Will’s “modern wild west” costume vibes in Red Dragon, but it was better than this.

Don’t pretend that Jack and Will don’t know each other. Hate that.

Do look forward to hearing how many different ways people can pronounce “Graham” though.

Oh boy, why does Crawford push Will’s glasses up on his face while murmuring “hey” softly like a lover?? They’re strangers. That was mighty uncomfortable.

is he just assuming Will is on the spectrum? Right after they met???

and then Will confirms, but wait, he just has an “active imagination”?

STAY IN YOUR LANE

at least in canon Crawford doesn’t take advantage of people on the gd spectrum, and he spins it as being for the good of the victims. jfc.

“based on the characters by Thomas Harris”

Of course all the victims in the first episode are going to be women

“it’s not about all of these girls, it’s about one of them”--seven minutes in and they’re already ripping off Silence.

“he’s like Willy Wonka. every girl he takes is a candy bar.” no. nO.

“I mean, I would. Wouldn’t you?” no Will, Crawford’s a douchebag, not a murderous psychopath.

8 minutes in, me: WHERE’S THE TITLE CHARACTER THIS IS B O R I N G

“Why is it now a crime scene?” Because Will says so and he’s his own forensic team, apparently. Next question.

Also apparently he only owns red plaid-print shirts. Huh.

Lol Will has empathy for everyone but a grieving father confronted with his daughter’s dead body???

I don’t like the way Crawford is speaking to Will one bit. It’s supposed to be sensitive, but it comes off as condescending and mollycoddling. Ew. That is SO not Jack Crawford.

"You wrote the standard monograph on time of death by insect activity"?!?

so Will IS his own forensic team. Weird flex, but okay.

Antler velvet. Christ, HERE WE GO.

“You not real FBI?” Rip-off of Silence #2!

“You unstable?” Stop coming at Will, Jesus!

Will is a serial dognapper. SIX DOGS. Maybe, maybe, people in this neighborhood are missing their gd dogs, you monster.

none of them are even UGLY dogs

Will’s also drinking tho. One point for Gryffindor.

Oh, another plaid shirt. At least this one’s got a nice pattern. And isn’t red.

The bathroom is painted red, tho. What is it with Fuller and red walls?

Hugh Dancy’s American accent slips when he tries to like...emote. Yikes.

Strangulation is neither quick nor merciful.

A forensic specialist who wears her long-ass dark hair loose down her back and shoulders in the lab should be FIRED.

Implied “we covet what we see every day” scene: Silence Rip-Off #3

nineteen minutes in, me: W H E R E  I S  H A N N I B A L this is false marketing

Okay, I actually kind of like the “okay, I can cover him 80%” scene. Crawford’s real good at fucking up people’s lives in order to save lives.

twenty-one minutes in, me: HANNIBAL’S HERE THANK CHRIST

will probably regret this thought later

it’s okay, Hans. I, too, hate the career choices that have led me to this point.

the fact that he has tissues by HIS chair in his office is fuckin’ hilarious, what a douche, I love him

same, tho

The costumes and sets and cars are all screaming 70s/80s. But smartphones!

I’m watching this pretty late so my volume is a bit low and I cannot understand 70% of Hannibal’s dialogue, uh oh

Hannibal is supposed to be short so I don’t think this little “oh Crawford confused the short weepy patient with Hannibal” bit is that cute...I’ve always felt like Mads was poorly cast for that reason, among others. Oh well.

I take it all back:

HIS FACE

“No secretary?” “She was predisposed to romantic whims.” Not sure whether I like this line because Hannibal’s the one acting on whimsy or if it makes me cringe because of the way they’re dismissing Hannibal’s former secretary. Hmm.

“Are these yours, doctor?” a) Duh and b) Silence Rip-Off #4

Why the fuck does Crawford think he can just examine Hannibal’s papers? Like?????????

no wonder he hates your rude ass, Jack

HANNIBAL WHY IS WOUND MAN LYING ON YOUR DESK YOU PRECIOUS IDIOT

“Very interesting, even for a layman” Wow, unexpected Red Dragon rip-off (by the Red Dragon adaptation) #1

this whole scene is made of cringe HELP

why is Hannibal dressed in his Easter Sunday suit

Tattlecrimes.com. I’M SPEECHLESS at the stupidity of that.

tabloids are, in fact, still a thing in the Year of Our Lord 2013

No way is Hannibal fucking Lecter going to drink the swill that probably is Jack Crawford’s coffee, as if.

“Not fond of eye contact, are you?” Yes, Hannibal is the only character who should be canonically coming at anyone like this. (But also poor Will.)

But Will, at least look in his direction while he’s talking to you? I also don’t love eye contact...it’s rude not to even look at a person, though.

Hannibal finally used a contraction! He’s human after all. (This is a common Fanfic-Writing-of-Hannibal problem. I used to have it, too. You think to emulate him you have to write lofty, staid dialogue. But we’re talking about Hannibal the Punmaster General here.)

“This cannibal you have him getting to know” I’m sorry, who said anything about cannibals???

Stop incriminating yourself Hannibal honestly

Wait, is the implication that the victim whose lungs were taken is Hannibal’s? I hope not, because what would he be doing in Minnesota, and since when did Hannibal cut people up alive (Krendler notwithstanding--he’s a special case), especially women????? He’s a Monster(TM), but not a fucking sadist.

Will’s wardrobe also contains gingham!

no really, when did they determine that the serial killer was a cannibal?? did I sleep through that part?

“have Dr. Lecter draw up a psychological profile” bitch, please. Dr. Lecter doesn’t work for Crawford.

I don’t like hearing/watching people eat, especially in quiet moments. That’s going to become a problem in this show, isn’t it?

Will’s dream dear is fucking awful CGI. Wow.

That brown blazer--Hannibal would never.

EVERYTHING about Hannibal that should be black--his clothes and his hair--is brown here. It’s...weird.

to quote @random-emerald-thoughts​, “my homocidal boy aint about that tawny bullshit”

Hannibal Lecter: food snob--that’s canon. 

Don’t like this dialogue, though. And Hannibal bringing anyone he just met food in glorified Tupperware rings very false.

“Uncle Jack” what the fuck

Wow, Fuller jumped directly into the teacup thing right from the start. Yikes. He clearly didn’t understand it. (Clarice isn’t the teacup, bro. The teacup represents time, and disorder, and will it ever be reversed?)

Lots of weird metaphors in this episode overall, though none as bad as the Willy Wonka thing.

Why is Hannibal in Minnesota? Is he a crime-scene investigator now? Is he on the FBI payroll? Doesn’t he have patients with appointments to keep? Social obligations? I HAVE QUESTIONS.

He’s not a priss or a germaphobe. DISLIKE.

Do like the phone call. Just fuckin’ carelessly with people’s lives for the fun of it, that’s our Hannibal.

FBI? Are you FBI, Will?

He shouldn’t have been issued that sidearm if he can’t hold it steady.

One shot would have been plenty. Maybe two. Jfc, the reason Clarice shot Gumb so many times was because he was going to shoot her. Hobbs had a knife, which he dropped, and he was incapacitated by the first/second shot. Silence Rip-Off #5

How the fuck is he still alive and talking?! Will plugged him about eight times!

Call the police, Hannibal, or the ambulance, or take off your jacket and provide first aid to this girl. You’re a doctor!

It really is like he wants to be arrested or something.

And then he gets to ride in the ambulance?? Just Because?

Overall, it was...not very good, imo, poorly paced, very poorly written, with acting that jumped wildly from “very good” to “awful,” sometimes from the same actors. Intense cringe throughout a lot of the script. Ripped off Silence of the Lambs, a superior movie about many of the same characters, way too many times. Will is boring and I don’t care about him, but then I also don’t care about canon Will. And I still think Mads Mikkelsen was poorly cast as Hannibal...the costumes aren’t doing him any favors, either. We’ll see if he can bring me around.

Some moments of genuine humor that I appreciated, though, and some nods to the canon that I grudgingly appreciated, too, including Hannibal being a dick and Jack Crawford fucking up people’s lives.

Hopefully if you made it this far into my observations you got a kick out of them. I probably won’t go into this much detail for every episode, but I do intend to try to watch at least all of Season 1.

Painful as it might be.

[jay-and-dean]

Captive Chapter 2 : Chains

Gif not mine

_Dean x Reader_

Summary :

Dean Winchester is an enemy.

Every man of letters and hunters are enemies.

During the Great Purge in Europe, when every european Men of Letters allied to eradicate monsters once and for all, using hunters as their cold-blooded hounds, long before the BMOL took an interest in USA, they killed my mother, and made me go through hell. I killed so many of them I lost count, and lived a life on the run. Until one day I heard about American Men of Letters extinction, and decided to try and find peace there.

That was without counting on the exile of some BMOL, and the existence of the two best hunters of the world.The fisrt time I saw Sam Winchester, I almost killed him, and Dean has me now…

He is going to kill me, right ?

***CAPTIVE MASTERLIST***

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Future warnings : Violence and captivity, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Chapter Warnings : Violence, Swearing.

Words : 7k

Note : I put the gifs rebbloged by @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ (I took the liberty to tag you because of the gifs. Maybe it wasn’t at all what you were expecting, but there is my version of it).

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2. Chains

          I’m still shaking, holding Sam’s t-shirt like my life depends on it. I can’t see really clear because my right eye is full of blood, and the left is too swelled.

           I can’t believe Dean killed the Man of Letters. I’m so confused, everything is blurry and painful. When Sam left, he just told me to wait, like I had any other choice…

           The door opens and he comes back, carrying a mattress and a bag. He puts the mattress down next to me, making sure my leash is long enough for me to reach it.

“Here, you can sit there…” he says and squats in front of me.

I don’t dare moving, and I’m not sure I can stand. He looks at me for a second and sighs with a pained look.

“Okay, show me your face” he says lifting his hand and I flinch. “I’m not going to hurt you…”

He takes a first aid kit from the bag and shows me his hand slowly, like he was trying to tame me. When I don’t react, he starts to examine me. He winces himself when he touches my jaw.

“We’ll need you to answer some questions you know” he says, taking a needles to stitch a wound on my face.

           Sam is careful not to hurt me more, and I still cling to his shirt on my chest with the last strength I have.

“Okay, now, you have to show me the cuts on your chest” he frowns seeing the large amount of blood starting to dry on it.

I close my eyes and shake my head “no”. He sighs.

“I’m sorry, but if I don’t patch you there, well…”

I lift my bruised face and search his eyes. I know he’s right. I slowly take the shirt down and reveal my body to him : skin and scars, breasts and cuts.

“Shit” he says, seeing the deepness of the cuts above my breasts. “Enochian… Why ?”

I shrug.

“Okay this will need some stitches, there a bandage will be enough. I’m sorry, this is going to hurt a lot…”

 Dean’s Pov

             Cas is looking at me and I can feel the weight of his eyes on my face. I take a sip of whiskey.

“So… We know why Ketch wanted her dead so bad, but thanks to Mister trigger-happy here, we can’t ask him why he carved the thing’s body with enochian symbols” Bobby says pointing at me with his own glass.

“What you described is not precise enough, I need to see it clearly” Cas says with his husky worried voice.

“Well Sam doesn’t want us to enter the room, says she needs some rest and intimacy” I grunt and Bobby rolls his eyes with a loud sigh. “I know.”

“We need to know what she is…” I think out loud.

“So we know how to kill it” Bobby finishes.

I’m not sure that was what I meant… She looks so fragile, she almost died of fever last week, I’m not that sure she’s so hard to kill. What I need to know is the simple truth. Is it true that she didn’t shot Sammy ? That she tried to save him ? Why was Ketch so certain that she’ll manipulate us ? Why does she never tries to defend ? How could she murder so many trained killers all by herself ? Why is Sam so sure she deserves to be saved ? … Why did I pull the trigger ?

“She doesn’t know” Jack cuts the trail of my thoughts.

“I’m sorry ?”

“She doesn’t know what she is. She told me” he says.

“Be careful what she tells you Jack. She’s a master at fooling people” I grunt and he frowns.

           After a while Sam comes out of the dungeon with blood everywhere, and a tired look on his face.

“She needs a shower” he says.

“Come on Sam !”  Bobby shouts.

“If she doesn’t wash, the wounds will get infected again” Sam sighs, putting the soaked in blood t-shirt, cotton wools and dirty needles on the table.

“Well problem solved” I mutter and Sam looks at me coldly.

“Oh so you killed Ketch to save her, and now you’ll let her die of her injures… Don’t be that stupid !” Sam mocks and I get up to face him.

“Hey !”Cas speaks, touching my shoulder. “Guys… Please.”

I take my glass and drink it in one go.

“Sam, can you draw the symbol, please” he adds.

           Cas’ eyes widen and we still wait impatiently for him to talk.

“Why does…” he starts but gets up and leaves.

“Cas !” I shout, following him with Sam and Bobby right on my heels.

He enters the dungeon and she jumps, coiling on herself on the mattress. She’s so broken I feel a ache on my stomach.

“Y/n ? Is it… Is it your name ?” Cas says kindly, kneeling next to her.

She lifts her gaze and meet mine, like she was waiting for me to approve her to talk. I nod, not knowing what to do. Sam approaches her and sits next to her. She nods.

“Okay Y/n” Cas continues. “Can I see the symbol ? Please ?”

She looks at me again and my heart drops.

Sam takes her by the waist and open the first two buttons of the flannel he gave her.

“I’ll do the bandage again” he says to her.

She doesn’t move but I can see the rage in her eyes. She looks down and her nose starts to bleed. Then her eyes turn blue again, no one seems to notice because they’re looking at her cuts.

“It’s an archangel ward” Cas says.

“A what ?” Sam asks.

“Oh come on !” I yell. “I thought we bumped those mothers off ?”

Then her blue eyes reminds me of something and I take my gun in my hands out of reflex and pure fear.

“Did you know Micheal ?” I yell at her, threatening.

“Dean…” Sam says.

“Answer ! NOW ! I swear if I don’t hear your voice RIGHT NOW I’ll give Sam too much work patching you up !”

“No…” she whispers.

“Liar !” I put my gun on her forehead.

“Dean !” Sam says, pushing my gun but Bobby takes his.

“I don’t fucking know what you’re talking about !” she finally screams, showing everyone her blue eyes. Then she bursts into tears.

Sam takes her in his arms and puts a protective hand on her head.

“It’s not a symbol to ward against an archangel, it’s a symbol to hide something from an archangel… Ketch didn’t want an archangel to find her… Why ?” Cas thinks out loud.

           She clings to Sam and whispers something we don’t understand.

“What ?” I ask.

“She says there are more” Sam states, shooting me a black look. “Can you show us ?” he asks her.

She points at her hip and Sam pushes her jeans a little. The same symbol is there, tattooed.

 Reader’s Pov

             “Please, just eat something” Sam says but I don’t move. “Do you need some painkillers ?”

I can’t help but smile at the irony. What now, my torturers want to give me painkillers.

“Y/n… I don’t know who you are, but I know you are not the monster they say” Sam sighs, putting the bowl of cereal down.

“I tried to kill you” I murmur.

“We both know this was not what happened…”

“I stabbed you” I insist.

“Well I attacked you in the middle of the night, in your home. I would have stabbed me too” he smiles.

           I look at him amazed by the dimples that just appeared on his face. Literally no one have ever been so kind to me in my life, except maybe my mother but she died when I was three or four so I don’t really remember. I love this face and those warm, changing colors eyes.

“Sam” Dean’s voice interrupts us. “Jody on the phone.”

Sam gets up and leave. When I see Dean is not leaving, I shiver. He closes the door behind him and comes close to me.

“You may be fooling my brother, but you’re not fooling me” he says.

“Yeah...” I sigh.

“I never liked Ketch but we had a shared enemy : Evil. And you are just that” he adds and I nod. “Now Sam says we can learn some things from you, so I agree to keep you alive for now. But if you move just a little too fast, I end you.”

             The next few days Sam send a lot of time with me, not really in a row, but he checks on me often. He brings me towels and soap, water and even fresh closes. But I still don’t eat. I'm not so sure I want to live. I’m healing faster than he would, he says, still my entire body hurts.

           Judging by the fact that Sam sometimes comes straight after his shower, hair still wet and smelling soap, and by the fact the food he brings me is always hot or fresh. I’d say they keep me at home.

           What kind of home as a dungeon ? Maybe I'm in some kind of basement, maybe if I scream a lot, neighbors could hear me... Or maybe I'm in the middle of a dense forest.

Dean never came back but I can’t stop thinking about him… I know he is here, just behind that doors, being angry and hating me. Still, despite our history of violence, the threats and the pain, I have time to think about what I read and heard about him all those years ago. The best hunter in the world they say, the one that went to hell and purgatory, the one that saved the world… I remember burning the Supernatural books I’d read, three or four volumes, I can’t remember exactly, grumbling it was propaganda. Now I know Sam, Dean and their angel pet is not a legend.

And I’m afraid of Dean, as much as I am fascinated.

             The door opens and I slightly smile at the idea of seeing Sam. Boredom is killing me most of the time, and I truly like Sam, even if I’m still careful because he is a hunter.

           But it is not Sam, it’s him. Dean.

           His face his bruised and he has a large cut on his lips. It adds something even more warrior-like to his features that makes me swallow hard.

“Men of Letters really want to get you” he says sternly and I shiver.

“If they know you have me, they won’t stop until they got me, they’ll kill you if they have to…” I whisper shyly. “You should kill me or let me run.”

“Let them try… We won’t kill you today, let you run, never.”

He takes a chair and sits in front of me.

“You heal fast” he states and I wonder what a genuine smile must look like on this beautiful, forbidding face. “I need answers now… What are you ?”

“I don’t know.”

He grunts, leaning his elbows on his thighs.

“What do you know then ? Don’t lie.”

“I swore to kill every man of letters, and they swore to kill me” I say holding his gaze up.

“Why ?”

“Because I’m dangerous” I answer looking down.

“Not that much. Look at you…” he says sternly.

I would tell him I could have killed his warrior brother but I’m tired of playing villain, so I stay silent.

“Why do they call you Blue Death ?”

I lower my gaze and look at my hands. I used to hate that nickname, probably because I didn’t earned it, I was only a child… But When I rebelled, I used it to terrify those bastards, and started to claim it.

“I guess it comes from my eye color, when I… I don’t know.”

“They told me you painted the German Men of Letters headquarters door blue after you mowed down every soul in it…”

“I’ve got a reputation to maintain” I shrug, wincing when my body reminds me to stay still.

“I should give you up to them” he says and I shiver again.

“If you do that, give me a gun…”

“So you can kill as many of them as you can before they end you ?” he mocks.

“So I can kill myself before they take me” I states sternly.

He stares at me, thinking. There is something in those green eyes I can’t comprehend.

“Sam told me to bring you this” he says showing me a banana. “But as you never eat…” He opens it and eats it in three bites, half smiling sarcastically at me with his mouth full.

 Dean’s Pov

             When I come back from hunt, I don’t find Sam in the library or in the kitchen. He must be with her again… I hate that Sam spend so much time with her. I don’t know what’s worse : The fact that he could be in danger, the fact that their fucked up almost friendship is making me the villain, the fact that he doesn’t spend time with me anymore, doesn't even comes to hunt with me… What if he fell for her ? Like a freaking deranged version of the Beauty and the Beast. The idea makes me sick.

           When I open the dungeon’s door, I half expect to find them kissing or worse. But she’s alone, sitting on the mattress, wearing Sam’s flannel again, so small in it.

           The instant she sees I’m not Sam, she has a strange expression, and she wraps her arms around her knees.

           She’s dirty and bruised, but she’s not swollen anymore. She is beautiful. And for a very brief moment, I’m almost jealous of what Sam and her have, whatever the fuck it is, until it makes me nauseous. And I think about her blue eyes reflecting in the pupils of the hunters she murdered.

“Where is he ?” I say, suspicious.

“How could I know…” she groans. “I haven’t seen outside those four walls in… Oh no, wait, I can’t even count days because there are no windows” she says already annoying me.

“As long as you didn’t eat him, monster” I say with unnecessary hate in my tone and she looks almost hurt indeed, hiding her face by looking at the ground.

           I let a pause and sit on the chair, sighing.

“Someone forced my Baby…” I state, trying to talk to her about the Men of Letters last attempt to find her and intimidate me.

“Your what ?”

“My car.”

She raises her eyebrows and laugh.

“Aw poor baby… Someone damaged your car !” she mocks. “Must be awful ! As we are getting things off our chests : Someone kidnapped me and tortures me ! ASSHOLE !” she finally yells and I get up ready to punch her.

I stop inches away from her face, she has her forearms on defensive position before her head. I squat to look at her closely, she really looks afraid.

"I wanted to tell you it was the Men of Letters" I say winning back my cool. "After researches and investigation, we think it's the French... People cross oceans to kick your ass."

She looks at me through her arms, bright eyes piercing me.

             "What is it between you and the freak ?" I ask Sam in front of my plate.

He seems surprised, frowning.

"Don't call her that, we don't know anything about her..."

"Well we know she's a freak" I state.

"Don't you think it's a little easy ? That all story, Dean, I don't know..." he says, playing with his food. "Listen, I would like to investigate."

"Investigate on what ? Ketch already told us : She's a hunter killing monster that Men of Letters never managed to kill, we got her. Let's end this."

"Dean... Something's wrong. She didn't want to hurt me... Why would she run if she really wanted to end the Men of Letters ? She was so close to the goal, I mean, there are only three French men of letters left, no German, a handful of Italians ?"

I shrug, taking a large bite of food, Sam and his blurred lines. From another angle, he keeps saying she wasn't happy to hurt him...

"I don't know Sam, This is becoming dangerous. And despite what you think, I'm not a monster : I don't like having her locked up in here. We have to consider killing her..."

He stares at me with that serious look of his, with dimples appearing by the contraction of his face.

"Listen..." he says. "We investigate, this is a case. We, we discover the truth, interrogate the Men of Letters, and if their story is confirmed, I swear I'll be the one putting a bullet in her head... But something is odd."

"You investigate. This is your case, for me that one is solved" I sigh seeing his disappointed look. "I agree to keep her alive, you have one month, Sam. After that I end this."

"Okay... Okay."

           We eat in silence and I can see he wants to say something. I know him, he has a whole plan in his head, and he just tries to tread carefully with me.

"Shoot" I say taking a beer.

"What ?" he asks with that slightly high pitched voice he has when he tries to hide something.

"Come on Sam..."

He lets a pause and sits. I come in front of him, waiting, ready to hear something I'll probably hate, judging by his anxiety.

"I need to go to France" he says and I almost choke on my beer. "This is where it all started but, Dean... They'll come after her."

"Of course they will !"

"I need you to protect her" he states looking down.

"I'll stay in the bunker, but I won't treat her like my new favorite pet, Sam."

"Just, don't hurt her, and feed her. And Dean, please, don't kill her. Just don't."

 Reader's Pov

             Sam sits next to me, handing me a glass of water. He looks worried and I wonder what is causing this, maybe he just can't keep me anymore, maybe he's thinking about ending this wicked game.

"I have to leave for a few days" he finally says and my heart drops.

With him gone, what will happen to me ?

"Dean is staying to keep Men of Letters out of the bunker."

Bunker ?

"He is going to take care of you, just, please don't provoke him, okay ?"

I nod but I'm terrified. Trying to hide the tears filling my eyes, I look down. The large metal collar is biting my skin.

"You have to eat something, Y/n... Dean won't be as patient as I am, and I'll need you there when I come back to understand things..." he says low.

Then he gets up and smiles at me, putting clean clothes on a corner, next to a water bottle and a chocolate bar.

             No one came tonight. And time just slowed. Looking at the walls, I try to find a comfortable position, but everything hurts. I'm starving, I know I am, but I just don't feel like eating at all.

           It's been hours, long, silent, lonely hours thinking about those times they sentenced me, when I was a kid. This was their way of punishing me, when I didn't obey or when I was lazy, according to them, during the trainings : locking me up alone in the dark for hours, I never told them I could see in the dark ; I already knew I had to keep secrets. I remember crying a lot at first. I think I called my mother the first year, then I understood she will never rescue me. Later I understood she was gone and no one will rescue me, then I forgot about her I guess.

             The door opens, and Dean comes in. He looks at me and puts a plate beside me, he made me a sandwich.

"Do you need anything ?" he says stern.

"No" I answer with a hoarse voice due to not talking for so long.

"Okay" he says turning to leave.

But I panic. I can't. I just can't stay alone in the dark for hours, I'm going crazy.

"Dean !" I call and he looks surprised to hear his name from me. "Just... Can I have a glass of water ?"

"You have a whole bottle over there" he says.

"Oh..." I try to think about anything else to ask. "How is Sam ?"

"He's okay. Are you good ?"

"Pitchy..." I whisper, desperate by his coldness.

And he leaves.

           He comes not long after, looks at the untouched plate and sighs. He takes it and I just watch him move.

"If you die of hunger, my brother is killing me..." he says a little gentler.

"I'm not hungry."

"Of course you are, you're losing weight, look at you, it's like Sam's flannel is growing on you."

When he is about to leave I try my best to keep him a little longer.

"Why did he leave ?" I ask prudently.

"He wants to save you, he thinks you deserve it" he says, his eyes piercing through me like he was trying to understand why.

"I really don't..." I whisper sadly, tired and depressed.

"I know."

 Dean's Pov

             I can't sleep, I think about the girl chained in my dungeon, and it feels so weird. I read all I could about eyes turning blue, but I found nothing, except for angles but she's not that, or she couldn't bleed like that, besides, this is not angel-blue. I sigh.

           Sitting up I take my phone, and send a text to Sammy. He says he was right : something is odd. Cas and him are following the lead of one of the survivor Y/n left behind, maybe he'll tell them more.

           As I approach the dungeon, I hear something : sobs. She's crying like a little girl, I can hear physical pain but also despair in her passive voice. I hesitate, I should leave, not get involved, but this is unbearable.

           When I open the door, she turns her back on me, still lying on the mattress, and the sobs stop, held back. She didn't expect me to appear. I don't know what to say or what to do, she looks like an innocent young girl in pain, and all I can think is it's because of me.

"Y/n..." I try.

"Sorry" she mutters, surprising me.

I come closer and squat beside her. Her hair are greasy and her skin is darken by dirt, but she still looks cute somehow.

"You really should eat something..."

I hear a held back sob once more. Lowering my eyes, I notice blood stains on the mattress. Fresh ones, she's been bleeding again.

"What is all that blood, Y/n ?" I ask but she stays silent. "Are you hurt ?"

"Do you really care ?" she whispers. "Leave me and I'll tell Sam you were kind to me..."

"No, Y/n, this is a lot of blood."

I put a hand on her and she flinches. I feel an invisible punch inside my guts.

"I won't hurt you" I say but she doesn't move.

I pull at her shoulder to turn her body and her eyes keep looking the other way. The flannel is soaked in blood again, some stitches must have broke. This is not good.

"Shit, Y/n, why didn't you tell me ? Let me see" I say trying to open the shirt but she puts her hand on mine to stop me.

She's so cold, her soft shaking hand has nothing monstrous and I'm surprised by the way her touch makes me feel, like I needed to protect her. I shake this thought out of my head and bend a little more.

"I have to see this, Y/n..." I insist, trying to make her seat.

Just then I realize how weak she is, barely holding her head. How can this girl be so dangerous ?

           I open two buttons of the flannel, careful not to bare more skin than necessary. The wound is opened again, and bleeding. I sigh and take the first aid kit Sam left here.

           Proximity triggers an unknown sensation, if I didn't know better I would say it's desire. But she's a monster. My fingers graze her skin and visible Goosebumps appears on her cleavage, like static electricity had pass through our skin. She lifts her eyes, her face is so close to mine, I can see the chapping on her plumb lips. I bite mine.

           When I start cleaning the wound, I notice the dirt is creeping inside her flesh. Frowning I try to think, maybe if I bring her a larger bowl of water she could clean better. I look at the leash and think about how I could undo it without letting her go...

           Big tears are rolling down her face silently while I plant the needle in her flesh.

"Am I hurting you ?" I ask, worried a bit too much.

"No" she says sadly.

"If you would talk, this would be easier" I sigh.

"You wouldn't believe me... Or you wouldn't care" she whispers.

What does she mean ? Now I'm curious.

"Try me" I say with a soft smile.

She seems surprised and her tears stop rolling down her cheeks, her eyes roaming my face like she had discovered something incredible.

"You have a beautiful smile for a cold blooded killer" she says weakly.

             The next few times I come to check on her, I change the bandage and give her food she never touches. She's letting herself die, and I need to do something, anything to keep that from happening.

           Sitting in the kitchen I think hard, my beer in my hand, trying to convince myself Sam is the reason why I want her to survive so bad. There is something so different about her... I just wish she would talk to me, tell me what she fears I won't believe.

           My phone rings.

"Dean Winchester ?" a voice says with an accent I don't know so well.

"Who's asking ?"

"Listen, I think we should try to cooperate... See, you got something we want and maybe we can give you something you want too."

"Maybe you can go fuck yourself" I say sternly, no liking that man's snob tone.

"See, you have no utility of her, and we do. I really think you should consider our offer. Either you give us our property back, and get paid generously, or we take it before, or after, she killed you."

"So you don't want to kill her ?" I ask suspicious.

"Of course not, I mean, we can't say we haven't tried, but that was before you find a way to shut her up."

"You'll need to know how we did" I say to make him talk, having no idea what is actually working on her.

"Yes, of course. I knew you were a reasonable man, Mr Winchester, they say we can't negotiate with you, I think with the good price we can always negotiate... So tell me what do you want ? Spell books so powerful you could invade Heaven ? Money ? A Hellhound maybe..."

"All of that, and men, I want to command" I state.

"Everything you want" he says.

"You said she was your property, what is she ?" I try.

"Oh, you see, she's just a creation of ours that went bad. We need to do some improvement, and you seem to have what we need to keep her quiet."

I feel a cold shiver run my spine, and when blood taste appears in my mouth, I realize I was biting my cheek.

"Let's meet" I say.

"Let me some time to gather the things you asked, let's say a week ?" he says and I smile at the idea of Sam having time to come back.

"Call me in a week" I hang up.

           Shit, they are really desperate to get her back, this is insane. What did he mean "a creation" ? I stare at nothing, thinking about what those bastards may have done to her...

             "Hey, Y/n" I say coming close to her slowly.

When she turns she sees the gun in my hands and looks at me in the eyes with a pure expression of despair.

"No, no" I say. "I'm not going to kill you... if you don't try to kill me."

I take the collar in my hand and notice, it is biting her skin harshly.  She looks at me with a frown and the click of the collar makes her jumps.

"I take you to the bathroom and you shower. If you make any suspicious move, I shoot you, okay ?"

She nods and grab my arm, too weak to stay straight, even sitting down.

"After that, you promise me you'll eat something..." I add, trying to make her stand, but she almost falls.

I take her in my arms and carry her, she clings to me with her eyes closed, she must be so exhausted.

           When I pass the door, she looks around her, an astonished look on her face ; I never thought about how lost she was, not knowing what was behind these doors, as she was unconscious when we brought her there.

           "Okay, can you strip on your own ?" I ask and she nods, barely standing.

She looks around her and closes her eyes for a second, like this place was heaven to her. I point the shampoo and the soap and turn around, my gun in my hand.

           After a few minutes, the water runs and I hear her wince, probably at the contact of water on her wounds.

"You okay ?" I ask.

She doesn't answer. Worry makes me squeeze my gun tighter. A loud noise : I turn around : She fell. Kneeling on the floor, naked, she shakes and sobs.

           I put my gun down without even thinking and come to her, trying not to look at her damaged yet beautiful body. Her ribs are showing but I can tell she usually is a little curved and strong. I take the shampoo and pour a large amount on her head.

"There, let me, you can't fall more now... I'm not looking so tell me if you have shampoo in your eyes, okay ?"

           I really try not to look at her, but my hands are making me see things, I feel her hair around my fingers and I feel my hands on her neck, lingering an instant too long. It takes me a lot of strength not to brush her shoulders and back, not to go a little lower : on her back.

 Reader's Pov

             His hands clumsily wash my hair and if I wasn't on the verge of passing out, I would probably protest, tell him some smart-ass line, try to make him as uncomfortable as I am. The truth is I'm liking this way too much.

           Soap comes to my face and I close my eyes, not telling him because I don't want him to stop touching me right now. Just knowing he is this close behind me, that handsome warrior, his large hands roaming my neck...

"Okay... you wash your body, I'm getting a towel, tell me when you need me to rinse your hair."

I do, even if my hands are the heaviest thing. The shampoo smelled like Sam, but that soap... This is all Dean. I don't know how long I stay, on my knees on the shower, rubbing my skin, thinking about how I should just hate him, and not breathe deeply the smell of his soap.

"Dean..." I call weakly, exhausted by just washing myself.

"Yeah, don't move" he says.

           The water runs down my body and I try to lift my arms to rinse my hair, but a large, strong hand runs through the locks of my hair to help the water get rid of the shampoo. When it's over, Dean wraps a big towel around me, kneeling in front of me this time. His eyes falls on me now that I'm not naked anymore, his clothes are soaked.

"Sorry" I whisper, pointing at the t-shirt sticking on his chest.

"It's just water..."

           I'm on that towel, sitting on a chair, with Dean handing me a clean flannel.

"You can't wear those jeans again... Wait" he says getting out.

When he comes back I see his eyes looking at the gun he left right beside me, and see how he regrets taking such a risk, like he forgot for a second that we were enemies. But I can't move anyway, and I wouldn't survive out there for now...

           He hands me grey sweatpants. I put it on, with no underwear and watch it almost fall as it is clearly too big.

"There, I choose it because it as a cord" he says tightening it. "Now you eat."

           I sit on my mattress and he takes the collar with both hands, hesitating he says :

"You're not going to attack me right now are you ?"

I shake my head "no" and he adds "Okay, I'll put it back later... Eat now. Please."

           Maybe it is me surrendering to my pain, maybe it is that warm shower, maybe it is the way he asks... but I take a shy bite of the piece of bread, and he smiles. A radiant, yet discreet smile that makes my heart race a bit.

"Tell me now..." he says. "They say you are their creation. What does it mean ?"

My throat tighten and I have trouble swallowing. I don't know what it means, never knew.

"I don't know... I guess it is because of the training" I state.

"What training ?" he sits on the floor and the idea of him not leaving just yet is enough to make me talk.

"How do you think I can kill like a pro ?" I say looking down. "It's because I am... They, they made me."

"They trained you to kill ?"

I nod.

"Monsters ?"

I stay silent, thinking about Mary-Ann, about her terrified childish eyes when I stabbed her.

"Define monster" I say taking another bite to hide the horror in my head.

He thinks for a moment, his eyes piercing me.

"Creatures who kill because of their nature" he finally says, unsure.

"Not just monsters then..." I look into his eyes and see doubt and a hint of fear.

"Where do your powers come from ?"

"I don't know..." I repeat.

 Dean's Pov

             Y/n ate three little meals since that shower and she's already recovering, her wounds heal faster and her voice is clearer. I saw her eat the chocolate bar and she was standing alone during the next shower.

           Bobby visited, telling me he didn't like knowing me alone with the freak, and I realized I hated her to be called that. He didn't stay long, as I didn't asked him to stay, barely offered him a drink, because I didn't wanted to hear him try to convince me to kill her.

           I called Sam to tell him what she said, and ask him if it was consistent. It is. He still doesn't know what she is, but he knows for sure she has been captured and trained when she was a child. "Like a weapon" he says, they used her until she became out of control. It sounds like the Men of Letters indeed.

           The moment I'm about to check on her, someone knocks on the door. I think maybe Bobby forgot something but I come to face with the barrel of a gun.

"Mr Winchester" a man in a suit says.

He's not the man I had on the phone, not the same accent, not the same voice. He's tall and stronger than me.

"I think you have something that's ours" he says.

I take a step back and consider fighting back, but two more men follow him, just as strong and armed.

"I talked to someone on the phone" I try. "We had a deal."

"Yeah well Mr Martin thinks we can always negotiate, we think hunters are not worth so much effort. Where is the girl ?" he says.

As I don't answer he smiles, a psycho smile.

"Either you tell us where she is, and we let you go, or we have to search all the place and we burn it with you in it after having found her."

I sigh and go to the donjon's direction, thinking of a way to fight them.

           When I turn around to punch the man, another stops my fist and punches me hard three times, making me fall on my knees, he then takes me to drag me.

           They find the dungeon, and open it. Y/n is here, pure fear in her eyes, standing against the wall as the man keeps me still by the neck, cutting my hair supply. This is over, they win.

"Y/n, finally" the man says. "Gentlemen, be careful not to break the chains."

An idea suddenly crosses my mind and I take the key in my pocket, sending it to her.

           She opens the collar with snake speed and her eyes become blue.

"What have you done !" says the leader with the gun. "We're all dead !"

He shoots her but she moves too fast, not supernaturally fast, but like the fastest athlete. She takes leverage on his shoulder and jumps, taking his partner head between her leg. She groans in effort and I hear his neck break and she kicks the man behind her, smashing his knee. As he screams she kicks picks his gun and turns toward the man holding me. He lets go of me, pushing me toward her.

           She shoots toward me. When I open my eyes, the man behind me is falling on the floor, a bullet on his head. She turns and squats beside the man of the floor with the broken leg. I can see she's out of breath and her wounds are bleeding again.

"I don't know you" she says. "They've been recruiting..."

Then she puts a bullet in his head.

           She turns toward me with her bright blue eyes and I lift my hands. When I think I might be dead, she falls on her knees and puts the gun next to her. Just then I realize I wasn't breathing.

           We stay here for a while, panting. Her eyes lost their strange color and she's shaking again. She saved me, and sat back on that damn mattress.

             Everything is different now.

           When I bring her food, she's meditating, sitting on the floor. Her clean and messy hair falling on her flannel covered shoulders.

"You said you liked pastas" I state putting the plates on the floor.

"Thank you" she says with a sweet smile.

I sit on the mattress and start to eat, she's watching me, but I don't really dare looking at her.   

I didn't put her collar back, I chained her feet, thinking it would be more comfortable. I don't think it makes any sense anyway, I'm just keeping her there, waiting for my brother to prove she's an ally.

           When she turns to put her plate down, her arm brushes mine and my heart rushes. I have to face reality : I can't stop thinking about her. A part of me doesn't even know what she is and wants nothing to do with her, and a part of me has dreams about her. Dreams where I lay on that hard mattress with her, dreams where she lets me touch her and taste her...

           I have to stop it.

"Are you okay ?" she asks and I smile.

I noticed every time I smile, she looks enthralled, I don't know why. Maybe she is used to grumpy hunters and old librarians.

           But this time her eyes travel down, and I can see how they linger on my lips. Hers are soft again, no more chapping, just pink plumb lips.

           Before I have time to comprehend what is happening, I bend and put my lips on her, immediately feeling dizzy. She kisses me back, eagerly, her sweet lips caressing mine.

           It takes a movement from her to break the spell : She wraps her arms around my neck and that suddenly remembers me how dangerous she is.

           I break the kiss and get up, taking the plates with me like I was casually clearing the diner.

             "Mr Winchester ?" says the man on the phone. "I heard some of my colleagues tried to use force to deal with you ?"

"Yeah you heard right..."

"They never came back, I guess we can stop waiting for their return ?" he says and I smile for myself.

"Yeah."

"I see... So, about that deal..."

             The warehouse seems empty, and very dark, which is a good thing. Soon I see three men with suits and gun. I pull on the chain to make the girl covered by a bag walk.

"Mr Winchester !" the first man approaches. "Nice to meet you !"

"I'm letting you take her but I need to know... What will you do to her ?"

He smiles like a politician and looks at her.

"Well you know, a little rehabilitation if we can, if not, kill her I guess. Before she kills us all !" he laughs and the two other men smile wide.

"What is she ?"

"Aaaah, you're curious Mr Winchester." he looks annoyed.

"I don't know what you did to her but she's never giving up you know. I've seen what she's capable of..." I say with my jaw clenched. "I don't just mean her strength or the powers she has. I mean her will to destroy you... You think you can use her ? Control her ? You're an idiot."

"Enough ! Give us the girl or the deal is broken !"

           At this moment Jody takes the bag off her head and shoots, covered by me. When only the leader is left, I tie him and Jody keeps his gun on his temple.

"Sammy ? You heard ?" I say getting my phone out of my pocket.

"Yeah" he answers. "Let me talk to him."

I bend on the whining man and Sam talks :

"Listen to me carefully. Where are the tapes ?"

"What tapes ?" the man says and I punch him hard.

"What tapes Sammy ?" I ask making Jody laugh slightly.

"I don't know !" the man of letters says.

I lift my arm again and he protests :

"Wait ! Wait ! Ketch ! Ketch has them ! I truly don't know where he hid it... You are making a huge mistakes..." he starts but Jody shoots him.

"What ? He wasn't going to tell us more."

***FEEDBACK IS EVERYTHING <3***

@tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx 

[mintea-in-space]

This is also on ao3!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21844570/chapters/52133791#workskin

And as another warning, a suicide attempt is highly implied, but not out right stated, so please use caution!

Tar in His Veins Part 2

An inhuman scream ripped through the living room.

Delia had to grab Lydia’s arm to keep her from running back into the circle.

The demon writhed, screaming and sobbing, his back arching off of the couch.

And the blood.

More of it seemed to pour from him like a fountain as he howled.

Delia began chanting the words on the page.

The crystals seemed to glow, and the powder on the floor lit up. All while Beetlejuice made noises that no human ever could.

Lydia clamped her hands over her ears, sobbing, crying out.

That was her friend dammit!

And she couldn’t do anything!!

Her will almost broke when he screeched the first word he’d said since she found him.

“LYDIA!!”

She couldn’t do it. She shoved her face into Barbara arms. She couldn’t watch him suffering anymore. She couldn’t. Barb clutched the teen, feeling her shake with fear and sobs.

After what felt like years of pain and hurt, Delia finished the spell.

All was quiet.

Delia let out a shaky breath and collapsed into a kitchen chair. Lydia ripped her face from Barb, and ran to him.

He still looked like shit.

But. She could just barely see his chest rise and fall with weak breaths. His face was pinched in agony, although it was slowly smoothing out.

Lydia put a hand on his cheek.

“Beej?”

And his eyes snapped open.

His hair rippled, first blue, purple, and finally starch white.

“NononononoNONONONONONO!”

He scrambled at his chest.

“I WAS THERE I WAS ALMOST THERE NO WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!”

Lydia could see the whites of his eyes as they rolled in his head. It was like a cornered animal, he radiated fear.

She flailed, finally grabbing one of his wild hands and squeezing it. She couldn’t help the tears that welled in her eyes.

“It’s okay! Look Beej you’re alright! You’re okay! And look you’re home! We took care of you! You’re okay!-“

“IM NOT SUPPOSED TO BE!”

Again the room fell silent.

Beetlejuice’s hair melted into purple and that sickly yellow.

“I’m-“ a sob. “I’m not supposed to be okay! I was supposed to be gone so you never had to worry about me coming back! And so I couldn’t be stupid and selfish and give in and come back because I know if I do I’ll just ruin everything again, and I can’t hurt you again Lyds I can’t do it, I can’t bare the thought of-“

His rambling cut off. Wrenching his hand from her grasp he scrabbled at his jacket, muttering.

“Where is it is it still here please let it still be here.”

Lydia’s heart froze when he pulled it from his pocket, a grin on his face that looked strangled and wrong.

It was a knife. A nasty one. It looked to be carved from some kind of gem or crystal, and the edge glittered wickedly.

And the black ooze that dripped from it put ice into the hearts of everyone.

“See! I can fix this! It’ll be fine! I’ll just put right here and no one will ever have to worry about the horrible no good useless-“

Again he broke. Choking back sobs.

The knife clattered to the floor as Beetlejuice clutched himself. Of course. He couldn’t do it.

Juno always said he was too chicken shit, and it was a spur of the moment decision that actually made him do it in the first place. He couldn’t do it again. And now they brought him back.

Why?!?

Why did they even bother?!?

Thoughts spiraled into panic and confusion. Why would they even bring him back? He was nothing but trouble, a horrible blemish on their lives. He did nothing but ruin and destroy and mangle, it’s the only thing he was good at.

And they saved him.

He barely registered that he dropped the wicked thing.

It didn’t matter anyway.

He couldn’t do it himself, at least not again, so why-

Again, the grin that looked wrong spread across his face.

Blue replaced the purple in his hair, and that sickly yellow burned against it.

And when he opened his mouth the mangled laugher that came out sent goosebumps across the living residents’ skin. It was desperate and choked and awful.

“I get it! Ha! HaahhHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

The family looked on in horror.

“He’s lost it.”

Delia whispered.

“I GET IT NOW!”

Flying from the couch, he landed on his feet, and snatched up the knife.

“I REALLY GET IT! YOU WANTED TO DO IT YOURSELF RIGHT? FINE! I CAN DO THAT!”

And Lydia found the hilt of the wicked thing shoved into her hands.

“I get it!! I really do! Go ahead! FINISH ME!”

She just trembled, tears rolling down her cheeks, heart twisted in knots.

“Ohhhhh come on Lyds! I know you have it in ya! Ya did it before! Come on now don’t make me beg for it, I will!! JUST DO IT”

She shook hear head, sobs finally starting to break free.

She howled when he landed on his knees.

Thrusting the blade against his chest, he held her hands in place. And he completely changed, whispering now.

“Lydia please I’m begging you. Please. I don’t care how you do it just please stop making me wait for it I can’t handle the suspense Lyds. Please just-“

“ERGAAAAA”

With a animalistic howl, Lydia yanked her hands from his grip and threw the knife on the ground.

“I WON’T I JUST GOT YOU BACK!! I CANT LOSE YOU!! I WON’T DO IT!!”

And she sunk to her knees, head bowed as she cried.

“Why do you want me to hurt you?!”

Grinning that awful, broken grin, the demon just snatched the knife and turned to the Maitlands.

“You then! Come on Babs! I know hot stuff doesn’t have it in him, he couldn’t hurt a fly but you? Come on! I know you have the guts to do it!”

Barb barely managed to catch it when he tossed it towards her.

“I-“

His face twisted in a sneer.

“Do I need to remind you? Come on. It hasn’t even been that long up here!!”

Steeling herself, Barb shook her head. With a clatter she dropped the knife to the floor.

“I won’t.”

Beetlejuice sighed.

“Okay where do I start? So, I molested both of you, killed at least one person, tried to have you exorcised, married Lydia, uuuh, Oh! Trapped you in the attic! And totally jacked up the house! Come on that’s gotta be enough to make you wanna stab me right? Please?”

Turning, she kicked the knife as far away from him as possible.

Then she marched up to the demon and shoved her finger in his chest.

“YOU”

Another shove.

“DON’T”

Shove.

“GET. TO DO THAT.”

She snarled.

“WE BROUGHT YOU BACK BECAUSE WE CARE ABOUT YOU DIPSHIT! WE AREN’T GOING TO EVER GO THROUGH THAT AGAIN IF WE CAN HELP IT! EVER! SO YOU SIT YOUR ASS DOWN, AND HUG LYDIA FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK!”

Stunned, Beetlejuice simply opened and

closed his mouth.

That was when he really saw everyone.

Lydia was still shaking on the floor, Adam had a white knuckled grip on a kitchen chair, Delia was pale and breathing heavily in another kitchen chair, and Barb was steaming, face red with anger and unshed tears.

Both Adam and Delia looked like they were going to be sick.

That sickly yellow that Lydia hated spread, and covered Beetlejuice’s head.

“I-I just-“

He felt like he wasn’t in control of his body, he felt himself lower to the floor. He trembled. Self loathing finally taking over completely.

“I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”

And with that the tension shattered.

Lydia launched herself into his arms, Adam and Barbara kneeling to wrap their arms around him. Delia hesitated, but joined them on the floor.

They stayed like that for a while. All of them crying and leaning on one another.

And they kept Beetlejuice there with them. Just holding him.

Eventually, he fell asleep.

Feedback is always welcome! I’ve read through it a few times, but I’m sure that things still slipped through. So if you see a typo please let me know! I’m definitely going to continue this, and probably draw stuff for it too! If anyone wants to draw scenes from this I would love to see it!! Please don’t tag a beetlebabes!

Also fuck Juno

[boymeetsweevil]

Another draft because FS is taking too long

Title: two wrongs don’t make a right (so what do two douchebags and a dweeb make?)

Douche/fuck boy Jimin and Jin, weirdo!OC

Jimin waits until the girl’s tiny frame disappears down the hallway in a blur of overly familiar stained sweats before turning to stare down a very sheepish looking Jin.

“You can’t tell anyone about this, got it?” He rakes a hand through his hair, mussing it and making him resemble a cockatoo.

“Dude, relax. I get it, you have a rep to maintain. Everyone ventures outside their type for a first time.”

Jin winces. He knows he’s known for being incredibly picky—only ever sleeping with 4.0 girls (the number referring to their maximum dress size and minimum GPA). Someone even did a story on it in the Hot Takes section of the school magazine. He’s still not sure if it’s a moment he should proud of.

“About that…” he trails off and tugs nervously at the throw blanket he hastily clothed himself with when Jimin burst into their shared living room only to catch him in a rather compromising position. With that girl of all people.

“What?”

“Itsnotthefirsttimeanditwontbethelast”

Jimin blinks slowly, trying to process the flurry of words and Jin’s ashamed tone. When what Jin said finally hits him, he grins darkly.

“Man, c’mon. Don’t joke like that about her, its not nice.”

“Jimin, I’m—,” Jin looks around the hallway suspiciously before dragging Jimin into the dorm and slamming the door shut. “I’m being serious, okay?” Jimin’s jaw drops and he begins to sputter.

“But…why her?”

The first time Jimin encountered you was during a particularly late night in the stacks of the library last semester. The year was starting off hard and he was getting his ass kicked in one particular introductory psych class.

At around 1 in the morning, he had one more problem to finish on his take-home exam but was desperately stuck. He remembered seeing someone who he recognized from class sitting in the economics section. He thought it was odd initially. Usually no one sat there because the smell from the librarians’ bathroom often carried over. And no one wanted to study to the smell of coffee shits.

Taking a break, he grabbed his laptop and wandered around the stacks to find the classmate. When he found you, you were in the process of packing up, struggling to get your earphones into the headphone jack of your phone while also carrying a stack of periodicals and a burger from the campus grill, which happened to be leaking ketchup onto your already dingy tracksuit. He approached you carefully.

“Hey, you’re in Professor Kang’s class, right?”

“Huh?”

His voice startled you and you lost your precarious grip on your stuff. The poorly wrapped burger fell to the floor and bled a little onto your white converse. The periodicals fluttered down around your feet.

“Shit, sorry. Lemme help you,” he offered as he put his laptop down. You gasped from your spot already crouched on the ground.

“No, please, it’s really okay. Please, I’m fine, I don’t need—“

But he already had one printout from the stack in his hand and automatically turned it over. When Jimin looks back on the memory, he thinks that this may have been the biggest mistake he’s ever made in his life.

He would later find out after a nervous google search that the paper in his hand, and probably 80 percent of the papers on the ground, were called fursonas. While a handful might have been somewhat decent, most of them were of overly buff rabbits with bubble butts raised for the viewer or tigers fisting weeping, veiny dicks over pastel backgrounds. The one he held was of a duck, or something, with a weight lifter’s body with an obscene expression on its face while tentacles swarmed it from all angles. The implications of what might be happening in the picture made Jimin’s head hurt.

“Oh my god, what the fuck. What the fuck,” he whispered. He was so stunned that he let you rip the page from his hand.

“It’s called fur-centric hentai and its art,” you hissed. The line sounded mechanical and well-practiced if you asked Jimin. He watched you gather the rest of your belongings quickly, burger included, before leaving him crouched in the economics stacks.

Jin snaps his fingers in front of Jimin’s zoned out face only to have him be brought back to reality with a look of slight disgust.

“What’s your problem, fix your face,” Jin snapped.

“I’m just trying to figure out why you chose her, of all people. You remember that story I told you about the Econ stacks. I was so scarred, I got a C on that test.”

“Pretty sure you got a C because you didn’t realize there was a second page of the homework.”

“Well, if she hadn’t thrown her weird animal dicks all over the place, I would have realized there was a back and finished the assignment”

Jin sniffs and drops the blanket he was wearing, before walking over to the kitchen to get a drink, naked as the day he was born. Jimin follows on autopilot.

“Maybe you should stop trying to yuck my yum,”Jin says over his shoulder.

“Oh my god, don’t say it like that. I’m just saying, man. She’s weird. And gross. And more importantly not.Your. Type.” He enunciates each word with a poke to Jin’s bare back while he gets them some beers.

“You think I don’t fucking know that? That’s why I keep it discrete. Why do you think I told you not to come home every Tuesday and Thursday at until after 8:30?”

“You said you had lab.”

“How the hell could I do a lab in our apartment?”

“It…It could happen.”

“I’m a poetry major,” Jin pinches the bridge of his nose at his roommate’s stupidity, “Damnit Jimin.”

Jimin purses his lips when he realizes he might be even dumber than he thought.

“Wait a second, you’ve had lab,” he makes giant air quote gestures, “for, what, 2 months now? You’ve just been fucking her this whole time?”

There’s a beat of silence as Jin takes another swig from his beer. “Yeah,” he finally says. The matter of fact air of his response makes something glitch in Jimin’s brain.

“What the hell, dude? That’s a lot of repeat service. Does she have something on you? Is that why you’re doing this? Did you break an expensive-ass vase or something?” Jimin stops to think, his mind running wild with possibilities. “Holy shit, are you being pimped out?”

“No. God, would you just shut up?” Jin sighs quietly. “I’m sleeping with her so much because she’s the best I’ve ever had.”

Jimin takes a step back at the defeated sincerity in Jin’s tone.

“How? What about that time with that other girl--what was her name?” Jimin runs a hand through his hair trying to remember any name of one of many the girls Jin has had a fling with. “Oh! Irene or something? What about her?”

“I mean, Irene was fine. She gave pretty good head. But last Thursday I thought I came harder than I’ve ever come in my entire life.”

“You ‘thought’?”

Jin looks up wistfully somewhere behind Jimin’s head at the memory. “Well then she came over the following Tuesday and rocked my shit,” he smirks. “And then that was the hardest I’ve ever come in my life.”

“So she gives good head. Who cares? There’s plenty of girls on campus who give good head and also don’t draw furry porn for a living and wash their damn sweatpants.”

“You don’t understand, dude. It’s not just the head. It’s the head, and the handjobs, and the pussy. It’s everything.”

Jimin raises his eyebrows incredulously. “The pussy is better than the handjobs?” He has to try hard not to look impressed. Meanwhile Jin is smilng, almost relieved now that the secret is out and he can talk openly about the mindblowing sex he’d been having.

“The first time she jerked me off, I passed out immediately after I came and woke up late to the class the next afternoon.”

Jimin narrows his eyes but motions with a hand for Jin to continue.

“The first time she blew me I couldn’t even walk afterward.”

“Wait...was that the day you told me you thought you had a sprained ankle? The one that healed after 24 hours?”

“Yep.”

The smug tone and the second stupid lie make Jimin want to rip his hair out. “Why do you lie so much,” he whispered, pain in his voice.

“I wasn’t lying, I really thought I had a sprained ankle.”

“From a blowjob?”

“That’s what I said.”

“What about the, uh, the pussy,” Jimin asks after realizing the FBI probably won’t come through the doors and snipe him for talking about vagina.

“The one time she let me hit it raw, I cried.,” Jin says, absolutely beaming.

“Oh, come on. You can’t be serious.”

“I am, though. I think she was gonna let me do it again today.” Jin closes his eyes and smiles softly while Jimin looks on, unamused.

“So? What happened today? She underperform or something?” There’s a hint of jealousy and a lot of curiosity in his tone, but Jimin would deny it if anyone asked him.

“No, asswipe. She got spooked because you showed up when you weren’t supposed to.”

“Well, sorry for ruining your lies,” Jimin snaps, cracking open his own beer.

“You think this is a joke?” Jin shoves Jimin in the chest roughly. “We didn’t get to finish because of you. Now I have to jerk off with my own hand. That’s pathetic”

“And what were you doing before you met her? Listen to yourself, she’s making you crazy. No one is that good in bed.”

Jin stomps over to the couch and settles down before turning and looking at Jimin over the backboard.

“You know what? You go and sleep with her 3--no--4 times. And if she doesn’t completely fry your brain, I’ll pay for any and all of your takeout for the next month. But If she does, you gotta switch mattresses with me and not come by the dorm until after 10 on Tuesdays and Thursdays from then on.”

“Dude, gross I don’t want your sex soaked mattress. It’s the same as yours anyway. Minus the ten gallons of old jizz on it.”

“No, it’s not. You have that, like, Tempurpedic thing.”

“True,” Jimin nods thoughtfully, “But don’t you think it would be weird if the roommate of the guy she was fucking started trying to get in her pants? Also, I could just lie and say she didn’t do it for me. Then you’d be forced to pay for my food and—Hold on. If she’s so good, why are you so willing to pawn her off to me?”

“Why do you ask so many stupid questions? First of all, she’s not mine just because I’m sleeping with her. I’m just telling you to go see if she’ll let you. I mean, there’s no guarantee. She barely even gave me a shot.”

“She barely gave you a shot? But you’re, like, the campus prince”, more air quotes, “How did this even happen?”

“Well, to make a long story short, we were both high at her sorority and I’d heard rumors about her from Wonho, so I went to…talk to her in her room.”

“Wonho is Wonho, though. He’d fuck anyone if the weed was good.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken, my friend. He has a diverse and sophisticated palate. He knows what he’s talking about when it comes to weed and sex. Once I took him up on his suggestion and she said yes, I never looked back,” Jin says with a dreamy voice.

Jimin watches the back of Jin’s head loll on the sofa. When a soft sigh emerges from where the older man is sitting, Jimin recoils and runs out of the kitchen, away from the couch.

“Are you jerking off right now? Dude. Not cool.”

“Get the fuck out, then. It’s Thursday, which means I’m getting off by 7:30pm and I don’t give a rat’s ass who’s here when it happens.”

“Fine,” Jimin huffs and reluctantly stuffs his feet back into his sneakers where they lie by the door. “I hope your dick chafes.”

Jin purposefully releases another, louder moan and Jimin runs out of the apartment.

“I’ll have an order of the half crispy, half spicy and a large coke. Thanks,” Jimin says to the clerk at the grill before checking his phone for the 8th time in the hour.

8:01 Jimin - Are you done yet?

             (8:10 read by Jin)

8:11 Jin - yeah but round two starts soon so

8:11 Jin - *middle finger emoji*

Jimin quickly shuts down his messenger app and opens up Flappy Bird while he sits at a table and waits for his order number to be called.

“Stupid asshole and his stupid dick, kicking me out of the stupid apartment. Fuck you, dickhead,” Jimin mutters to himself.

“What did you just say?” 

Jimin’s head whips up at the infantile voice coming from the seat across from him. Jeon Jungkook is sitting at his table, eating a veggie burger. Who the hell orders a veggie burger from a chicken place?

“Were you talking to me,” Jungkook asks again, pushing his bulky glasses up with a finger.

“Jeon, why would I be talking to you? A better question is why the hell are you talking to me?

[whiskynottea]

The Ripple Effect

Previously Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

AO3

Previously (Chapter 7)

“You left me behind without any explanation! Do ye ken how it is to live as half a man? To have the ghost of your happiness following you everywhere, a constant reminder of your smashed dreams?”

“Do I know? Do I know?” I repeated, unable to think of anything else. “OF COURSE I DO! IT WAS THE SAME FOR ME, TOO.”

Jamie opened his mouth ready to reply, but pressed his lips instead and took a step back. Squaring his shoulders, he asked me in a cracked voice, “Why are ye back?”

Letting a breath out, I replied. “I needed to explain.”

“Then do.” He said, his voice cold and removed, insulating himself from what would follow.

“I left to protect you. You and me both.”

Chapter 8. The Explanation

source

If Jamie ever looked like a highland cow, it was at that moment. His hair had dried, falling on his forehead and almost covering his eyes as he moved towards me. His gaze underneath the red locks was angry, wild, and lost, all at the same time.

“Wha, Wha, What?” Jamie blurted out, stopping himself at the last moment as he walked towards me. He was two steps away, hands clenched in fists. “What are ye saying, Claire?”

“I am saying,” I swallowed back the fear and continued, “That I left because I had to, not because I wanted to leave you. You… You should know I would never leave you,” I finished in a trembling voice, pushing the heels of my hands against my eyes to shed away the awful memories.

“Ye had to leave, ye said, to protect me,” Jamie repeated as if in a trance. “Are ye mad woman? Protect me from what? From being too happy?” He grimaced in pain, a hand running through his head.

“Jamie. It’s a long story. Can you please at least sit down?” I wanted him to be as calm as possible, so I could maybe – maybe – eventually get myself together.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers impatiently drumming on his thigh, waiting for me to start explaining.

It was impossible for me to sit. I started pacing back and forth, trying to figure out how to begin.

Four steps from the armchair to the kitchen table, four steps back. A deep breath. Four steps forth. Four steps –

“Will ye talk, woman? Or do ye plan to walk a marathon here in front of me, just for the pleasure of torturing me?” Jamie growled.

I stilled myself with great difficulty and watched him in the eye.

“I came in Scotland five years ago.”

Good. Start from the beginning.

“God, ye’ll tell me the story of yer life now? I ken that!” He said impatiently. Actually, the word impatience was too small to describe Jamie Fraser at that moment.

“Will you let me talk, you bloody Scot?”

He laughed at that, my favorite swear bringing back memories of good times. “Aye, talk, Sassenach.”

Jamie gave me the gift back, and I acknowledged that. Sassenach. One word and I found the strength to go on. “When we first met, I told you I had left London because I needed a change. Do you remember?”

He nodded, whispering a “Yes”. His eyes had lost their anger and he looked at me solemnly, his furrowed eyebrows making his effort to understand obvious.

“This was what they advised me to say, Jamie.” I closed my eyes, listening to the wild beating of my heart.

Make him forgive me. Make him understand.

“I wanted to tell you the truth. I’m not good at lying, you know that.”

“But you managed to lie, just fine,” he interrupted me, his voice venomous, poisoning my heart.

“Jamie… When I first met you, I didn’t know you well enough to trust you and… when I got to know you I couldn’t find it in me to tell you.”

I took a deep breath before speaking again. Jamie remained silent, although I could imagine that he was burning inside, listening to me say I didn’t want to share everything with him. Even if this ‘everything’ I kept from him was only pain and anguish. I could hear his racing thoughts, and I couldn’t stand it. I opened my mouth blurting out everything, as fast as I could. I had to make him understand.

“I was afraid, I was so afraid Jamie, I didn’t know if it was over, he’s crazy you know, a maniac really, and then they told me not to tell anyone, I didn’t want to make you a target, so the less you knew the better, I shouldn’t leave traces behind and I was sure this was for our own good, to protect you and then time passed and I kind of forgot it, not really forgot it but I moved on and – ”

“Claire!” He stopped me. “I canna understand a word ye’re saying. Who is crazy, why were you afraid, who told ye not to talk to me.” He rose from the bed and came to me, each step bringing him closer and calming him down. When he stood in front of me, he placed both hands tenderly on my arms. “What happened to ye, a nighean?’”

“I… I… I left London because…” I could hardly speak, each word grazing painfully my sore throat.

“Yes?” Jamie asked in a soothing voice and I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. 

No, don’t bloody cry now.

“I had a patient. A nice, kind guy, so young – so bloody young. He had lung cancer. The CT scan and PET showed that we could move to a surgery. We had time, cancer hadn’t spread yet.” I knew he didn’t need to know all these details, but I was transferred back at the hospital, seeing the light in Alex’s eyes again, as I announced that the tumor was amenable to surgery and we would get to it as soon as possible.

“I did the surgery. I couldn’t go for a full lobectomy, so I aimed to a wedge resection. Recurrence is more frequent after wedge resection. We decided to follow the surgery up with radioactive iodine brachytherapy. We did well, the results were great, he was getting better. He really did.” I could almost see Alex’s smile again in the thought that he’d leave the hospital and he’d have a normal life again. A future that never came to happen.

“Until we found another carcinoma. We did the DNA tests, he had a mutation in a proto-oncogene – one we didn’t have any available drug to treat with. Dr. Alexander MacGregor, the medical oncologist – ” My voice broke and I felt one of Jamie’s hands trailing up to my face, to erase the tears that were now running free. “Oh, Jamie. MacGregor did his best, we all did our best, but we couldn’t save him.” Sobs were wraking my body and Jamie hugged me tight, his lips lost in my hair whispering soothing words in Gaelic. “Alexander Randall was the first patient I lost,” I said, and saw Jamie through the tears in my eyes.

“So ye came here, trying to forget about him?” His voice was soft and kind. Supporting me.

I shook my head. “No. There’s more than that. You see, Alex Randall had an older brother.”

The mere thought of this man made me want to run away again. I didn’t want to talk about him. I didn’t want to remember, or to think of him ever again. But he was there, in every nightmare, in every shadow I saw.

“Jonathan Randall, Black Jack is what everyone called him. He is…” I felt the bile moving up my throat and paused, my lips tightly pressed, taking deep breaths through my nose.

I was with Jamie. I was safe now. 

He wasn’t safe though, because I had bloody come back.

“Oh God, this is such a terrible mistake. I should shut the fuck up and stay in France. I shouldn’t come back.”

“IN FRANCE? Ye were in France?” Jamie exclaimed, but stopped in his tracks when his eyes saw the darkness in my eyes. “Anyway. Ye’re wrong. Ye should be here with me and ye did right to come, mo chridhe.”

Oh, how I’ve missed these two little words leaving his lips, coloring the world around me.

“No, no Jamie. You don’t understand. Black Jack, Alex’s brother, is mentally unstable, and a gangster nonetheless. When Alex died, he blamed us for his death. He insisted this was our mistake, that we lied about the surgery and the radiotherapy, that we could have saved him if we wanted to. But we couldn’t, Jamie. We couldn’t.”

“I know, mo ghraidh. I know. Ye did yer best, dinna think of it any longer.” Jamie was drawing circles with his fingers on my back, his words strong, reassuring. He believed me.

“Black Jack threatened us repeatedly, after that. We found notes in our mail, phone calls counting down our living days, I even found a knife  on a print with the anatomy of the heart once, in my locker at the hospital. ‘Picture your heart instead’, it read. I don’t know how he managed to do that. MacGregor had the same problems, only he had a family and the threats were aiming his family as well. We reported the incidents and sued Randall for harassment and emotional distress. A few months later all threats stopped, and we were informed that he was imprisoned for life, for severe child abuse. Totally irrelevant with our case, but we were safe.”

“So? Why did you leave?” Jamie asked, restless.

“Six months ago, Black Jack was paroled, somehow. He has high connections or something, Alex had mentioned that when he was in the hospital. He admired his older brother so much. I don’t know how Black Jack managed to be paroled, but he is free again and he, he…” 

I felt my heart crumble and my knees went weak. Jamie supported my weight, moving me to the armchair with a strong arm around my waist and knelt down in front of me. He brought his glass of whisky on my lips, and I felt the amber drink’s warmth travel down my throat, setting a comforting feeling in my stomach. It lasted a moment and then it was gone, leaving me even more wrecked than before.

“What, Claire? He what?” Jamie asked, taking the glass from my hands before I’d drop it.

“MacGregor is dead,” I whispered, with my eyes shut, as if opening them would acknowledge the truth of my words.

I felt the cold seeping in my body as Jamie’s hands left me. “WHAT?” He roared. “ARE YE FUCKING CRAZY, CLAIRE?” He was pacing back and forth, both hands covering his face in despair.

Yeah, I shouldn’t have come. Now he’s mad. Maybe it was better when he didn’t know. 

I was ready to talk when he looked at me again, his eyes filled with anger and fear. “He is free, he killed yer colleague and ye fucking left?” He ran his hands through his hair so many times, that it looked like a red flame surrounding his face. “Ye were out there, all alone, with this maniac on your tracks? AND YE DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING TO ME? What if he’d found you, Claire? Oh my God, Oh my God…” He was shaking his head in denial, his hands trembling, extended in the empty air between us.

“I couldn’t stay here, he would eventually find out about you. Paris seemed a safe choice. It would be perfect, actually, if being without you wasn’t so bloody painful.” I snorted and gave him a sad smile. “But I had to protect you from him. He is MY problem. And that’s why I’ll leave again,” I said, determined. “I just wanted you to know. I wanted you to know I love you,” I finished, trying to find the courage to leave his apartment.

“DID I ASK FOR YER PROTECTION?” Jamie’s voice rang through me, hoarse from shouting. “God, Claire, did I ever tell ye that your problems arena mine as well? Did I ever tell ye that ye dinna mean the world to me? Only thinking that ye might as well be dead now… That ye were in danger and I was sitting here, in my misery, blaming ye for leaving, thinking ye might love someone else… And ye with your stupid notions thinking that ye protect me by being away. What about me, Sassenach?” He came close to me again, breathing hard, trying to tame his fury. He placed a hand on my cheek and said in a surprising low, broken voice, “What if I wanted to protect you?”

“You couldn’t. You can’t, Jamie. I won’t have your life hanging from a fine line. I’m leaving again.”

“Ye’re not going anywhere,” he hissed through gnashed teeth. When I didn’t reply, he spoke more forcefully. “D’ ye hear me? Ye’re staying here with me.”

“I can’t,” I insisted.

“Do ye still not understand? Ye belong with me, Sassenach, as I belong with ye. No maniac, crazy, psycho will ever change that. We’ll fight him, but we’ll do it together.”

I laughed at that. A bitter, sorrowful laughter. “We can’t. No one can fight him. He’s looking for revenge and his revenge has my face now. I won’t sacrifice your life for no reason.”

“He can take his thirst for revenge and stick it up his butt,” Jamie declared triumphantly, making me laugh again. A real laughter this time, one only he knew how to elicit in my darkest moments. “My life has your face, Claire. And I’m not leaving anyone’s revenge to take it away.”

His voice was low and he leaned forward until his lips found mine, claiming me back from fear and despair. Forcefully stating that I was his and his only.

I let myself be, forgetting everything as he enveloped me in a bear hug – safe, and whole, and loved.

After what felt like minutes but could be hours later, I spoke again. “Jamie, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, love.” My lips were on his again, the moment I saw that lopsided smile on his face, the one I had fall in love with years ago. The one I was still in love with.

“Aye, I ken that now, Sassenach.” He trailed a finger along my jaw, before it got lost in my hair. “I canna forgive ye though, for putting yerself in danger while leaving me behind, an ignorant fool.”

“You’re not a fool. You never were.”

“Claire,” he said. “Promise me something. No more secrets from now on.”

“Jamie...” I looked him straight in the eye, knowing that I had to rip my heart out and do it like it was a happy dance. “There is no ‘from now on’ for us.” My throat was dry. “I can’t stay,” I said in a strained voice. 

“D’ ye think that I will let ye go again?”

I didn’t get to reply, feeling his tongue on my lips again, his need to feel me overwhelming me.  

“This has nothing to do with what we think or want, Jamie. This is what we need to do to survive,” I said, once I found my breath again.

“I dinna want to survive without ye. I want to live with ye.” His voice was loud and strong, filling the room.

“That’s why I left last time, without telling anything to you. Because you, you stubborn Scot, you wouldn’t let me go if you knew.”

“That’s quite right,” Jamie said, his arms tightening around my waist, pulling me closer to him.

“No, it’s – ” The words were trapped inside my mouth, mingling with his breath as he stopped me with yet another kiss, his own way to say shut up. My mind was screaming at me to leave now, while I still could, but my stupid body responded to his as it always did, eager to be one again.

“I need ye. I need to have ye now, Claire.”

I shook my head frantically, knowing that there would be no return after this.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Jamie whispered after each negative shake of mine.

“We shouldn’t – ” I tried to voice my thoughts instead of the ineffective non-verbal negation.

“Shut up,” Jamie mimicked me, his thoughts loud enough to make me laugh. 

The next moment I was up in the air and on Jamie’s shoulder, as he carried me to bed.

He got rid of our clothes in mere seconds, leaving me sprawled on the bed, with the cold duvet underneath my naked body and his warmth-emanating frame on top of me. Without wasting more time, he got himself deep inside me with a single thrust, anchoring me to him. His teeth were on my neck, sucking hard, taking toll for all the months of absence, as his soul was whispering to mine, until the only sounds leaving our mouths were whimpers, moans and whispers of each other’s name.

“This is how you protect me, mo ghraidh.” he whispered, thrusting again and again. “Take me inside you and save my soul, as you always did.”

I heard myself calling out his name, as my muscles contracted against his hard length, feeling his release leaving me alive again.

Alive and fearless.

Chapter 9

[obannthepunished]

uhhhhhh notes HURT WEEK im pains

"They call me eagle-eye fjord where i come from." "maybe raven. i dont know." that theory about Fjord being the Hawker is suspicious rn (Apparently theres a third i missed whoops) sam apparently similar thoughts maybe bc Nott brings it up

Jester finally teaching kiri basic phrases, like "go fuck yourself"

Beau + Fjord taking first watch

Caleb checking out the dodecahedron

(Unrelated odd point: i have a current dislike/distrust for liam, which is bullshit bc... i love liam. and caleb and vax. but apparently smt is wrong.)

Dodecahedron is Very Old, and has been shaped/polished Cay uses the haversack as a pillow

BEAU/FJORD Beau: "I think I messed up. I think I should apologise." I HURT? Oh beauregard. oh marisha. "i wanna try, I guess" F: I think he deserves that. He's been good to us. i regret not writing fic now 8(

"OOH, terrible" "YEP." "five" "five" (collective "ooh")

Nott + Jes second. they roll not great.

Tinkle tinkle "nnhnohfishnott"

Kiri is poofed up asleep aAW

trident goin for FRUMPKIN NOOO (pause whilst they look for range on dismissal)

Kiri wakes up "Go fuck yourself :("

Theyre waiting for fish head they could just reappear Frumpkin tho...

Jester is sacred flaming, Molly has a sword active + stabs, Caleb fire bolt, Nott fires an arrow, Fjord eldritch blast, Yasha stabby

Molly + Nott + Caleb miss Fjord hits, Beau hits, Yasha hits dunno bout jes

frumpkin poofs back but doesn't see anything else.

???? alarm lasts 8 hours, not until triggered yall it should still be up. they need to look up the spells smh

Nott messaging to tell yash to hide the bodies

LAst watch is Yash and Caleb i need to stop shortening names

Caleb asks Yasha for people advice :') He's writing it down... i love him Yashas advice is basically "Fucking Bathe" And cay confirms he keeps himself gross because people ignore him more that way 8( Baby

C: "Do you know what i miss? shaving." Y: "I could shave you right now with my sword. I've done it before, you know, to... not have hair on my arms-" Omg shes doing it omg theyre doing it omg I DONT HAVE TO DRAW FACIAL HAIR IN MY FANART ANY MORE FUCK <3333

cay forgets he has a dagger jesus fucking christ

i love everyone making comments + taliesins just amazed like, borderline heart eye emoji look at this whole scenario

M: (to Caleb) "Well done, she [yasha] likes you!"

Nott is Not Happy About Water N: I'LL STAY WITH KIRI everyone else: Convincing her to come N: I'll stay with kiri, and if there's any trouble... we'll see what happens

Fjord goes first, he sees, with his 60ft darkvision, architeture of room. mistly natural, some bits not.

Fjord botches his stealth roll but matt botches his perception even worse. and my thing crashed im so mad.

Fjord is Not a good swimmer. hes like. 30ft swimming speed. Things being left: Caleb's books (2) Molly's coat

travis willingham going "kiris gotta die" then dragging everyone who gasped through the dirt

beau gets fucking 37 on her stealth check Matt: "That's some vax numbers right there!"

The visual aid is... so extra. lights. smoke. what the fuck matthew. (note: when ur best friend is called matthew this is a phrase you say too much)

Surprise round for erryone but Molly and Yasha (purrsonally, i think they were too busy talking abt how beautiful cay is now ;3c)

everyone rolled shite for initiative tho

Caleb casting haste on molly O:

Fjord is very very adept at everything

everyone on crit role can do maths better than me 8(

the marrow fuck beau and fjord royally

watching call lightning forming + marishas face as she slowly realises :)

jes gets the first hdywtdt + crushes a fish with a lollipop

Caleb is taking blind potshots with the glove of blasting boyy. One even hits!

moll gets 3 attacks i love my beautiful devil child

N: Are you guys alive and do you need anything? you can reply to this message~ C: FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK N: oh,, alright.

Taliesin's relief when ashley actually hits is very good.

Beau goes down! D:

hi unrelated taliesin sticking his tongue out at sam fills me with indescribable joy

NEW: Horny twink gets double penetrated by feisty wet ones.

... which is to say two fish dudes stab molly.

Jes heals Beau, but we all know fine fucking well if she hadn't, Yasha would have done it on her next turn. still might since she's only on 11

Cay using dispel magic O:

Molly gets the second hdywtdt "I'm literally just a windmill at this point"

FJORD gets the third F: "I see Molly loojin' around, give him a little wink-" (murders) M: Fucking arsehole F: (witty comment) PEACE OUT (blinks out again)

"Sevens are scary" - Taliesin

Yash gets the next hdywtdt Xorhasian Neck Tie Jesus christ

I was right tho Yasha was seriously considering healing beau, it just takes her action

Two more fishfucks 8(

More call lightning

Sams flask says "lost my best friend over a bowl" and that hurtie

caleb is boutta die. Yasha is boutta die first lmao oh no. i love taliesin jaffe an inhuman amount. Yash gets pulled OVER beau and marisha makes like grabby hand motions which is VERY cute

ok NOW caleb boutta die. he Shield's, and then fragments "Caleb will remember this"

Beau looks at Yasha, looks at Caleb, and goes to CALEB (sobs) blasts a ki point and everything

Molly gets a nat 20 oh he's such a babe

Nott spending her turn justifying herself to Kiri

Fjord blinks back in and fucks up ANOTHER fishfuck

Yasha casting healing hands on HERSELF good.

"You dont have a printout of your character sheet????" "Oh yeah I do after you asked me nine times" liam wh

both yash and caleb are at ONE hp

B, spening her last ki point: HEYCALEBWESHOULDTALKLATER

Beau gets the HDYWTDT tho

Molly is Very Sick from losing haste

Caleb goes the fuck down Fails his first save

everytime tal says "im gonna try something weird"  i heart eyes emoji shame he cant do jack fuck though

Nott Burning Bolt shoots the fishfuck for 24 damage jeeeeez doesnt die but drops lightning

Fjord: (appears, fails, disappears)

if Caleb permadeaths i WILL cry

PLEASE YASHA PLEASE GOD JESTER PLEASE THEY KILL IT IM CRYING SO HARD no like literally i am actually crying bc matt very deliberately did that so that he didnt kill Caleb

Jester uses her pearl of power to regain a slot, and use it to cast prayer of healing for SHIT rolls.

Jester goes back to Kiri <333 baby. baby bird.

Matt mercer keeps using words ive only ever seen written and im ALWAYS ???? about their pronunciation

Fjord finds some L00t Like boxes and longswords and a pool of water with dozens of metallic objects mostly outlawed diety symols. changebringer moonweaver. others i forgot. stormlord. everlight. asmodeus ooh, bane strife emperor. and tiamat.

"a little black bird that's fluttering to try and get dry" fuck thats so damn cute. Marisha has the :D face

Calebs books are dry

wooden box + pool are magic. like. WITHIN.

Enchantment in the box. Molly collecting the moonweaver pieces

JESTER FINDS TWO SYMBOLS FOR THE TRAVELLER? HOLY SHIT Different make, pure silver one, burnished bronze another door arch with the road

Molly gets 12-13 symbols

Nott mage hands just so good even drunk

in the box is a blade, gold, jewel encrusted Molly shoves Nott aside to get it cause its a scimitar style

Caleb finds the arch-heart symbol? Takes one

Yasha takes 4 symbols for the storm god.

Bane/strife emperor symbol Fjord is curious about chained coffin he throws it into the pool. nothing happens.

JEster goes to pll it out and gets a big catseye yellow gem,  magical, but not a school of arcane magic. it has a line groove in it, very deliberate, an oval.

"something about that [orb] is very familiar"??? (Matt to Travis)

i was right about the orb being familiar

C: (abt the gold sword) This blade is called Summer's Dance C: "Mr. Mollymauk," M: "Mr. Caleb."

Blade allows user to cast Blink basically, and is stronk

official-europa replied to your post: uhhhhhh notes HURT WEEK im pains “They...

i think its probably misty step and not blink 

official-europa replied to your post: uhhhhhh notes HURT WEEK im pains “They...

on the sword i mean

caleb tries to ID the orb

fjord touches it "sky is moonlit + cloudless, clothes not your own, nor body, overcoat + human skin. thick calloused skin. left hand stone. look down, see body of previous owner, dead in blood. natural landmass seawater night. flash. right hand grasps falchion. voice booms. potential. jams the stone into gut, cCONSUME. vanishes into belly. looks into water. REWARD." "Vandrin."

i dont kn ow what the fuck is going on.??? everyone else sees this o shit

oh shit is the eye the symbol of Fjord's patron?

"he was my mentor, a captain of mine. a man named Vandrin." Y: What happened to Vandrin? F: I'm not sure. he captained the ship i worked on for many years, and their was an incident. an explosion, terrible weather, waves, "i was knocked overboard" when f woke up he was back on shore

"how did you survive" "I'm not entirely sure."

explosion was sabotage.

the pool is saltwater.

Molly shoves Fjord's head into the water

comes up "You okay???" "Do it again" "Tap three times when you're done!" Fjord drowns

they take as much as possible up and out and decide to dynamite everything in. dramatic exit..

They take the bodies down and lay them in the swamp to rest and decompose.

Beau tries to pull Caleb aside and he just stonewalls her until she actually apologises.

Caleb "I give beauregard a hug and say 'idont know what im doing. just. go with it." BEau very AWKWARDLY hugs him back Beau consulting Fjord, Caleb consulting Yasha The entire other side of the table clapping.

Beau: UH. GOOD TALK. FRIEND. (awkward silence) Beau: Seriously though. Friend? (pause) Caleb: Uh. Ja. (brb dying)

there is a single yellow eye on the hilt of the falchion.

episode END

[iraniq]

Imagine ... Jack in a Box

inspired by a line of @diyunho ‘s “Mother” - http://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/165878104516/the-joker-x-reader-mother

________________________

-        Mom, story again! - the baby whines.

-        OK, OK… I was out

-        No… the park!

-        Which is out.

-        Tell it right.

-        OK… I was with my father at the orphanage, he wanted to donate money to restore it, and make it better for the kids. I went out. In the back yard, to look around there were some amazing flowers back there. And a huge dog appeared from somewhere..

-        Haaaa. - the toddler sights.

-        Yeah. He started barking at me, I love dogs, but this one was very scary. It started running towards me, and I stood there frozen. Then your father appeared, and chased it away. He was so cute. He was actually worried for me. He got me the best flower. An old autumn tulip. To make me smile again..

-        But mom, you hate tulips?

-        I do…

9 years later

-        Al? Al!… Where are you…

-        Yes miss?

-        Where is my baby?

-        I don…

-        I am 12, I am not a baby now.

-        As you say. - you hug your daughter. And you went out shopping.

In the afternoon, you came back to find your father waitng in the hallway.

-        Good evening, father.

-        You are late!

-        Couldn’t call..

-        Don’t quote this movie, please!

-        Was the “please” only for color there?

He was gonna answer, but you waved and walked upstairs. Your girl knew there was something between the two of you. She tried to ask you couple of time, but you explained this was between you and your father and she shouldn’t be worried about it.

Every year at Christhis you got extra sad. All the family gathering idea wasn’t your thing. You miss your love, but there wasn’t much to do about it…

On 27th if December you went to the bank to get some cash, and your girl tag along.

-        You are gonna blackmail me for cocoa tea again.

-        Oh, no, mom, how dare you think of me like this!

-        You know, your father lived it as well…. - “fuck” this was forbidden subject.

She looked at the distance, obviously mad, lately she started spending a lot if time with your father and he had started brainwashing her.

-        You know, I think I won’t drink anything with cocoa, ever again! - she said madly. Just like he used to say.

You walked in, in silence. As it was almost your turn, some heavy armed men break in. Dressed like panda, shark, crappy batman costume ... and the Clown Prince of Crime himself. They started shooting and yelling at people.

You lost track of time, you were just sitting on the cold heard ground, with a tight grip of your child. He was walking around talking nonsense. At some point he stopped in front of you. For no logical reason, your girl looked at him, and he reached to touch her. You wanted to slap this nasty hand of his. But then she spoke….

-        Mom he is having the same tattoo like you do.

Your eyes widened when you saw the pale mark on his left hand - a square and the letter J inside. That’s the last thing you remember and it all turned dark.

You woke up one huge gold bed, with purple sheets, probably 20 pillows, and your daughter sitting and sobbing next to you. Before you manage to utter a word, he walked in. His blue eyes were dark. And he was mad, holding a gun.

-        Who … who! - he yelled. - are you???!!!

He came closer and dragged you out of the bed, and tossed you on the ground. You couldn’t speak.

Who …??!!! - he insisted, this time more calm. Before you manage to answer, be shot the wall several times and pressed the hot gun to your neck … Everything got in slow motion … You could hear your daughter screaming, he was pleased, he was hurting you, but you didn’t scream, instead you touched his cheek … His eyes were so close … So familiar ...

-        Jack!

He pointed the gun at you. It was like mute movie, there was no sound of a click…

You just rolled your sleave, showing him your tattoo. Perfect match, but only yours was on your right hand. He stared at it, with a confused face, then he looked at his own, it  was made by the same person, as the “J” looked the same on both. After that he throw the gun away. He helped you get up, and let you lie on the bed. You look at your daughter and smiled.

-        This is Jack! - you stated happily, but it came out like you were on drugs.

-        I am not! - he answered, not looking at you. He was searching for something … He kicked the shelf on the floor, and headed out. – Frost … Frost, you sone of a butch! – there were footsteps in front of the door -  I need the first aid kid! - he got back to you. - I’ll let you die, after you tell me what you know! – he hissed. And threw a mean glance at the wimping child.

You felt the pain, when he pressed the antibiotic on your burned skin. You bite on your cheek, but didn’t screamed.

-        Whay aren’t you screaming, woman? What’s wrong with you?… What’s wrong with her? - he looked at your girl, but she was too terrified to speak.

-        You are Jack! - you cried, wanting to touch him, but he was fast enough to slap your hand away. - Jack, I missed you so much … - you cried. You haven’t cried in your life, before, not after your daughter was born, so she looked rather surprised when she saw you.

-        I am not … Whoever you think I am … Now, tell me …

-        I am telling you! - you sat up in front of him, getting your hair away of your face, drying the tears. - You are … You used to be Jack. - he looked suspiciously at you. - Yeah, just Jack. We met, when me and my father went to the orphanage, you saved me from a dog. We became friends … Later we fell in love. My father disagreed, because you were low key theaf and tried to pay you off, but you refused it and stayed. After I told you I was pregnant, you decided to get your life together. You paid all your debts, and when I was in the 8th month you were finally free, from crime. My father disagreed again. Although you were changed, you weren’t drug addict anymore. My father insisted a child of a drug addict, which is a drug addict himself is not suitable for a family …. - you wipe another tear off. - We ran away, we hid in the chemical factory, as your mother raised you there, when you were a child. But he found us … - your heart got heavy. - You two fought. You said that you will never gave up on me, till you are alive. That you will beat him … And he … - you couldn’t stop the tears now -  … he said “beat that” and threw you in one of the chemical containers …. - you cried. - I tried to stop him, but I wasn scared … - the memory of this made you wrap your hands around your belly. – I just stood there watching how my father killed my love … I screamed, I bagged you to come up … but … That’s why I hate my father! - you turned to face your child, she was beyond shocked. - How was I supposed to tell you my father killed yours … That’s the reason I am constantly having these horrible nightmares.

-        Wait … Wait! - he hit his head. - WAIT!!! - he yelled. - You were the girl with the flower dress?… This reaction of yours screams “yes”. I have this … thing that I dream … I am on a bridge, metal one. I am there and I am falling. Like a … loop. Then it got clear, couple of years ago … A huge shadow pushes me down. Couple of days ago I saw a girl in flower dress.

-        That’s me … - you smiled between tears.

-        No … The voices in my head don’t like you! - he got another gun.

-        The one that wants to kill them all and the other one that wants to watch them kill each other. - His eyes whidened. You put your hands on his cheeks, shaking his head - So these fuckers stayed , but everything else is gone …

-        Your dad says I am worthy of his legacy … - the girl spoke. - What was he talking about?

-        Name me one … person in this town who will do everything, everything to be the hero …

-        Batsy? - the Joker spoke. - You are his daughter ...

-        I am, sadly!

He looked at his hand. Then he took yours.

-        Why this? Why like that!

-        Jack in a Box! … You said they used to ground you like this, because there was a show … or something about “Jack in a Box”…

He looked at you, then at your girl.

-        Come … Come closer, Princess … You are not that brave now, but you got some balls I give you that … Oh, careful with the language in front of the baby … - he covered his mouth with a hand and laughed.

-        I am not a baby. - she got closer, as you were already touching his hair; he caught your hand and shake his head a “no”.

The two of them shared the same eyes. You siddenly laughed.

-        You know you both can play the piano. And are amazing at drawing; and eating a huge amount of sweets, without getting fat …  - your laughed turn into sobbing. - You also hav the same birthmark like him. – you touched his lower back. Your daughter had this as well – like freckles, but bigger and so much that from a distance it looks like the thing is one whole.

-        I got nothing, Doll. Bleached white! - he joked, but this made your crying even louder. - Shush! … - he made an annoyed face and your child just shrugged. - Is she like that every day? It must be horrible living with her.

-        No, she is the strongest person I know. – this girl answered calmly.

-        Come on, Kitten. Don’t ruin your perfect renome, it will be hell of a shit to get back with it … - he hugged you closer.

After a while, he called this Frost of his and ordered food.

-        We are vegetarians! - the child says.

-        It’s fine, he is vegan…- you spoke before realizing, you still see the little Jack, there.

-        Another superpower I guess? – he teased.

-        Well … you bit on your lip – you said you wanted to be, so I just … guessed. – you smiled awkwardly.

-        Aha …

The food arrived – green salads, fresh juices and a ton of varieties of sweets.

-        I am, let’s say I am curious … How come your father disagreed on … your relationship?

-        Our!

-        I am not “Jack”! So, he is known to be the most humble person ever.

-        Batman? - you laughed.

-        Bruce Wayne! … 2+2=4! - he winked at you.

You frown your eyebrows.

-        You look like him, a lot. – he was eating the salad with his hands.

-        Maybe this changed him … Although he still is an asshole!

-        So … as he is so famous for his … “humbleness”, how come he disagrees?

-        I was 13 and you were 18 or 19?

-        Oh … - he laughed. - May may, I was a … - he looked at the girl, and didn’t finish. - You are leaving! After dinner. And pretend we did not have this conversation.

-        What?

-        Don’t what me! - he yelled. – Yhis is beyond you … the two if you! Just pretend you don’t know me … I am not you Jack! I am not even the empty box. It’s for the best.

-        No freaking way! I lived long enough without you, I am not giving up on you now, and no one can stop me! – you got closer, but he pushed you away, a little bit too hard, and you fell on the floor.

-        You are leaving! End of story … and take you bratty offspring with you! – was the last thing he said to you.

His 1-st in command drove you back in the city. You got home late. Said he just took you so he could run away, and he dumped you out of the city. You tell this to the police, your father, even the Batman. Your daughter said he did so because she did not stop crying.

After a while no one remembered this case, as he was making couple of crimes per day. He was in and out from Arkham. She missed him so much, as a goodbye he gave her a little golden crown, for her doll. As years passed you lost hope to see him again, till one morning when you were having a walk in the big garden you found a tulip, an orange one, just lying there on the ground … it must be him. He remembered … you never told him about the tulips, not even the first time … 

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