#i was SHAKING like a leaf. i thought police would turn up and jump on me

[chqnified]

If you ever feel dim. Don't worry. I set off the security alarms trying to open up the office building. Because i was tapping the fob on the aircon/electric unit and NOT the security alarm deactivator

[maxdark158]

OOOH two chapters in one week??? damn even i’m jealous. of myself. though this also isn’t edited so i might read it tomorrow morning and regret life, soooo

Angel in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Ao3

Demon in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Ao3

Fanart for AiG: Riddler ~ Joker thank you @thegreysman

Please tag me in any fanart you draw for this guys ^^

oooOOOooo

The large plant in the street wasn’t promising.

Neither was the very loud scream of pain they heard as they arrived to the scene.

Damian might’ve popped some knuckles when he clenched his fists, he wasn’t fully paying attention. What the ever-loving fucking hell in a fuck was Ivy doing? Harley best not be here too or Damian may strangle both of them for coming near his Angel.

Deep fucking breaths I’m going to fucking lose it-

When they arrived, father signaled a quick “to first two follow” plan and he and Grayson went ahead, leaving Damian and Drake on the roof. Damian itched to jump and move forward. The worry was awful, filling his mind with the most unrealistic of thoughts. He tried to correct them, prove them wrong, but they were overwhelming.

What if I check through her window to make sure she’s in there and oka- he didn’t know which room she had and it would take too long.

What if the scream was hers- It was deeper, male sounding.

What if she was crushed under that plant- She wouldn’t be, right? There wasn’t any evidence of someone being under there-

What if she’s hurt? Afraid? Dying?

He heard yelling. Angry yelling, in a male voice. The constricting worry reminded him of every dangerous male villain in Gotham right now. He went through a list of those currently MIA, those who might’ve yelled. It didn’t make sense, no villain sighting was reported aside from Ivy…

But it was possible.

And the possibility made Damian want to puke.

He had to move he had to do something. He jumped down. It hadn’t been enough time yet but he didn’t care. He heard Drake hiss something in warning about Batman’s orders or something Damian didn’t fucking care about, because he had to see for himself. He had to walk in there and he had to make sure she was okay.

Before he could go in, he saw Ivy walk out through the door. What?! he moved to intercept her before seeing the blood going down her leg- What the fucking fuck happened?! Why was she bleeding?

Ivy raised a brow when she saw him. “I got a pass this time, bird. Might want to help them in there.”

The sick feeling returned. He didn’t want to trust a villain, a criminal… but Ivy wasn’t the most horrible.

He eyed the blood, the worried weeds supplying images of his Angel bleeding in the same way. Ivy was not the worst that could happen… His mind went through that handy list of villains again. Many much worse than Ivy.

Damian turned away from Ivy. Father and Grayson shattered the window the plant hadn’t gone through, he made a motion toward it before Drake grabbed his shoulder.

“Let go of me you-“

“If you’re going to disobey Batman, at least let me go with you,” Drake looked exasperated. “You’re focused on your friend, right? Someone needs to watch your ass then.”

Damian glared before prying Drake’s hand off his shoulder. If he wanted to follow, fine. Damian wouldn’t stop him. He went through the broken window and finally entered the hotel.

The vending machine was unplugged and face down on the ground, glass surrounding it. Ivy’s giant plant was in the middle of the room, steam thicker than the pot it previously inhabited and petals as big as the Batmobile’s tires. Other miscellaneous things were strewn across the room, including cut hair near the elevator.

But what had Damian’s heart pounding was the playing cards. Playing cards that were embedded in the walls and the front desk and the floor. Razor sharp playing cards. A certain villain’s playing cards.

Fucking fucking shit fuck bitch ass fuck-

“Father,” Damian’s voice was surprisingly level as he spoke. His eyes landed on the fucking purple suited clown mother fucker himself. “What is Joker doing here?”

Father however seemed to be answering something Grayson must have said, “It appears she was rescuing…”

Ivy was rescuing.

Ivy was helping.

Damian’s eyes scanned the room right as someone else made themselves known.

Marinette!

The air left his lungs. She looked worse for wear, dark circles under her eyes and blood- fucking hell blood on her person. She was shaking like a leaf in the wind, and Damian wanted nothing more than to comfort her. Help her.

He opened his mouth to speak, stepping toward her.

She began to sob.

As if Damian somehow needed to panic even more.

“I’m sorry,” the words were quietly choked out between hics and sobs. “I’m a hor- horrible person and-”

“Hey now,” Grayson took a step closer, trying to comfort her. Damian’s feet were stuck to the floor, the words stuck in his mouth, preventing him from doing the same. “I’m sure you’re not-”

She held up her hands, showing the blood on them. Damian inhaled sharply when he saw the bits of glass embedded into her palm – the green haired fuck hurt her.

“I broke his leg,” she took a big gulp of air. Damian bit back the words and he deserved it. “With a rock. And I threw things at him. A chocolate bar, a cookie, a phone, a lamp, a vending machine-”

“A vending machine?” His father glanced at the vending machine on the ground. Damian didn’t bother trying to decipher his expression, Marinette was turning red and gasping between her sobs. She needed to breathe.

“Miss, please calm down,” Grayson began to step toward her. Damian’s feet finally moved, and he began surging toward her as well.

She fell, nearly hitting her head on the way down. Damian caught her before she could though, barely. Fuck, she needed to breathe like yesterday.

“I’m terrible, horrible, I shouldn’t have done this,” the words used the last of her breath and were only a whisper.

Panic made his throat feel stuck and his voice thick. “Angel,” Damian spoke as calmly as he could. “You need to breathe.”

She didn’t breathe.

oooOOOooo

Usually, lack of sleep was associated with the coffee obsessed Drake, but it seemed Damian’s own mind was determined to show him what it was like to live like a lunatic. He wasn’t able to sleep even when he tried, though he didn’t try that much either. He’s pretty sure he spent an hour staring at his weedkiller order – an order that somehow got lost in Kentucky – wishing it to suddenly appear at the front gate. Then again after coming home, most of the night was a blur.

He rubbed his eyes and let his thoughts wander through the memories of last night. Or, early morning technically.

Marinette looked delicate and broken on the stretcher as she was loaded into the ambulance. Damian had to turn his head away. He saw Drake and Todd looking at him, but he didn’t want their fucking pity.

She’d be fine.

She had to be.

After Angel had passed out, she began to breathe again. She immediately got medical attention for her injuries, riding in a different ambulance than Joker, who also got medical attention at Arkham. Damian wanted nothing more than to skin him alive as he left, but he avoided doing it for the time being. Barely.

“There’s some of Joker’s laughing shit over here, B-man.”

“Have Red Robin neutralize it. We’ll have to check the tapes and see if anyone was affected.”

“Besides the guy who’s body we found behind the desk, I don’t think anyone else got hit. But good call. Red Robin, over here!”

Drake got the security camera feed and Damian saw the entirety of what happened in the hotel lobby. His Angel fought bravely and intelligently, though he couldn’t say he was a fan of the bitch who left her behind.

“Why did she go for the elevator? I’d hate being stuck in there with the Joker. And she let her classmate just fight?”

“Maybe she called for help once she got away. And even if she didn’t, we can’t judge a teenager for panicking in this situation, Tim. Damian’s friend is an anomaly.”

“I don’t know… too bad the cameras don’t have audio, I wonder what she’s saying before they realize that Joker is there.”

“Are you able to read her lips?”

“Golly jee I wish I fucking thought of that! Thanks for reminding me to read her lips on this old and grainy camera footage where you can barely tell her eyes from her nose!”

“Jesus Replacement, no need to bite my head off.”

Damian looked into it,and found that no calls were made to the police until the plant fell through the window. The calls then were about Ivy appearing, deduced by people nearby who saw the plant. That good for nothing bitch left my Angel with the Joker-

“No calls were made by anyone within the hotel. All the calls were made by people on the street or living nearby who saw the plant.”

“Hmm… Odd…”

“…I’m sorry but how the fuck did someone sleep through a giant ass plant breaking the main floor windows? How?!”

“Maybe it’s a French secret.”

He shook his head. After they got all the information, father decided to send the French children back early and pay for it himself. Damian, internally, knew why. He painted a target on Angel’s back, if she didn’t have one before.

“You realize he heard you, right?”

“What do you want, Todd?”

“Fucks’ sake demon spawn, listen to me. Joker heard you call her Angel.”

“…”

“I was already aware of that. I’ve made plans to have the class moved back in Paris. If it gets around, She’ll be an ocean away and more difficult to harm.”

“Alright, B. Was just trying to warn Demon Spawn.”

“Maybe next time he won’t fuck up.”

“Tim, no need to be harsh.”

“It’s vigilante 101, Bruce. Damian’s been doing this for years.”

“Perhaps instead of being berated for a mistake he didn’t intend, you should let Master Damian retire to his room to rest.”

Damian grumbled to himself, trying to push the intrusive awful worrisome thoughts out of his head. The ones that said maybe going back to Paris wouldn’t be enough to protect her. The ones that said Joker would want revenge, the ones that-

The ones that he wasn’t fucking listening to right now thank you very fucking much!

Damian sighed to himself. He needed some sleep. After handling the news, getting the class handled, and looking into everything involving Joker’s break in at the hotel he was told to get to bed as the sun began rising. It hadn’t really worked, as now a few hours later he was debating stealing some of Drake’s coffee to make it through the day.

Because he did have one very important task to do today. He needed to check on his Angel, and say goodbye to her. He had her number of course, and they could text as often as possible for the two of them, but he still needed to see her. See her and apologize for how horrible this trip must’ve turned out for her.

I’m bad luck, being near me ruined her trip.

Damian went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, ignoring that train of thought.

Riddler attacked her when I was there. Joker appeared after I dropped her off. I made her unlucky. I got her hurt.

It’d be easier to ignore that train of thought if it weren’t so fucking loud.

Time felt blurry right now. Probably because he was tired. But soon he was dressed in a hoodie and sunglasses, disguised so he didn’t get mobbed by paparazzi while visiting his Angel in the hotel. He was pulling his shoes on when there was a knock at the door.

“What do you want?” The knocking bounced in his head and made it hurt. Maybe he had a migraine, he wasn’t sure.

“Such a nice way to say good morning Demon Spawn,” Todd strolled in like he fucking owned the place and leaned against the wall next to the door. Damian wondered what it’d be like to have Jon’s laser sight so he could glare at Todd and kill him.

“You didn’t have permission to come in.”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to.”

“Tough shit,” Todd rolled his eyes. “…You… alright?”

Damian narrowed his eyes at him. “Why are you asking something like that?”

“Your friend got attacked and is leaving the city because of a target on her back. Which, while I did point out that you called her a petname in front of Joker-“

“It isn’t a petname-“

“-It isn’t your fault.”

The words starkly contrasted Damian’s internal beliefs and he had to blink a few moments to make sure what he heard was real. Because what the fuck? Why would Todd try to convince him his fuck up somehow wasn’t his fucking fault!?

“It’s… not my fault that I stupidly revealed a relationship connection to a civilian in front of one of the worst villains this city has suffered?”

“Okay, that was all you, smartass,” Todd sighed. “but the other shit isn’t your fault. You didn’t hurt her, the fucked up clown did. You didn’t put her in danger, her fucking teacher and class did by abandoning her. You’re at fault for your actions, not other people’s, so if you’re blaming yourself then fucking stop. Freckles’d probably get upset if you were using her to hate yourself.”

“What on this planet makes you think I’m doing that?!” Damian’s voice rose in a snap, hypocritically, because he realized as he spoke the words that he… kind of was doing that.

Fucking feelings and fucking worry and fucking weeds in his head were the reason, of course, but he… was… fuck, he’s tired isn’t he?

“I died, Demon Spawn.” Damian raised a brow at Todd, waiting for the halfwit to continue. “Bruce and I… aren’t on the best of terms, but I did realize he… he did that. Where what Joker did was his fault. I’m not happy the fucker is still alive, but that doesn’t mean Bruce was the one who killed me. No that was all Joker.”

“What does that have to do with anything again?” Damian really just wanted Todd out of his room and not talking about things in the past. He totally understood his point and everything, but it wasn’t anything a gallon sized bottle of weedkiller wouldn’t fix.

“Wow, you must be really tired, damn,” the fucker smirked before his expression changed into something less asshole-ish. “I’m saying that if you’re blaming yourself for what the Joker did to Freckles, stop it. The fucker lost a leg and she’s on her way to the hotel from the hospital now.”

Wait.

Wait what?

“Wait what?!” Damian wasn’t even sure which one he was reacting to – the news that Angel was okay or the news that the Joker was permanently damaged.

Angel’s self defense might’ve permanently helped Gotham?!

Okay maybe he knew what he was reacting to.

Todd turned to leave like a fucking dickhead and Damian could hear the smirk in his voice as he walked away. “Check the news for the Joker thing and ask Alfred to take you to Freckles in like an hour.”

Damian was smart enough to realize that not checking out of spite for Todd would only disadvantage himself.

He still only checked a couple minutes later though. After glaring at his phone willing himself to somehow know without checking.

He needing headache pills.

oooOOOooo

The Unnamed Teenager That Defeated The Riddler Cripples Joker!

Just days after beating The Riddler at his own game, the same teenage girl holds off The Joker until Batman arrives!

“We had to amputate him below the knee,” Arkham doctor says. “There was too much glass in the wound, it cut several muscles, tendons, and arties. The shattered bone didn’t help.”

French Teenager Unavailable for Comment.

[Read More]

oooOOOooo

Damian had snuck through the lobby up to his Angel’s room. Some of her classmates were downstairs, but he hadn’t paid much attention to them, not caring at the moment.

The last memory he had of her was the blood on her hands and tears in her eyes before she fell to the floor. He wanted to change that, wanted to maybe even see if he could get her to smile. Though that felt ambitious…

He just… needed to make sure she was okay.

Damian knocked on Marinette’s hotel room door.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Files

Pairings: Sam Winchester x Reader

Trope: Enemies to lovers  @serenityhayato​ ( WRITTEN FOR @negans-lucille-tblr​‘s SPN FIC EXCHANGE )

Warnings: Death of a friend, Canonical Gore (werewolf attack), Cursing, Smut (rough Sam, light choking, hand job, oral if you squint- male receiving, unprotected sex), Probably sex at inappropriate times if I’m being honest

Word Count: 7500 (I am so sorry I didn’t realize until I went to post this that it had a 3k word limit… this was definitely my bad but I’ve spent a week writing this and really didn’t want to scrap the whole thing to fit the word limit. I didn’t realize how carried away I got in the set up)

A/N: I have never written anything for Sam before, much less smut, but I wanted to give it a shot. I’m sorry if it’s totally OOC. I was trying to go off the knowledge that he’s canonically pretty rough in bed. I also couldn’t imagine him being super talkative and vocal. I don’t know, I’m just kinda stressed about this one. Also, this was probably definitely an inappropriate time for them to get down and dirty but my brain was glitching on any other idea so I hope you don’t hate it! Happy holidays!

________________

Sam Winchester.

The name alone made your blood boil.

You’d met the man for the first time, just before your hunting career began and quite frankly, you weren’t sure if you could ever truly forgive him for what he’d done.

–

It was the first semester of your senior year of college, a proud graduate-to-be of your dream university. Life had been great since you got to college. Old toxic relationships with people back home had practically disappeared, you’d formed a group of the best people you’d ever met, and your academics had been going strong.

Life was going great until people started disappearing only to turn up days later, slaughtered and nearly drained of blood. Anxiety was running high all across the board. The university even turned all night classes to online courses to prevent the likelihood of someone being abducted at night. Your best friend had started acting weird. She constantly shook as if she’d drank a pot of coffee for breakfast and was always looking over her shoulder. “It’s okay, Beth,” You tried to reassure her, “I know everyone is on edge but we’re doing everything we can to stay safe. Just make sure to bring your wooden stake in case the vampire attacks.” You chuckled weakly, knowing your nerve-fueled joke was definitely inappropriate considering that four people had actually died from whoever was out there but humor was a good coping mechanism.

Beth didn’t appreciate the joke at all and had run out of your apartment, disappearing. When she hadn’t returned by seven that night, you got worried enough to go look for her. Grabbing every self defense weapon you had, which was pepper spray, a pocket knife, and a key chain that looked cute but was actually a form of brass knuckles with sharp extrusions on it, you left your apartment to look for Beth, surprisingly well strapped.  

You started with her favorite spots: a hipster coffee shop on Main Street, Taco Bell, that one bench in the botanical gardens that overlooked the pond, and the fourth floor of the library. She was nowhere to be seen. You were on the verge of calling the police or those FBI agents that had been questioning people on campus, asking some weird questions from what people had told you. You’d never spoken with them but they did say to come to them with information if anyone had any. You didn’t but they’d be a good start to finding Beth. Where to find them though? Figuring it would be best to just start with campus police, you walked across campus, looking over your shoulder every few seconds. The hair on your neck stood on end and it was impossible to feel safe. Campus police was located on the opposite end of campus and the busses stopped running early on weekdays so walking was your only choice.

“No, please!” You heard a man whimper from somewhere in the trees to your side. You stopped in your tracks and your heart dropped to your stomach. Should you help? Should you run? Should you stay here and call 911?

But then you heard Beth’s voice, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I can’t control it anymore!” And then screams. There were deafening screams of pain and you decided to say screw it. You ran down to try and protect your friend, even though you knew it was probably the last thing you’d ever do. This was stupid. What could you even do? Who knew what was down there attacking them?

When you saw them though, you stopped, skidding to a halt on the leaf covered hill. Beth was knelt over a man’s body, his backpack thrown to the side and ripped open. Though you were quiet, she must have heard you because her attention was whipped to you in an instant. Her face and shirt were covered in blood. It was obvious she’d been eating him or something along those lines.

You felt like a deer in headlights, utterly frozen in terror, denial, and confusion. “I can’t control myself anymore…” she admitted, a regretful sob hiccuping from her lips.

“Why?” You breathed out the question, silent tears falling. Whether they were for fear for your life or just the knowledge that someone you cared about could do something so horrible, you didn’t know.

Before she could answer, there was a loud bang and she fell dead. You flinched and covered your head, crouching instinctively from the gunshot. Your best friend slumped over dead and, despite the fact that you’d just watched her brutally murder some poor stranger, you couldn’t help but call out in shock and horror, “Beth!"

Two men came running down the hill, one of them to Beth’s body and the other to you. "She’s dead. Werewolf, just like we thought.” The man with short hair announced in a deep gruff voice.

“Are you alright?” The one who had come up to asked. He looked a little younger than the other, with longer hair too.

You were shaking, “What the hell just happened?"

"I know this is hard to understand but your friend over there… wasn’t human.” When he said it, you almost scoffed. Of course she was human. What the hell else would she be? Monsters weren’t real.

“You’re kidding me…” You said almost angrily. Then something hit you, “Wait, you’re those FBI detectives.”

The one with short hair walked up to you and the man talking to you. The taller one spoke again, “I’m Sam and this is my brother Dean. We aren’t really FBI. We hunt monsters. Monsters like your friend over there."

"She wasn’t a monster.” You said, a single tear finally falling down your cheek. Glancing over, you saw her lying dead on the ground, “Not the Beth I knew."

"Well then you didn’t know the real Beth because one look at that thing will tell you she ain’t human.” Dean told you bluntly.

Sam noticed the confusion, fear, and anger in your eyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen this. It was never easy to tell people they were close to the truth and he preferred to just stay out of it completely but that wasn’t an option this time. “Look, I know this is difficult to understand. But Beth was a werewolf. And yes, they are real. Most monsters are. We’ve been tracking her for weeks."

"W-was she always like this?” Your mind whirled as you struggled to comprehend, truly comprehend, what was happening.

Sam shook his head, “She was turned by a werewolf back in her hometown a few weeks ago. We tracked her from a pack we hunted down over there.” You remembered when she came back, she had a big bandage on her arm. When you asked about it, she brushed it off, saying she ate it racing her brother on longboards. It was probably the bite.

“The fact that she made it as long as she did without killing is honestly impressive. I’ve seen some turn and right away they’re slaughtering people.” Dean chimed in. You hoped their words would console you but they only served to make you angrier.

“So you’re telling me that she was attacked by a werewolf and then turned into one? She was probably terrified! She kept saying how sorry she was! You could have helped her! But you just killed her!” You screamed at them angrily.

“Your friend murdered a bunch of people. Once they turn, there’s no saving them. They’re killers.” Dean said with such conviction that it almost scared you.

Sam put a hand out to Dean, signaling for him to shut up, “There’s only one known way to stop the transformation but it has a really low success rate, is extremely painful, and needs to be administered almost right after the bite. I’m sorry.” He reached a hand out to comfort you but you dodged it, shrugging off his gesture and beginning to walk away.

“I need to go."

"Wait!” Sam called out behind you and you stopped.

“What?!” You snapped, spinning around to stare at him. It was rare that anyone dwarfed Sam Winchester but since you’d been walking up the small hill, you towered over him. The way you glared down at him made him jump.

His words faltered before he finally spoke, “You can’t tell anyone about this. If people knew monsters existed-"

"I’ll decide how I deal with the fact that my apparently werewolf best friend was just murdered by some dudes who think they’re Ghostbusters."

—

Sam saddled up to the bar next to you and promptly ordered two beers. You kept your eyes straight ahead, not sure of what you’d say to him if you made eye contact. You could feel him side eyeing you curiously. Finally, he looked over, "I’m sorry if this is strange but you look so familiar. Have we met?"

You swiveled in the chair to face him, "It’s been a while but yeah. We’ve met. Remember that werewolf at (your college)  about a year ago."

Realization dawned on his face, "Oh… I knew you looked familiar.” He didn’t sound excited like people usually did when they saw old friends because he knew you weren’t old friends. In fact, he assumed you felt quite the opposite and he understood why. “I never did catch your name."

"Y/N.” You informed shortly, taking a sip of your preferred poison.

Sam rocked back on his heels, “Well, uh, what are you doing out here?” It was Middletown, Arkansas, not exactly a happening place, so seeing you of all people here seemed almost too good to be a coincidence.

“I get the feeling the same reason you are.” You answered, eyebrows rising to infer a hunt.

It didn’t take long for Sam to figure what you meant, “Wait, you’re hunting now? Why?"

"After you guys left, I was devastated. You’d murdered my best friend,” you watched him sink into himself a little when you said that but continued seamlessly, “I was left alone with the sudden knowledge that monsters existed. I decided one day that I wanted to protect people like Beth. You know, the ones that innocently stumble into dangerous situations and have their lives ruined by a bite or scratch."

The tall Winchester brother was about to say something but Dean called from a few tables over, "Sammy!” He called out, pointing to a booth on the side wall. The bar was fairly busy for it being such a small town, with people playing pool or eating fries with their gin and tonics. Music played in the background and, though it wasn’t a song you knew off the top of your head, it sounded like every other dive bar in towns like this.

Sam held up a finger to his brother, begging pardon for just a second, before looking back over to you, “Look, I’m really sorry about everything. I really am. I know it doesn’t help but I’ve lost friends who were turned as well so I know how you feel.”

“Yeah, well, shit happens, right?” Your voice sounded anything but forgiving but it also wasn’t hostile either. It was more matter-of-fact. As much as you had hated Sam Winchester for what he had taken from you, if there was one thing you had learned over these last few months it was that shit really does happen. As hard as you tried, you really couldn’t save them all.

Sam glanced back over his shoulder to see Dean wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at him, clearly thinking you were someone Sam was trying to pick up for the night. Sam rolled his eyes and turned back to you, “If we’re both here for the vamp nest, then do you maybe want to come work with us?"

You thought for a moment. In all honesty, you had been under the impression that it was just one vampire wreaking havoc on the small town. Call it a novice mistake, because in all actuality, you really were still a relatively new hunter. One vampire you could take, a whole nest would be trickier. "Fine. But just so we don’t die."

You hopped off the barstool, glass of liquid fire in your hand, as you followed Sam back to the booth Dean was sitting at. At first, the older brother looked confused as to why his brother would bring his company for the night to meet him but didn’t say anything about it when you sat down beside Sam across the table from Dean.

"This is Y/N. She’s gonna help us work the case.” Sam announced, not leaving much room for objection.

Dean’s eyes studied you, “You look familiar. You’re a hunter?” He asked, trying to piece together why he recognized you.

You shrugged, “Am now but you know me from ‘bout a year ago when you guys killed my best friend. She was bit by a werewolf. Remember, that college girl?"

Realization dawned on his face, "Oh… yeah. Sorry about that but she was, y'know, a werewolf. So-” he shrugged insensitively, earning him a hard kick in the shin from Sam under the table. Dean looked back with that expression of 'what?’ That little kids had when they got in trouble.

“Well, anyways, she’s hunting now and is in town for the nest. I figured working together would be our best option.” Sam tried to be a peaceful moderator but it was hard when he knew how much you loathed him. It was frustrating, really, that you wouldn’t just see that Beth had become a monster. He understood that losing friends was hard but she had been killing innocent people.

“What’s the plan, then? We want to pick them off one by one so there’s less to fight at once or-” you began before Dean interrupted.

He shook his head, chewing some fries he’d shoved in his mouth while he spoke, “Nuh-uh. Gank the whole nest at once. Get 'em all in one place and torch it."

"Okay, well where’s the nest then?” You questioned.

Sam shrugged, “We don’t know yet. That’s what we gotta figure out."

"I have a file of police reports and eye witnesses on my laptop back at my hotel. I was just gonna grab a map of the town while I was out tonight to try and see if I could draw a location from the attacks.” You hadn’t planned on actually bringing work to do at the bar. You’d mostly come to see if you could overhear any drunken tales of vampires around town but it had been pretty dead as far as crazy stories so far.

Something behind you caught Dean’s attention and he leaned in close to you and Sam, “Hey, I’ll be back. Don’t wait up.” He said with a smirk and a wink.

As his brother stood, Sam threw his hand up in exasperation, “Where are you going?"

"Hopefully for a homerun.” Dean winked with a cocky smirk before walking away. You turned around to follow Dean with your gaze and immediately saw his target sitting at the bar, a beautiful African American woman with bouncing curls and a sultry smile on her berry stained lips. Honestly, you couldn’t’ say you blamed the older Winchester one bit.

Sam let out a huff of disappointment and rolled his eyes at his brother’s priorities. “Guess it’s just you and me then…” He groaned, not at the prospect of having to spend time with you but just at his brother’s laziness. Dean always managed to find an excuse out of the research part.

“Great.” You responded, unamused. Of the two brothers, Sam was the one you had an issue with- the trigger man on the night that changed your life. “Well, we should get a start on all this so we can get out of here sooner. If you didn’t get any food, you wanna head back to my room?”

The second the words left your mouth, you realized how it sounded and you became a bumbling mess, “Wait- I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant-”

Sam bit back a chuckle and raised his hand up off the table, motioning for you to stop, “It’s okay. It’s okay.” He laughed, long hair shining in the dim light as he moved to turn away from you with closed eyes while he chuckled. It really was a shame that he had done what he’d done to you. An opportunity with such a handsome man just had to be killed by his lack of compassion all those months ago.

You slid out of the booth, “Alright, well, I guess I’ll drive. Looks like Dean will be needing your car.” You smirked knowingly as you glanced over at Dean who had the woman he’d had eyes on in stitches over something he’d said.

Sam followed your lead, “Sounds good. I don’t think I want to be in the car after whatever they do anyways.”

Your black 2007 Honda Pilot was clean enough to not be totally embarrassed about but then you saw Sam’s little snort, “A Honda Pilot?”

“We can’t all have cool muscle cars or old trucks, jackass. I can go all terrain with decent gas mileage. Besides, I’d rather sleep in the back of this than your gas guzzler. She’s surprisingly spacious.” You defended your vehicle rather seriously, running your hand across the dash soothingly. The funny thing was that you’d really never been all too attached to the car until Sam insinuated insulting remarks about it.

“She?” He quipped with a raised brow, climbing into the passenger seat.

You slammed the door shut and started the engine, “Yes, she. Dahlia.”

Sam put his hands up, resigning his teasing assault on your car. The drive to the motel was short. You never really liked travelling too far from where you were staying when you didn’t have to. Hunting on your own, especially as a newbie, made you anxious. When you pulled into the parking lot, Sam looked out the window, “You’re staying here too?”

You looked over at him, “You guys are staying here?”

He nodded and patted his pockets, looking for the room key but quickly finding the gesture useless, “Room 24. You?”

“34. You must be right under me.” You said, again visibly cringing at your poor word choice, “You know what I mean.”

Sam tried his hardest not to smile, “Wasn’t gonna say anything.” He assured. You pulled into a space right in front of room 24 and parked. Sam followed you up to your room, which was relatively untouched still. You’d only arrived that morning so, aside from your bag of belongings that was thrown onto the single queen bed, the motel room was still as you had found it.

Sam closed the door behind the two of you and you grabbed your laptop from the bag. So many rooms you’d stayed in had little tables or desks but you quickly noticed that this one was lacking. As Sam awkwardly shuffled up to the bed where you sat casually, you noticed that there wasn’t really enough room for the two of you to work on the ground either.

With a huff, you scooted over, “You can sit on the bed. Just no shoes on the covers.” You had toed your own shoes off on the floor before tucking your legs underneath you. Sam sat beside you, careful to keep a respectful distance between your bodies, while you opened the lid of your laptop and began typing away.

“Alright, this is what I have so far.” You began.

Time became lost on you and Sam as midnight rolled around and you were still discussing the facts of the case. “I’m still confused as to why the hell you think Lenora’s body turning up on Seventh St and Jason’s body turning up on Hargrove Ave means the nest is on Willow Dr.” You were getting annoyed at Sam. In all honesty, you were annoyed at yourself for not seeing what he saw because as much as you hated to admit it, he was probably right. He and his brother hadn’t earned their reputations for being wrong. But, geez, why did it have to be Sam Winchester?

“Because it’s not so much Jason’s body. The old lady, Meredith, made a phone call to her nephew, saying she was at Willow Dr, just before she attacked.” Sam pointed at the map of the town with one finger while leaning his weight back on the bed. His other hand reached back to prop himself up but you quickly flinched away when you felt his rough fingers blindly land on your own.

Sam’s eyes shot wide when you felt your sudden movement, “‘M sorry.” He said, moving his hand closer to his body.

The contact made your heart race in a way that made you simultaneously crave his touch again and be angry at yourself for feeling that way.  You cursed yourself, scooting an inch or so away from Sam’s body. Clearly, your body was just blindly reacting after being touch starved for so long. You hadn’t so much as kissed anyone since before you became a hunter. It had to just be a primal reaction, nothing more.

“I’ll just take your word for it.” You grumbled, returning to the original matter at hand. You hated feeling like you were just letting him think he was right about everything but you were getting tired. “So what’s the plan? Gank ‘em all tomorrow night?”

Sam shrugged, “We’d have to talk to Dean. Most of them will probably be hiding in the nest in the morning to avoid the sun so at least they’d be in one place. But night gives us more time to plan. Who knows when he’ll be back.”

“Why don’t we just lure them all out into the sun and watch them burn?” You suggested, thinking it was a brilliant idea. You actually had yet to deal with vamps. This would be your first case hunting them and you were actually a little excited to learn something new.

The Winchester shook his head, “The sun doesn’t kill them. Think less Interview With a Vampire and more… bad sunburn.” He explained, “Have you never hunted one before?”

Again, you got defensive, “I’m still new at this. I mostly stick to werewolves and ghosts.” Admitting to yourself you needed to learn more was one thing. Admitting it to Sam was another.

He looked over at the gun on your nightstand, “Is that what you were gonna use?” He questioned, brows furrowed.

“No, I’m not dumb. I have some wooden stakes in the car.”

It took everything in Sam’s power to not laugh at you. At you felt like the wrong way to put it. He wasn’t laughing at you. He just found your determination to be a good hunter cute in an endearing way, even if you got your information from cheesy TV shows.

“What?” You asked, almost angrily, seeing the look of amusement on his face.

Sam shook his head, “Decapitation is the main way to kill vampires. Unless you have special bullets or weapons, cutting off the heads is the easiest way to go.”

Your jaw clenched and you turned away from him, upset that he of all people had to explain something that was apparently Hunter 101. You didn’t mind learning. Not knowing things typically was just an opportunity to pick something new up but this incident just felt like nails on a chalkboard.

“You know what? It looks like you and Dean have things handled here. I’m gonna go. Divide and conquer. I’ll just go find somewhere with monsters that I know about so you don’t have to babysit me.” You stood up aggressively, voice surprisingly calm and just almost convincing enough to make him think you weren’t being petty, which of course you were. You didn’t mean to be acting childish. It was just that running into Sam and Dean had been enough to handle. Having what was still left for you to learn shoved in your face was just the cherry on top.

Sam stood up after you, exasperated, “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re still new to this and everyone has to start somewhere. Hell, Dean and I are still learning new stuff all the time.”

“It’s not that. This was just a bad idea. I thought I could handle working with you but I can’t.” You shook your head, turning around just to reach around Sam’s body and grab the jacket that you’d discarded before shrugging it back over your shoulders. You started shoving the few things you’d unpacked- a gun, your laptop, and some files- back into your blue duffel bag.

Sam had always considered himself fairly level-headed and capable of dealing with difficult people but something in him snapped when he saw you packing up to leave over something so stupid, “Fine, go ahead and leave. We’ll deal with the nest without you. But you know what? Nobody asked you to get involved in hunting. You can’t just go run off every time someone dies.”

You scoffed, “I got into hunting to prevent people from dying. I got into hunting to try and save them from being killed by people like you!”

“You’re acting like we just kill everyone we come across. We kill monsters, Y/N. We save people by killing them. We prevent more people from getting turned into monsters by killing them. And you know what? Beth became a monster.” Sam’s voice raised to almost a yell as he gestured widely and aggressively.

“Beth was scared and you murdered her!” You shouted angrily, tears welling in your eyes.

“Beth was killing people!” Sam yelled at you before taking a moment to breathe, continuing more calmly, “Can’t you see that? Most of these monsters we hunt were just poor bastards in the wrong place at the wrong time. There’s not a lot we can do for people like that. But we can keep them from hurting others. If we had known there was a werewolf back in Beth’s hometown, we could have killed them before they could turn her and she would still be here. Would you be angry if we’d have killed the werewolf that turned her? Would you still be calling me a murderer?”

You chewed your tongue in your mouth hard, trying to use the physical pain to distract you from the urge to cry out of frustration. Why did he have to make sense? Why did he have to confirm every rational thought you’d ever had concerning the situation? You wanted to hate Sam Winchester for what he’d done but you knew deep down that it was never that simple. You knew he had a point but you didn’t want to admit it.

Sam saw the way your jaw clenched angrily, the way your throat moved as you swallowed hard, and the way your eyes glistened with unshed tears. He took a step closer to you and reached a gentle hand out towards your arm, “I am sorry that you lost your best friend.”

For some reason, the gentle sincerity of his voice is what broke you. Tears fell down your face in hot streams as you cried. They weren’t tears for Beth’s death. Those had long been drained from you, many nights spent mourning what you’d lost. These tears were for the final snap of your animosity for the Winchester. You had spent so long hating him. You wanted to hate him, needed to hate him, but how the hell were you supposed to do that when he looked you in the eye and truly meant it when he said he was sorry.

There was a twinge of pain in his own green eyes that made you realize that he truly had experienced the same sort of heartache that you did and that he was sincerely apologetic for being the cause of it. But it was also clear that, while he was sorry for hurting you, he was not sorry for what he had done. Part of the cause for your tears was that you were angry with yourself for not being able to hate him, despite knowing that he didn’t regret killing Beth. You were crying because he was right. She had become a monster and, in his shoes, you probably would have done the same thing. You would have shot your best friend.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, voice shaky as you did.

Sam used his light grip on your arm to pull you in slowly for a hug, his large arms enveloping you in a surprisingly comforting embrace. You buried your face into his flannel, tears staining the fabric. One of his large hands gently cradled the base of your head while his other rubbed up and down your shaking back.

He didn’t know what to say anymore. Your response had honestly surprised him. The girl that he was used to receiving nothing but animosity from was now shaking in his arms and apologizing. “It’s okay,” was all Sam could think to mutter out.

He held you like that for a while, though you weren’t sure exactly how long it was. It could have been thirty seconds or thirty minutes and you would be none the wiser but all you knew was that you didn’t want Sam to let you go and, for once, you didn’t hate yourself for it. The tears had dried, leaving only slightly stiff feeling skin in their place. Your breath had long since stopped leaving your lungs in wracked hiccups. Your arms had moved from resting on his broad chest to being loosely wrapped around his waist at some point.

You pulled back first, lifting your head from his chest but keeping your hands on his body still. Sam lifted his cheek off your head, where it had been residing in a surprisingly soft show of affection, and he gazed down at you. You were amazed by how completely you had let your rage blind you. Before tonight, Sam was nothing more than scum to you but now, looking into his eyes after forgiving him, you realized that he was easily one of the most beautiful men you’d ever laid your eyes on.

Even with the tears now gone, Sam still saw the dim light of the cheap motel lamp sparkled against the color of your irises and damn if it wasn’t beautiful. He slid his hand up from your shoulder to gently brush away a few thin strands of hair that had stuck to your cheek while it was pressed against his chest- a feeling he found himself missing. His breath caught in his throat when you reached up to cover his hand with your smaller one, pressing it gently to stay on your cheek.

Your eyes slid closed and you gently nuzzled against his hand before opening your eyes again, reaching around his neck, and oh so slowly pulling him down while you perched on your tiptoes. There was more than enough time for Sam to pull away but he didn’t. In fact, much to your surprise, he closed the gap between you faster. His lips pressed to yours, rougher than you anticipated, but enjoyably nonetheless.

The breath was knocked out of your lungs and you struggled to breathe against his lips but refused to pull away. You bit his lip gently while you kissed, slipping your tongue against his when he gave in to what you were craving.

Sam reached down under your ass and lifted you without you even needing to jump. A squeal of surprise was swallowed by his lips as he walked you both to the bed. Once his legs bumped the old mattress, he sat down, lowering you to land on his lap. Your knees fell to either side of his hips where you gave an experimental rotation of your hips against his clothed erection. He let out a strangle exhalation at the friction, his fingers digging into your ass and pulling you harder onto him. The fabric of his rough jeans rubbed delicious against your clothed core, a wetness beginning to form in your panties.

Slowly, you pressed your weight forward and Sam allowed you to push him onto his back. You laid on top of him, lips moving from his lips down his neck but he didn’t let you get far. Sam placed a supportive hand on the small of your back and managed to flip you both over so he was on top and before you knew it, he was devouring you. Lips kissed hot trails across your face and down your neck, across the tops of your breasts that were ever so slightly revealed by your v-neck t-shirt.

Your fingers tangled in his long hair and he let out a breathy groan when you tugged on the brunette locks, pulling him closer to you. Sam crawled down your body, his hands sliding up underneath your shirt to run across your burning skin beneath. He felt like heaven and hell all in one, burning with fiery lust and yet so sweet and comforting despite the fervor with which he moved.

You pushed yourself up, pushing Sam to sit back on his knees while you did, all without breaking the kiss, to shrug off your jacket. Your shirt was next, falling onto the floor with your jacket before Sam pushed you backwards again, your back hitting the mattress. His large hand started low your belly, running straight up between the valley of your breasts and then raking downwards, pulling the cups of your bra down and grazing your nipples deliciously with his calloused fingers.

It had been so long since you’d been touched like this that even the small act had your back arching into his body. “Sam…” You breathed out, eyes sliding closed at the sensation. Every flick against your sensitive buds sent a shock straight to your core that had you hooking your leg around his hip, pulling him closer into you. Your hands ran up and down his large biceps before moving to pull the sleeves of his flannel down his arms. He only pulled away from you long enough to throw the restricting clothing on the ground, his shirt joining short after.

Your mouth started physically salivating at the sight of the man before you, sculpted by the gods. Defined pectorals and rippling abs covered his torso, adorned with a symbol that looked like a pentagram inside of a sun- a symbol you were unfamiliar with. Sam didn’t give you much time to marvel though because he was back to kissing a line down your body, the light stubble of his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck and chest. He stopped to revel in your breasts, wiggling his hands under your body to expertly unclasp your bra and shimmy it off you. The second they were revealed to him, his tongue was dragging across the supple sick and his teeth were lightly nibbling at the sensitive buds.

“Oh my gosh-” You let out in a breathy giggle. Sam switched breasts, giving the other equal attention. Your fingernails raked lightly over his shoulders and across his chest and you felt Sam shiver at the touch. His lips trailed lower and lower until they found the waistline of your jeans. With a quick flick of his fingers, the button was popped and the denim material was dragged down your legs, taking your socks with them as they were pulled over your ankles. He kissed his way back up your legs, from ankle until he slowly inched closer and closer to where you wanted him most.

His scruff scraped along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and you bit your lip at the sensation, unsure if you were trying to hold back a giggle from the ticklish feeling or a moan from the shocks it sent to your core. Sam chuckled to himself when he saw the wet patch of cloth over your clothed heat. He’d barely touched you and you were already dripping for him.

He had a wicked idea though. He got closer and closer to your sex, the smell intoxicating, and gripped your thighs tightly, possibly leaving bruises. Just when his lips were about to land on your core, he moved to the left, kissing your hip bones instead and back up your belly.

Annoyed by the teasing, you sat up, pulling Sam up gently by the hair to be face to face with you. Your ass was a few inches from the edge of the bed, toes just touching the ground, when you pushed Sam back just enough to be able to reach his pants. You hooked your fingers into the belt loops on either side of his pelvis and pulled him close to you. His forehead pressed flush against yours, “Are you gonna keep being a tease or are you gonna fuck me already, Winchester?”

Sam didn’t need to be told twice. He made quick work of his remaining clothing and hovered over you like a predator about to move in for the kill. “You want me to just fuck you already?” He mimicked, voice low and testing. His green eyes bore into your own orbs with a challenge that you refused to back down from.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” You challenged, standing up and sliding your underwear down your legs, all while keeping unyielding eye contact with Sam. Once they left your form with a small flick of your toes, a dark smirk krept up on his face.

“Turn around.” He demanded and, while you were inwardly more than happy to comply, you didn’t want him to think he had you quite that easy.

You rolled your eyes as you did, an sinful smirk playing on your lips, “Yes, sir.” You chimed sarcastically.

Before you knew it, you were bent over at the waist, face and chest pressed into the mattress by Sam’s nearly crushing body. His hand snaked around your front, picking up some of your slickness on his fingers before circling your clit while he growled in your ear, “Don’t know what the attitude’s about. You’re the one who asked to get fucked.”

Your knees quivered at his filthy words while his fingers worked your clit slowly and painfully. His rock hard erection rubbed along your ass, teasing your entrance every now and again as he rocked his hips against your body. He stood up and removed his hand from your clit. Your hips moved back, trying desperately to chase his fleeting touch. Sam groaned when your body slid over his cock, skin burning against his own. After a few experimental tugs at his own member, he positioned himself at your entrance, giving you a few moments to back out if that was what you’d wanted. Backing out was so far from what you wanted though. You wanted - nay, needed - him inside of you and you needed him now. You were convinced you’d combust if he made you wait any longer.

His hands landed on your hips to help guide a slow thrust forward. His length gradually entered you, the searing stretch to accommodate him making your muscles contract around him. Sam hisses out a sound of pleasure, “You’re so tight.”

His first few thrusts were slow, each time managing to grind impossibly deeper into you. “Fuck, Sam.” Your fingers wound tightly in the sheets with each thrust of his hips and your eyes screwed shut as your breaths came out almost as hisses through grit teeth.

Sam used his leverage on your hips to move your body in time with his thrusts. Each motion sent your body into the mattress, the bed shaking as he pounded into you. You let out little squeaks of pleasure every now and again but Sam wanted to hear more out of the girl who’d had nothing to say to him but spiteful things for so long.

A large hand came to clasp around your throat, not tight enough to choke you but enough to guide you up. You pressed your body up to your feet sloppily on your hands but standing proved to be a difficult task with Sam still moving relentlessly into you. Your thighs were shaking, barely able to support your weight, as this new angle allowed for Sam to hit that spot inside you that made your toes curl. His hand stayed around your throat, tightening along the sides of your neck when he lost himself in the way you felt around him- warm and soft. You were grateful that he was letting your head lull back against his shoulder otherwise you weren’t sure if you’d be able to stay upright.

Sam’s free hand first sloppily groped around the front of your chest until it found one of your breasts, kneading it roughly. The rough skin of his fingers grazed your nipples yet again, only adding to the pleasure you felt below. The knot was tightening and it was tightening fast.

“Please-” You managed to gasp out, not because of the choking (his grip wasn’t that tight) but because the electricity in the room seemed to have stolen your voice. Sam’s hand moved from your nipples down to your clit where he rubbed fast tight circles. “Oh my gosh, yes!” You whined, reaching up overhead to tangle your fingers in his hair. You forced his mouth down to meet yours and the pressure in your core snapped. Your moans and cries of pleasure were swallowed by Sam’s lips and he could have swallowed a thousand more.

He worked you through your orgasm until your body went limp in his arms. Slowly, he came to a stop before pulling out and quickly working himself in his hands. After catching your breath though, you turned back to Sam, placed your hands on his shoulders, and used them to spin the two of you around and push him back onto the bed. His long legs hung over the edge and you settled yourself between his knees, gently grasping his member, still slick with your wetness, and worked him with your hand.

Sam lied back on the white duvet, head thrown back in bliss at your touch. Your hand felt so much better than his own as it worked up and down his shaft before coming up to circle around the tip. He was rock hard and ready to burst at any given moment. When you leaned forward to like a long stripe along the underside of his cock, he was done for. A few more pumps and Sam fell apart in your hand, painting your hand and his stomach with his seed. “Shit!” The muscles of his abs contracted mesmerizingly as the waves of his high rolled over him.

Your hand slowed as his climax came to an end, his member softening in your hand. You wiped the mess he’d made on your hand on your breasts and stomach, knowing it would be easier to keep those parts of you off the covers than your hand. With a heavy sigh of crashing relief, your body fell onto the mattress beside Sam and you both stared at the ceiling in a fucked out post-coital haze.

“So, does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?” Sam asked after a few moments, surprising you with the genuine tone behind the semi-joking question.

You stared up at the chipping popcorn ceiling, “I didn’t for like two seconds but now I do again just because those were the first words out of your mouth.” Your voice was steady, unwavering, and Sam cringed inwardly, avoiding eye contact entirely. That is, until you sighed and continued, “But, I guess, if you wanted to take me out for a drink sometime there’s a slim chance I wouldn’t object.” This time, there was a teasing smile on your face when you turned your head to look at Sam.

[riversofmars]

Thank you so much for your lovely comments and encouragement. I honestly didn't expect such a huge response to an opening chapter so I'm absolutely thrilled to have you all along for the ride <3

Chapter 2: The World’s Turned Upside Down

The Library, 52nd Century

River closed the door to the kids bedroom - alone for the first time since the Doctor had saved her to the Library core - and she finally allowed her composure to slip. She pressed her hand to her mouth and swallowed a sob, afraid the kids might hear. She had been proud of herself for staying strong all the way through her final adventure. The moment the young Doctor had turned up  instead of the one her message had been meant to reach, she had realised things would not go according to plan. For the Doctor, it had been the first time they had met. He hadn’t known her yet so she couldn’t tell him why she was really at the Library as she had intended. She also hadn’t been able to take comfort in seeing him though she had so badly needed to. Looking at the Doctor and having him not recognise her was a most cruel trick of fate after everything she’d been through.

At the time, threatened by the deadly shadows of the Vashta Nerada, she had kept her focus on the task at hand: carry out the mission, get access to the Library, get her answers once everything was wrapped up. She had decided she could always fill her Doctor in later; but she hadn’t anticipated this might be a one way trip. When it got to it, when things had fallen into place and she had finally understood how her life had always lead up to this, it had been far too late. Things had been beyond her control. She had to sacrifice her future to ensure her past. The truth of it was only sinking in now that she had space and time to think about it.

River cradled her diary to her chest as she made her way down the corridor to the living room. She dropped onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands as she started to cry; for herself, for her future, for her family. Suddenly, the Doctor’s sorrow at her leaving Darillium made so much more sense. He had known that she wouldn’t return but he hadn’t been able to tell her. Rationally, she knew he couldn’t have told her about her fate, but her sadness gave way to anger regardless. If she had known, she would have made different choices. It wasn’t her own fate she was angry about. As for as dying went, this wasn’t so bad: she was safe, immortal even. Though she was trapped, it beat dying properly. Had she known what was to come, she would not have kept secrets from her husband the way she had.

River trusted Vastra, Jenny and Strax to keep her son safe, and eventually, surely, they would contact the Doctor when they realised she wouldn’t return. He would be angry with her for keeping her secret and rightfully so. But eventually, hopefully, he would forgive her and raise their son. They would be together: Her family. River, however, would never be able to hold her child again. The realisation overwhelmed her and she struggled to breath, her sobs catching in her throat.

Alone with her own thoughts, River allowed herself a moment of weakness; she was dead after all. She could rest from being the strong, self-assured woman she had had to be all her life.

River couldn’t be sure how long it had been when she ran out of tears to cry. She just sat for a while, staring into space that she knew was nothing but strings of numbers. She had been saved to the greatest hard drive in history, everything around her was pure data and so was she.

A realisation came to her like a flash of lightning and she jumped to her feet: She was where she had meant to end up. Quickly, River made her way to the bookshelf on the other side of the room. She was in the biggest Library in the universe with all its knowledge at her disposal. Just because she was dead didn’t mean the forces threatening her husband and child had disappeared.

A new kind of determination gripped her and she pulled book after book from a shelf, that responded to her thoughts of what she was looking for. This was just another stop. Her Doctor was out there still and sooner or later, he would need her help and come looking for her. She wasn’t going to be empty handed when he arrived.

——

London, Late 19th Century

“Jenny!“ Vastra rushed to her wife’s side while the Doctor remained rooted to the spot, trying to work out what was going on.

“Doctor?“ Yaz asked, awaiting some sort of instruction or at least a reaction from her but she didn’t get one. So she hurried to the other unconscious figure. She didn’t recognise what species he was but he seemed to be breathing. They had probably been stunned, Yaz concluded, as there was no blood or other marks of force on their bodies. She took pride in her constantly improving observational skills. This was far better police training than her probationary work ever had been. She looked up to the Doctor who was still staring at the cot, holding on to a stitched piece of cloth. “Are you okay?“ Yaz asked, unsettled by the distinct lack of reaction on her friend’s part.

“Vastra, what is going on here?“ The Doctor’s voice was hollow when she finally spoke. All manner of thoughts were running through her mind but the most obvious explanation couldn’t possibly be true. She tightened her grip around the prayer leaf.

“Doctor, I will explain but first…“ Vastra had pulled Jenny up against herself and pressed a kiss to her forehead, as she tried to gently shake her awake.

“No, explain NOW!“ The Doctor yelled, losing her temper for one terrifying moment that made Vastra and Yaz jump.

“Doctor, let’s look after these people first.“ Yaz stood quickly and placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder, bewildered at the uncharacteristic outburst. The flash of fear across the lizard woman’s face shook her. It was an unwelcome reminder that the Doctor had changed in the nineteen years of prison. Something was weighing her down. They had seen flashes of it in their fight against the Daleks but there had been no opportunity to address it at the time. Now, it became painfully obvious that something was wrong with her. A deep anger had taken root and was bubbling to the surface.

“This doesn’t concern you, Yaz.“ The Doctor bit back and shrugged her hand away. She used her sonic to scan the cot for clues before turning back to Vastra. “Who’s baby was sleeping in that cot?“ She pressed through gritted teeth and Vastra couldn’t bring herself to speak, her throat closing up with sorrow. They had failed the Doctor and River.

“Vastra…“ Jenny mumbled, drawing her attention as she came round slowly. “Someone came… the baby, is the baby okay?“ She asked, her voice weak. Vastra couldn’t answer her wife, she just looked up to the Doctor.

“Doctor, we are so sorry…“ She croaked, her voice full of guilt.

“Doctor?“ Yaz watched and wasn’t following.

“So it worked, the emergency beacon…“ Jenny mumbled, still in a haze. She looked to the Doctor and recognised them from the age of her eyes and the sorrow she found there. A new face was of no consequence.

“You triggered it?“ The Doctor asked.

“Professor Song left it… But we expected you to be…“ Vastra tried to explain that she wasn’t the Doctor they had expected. She was so much older and it only made it harder. She couldn’t bare to think just how long ago Darillium was for the Doctor at this point.

“Where is she? Where is River? Who’s baby is it?“ The Doctor tried her best to keep her voice steady. She needed confirmation. It was so glaringly obvious but also too impossible to believe. How could River have kept this from her?

“Does it really need saying?“ Vastra voice broke and the so did the Doctor’s hearts.

The Doctor hurried down the stairs, she needed space. She couldn’t face the others and she couldn’t keep looking at the empty cot. She tightened her grip around the prayer leaf, her knuckles turning white. She took two steps at a time, running like the devil was on her heels. This was too big, too painful to face and so she ran - until the brittle stairs gave way under her heavy steps and she put her foot through them, crashing through the bottom half of the staircase.

“Oh my God, Doctor!“ Yaz hurried after her, careful not to cause any more damage. She reached under her arms and pulled her up. “Doctor, what’s going on?“ Yaz was at a complete loss, she had never seen the Doctor react like this, not even when they were dealing with the Master. There was genuinely panic and fear in her eyes. The Doctor pulled away from Yaz without a word.

“Doctor.“ Vastra appeared on the landing above and the Doctor’s eyes snapped up to her. “Please don’t run away from this.“ The detective pleaded.

“Don’t talk to me right now!“ The Doctor yelled with anger the likes of which Yaz had never seen. “You don’t get to talk to me right now!“ She struggled down the rest of the stairs without looking back.

“Doctor!“ Yaz called after her as she just carried on, darting to the front door.

“Give her a moment…“ Vastra realised there was no point in trying to stop her, she needed a moment to herself and that was the least they could give her. “In the meantime, would you mind helping me with the others?“

The Doctor slammed the doors of the TARDIS and received a scolding hum for her actions. She ignored it and dropped onto on of the steps in the console room. There she unfolded the prayer leaf again, holding it close as her vision blurred with tears. The TARDIS gave a concerned hum but the Doctor couldn’t speak to answer. She knew the TARDIS understood, their psychic link was stronger than words and the Doctor couldn’t bring herself to phrase everything she was feeling.

She thought back to the last time she had seen River. They had watched the sunrise on Darillium after twenty-four wonderful years there, and then, she had left. River hadn’t been able to keep her promise of return as the Doctor had already known at the time. The Doctor had waited regardless and had set the table for breakfast on the balcony on the off-chance River had managed to trick fate. It had been a long, lonely wait. Eventually the Doctor had busied themselves by fixing up a new body for Nardole when the loneliness was getting too much. For many sleep cycles they’d brought breakfast back to an empty room, setting it on the balcony again and again. The Doctor even did on the day they left Darillium for good and headed to New York to try and clear up the time distortions. It would have been a first step to visiting the Ponds for some comfort after losing their daughter for good, but it had never played out like that.

The Doctor took a deep breath as she considered what River had done after Darillium and before going to the Library. Was this it? Or where they in fact even earlier in her timeline and River had just never told her that the had had a child? Both options were far too painful to contemplate. She was already reeling from imprisonment, the destruction of Gallifrey and learning about the gaps in her past. How was she to cope with this? Her world had turned upside down, inside out, more time than she could count but this was different. How was she to do this without River to rely upon.

“Here we go.“ Yaz helped Strax sit up on a chair in the mostly untouched drawing room.

“I don’t require human assistance.“ The Sonatan protested but Vastra shushed him as she helped Jenny to the sofa.

“That’s quite enough of that Strax, we need to make sure you’re both uninjured.“ The lady of the house stated firmly. Jenny, however, was more concerned with her wife’s wellbeing.

“We’re fine. They only stunned us, but what about you?“ She asked as she reached out and touched her fingertips to Vastra’s cheek brushing off dried scales. Yaz watched the tender gestured as she learned more about the Doctor’s friends. “Your skin appears to be…“

Vastra straightened herself up and rubbed her face to find herself shedding more scales.

“It appears the blast of whatever that bomb was aged me…“ She observed, witnessing the sped up effects of her amphibian skin renewing itself. “Not to worry, dear, I still have a lot of life left in me, perhaps our life spans are more aligned now.“ She gave her a soft smile and her hand a squeeze.

“So you are the Doctor’s friends?“ Yaz spoke up at last as it seemed they had all recovered from the attack they had been subjected to.

“Old friends, yes. By the look of them, it has been a long time indeed…“ Vastra commented with an apologetic smile. They didn’t mean to keep the Doctor’s young friend in the dark but she had to see to Jenny and Strax first.

“So you knew her before she changed?“ Yaz concluded. She had met a few people from the Doctor’s past now, Jack, the Master… she was eager to learn how these three fit in.

“First a young man with floppy hair, then the old Scot…“ Jenny recalled and Vastra finished the sentence for her:

“Now a pretty blonde.“

“Oi!“ Jenny gave her wife’s arm a slap, feeling a lot more like herself now. The after-effects from the stun blast were wearing off.

“Pretty?“ Strax interjected confused. “He looks the same as ever.“ The three women paid no heed to him.

“So when you called for her, you expected her to be a younger self?“ Yaz concluded. Time travel was confusing but she was getting the hang of it.

“Indeed.“ Vastra nodded.

“So what happened here? Who attacked you?“ Yaz pressed on. A child had been abducted so surely, time was of the essence. “And what about the baby?“ She carried on as she looked into deeply unsettled faces. “Who’s is it?“  

“It’s mine.“ The Doctor’s voice made them all jump.

“Doctor, we’re so…“ Jenny attempted to get to her feet. She wanted to apologise, plead for forgiveness as they had failed her, but Vastra gently pushed her back to sit down.

“What?“ Yaz frowned, confused as she watched her friend walk into her room. She looked a lot calmer than she had when she had stormed out of the house but her was expression remained grim. Yaz noticed she was still carrying the green cloth. Judging by the way she ran her fingers along the stitching, it had to bear some meaning to her.

“That’s right, isn’t it, Madame Vastra. River entrusted our child to you.“ The Doctor concluded looking to Vastra accusingly.

“You have a child?“ Yaz was stunned. She looked around the room, into grim but knowing faces, and found that she was the odd one out.  

“I didn’t know, my wife never told me.“ The Doctor answered without looking to her young friend, she kept her focus on the Silurian, excepting an explanation. Yaz was only getting more confused. This was the first time she had heard the Doctor mention a wife. She had so many question but she realised now was not the right time to ask.

“She was pregnant when she left Darillium. She couldn’t return and had to have the child by herself. Then she entrusted him to us before going to the Library.“ Vastra kept her voice calms as she explained, keeping her answer brief.

“Why would she do that?“ The Doctor snapped. Just because she had already assumed as much didn’t mean she understood it.

“She was trying to keep you safe, keep all of you safe.“ Vastra carried on. She couldn’t presume to know the Professor’s mind but she knew what she had told her and what she had read in the notes she had left behind.

“It’s not really worked out that way, has it.“ The Doctor shot back, upset.

“Strax, how about some tea?“ Jenny looked to Strax, hoping to calm the situation before it could escalate again.

“I was quite enjoying being in the line of fire once again.“ The Sontaran retorted but Jenny’s expression left no room for discussion.

The interruption as they left for the kitchen was enough to calm the Doctor for the time being. She kept her eyes on Vastra, her expression making quite clear how disappointed she was in them for having gone along with this.

“Who was it?“ The Doctor said at last. “Who took my child?“ The words echoed through the silent room, their meaning so poignant it made all their hearts ache. So soon after finding out, the Doctor had already accepted that this was her child, her family, they were talking about. And in the same sentence, she had already lost them. It was too painful to contemplate.

“I honestly don’t know.“ Vastra broke the silence at last. “It all happened very quickly. I was going to answer a knock on the door as Jenny and Strax were upstairs looking after the little one. An explosion happened and then you woke me up. I’m afraid that’s all I remember.“ She explain sorrowfully, begging forgiveness in every syllable.

“A chronon mine… that’s Time Lord technology.“ The Doctor said after briefly considering her words.

“I thought you said all the Time Lords are dead?“ Yaz asked, remembering the Doctor’s account of what happened on Gallifrey after they had left.

“They are. The Master killed them all.“ The Doctor nodded in agreement.

“Perhaps not all of them… at least that was your wife’s theory.“ Vastra said slowly and went to the bureau in the corner to retrieve the file River had left. “She left us with this, accounts of what she did since leaving Darillium.“

——

Sheffield, early 21st Century

“Feels weird, doesn’t it.“ Ryan Sinclair observed walking past by the apartment block Yaz’s family lived in. The spot where the TARDIS had been a welcome sight stood empty. The Doctor and Yaz had left a few days ago and the reality of them being out on adventure by themselves had yet to fully sink in.  

“Feels right though.“ Graham O’Brien placed his hand on his grandson’s shoulder as they turned and continued down the street. They had had wonderful adventures but it was time for both of them to carry on with their lives. There were things at home that needed fixing too, not just out in the universe. The most recent misadventure with the Daleks had proven as much.

“Shall we just nip round to the Chippy for tea?“ Ryan suggest when they reached home and he pushed his bike into the garage. The time up in the mountains practicing was starting to pay off. He knew his nan would be proud of his progress and the pride he saw reflected in Graham’s eyes was confirmation of that.

“Sounds good, just let me grab some cash.“ Graham grinned unlocking the front door. “I think I have a twenty in my other jacket…“ He turned into the lounge and jumped with a very undignified yelp. A woman was sitting on his sofa and greeted him with a smile. “Ryan?!“ He called out and his grandson joined him quickly.

“What the…!“ Ryan stared at the woman in shock. She was tall, blonde and altogether far too relaxed for sitting in someone else’s lounge as they returned. “How’d you get in here?“

“Apologies for startling you, Mr. O’Brien, Mr. Sinclair… I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.“ The woman got to her feet. A empty cup in front of her indicated that she had been waiting a while and hadn’t been shy about helping herself to refreshments.

“We do mind, actually! Who are you?“ Graham tried his best to sound authoritative. Talking a good talk was half the battle, or so they had gathered from how the Doctor approached trouble.

“Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, Chief Scientific Officer at UNIT.“ She extended her hand that neither of them took.

“UNIT?“ Ryan echoed with a frown.

“Rings a bell, doesn’t it.“ Graham sensed that they were both thinking the same thing.

“The Doctor might have mentioned us.“ Kate smiled and sat back down, gesturing for them to do the same. Graham and Ryan exchanged confused looks, not used to being told what to do in their own home. They were, however, relieved that the stranger didn’t seem to be here to kill them.

“You know the Doctor then?“ Graham’s relaxed a little as he sat in an armchair across from her.

“Yes that’s right, didn’t the Doctor try and contact you when we found that Dalek the first time round and you didn’t exist anymore, or something?“ The penny dropped for Ryan as well as he perched on the end of the sofa. He couldn’t quite keep the accusatory undertones out of his voice that he felt were justified. Only the UK would dismantle a useful agency in order to cut public spending. If the Kasavan hadn’t taught them a lesson, surely the Daleks would have now.  

“Yes. I’m afraid at the time, UNIT was not operational…“ Kate retorted pressing her lips to a thin line. Clearly the budget cuts were a sore subject for her as well.

“And where were you this time around, eh? Daleks all over the place, straight from the government, all them politicians involved in it, surely that’s the sort of thing you should have intervened in.“ Graham crossed his arms in front of his chest. They had done their very best researching the Daleks in the Doctor’s absence. If UNIT had been about, things surely would never have gotten as far as they did.

“I’m afraid we have had greater concerns to deal with.“ Kate revealed sounding regretful, yet matter-of-factly.

“Greater than an army of Daleks trying to conquer Earth?“ Ryan retorted with a huff and a laugh. He found that very hard to believe.

“With UNIT officially ceasing to exist, it has given us the opportunity to retreat into the shadows and work undetected. We couldn't risk revealing ourselves.“ She gave an apologetic smile. “You might not be aware of it yet but there are far greater forces at work on Earth right now than a rouge strain of Daleks.“

“Don’t like the sound of that…“ Ryan mumbled and Graham leaned forward in his chair:

“Have you spoken to the Doctor about this?“

“Not yet.“ Kate admitted. “Not until we know more. We can’t always rely on the Doctor, they have other things to concern themselves with. Rest assured we will reach out when the time is right. Until then… we are recruiting and Captain Harkness was kind enough to provide your address. Hence the house call.“

“Of course he did…“ Graham shook his head to himself at the mention of Jack Harkness.

“Recruiting for what?“ Ryan asked.

“Humanity’s last stand, should it come to it.“

[janesramblings]

Could you do a one shot based on @aceandnancy 's drabble prompt where their daughter asks when they fell in love with each other and it's the same moment?

oooo i love this!! I saw that prompt and i think jane was going to write something so if i stole her thunder,,, oh well too slow I guess. 

“Mom how do you know when you’re in love?” Kate asks her mother over dinner. Nancy sighs. Her twin daughters (Lucy and Kate, named after Nancy’s mothers) were suddenly both very invested in love and romance. 

“You feel like you’re hit by a truck,” Nancy says dryly as she spears a potato with her fork. Lucy and Ace are out of town at Lucy’s swim meet, so it’s just the two of them. 

“Mom I’m being serious!” Kate objects. 

“As am I,” Nancy says, pushing the plate of asparagus towards her daughter. Kate huffs. Unlike Lucy, Kate is very vegetable adverse. 

“Okay, so if it feels like being hit by a truck, why do people always want to be in love?”

Nancy considers this for a moment. “Well, maybe not like being hit a truck,” she admits. “It’s more like a really surprising realization, and then you carry on from there.”

“You’re not being helpful here Mom,” Kate says. She got her attitude from her mother. 

“I’m taking a leaf out of Grandpa Ryan’s book,” Nancy responds, unaffected. 

Kate rolls her sharp blue eyes. She tugs on her coppery red hair, a few shades lighter than Nancy’s. “Okay, well, when was the moment you fell in love with Dad?”

Nancy pauses. Of course she knows the moment she fell in love with Ace, but she’s not sure how to explain why the circumstance came around. Kate and Lucy know their parents are detectives at the Horseshoe Bay Police Department, but they don’t know that Ace and Nancy’s specialized department focuses on the supernatural, a department that came about after Ace and Nancy’s dabblings with ghosts in their teenage years. 

“Mom?” Kate prompts.

“Oh right, well, when I was taking my gap year after Grandma Kate died,” (The girls knew about Nancy’s adoption, and they seemed to take it in stride. Their only complaint is that the have three living grandfathers but only one living grandmother), “my friends and I got into a sticky situation.”

“What kind of sticky situation?”

“Well, we angered someone from Aunt Bess’s family, and we were trying to make it right. And your father got mad at me for angering the person in the first place.”

“So you fell in love with him?” Kate wrinkles her pointed nose the way her father does when he’s confused. 

Nancy smiles, feeling a rush of affection towards her daughter and the antics she got from her father. “No honey, I realized that I was very unhappy when I didn’t have your father to talk to. Which then made me realize that he was practically the only person I wanted to talk to when I had a problem. Or when I was happy. Or, whenever anything happened really.”

Kate stares at her for a moment. “Okay. That’s cool.” She nods her head once. “May I be excused?”

“Sure, come back if you want to talk or have ice cream with me.”

“Okay,” Kate says, sliding out of her chair. Nancy shakes her head at her daughter as she goes.

Kate runs up the stairs, sliding down the hall until she barges into her room and grabs her phone from her bed. Just asked, she types, it was a rly weird answer, u ask now. She sends the text, drops her phone back onto her bed, and heads back downstairs. Ice cream really didn’t sound that bad now that her mother mentioned it.

The text Kate sent is received by Lucy a few moments later. She looks down at her phone from the front seat of her father’s car. He keeps glancing at her every few moments to make sure that her soaked blonde head doesn’t soil the upholstery of his vintage car. Lucy reads the text, smiles a little, and shifts in her seat to turn to her dad. “Dad?”

“Yeah?” Ace glances over at her to make sure her head is off the headrest.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course. But if you’re asking about your meet again, you did an amazing job, you don’t have to beat your PR every time.” Nancy’s competitive nature is frustrating enough in Nancy, but when it comes to his daughters, Ace feels completely out of his depth. He often laments to Nick that his daughters ended up being mini-Nancys, something that did not vibe with his pacifist nature.

“Oh, well, it’s not about that,” Lucy pauses. “Even though you’re wrong and I failed spectacularly.”

Ace rolls his eyes as he changes lanes. He grips the steering wheel tighter in anticipation for whatever was about to come out of Lucy’s mouth.  “When did you know you were in love with Mom?”

Oh. That’s a pretty reasonable question, especially from Lucy, who at one point was determined to to put mayonnaise on the floor of her room so she could slide around like she once saw in a cartoon. “That’s a good question Luce,” Ace says, tapping his fingers on the wheel as he thinks. 

“I know,” Lucy says.

He doesn’t answer until he takes the exit off the highway for Horseshoe Bay. “I think it was when your mom took her gap year after her mother died.”

“Adopted mom right? The one Kate’s named after?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Well, your mom angered some person in Aunt Bess’s family-”

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Why?”

“Because they forgave us, so.”

“How’d they forgive you?”

“Lucy do you want the answer?”

“Right. Sorry. Carry on.”

“Thank you.” Ace smiles a little as he drives past The Claw. “It was actually in The Claw when I realized. Your mom had gotten us into a pretty bad situation, and I was angry at her.”

“Really? You’re never mad!”

“Exactly. So your mom pointed it, and I told her I was really just scared. It took me a little while to forgive her. And in my anger, I thought about why I was mad in the first place.”

“Wow, I would never think when I’m mad.”

“I know,” Lucy really was just like Nancy. “Well, I was sitting after work and Aunt George came over to ask my why I was sitting like a useless rock.” Lucy giggled. Aunt George’s sharp tongue never dulled, but Lucy and Kate, along with the Nickerson - Fan kids, are never really affected. The same can’t be said for Bess and Lisbeth’s adopted daughter, however. “And I told her I was mad at Nancy and it was killing me. Do you know what she told me?”

“What?”

“That I was scared for her because I cared about her. Well, actually, because I loved her. So yeah,” Ace pulls his car into the driveway behind Nancy’s car. “That was the moment I realized I was in love with your mom.”

“That’s cool,” Lucy says as she jumps out of the car. “I’m gonna shower!” 

Ace shakes his head at his daughter as he follows her into the house, pausing on his way to the living room to hang up Lucy’s discarded coat and put her gym bag in the laundry room. He finds Nancy curled up on the couch with a tub of ice cream when he enters the living room. She silently hands him a spoon and the tub. Ace sits, leans over to kiss her, and takes the dessert. “You know Nance, Lucy asked me a really weird question today.”

“No weirder than Katie’s I hope.”

“Well, I’m not sure about Kate, but Lucy wanted to know when I fell in love with you.”

“Really? Kate asked the same thing.” Nancy takes the tub from him, scoops out a heaping spoonful, and hands it back. 

“What did you say?”

“What did you say?” Nancy counters.

“I asked first,” Ace points out.

“True. It was when you were mad at me for dragging everyone into the aglaeca stuff.” Ace smiles at his wife. “What?” she asks.

“I said the same thing. I realized that I was scared to lose you because I love you.”

It was Nancy’s turn for a goofy grin to overtake her face. She pulled the ice cream out of Ace’s hands and snuggled up next to him. Ace wrapped his arms around her and kissed her nose, smiling when she wrinkles it. “I realized that I can’t spend a day without you,” she admits. Ace’s smile grows. He knows that saying this out loud is taking a lot of effort for Nancy, so he doesn’t respond. He just pulls her tighter against him and rests his head on hers.

“I love you Nancy Drew.”

“And I love you Ace.”

[berkmansimagines]

Taken (Part 3/7)

A/N: Thanks for reading everybody! Getting closer to figuring out an end game. Let’s see where it goes! I think I’ll get Part 4 out some time next week.

Summary: Fuches kidnaps Barry’s daughter.

← Part 2  | Part 4 →

Barry wakes up in the passenger’s seat of a moving car. His head is throbbing. The last thing he remembers is finding you handcuffed to some bed in a motel room. It went dark after that. 

He reflexively tries lifting his hands so he can rub his eyes open, but he’s unable to. Then he realizes that his hands are bound in front of him, zip-tied to the metal bar underneath his seat. 

“You were out a while…”

Barry turns his head and sees Fuches behind the wheel. Barry’s eyes narrow in on him. He hasn’t seen his former handler in months. If Barry had it his way he’d never speak to Fuches again. The only reason he’s here now is because Fuches forced his hand.

Your father instinctively checks the rearview mirror. No one is in the backseat. 

“Where is she, Fuches?” Barry asks.

“She’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” Fuches nonchalantly replies.

“Where is she, Fuches?” Barry aggressively repeats the question.

“I said don’t worry about it,” Fuches reiterates.

“Where is she?” Barry asks again with even more hostility.

“Relax will you? Can’t we just-” Fuches begins before getting interrupted. 

“FUCHES!” Barry screams.

Fuches raises his eyebrows, a little taken aback by Barry’s outburst. He stays quiet waiting for Barry to speak up again.

“Where’s my kid?” Barry asks in a low, cold voice.

“She’s in the trunk,” Fuches finally answers.

Barry’s jaw clenches. He angrily shakes his head.

“Take her out of there,” Barry demands.

“Not yet,” Fuches counters, “It’s time for the adults to talk.”

Barry shrugs in defeat. He knows he doesn’t have any choice in the matter. Before seeing you he’ll have to talk to Fuches.

“What do you want, Fuches? Why are we going to Cleveland?”  Barry cuts to the chase. 

“We’ve got a problem back home that you need to take care of,” Fuches tells him.

Barry’s face drops.

“What? Are you serious, man? You did all of this so I’d do a job for you?” Barry groans.

Fuches shuffles uncomfortably in his seat. There was much more to it than that, but Barry would find out in due time. He had to take care of this problem first.

“It’s not just for me,” Fuches tries to explain, “There’s a hit you did a few years back. You offed some dude’s former accountant. You remember that?”

“Not really,” Barry grumbles.

“Well the police closed it because the crime scene was clean, but now some cop re-opened the case. He’s been trying to reach out to the guy who hired us, which means he’s getting close. We need to stop him from solving the case. You need to take them both out.”

“Fuches, I can’t kill a cop,” Barry shakes his head.

“Why not? You’ve done it before,” Fuches fires back.

Barry gives him a cold look.

“You couldn’t have just called me about this? You didn’t need to go after my kid.”

“And you would’ve answered my call?” Fuches challenges, “I figured you were still sour after what happened with your little acting teacher-”

Barry impulsively tries to jump out of his seat, but he’s held back by the binds. Fuches had no right to bring up Mr. Cousineau. Barry will never forgive Fuches for what he did.

“Guess I was right,” Fuches snickers.

“Don’t talk about Mr. Cousineau,” Barry warns.

“Sore subject, got it,” Fuches replies.

Barry looks down at his lap, trying to stop letting Fuches get under his skin.

“You kidnapped my… She’s my girl. That’s a new low. Even for you, Fuches. You crossed a line,” your father says coolly, “Why’d you do it?”

“Because you’d do anything to keep her safe and I didn’t think you’d go back to Cleveland unless I had some sort of leverage,” Fuches answers.

“She’s not leverage. She’s a kid!” Barry snaps. 

“She’s your weakness, Barry. Your enemies know it too,” Fuches sighs. 

Barry stays quiet. He doesn’t need Fuches to tell him that. He’s well aware that the Chechens and Bolivians all knew about you. They could use you to get to Barry at any time. The thought of those types of people going after you scared the shit out of your father. It’s what keeps him up at night.

The car is silent for a few seconds. And then-

“I need to see her. Can you let her out now?” Barry tries once again.

“The girl’s staying back there until you agree to do the hits,” Fuches insists.

Barry squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. He hates Fuches. The last thing Barry wants to do is start killing for him in Cleveland again. But he has to. Fuches was right, Barry would do anything to keep you safe.

“Fine. Yeah I’ll kill them both,” Barry concedes, “Just take her out of the trunk, man.”

Fuches nods and pulls over the side of the desolate highway. It’s very early in the morning and no one else on the road. He steps out of the car and goes around to the trunk. He unlocks the lid and opens it. 

Fuches looks down at you. Your hands and feet are bound, your mouth is gagged with tape and you’re hooded with a pillow case. Exactly how he left you.

You’re shaking like a leaf. You can’t see who opened the trunk but assume it’s Fuches. In a meager attempt to protect yourself, you try curling up in a little ball.

“You ready to see your dad, brat?”

Fuches’ rough hands pull you out of the trunk and he drags you a couple of feet. You hear a car door open. Suddenly the pillowcase is pulled off your head. The first thing you see is Barry’s reflection in the rearview mirror. He has a pained expression on his face. You’re panicking and try calling out to him, but it's all muffled by the duct tape.

“Look! She’s fine.”

“Take the gag off her, Fuches,” Barry says tensely.

Fuches shrugs and roughly pulls the duct tape off your mouth. 

“Ahhh!” you wince in pain.

“There. Happy?” Fuches rolls his eyes at Barry.

He shoves you into the back seat and slams the door shut. When Fuches starts going around the car, Barry uses this brief private moment to check in with you. He turns his head to look you in the eye. You’re lying across the backseat in the fetal position.

“Hey, kid. I’m so sorry this happened. Are you alright?” 

“I...I don’t know,” you weakly reply, “Dad, I’m really scared.”

Barry’s heart is breaking. His kid is literally trembling and he can’t do anything. He wishes he could hug you right now to help you calm down. It would calm himself down too.

“It’s going to be okay,” he tries to reassure you, “I promise I won’t let him hurt you. I’m gonna get you out of this. Do you trust me?”

Before you can answer, the door to the driver’s side opens. Fuches gets back into the car. Your stomach growls loudly. It’s been almost 24 hours since you last ate. 

“Have you eaten anything?” Barry asks with concern.

You shake your head. 

“What the fuck Fuches?” Barry glares at his former handler.

Fuches defensively puts his hands up, “I got her food. It’s not my fault she didn’t eat it.”

“Is that true?” Barry turns back to you. He doesn’t trust Fuches.

“Don’t lie you brat,” Fuches says harshly.

He raises his hand violently in the air, as if he’s about to strike you. You gasp and fearfully flinch. Barry’s eyes widen in anger as he watches this interaction unfold.

“He’s right! I didn’t eat. Please… please don’t...” you cry.

Fuches nods and lowers his arm. Then he gives Barry a smug look, “Told ya.”

Barry is so mad, he’s vibrating. Nobody raises a hand against his child and gets away with it. If Barry wasn’t bound Fuches would be a dead man. 

Your father sees you in the rearview mirror. You’re still shaking. Barry takes a deep breath. He knows he can’t make a move against Fuches yet, but he can at least try to take care of you now.

“She’s terrified right now, man. Let me sit back there with her,” Barry requests.

Fuches grunts in response. He then starts the car and continues the long drive to Cleveland.

--

Taken series taglist: @midnightseance​

[giorno-plays-piano]

Sinking under Part 2

Pairing: detective!Steve x Reader Warnings: yandere, stalking, death of minor character, allusion to non-con, swearing, brief mention of suicidal thoughts. Words: 1931. Summary: You are suspected of a murder you did not commit. Steve Rogers, a detective employed by the mother of a victim, makes your life even more pitiful than it already is. Part 1 P.S. A big shout-out to awesome @tansypoisoning​ who helped me a lot with this part! If not her, I think I’d never write this :D Sending you lots of love! _____________________________________  You were shaking like a leaf, your hands trembling so badly you couldn’t hold your phone, and Steve quickly put it in the pocket of his formal black pants. He was hugging you close, your head on his chest again like when you had encountered him in a supermarket half a year ago. You were leaving the courtroom. You were not the defendant. You were asked to participate in the trial as a witness.

“You’re a fucking slut!” A woman’s high-pitched voice almost made you deaf. “I KNOW IT WAS YOU! IT WAS YOU! YOU! I’LL SUE YOU, YOU LITTLE BITCH!”

Steve fastened his pace, and the two of you were pretty much running away to the exit, rushing before the crowd would come out of the room. The murderer had been found, and they proved he was guilty for your neighbor’s death, not you. It took them long six months before the judge stated that the best friend of the victim was found guilty as there was more than enough evidence to support his charge. 

Six months. Six months of constant fear for your own life, barely moving outside of your house, being scared to touch your phone to see hate messages from the family of that dead bastard, taking more pills than you had your entire life. Six months of being continuously bullied and followed around. You could hardly count how many times you wanted to jump off the bridge or take too many pills at once.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, darling.” Steve easily pushed through the line of reporters with their microphones, recorders, and cameras. “We’re close, hold on to me.”

All other voices blended into incomprehensible noise: people asking you thousands of questions, someone still yelling from the back, and policemen demanding everyone to keep out the way. You saw nothing, moving fast with Steve to his car. He was your shield; the one who kept protecting you at all costs.

When he found out about hate mails, he simply took your SIM card and gave you a new one with just his name in the list of contacts. When he saw his own employer coming over to your house to harass you with her accusations, he found a cheap apartment in the outskirts of the town and helped you to relocate fast. Steve had been helping with the investigation, tracking every other suspect down and telling you every significant detail he wanted you to know. He followed you too, of course, to pretend he was doing his job and avoid any suspicion. No one needed to know the nature of your relationship.

What was it, anyway? First couple of months it was hard to tell. You felt like he was simply using you to satisfy his own needs, though Steve was a considerate lover to an extent. He could fuck you literally anywhere, including the back of his own car. He enjoyed making a mess out of you, your makeup smeared and hair wild, and sometimes it was either driving you mad or making you frightened. But then he was really great at aftercare, getting very affectionate. He could help you to wipe your face and adjust your clothes carefully, and if you were home he would bring you to the shower and wash your hair so tenderly it could make you cry.

Nonetheless, it felt rather strange he was ready to trade sex for protecting you from the accusations of his employer. You couldn’t understand why he went through all this hassle just for a chance to fuck some girl. With his angelic appearance women would probably line up to get into his bed.

You had finally landed on the car seat, Steve on your left already turned on the engine and moved before you were approached by a few reporters who kept following you.

“You’re safe.” He said softly, turning his head to you and curling his lips in a heartwarming smile. “We’ve won, baby. Fuck all these scumbags, we’re done with this shit.”

You burst into tears with your hands still trembling, and Steve reached out to grab your palm. Forcing yourself to smile back at him, you wiped your face with your other hand. You were lucky he was with you.

“T-thank you, Steve.” You murmured quietly as if you still couldn’t believe it’s over. “Thank for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Come on, darling. I only did what I thought was right.” His smile grew wider at your appreciation of his efforts, and he rubbed your hand. “You can’t imagine how happy I am we’re through this goddamn investigation. It calls for a celebration, don’t you think? I want some champagne and oysters.”

You laughed through tears, shaking your head. Steve had one quality you were always jealous of – he was optimistic. Even at the worst times, he was able to keep his head high and pull himself together. Then he helped you to get through with your issues too. Of course, he demanded to listen to him, to follow the rules he set for you – don’t mess with other men, don’t go where I can’t follow, don’t speak to police unless I instruct you to, don’t leave without telling me first – but it was a small price to pay for the protection he offered.

“Now we don’t have to hide anymore.” Steve turned the car, and you saw he was bringing you to his house. Naturally, celebrating there would be better than in your half-empty apartment since Steve’s place was more comfortable and cozier.

“Do you mean I can finally return to my house?” You thought of the grass on your backyard that probably grew higher than your pretty red fence.

“What?” He sounded surprised. “Why would you want to come back there, right next to the house where that piece of shit died?”

“I can’t keep living in the apartment. I’m very thankful to you, it really became my hideout, but I have my own place.”

“No, baby, come on. Friends of that guy still live in the neighborhood. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” He brought your hand to his face and left a tender kiss on your knuckles, bringing you to tears again. “You can live with me now before I find a better place for us somewhere else.”

You gaped at him openly and heard your heart pounding in your head. Did he just offered you to live together with him? Was he so scared those men would hurt you for real? Or did it had to do something with your relationship? Wait, no, it couldn’t be. Maybe Steve liked to cuddle and spent some evenings together as if he pretended to be your boyfriend, but you never took it seriously. There was no reason to.

“You mean… you want to live together? Like a couple?”

“Well, yeah?” He flashed his beautiful smile, and you held your breath. “We can start like a couple if you need more time.”

What’s that suppose to mean?

“Steve, I don’t understand anything.” You told him honestly.

“We don’t have to pretend like we’re strangers, darling, since that old bitch can’t do anything anymore. Honestly, I’m tired of dating secretly, aren’t you too? All this precautions, living in different places so that no one knew, hiding from the windows. It was exhausting.”

Although you could agree it was really unnerving, you still didn’t understand why he called it a secret dating. Wasn’t it just… sex?

“Now we can take our relationship to the next level.” Steve was delighted, a bit too exited maybe, and then whistled, turning the car again – you were already in his neighborhood.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything and just kept staring at the man, taken aback by his words. Apparently, you had been missing something very important all these months. But you could swear you had never talked about anything like that before. You didn’t even remember discussing your feelings for each other much.

Obviously, Steve wasn’t happy with your silence, peeping into your absent eyes. He frowned with annoyance: usually you were much more responsive than now, always listening to what he had said.

“What is it, baby?” He asked you, his voice tight. “Don’t you want it?”

You awakened from your stupor and grasped the fabric of your dark blue skirt.

“No, it’s not that… it’s just…” You mumbled, unsure of what to say and feeling a bit scared of his displeasure with you. “We just never talked about it. I thought… I thought you didn’t want t-to be romantically involved.”

Steve blinked at your sudden confession. It took him a moment to put his thoughts together, and he rubbed his forehead with his thumb several times. Meanwhile, you remembered all those times when he brought you nice food and wine, watched movies with you, combed your hair because he really liked how pretty it looked, and made you a shoulder massage when you were too tired. He bought your meds and always took care of your mental health the best way he could. Even if you had never talked about love, do fuck buddies normally do things like that? You were not so sure anymore.

“Damn, I get it.” For some reason he laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t say it properly to you. You’re right, it’s completely my fault. I took it for granted that you saw me as I saw you, but I’ve never verbally admitted what I wanted from this relationship. I’m sorry, darling. Please, let me do it properly this time.”

You nodded, still feeling uncertain about all this. It felt a bit unreal at best.

“I love you.” He said with a grin and placed his hand on yours again. “You’re my precious little girl, and I want you to be with me. I want to keep you safe. I want you to stay close, so I would be able to protect you.”

You didn’t know why you cried, but your pathetic whimpering made Steve look at you with awe and admiration, his other hand gently caressing your wet face. He unclasped his seatbelt and moved closer to you, kissing your forehead. It only made you cry harder.

“It’ll be alright, baby. I know you’ve been through a lot this half a year. I’ll keep helping you, ok?” He shushed you gently, your phone still in the pocket of his black pants.

“Ok.” You managed to utter between your sobs.

“That’s it, darling.” Watching you with adoration, he took a wet wipe from the box in a car seat pocket and gently rubbed your face with it. “Everything gonna be alright. When you move in with me, I’ll take care of those guys, the friends of your neighbor, and you’ll be safe. But before that, promise you’re gonna listen to me, alright?”

You nodded once again, and Steve carefully wiped the tears streaming down your cheeks.

“You’re so good for me, baby. I’ll take care of you, I promise. Just keep following the same rules we had before I deal with all those fuckheads, and nothing bad gonna happen, believe me.” He was gently rubbing your face with the wet wipe and taking off your smeared makeup, occasionally kissing your face. You kept nodding at him, not even listening to his words properly and trembling again like after leaving the courtroom when your neighbor’s mother shouted behind your back.

It was over. The trial was closed, and you were ought to be safe. But why, why did it feel like nothing had changed?

[faangirl101]

Revolution pt3, spec ops guys x reader

PART 1      PART 2

Pairings: Alpha/tank x reader,Riot/reader

Warnings: pain, violence

Authors note: I was thinking about making a taglist! Write to me if you want to be on it!

The sun peeked inside the curtains, creeping across the walls like dew down a leaf a spring morning. I groaned when it finally reached my face, leaving a greenhouse warmth inside the blanket wrapped around my body. Finally well rested, more rested then id been in weeks, i sat up. With a hunched back supported against the headboard. Hesitant, i moved the white blanket off the rest of my body. I hissed for myself as i saw the clear evidence of green and blue smattered like paint across certain spots. I with care slid my fingers across it, remembering the feeling of rubber bullets drilling into my skin. i shook off the thought and let my hand travel up my thigh. There was other marks, red and shaped like a garlic clove. I smiled and tried to hold back the shiver. The nights more pleasant activities started playing over in my head. Hands against wet tile, his hands gripping my hips. Head leaned backwards, stars moving around my vision. How riot did not only give me the best orgasm in my life, but also cared for my wounds, handed me painkillers and let me sleep with a kiss on top of my forehead. The feel of lips burned on my head and i bit my lip at the thought of seeing him again. And tank.

My stomach immediately dropped at his name. His scolding was not a pleasant memory. I decided to not think about it more, not really longing for the weight of anxiety in the depth of my stomach. I threw my legs across the side of the bed, dangling my feet for a second before placing them on the ground. With some hestiance i got up, realizing that the pain had gotten better. Well not better, but easier to handle. I ignored my head begging me to go back to sleep as i started limping down the stairs. I was met with an inviting smell. Coffee.

The previous anxiety was long gone as i tried not to squeal in the happiness. I loved coffee. "Is it okay if i take a cup?", i asked as i took the final step into the kitchen.The man in front of me was not Riot. He had a pale complexion but there was a tint of something else then white. His hair was short, a brown newly woken up mess on top of his head. His figure was giant, stretching up next to the cupboard. There was only so many tall men in this house. Tank, i supposed, jumped at my voice. He looked in my directions, the earlier droopy sleepy eyes turned into green orbs of anger? He really hated me.

"Sorry", i mumbled, fiddleting nervously with the long black t-shirt riot had given me the day before "i didn't mean to startle you".

He made a motion i could really only place as rolling his eyes. "yeah take a cup, you're our guest after all", there was venom in his words, spit out against me making my heartburn. Burning in rage, i wasn't really known for my self control. "Hey", i pointed a finger at him like he had the previous day "i don't know why you hate me, i have not done anything to you". He looked shocked at my outburst before quickly collecting himself. "I don't hate you", he didn't even look at me "i just don't understand why you have to be here. The fact that you suck at protesting, is not our responsibility". His eyes turned away from me finally got to me. I grasped his wrist, hard, and pulled him so he was facing me. He looked down at our skin contact with an unplaceable emotion mirroying behind his light eyes. His skin was hot against me. For some reason he was so inhuman in my eyes i didn't expect body warmth. "I wanted to make a change!", i snapped, still not dropping his hand "okay! I felt useless just signing petitions and rolling my thumbs, i wanted to make a change". His face softened into a expression rather pleasant on his face. Now, with his full attention on me i actually had time to get a good look at him. He was handsome, freckles spread across his nose, full lips a straight line. His jaw was tensed as he watched me search him. "That's why me and Riot protest, we know what we're doing. That's why people like you stay at home", his words were hard but his voice was a different tone. Humorous. He dropped my hand and the sudden forced activity in my shoulder made me hiss in pain. He looked me up and down, eyes staying a bit longer on the bruises on my legs. He opened his full lips half way, something passing by his mouth. For a second i thought he was going to add something but instead he pursed his lips together and turned his back against me. That was the end of our short conversation i supposed. Like walking over glass i sneaked to one of the cupboards, lifting down a cup and moving back to the coffee machine.

Tank's presence in the room was intimidating me. I held my breath as if i was a kid playing hide and seek. My heart was pounding so hard that my body must think i was being chased. But i was still, in a kitchen with a mug tightly clutched to my chest. I gulped down the loud breath threatening to escape as i started pouring the coffee. I watched the coal pitch black liquid swapping up the side of the mug, mesmerized by something so simple. I tried no to shake too much when i put the can of coffee back, feeling tanks hot eyes on me. "What's your name?", the sudden question startled me to the very core. I was surprised i didn't drop the mug. "Y/n", i had my back against him. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how nervous i was. He hummed, either in a positive manner or mocking my name. It was hard to tell. "So.. you're going to go home and roll your thumbs and sign petitions now?", i got the sense that his statement was a subtle way of throwing me out. I pursed my lips, knowing deep down he was making fun of me. For not being able to protest.

Fuck him

"I'm going to protest", I sipped the coffee, enjoying the warm bitter taste on my tongue. I heard him sign "yeah, Riot guessed you would say that". I couldn't hold back the aggressive blush at the mention of Riot, glad that Tank couldn't see my face. I needed to see Riot again. I needed to touch him again. I suppressed the warmth rising in my chest with another hot gulp of the beverage in my hands.

)(

"Where's Riot?", i tried to sound nonchalant, as if my heart wasn't currently pounding violently. I could already see the protests in the distance as i pulled up the ski mask a bit so i could get a good breath. Tank was moving next to me, large as ever. I looked so ridiculously small, pathetic next to him that it made me angry. "He's on another protest, we move protests by following a schedule. We can't be seen together. Do you know what that means?", his question caught me off guard. I zipped up my thick hoodie enough to cover the last piece of visible skin. "Um", i didn't really even understand his question. "Hey", he snapped and grasped my chin to roughly turn my head to his direction. He had to lower down to talk down my face "Since Riot can't be here to babysit you, he left you to me. I'm going to actually make a change, and you sit still and quiet and don't make a sound, capish?". I lifted my head to strain against his grasp "doesn't that work towards the whole point of protesting. Stay quiet? You're not taking away my voice to fight the power i hope? Tank". I pushed his name past my lips as if it was a curse word. He stayed quiet for so long i started regretting my words, thinking of ways to save myself. He dropped his hand, wiping his helmet "watch it, baby". I knew deep down he was simply referring to the fact that he was babysitting me, but the nickname made a wave of heat creep over my body. I had to run to keep up with Tanks longs legs, ignoring the familiar feelings rising in my body. I did not have time for that.

Some time had passed. The police had put up a good defense even if the protester won over them in numbers. My number one priority? was first: protest for the rights of black lives. Second?, proving to Tank i could protest. In the beginning i had stayed pretty close to him but i had thickened the distance when i realized that his area was far too difficult for a riot beginner. Instead i had moved to the first aid hut placed in the center where new protesters was rushed by minutes. I didn't know much about rioting but knew one or another thing about taking care of wounds. So after an hour of pouring milk down tear gassed throats and stopping flowing blood from busted noses, i had forgotten all about Tank. Well, until he was limping over to the hut. One hand tightly grasped around his forearm. Despite all our previous painful words i rushed over to him.

"Shut up", he mumbled before i could even get a word out. Annoyed i pushed him down a bench with a huff. Then, with more care then he deserved, i slowly intertwined our hands in order to lift his hesitant hand from the wound. I tried to ignore the horrific sight of the left remains of a crushed glass bottle in the blood splattered wound. I didn't even notice i let our hands stay intertwined, maybe because the gloves hid his body warmth. But he noticed, his eyes stayed on our hands in his lap the entire time. Every time i pulled out a glass shart he hissed and tightened his grip on my hand. I couldn't hold back the two rapid heartbeats rising. Something about the closeness, yet the distance between me and Tank was..... interesting to say at least.

"There", i mumbled, softer then i had ever been to him. He didn't curse at me, or make an unpleasant noise. He stayed quiet as our fingers slowly fell apart. I wondered what face he was making underneath the mask. Was he angry? Upset? Happy?. In my mind, he was half smirking. But i had been wrong many many times before.

I turned my head when there was loud yelling behind us. A police officer was hovering over the medics i had worked side by side with today. "You have no right to be here", the pig spit, using his body frame to intimidate the smaller black women in front of him. His height didn't scare me, i mean i had spent the night over at two extremely large mens house. "Hey!", i didn't realize it was my own voice until i saw heads turning my directions. I could feel Tank fumbling out his hand to hold be back but i had already moved across the asphalt in long steps. "We're not protesting. We're helping people, that's not illegal. We're not blocking any roads.Sir", i knew everyone in the crowd could hear the venom behind my words. The cop looked stressed, he was sweating like a scorched pig. "Listen here, girl", he grunted "i suggest you take a step back". I fought the urge to smile, knowing it would infuriate him even more. I looked down at our shoes before lifting my head to meet his eyes, mostly for dramatic effect. "Or what?", i bit my lips hesitantly.

Well it was the last thing i had time to do before the hardback of the baton was flying down my side. I doubled over, groaning in pain. But i didn't have time to feel sorry for myself. I saw in the corner of my eye how the police lifted his baton once again. Before thinking it over i grasped the baton mid air, ignoring the burning sensation in my hand and muscle tissue. The police face fell, but my lifted. In the gods. With the force i didn't know i had, i pushed down his own hand to his face, the baton knocking him out cold. He slumped down in a pile beneath me. The hoards of people around me was yelling in harmonie, it was like gospel to my ears. Hand clapping, boots stomping. Tank was on my side in time for another pair of claps. But the tight grip on my arm was threatening. I gulped down the rising anxiety. I had just attacked a cop. Attackled a officer. Me, who cannot kill a bug. "Lets go", Tank growled and pulled me hard to his side.

[sirianisrock]

"I'll always come back to you"

Okay I wanted to write this as a little gift to a special person I met like,a month ago in here. She's the kind of friend everyone should have in its life,I love her so much and she'd been here for me in some of my hard moments. This is the first real fiction I write,it's not that good of course but I tried my best.

This is for you baby @nothing-but-a-comedy

Summary : After escaping from Arkham Asylum,the first thing that crosses Joker's mind is his kitten. He's gonna come back to remind her who she still belongs to.

Warnings : Smut, poor English since it's not my first language (sorry),a little long maybe, this is Heath Ledger's Joker.

It's been 3 weeks.

Batman took Mr.J away from you 3 long weeks ago. You've been crying so much,you thought you could never see him again..how would you live now? What could you do to help him out of that fucking prison?

You could do nothing but cry,and the thought of him not being there with the person he loved the most was consuming you.

Your days were now even longer than usual,there was nothing and no one waiting home for you after work,no one to dedicate your life to,nothing that kept you sane anymore.

"..Will I go crazy?" You asked yourself while tears kept running down your red cheeks; you were sitting on the couch of your and Joker's shared apartment,looking at emptiness while drowning in your own thoughts,in the silence of the living room. There was only a little weak lamp on,that made enough light for you to not be in total dark. You felt so exposed,unprotected and cold without Joker by your side..you were now so used to him (even when he was out till late night) that you couldn't imagine your life without him anymore at this point. In his craziness,he kept you sane,alive. He made you feel loved and worth like nobody else did in your life,even if he never was the most sweet and affectionate person..but he always tried to,for you,his kitten.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't bother switching on the tv. That prevented you to see the news: "..some patients escaped the Arkham Asylum after a big unkown explosion a few hours ago. Most of them were threatened by the police but some even more dangerous escaped and are now free in Gotham,The Joker included.."

You decided to stay on the sofa,too weak to get up and go to bed,so you leaned down,head resting on a pillow and eyes fixing the void.

It was 1am. Your eyes were heavy and red from the unstopped crying you had and all the tiredness that affected your body. Since your lover was taken away,you couldn't sleep properly,if you were lucky you slept a few hours every night,your mind too busy thinking of him.

Suddenly something took your attention: you heard footsteps in the hallway behind the walls of your apartment. They were slow,heavy..and they stopped right in front of your door. You sat up slowly, able to see the shadow of the person standing behind it from below the door. Was someone trying to break in?

The thought of it made you shiver in fear,knowing that this time no one was here to protect you. You were so scared you could only stay still and wait for something to happen.

Bang! A crash made the door wide open loudly and you jumped in fear,standing up next to the couch shaking as a leaf.

The sound of a chuckle.

"Did my kitten miss me?"

Joker was standing at the entrance of the apartment,looking straight at you. You were so shocked that you couldn't get the words out of your mouth,but tears started coming out of your eyes again in happiness realising the man you loved so much was here. He saw your still scared eyes,so,after closing the door,he came closer,just a few feet from you; he could read in them all the pain that tortured your soul all these weeks he was away. He put a hand on your cheek,swiping away some hot tears.

You hugged him so tight that you feared of breaking some of his bones but you couldn't help yourself,it seemed like a dream.

"I..I missed you so much..I thought I lost you forever..I tried to think of a way t-to take you back but I couldn't and I'm so sorry..I thought I was going craz-"

Joker didn't let you finish the sentence that his rough but sweet lips crashed on yours,taking your breath away.

"Daddy's here now baby.I will take care of you the proper way cause uhh..I know you missed me as much as I did,doll"

His words made you blush and feel hot,you were so starved from him that just his deep and rusky voice would be enough to make you cum in your pants.

He took your hand and guided you to the bedroom.

"Sit down baby" he ordered,and you obeyed him sitting on the edge of the bed.

He took off his long purple coat and put it aside,heavy from the granades and blades inside of it.

He sat right next to your trembling body.

"Did ya really think I would forget of my good girl,huh? That I would leave that Bat tear us apart..mm?"

Joker took his gloves off,his bare hands going slowly up your body,from your hips to you neck,stopping there.

He came closer to you ear,growling.

"I missed my little kitten so much..ya know? I couldn't wait to come home to you,eat that sweet pussy of yours and fuck you so hard that all Gotham would hear your screams.."

A shiver ran down your spine and hotness started to form between your legs. His voice was the most erotic thing you ever heard in your entire life right now.

"What are you waiting for then..daddy?" Your words came out so low and trembling that you thought he didn't even hear you. But he did.

He laughed at your sauciness. "Naughty girl..ya can't wait for your daddy to raw you,don't ya?"

You nodded eagerly without even thinking,his hands leaving your body.

"Lie down,take your pants off and spread those beautiful legs for me,doll"

You did has he asked,while he put on again his purple leather gloves,his dark eyes following every your movement.

As you shyly spreaded your legs,your panties were so soaked that it was impossible for him not to notice.

An evil smirk ran through his face,while he came down between your legs.

"My my..looks like someone really missed me,isn't it?

Your breath was becoming heavy,you needed him so much you almost couldn't handle it.

His gloved hands took the panties down your legs,throwing them to the floor.

Before you could even see it,he attached his mouth to your wet pussy,sucking and licking your juices like a starved animal. You screamed and moaned in pleasure,grabbing his hair for support while electricity ran down your body.

Joker was enjoying it as much as you,you felt his moans over your sensitive clit with every lick he gave you. As if this wasn't enough,with his right gloved hand he put two fingers roughly inside you,moving them in and out,in..and out. Your orgasm approached quickly, you felt yourself losing it when he said "Cum on daddy's mouth baby,let me taste your sweetness.."

With that,you came moaning around his fingers and tongue,almost breathless from how hard your climax hit you.

With the smirk still on his face,his makeup was all messy,mixed with your juices all over his mouth and nose. Joker got up and slowly unzipped his pants,taking his underwear down enough for his cock to come out. He was as hard as wood,your mouth salivated.

"Come here doll,don't ya want to taste daddy too?"

As soon as you sat back down on the bed,he grabbed the hair on the back of your head in a fist and pushed you down his hard dick.

You took all of him in your mouth,you could taste the precum already dripping from it while you sucked his manhood hard.

His face contorted,throwing his head back in pleasure as he started trusting in your throat faster. His moans filled the apartment's bedroom,turning you on even more than before. You were almost choking on him,when you heard a loud groan come from the inside of his own throat and suddenly,hot liquid filled your mouth,coming down from your chin.

He pulled out,grabbing your jaw with one hand. "Swallow."

With a loud "gulp" you swallowed his juice,looking up at him. He had a proud look on his face as he helped you up from the floor.

"Such a good little girl"

Joker lifted your shirt and undid your bra. He then grabbed both of your wrists and pulled you back down on the bed,tying them tight so you couldn't move anymore.

"Now now kitten..time to play"

A little laugh escaping his lips. He started undressing too,removing totally his bottoms,then the vest,suspenders and his shirt for last. He approached you slowly on the bed,his face close to yours started kissing your jaw,down your neck,leaving bites and purple marks on your body.

You arched your back in pleasure,as he whispered in your ear "Your are Mine..only mine baby. Never forget that"

You couldn't answer,so needy you were for him.

He kept biting that sensitive spot of yours below your jaw,making you see stars.

He touched your breasts,hands still gloved,going down on your hard nipples. He took them in his mouth,licking and sucking them both; you were in ecstasy,calling his name over and over.

"Fuck J..fuck" was all you were able to say.

One of his big hands came down your pussy,stimulating your clit once again.

Your pussy was still sensitive from your earlier orgasm,so it didn't take long for you to be on the edge. When Joker felt you tighten on his fingers,he removed them.

With a disappointed face,you looked down at him. "J w-why did you stop..?I was so close..!"

The smirk on his face never left him.

"Baby, we got all night long to make up for uhh..for the time we lost",he licked his red lips.

You were panting,as he started again fingering you with those purple gloves. While one hand stayed occupied inside your pussy,the other one held a blade; he moved it down your jaw,around your nipples and breasts and down your belly..the blade was cold and the contact with your hot skin gave you goosebumps.

He kept edging you for a good hour. You were sweating,heavy breath,wet as never in your life and almost exhaust.

"You see baby..uhh you are lucky ya know? Cause daddy needs you too,so I'm gonna give you what you..(licks his lips) what you need"

Joker finally untied you,freeing your wrists.

"Turn around doll,show me that pretty ass"

Slowly you turned around,now on all four on the bed. He grabbed your ass cheeks and slapped them,the leather of the gloves hard on your skin,made you whimper.

You couldn't see him,but you felt the sound of his skin while with one hand he stroked himself.

"Ya ready for daddy's cock baby,hmm?"

You nodded,but that wasn't enough for him.

Grabbing your hair making you tilt your head back, he whispered in your ear "I want you to say it loud"

"I'm-i'm ready f-for your cock,daddy"

Satisfied with your response,he bit your earlobe,his breath next to your ear gave you goosebumps.

"Good girl..Now stay still while daddy puts his cock inside your little pussy"

The head of his dick teased your entrance,using your juices to lubricate it.

Then slowly,he entered you. Your walls clenched around him,adjusting to his lenght.

"Fuck..my naughty girl sure has a tight pussy".

You both let out a moan while he started trusting roughly inside you,keeping a steady and fast pace.

You held tight the bed sheets while he held your hips in place so strong,there would for sure be bruises on them later.

The sounds he was making,growling in pleasure while fucking you hard,made you closer and closer to your second orgasm of the night.

You were both panting,and you felt Joker was close too while his dick kept pushing deep inside you,hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

"Cum doll..your pussy is so tight,I know you are close. Cum for me you little slut"

Those were the magic words that made you release around his cock.

Feeling your cunt stretching around him,he came seconds later,collapsing on your back.

Joker waited for his breath to come back before pulling out and laying down next to you. You collapsed too,your head on his sweatie chest,still out of breath.

"I missed you so much J..I didn't know what to do without you.. "

Your eyes had tears in them,thinking back of when he wasn't there with you and you were alone for so long.

He saw the sadness in them,and gently held your chin up to make you look at him in the eyes.

"I missed you too baby,so so much. But now I'm here with ya and I'm not leaving." A little smile from the corners of his scars made your heart melt,giving him a sweet kiss on the mouth.

"I'll always come back home to you kitten,no matter what."

I hope this is not the worst thing you guys read,I tried my best I swear

[saventhhaven]

Remembrance

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader

Tags: Stanford!Sam, Stanford!reader, past relationship, sort of AU where Jess doesn’t exist, emotions

Word Count: 2,062

(Gif not mine)

A yawn that you couldn't quite stifle behind your hand had you squeezing your eyes shut as your jaw practically came unhinged.

"Good morning." One of your newer officers poked her head through the doorway to your office, and you looked up from your laptop.

"Morning, Mason."

"I'm gonna get coffee before I get to work," she explained. "Can I get you anything?" Coffee sounded like heaven right now. It was 8:00 now, and you had been at the station since 7:30 yesterday... morning.

"That would be amazing, thank you," you replied gratefully. "I'll just take whatever you're having with an extra shot of espresso." Mason grinned at you with a slight shake of her head.

"You got it, boss." The second she was gone, you turned back to your computer.

You were already totally swamped between budget management, staff reports, and evaluations. But now, on top of it all, four little girls had gone missing in the last week and a half. Parents were furious and frantic, and you were only barely keeping your head above water. Your officers were doing the best they could, but even you were having trouble digging up any information. Four little girls just disappeared without a trace, and you were the one that had to tell their parents that you had no idea what happened - not exactly the most reassuring thing to hear when your child has gone missing. All four had vanished from precisely the same spot in the local park, but even stakeouts revealed nothing out of the ordinary. You were making zero progress, and it felt like you were just banging your head against a wall. And the wall was solid concrete. And also on fire.

"Cap?" Again, you looked up from your computer.

"What is it, Duffy?" you asked. Duffy was one of your more experienced officers. He was a bit on the smaller side, but he could still kick ass if needed - you had seen him in action before.

"I'm sorry to bother you." You turned in your spinning chair to face him, smiling kindly as you gave him your full attention.

"It's no bother at all."

"There are a couple men from the FBI here to see you. About the disappearances." You felt your smile falter, and you let out a long sigh. Just when you thought your day couldn't get any more complicated.

"Thanks, Duff. I'll be right there." Duffy let the door shut behind him on the way out, and you took a moment to yourself, burying your face in your hands. This was going to be interesting, that was for sure. You had worked with the FBI once in the past, and it wasn't what you would call a pleasant experience.

It was about two years ago when you had first assumed your position as police captain that two FBI agents had come to investigate a local cybercrime. Rather than work with you as you had been expecting, they mostly just wanted you out of the way and didn't tell you much else. But the times they did talk to you, they were rude and downright mean. You knew they were just doing their jobs, so, of course, you kept your mouth shut, but personally, you didn't think a badge gave them the right to be assholes.

With one final deep breath, you steeled yourself and stood, walking across your office in two short strides to open the door. As long as they weren't the same agents as last time, you were going to be fine. Besides, you had more experience under your belt now.

The second you laid eyes on the two agents, though, you instantly took back everything you had just thought. You weren't sure what either of them was doing here, but you did know one thing: they sure as hell weren't FBI agents. If you had any good sense left in you (which you suspected you probably didn't), you would have arrested them right on the spot. But you couldn't. 

Instead, you found yourself frozen in place - from shock or anger, you couldn't tell - forced backward in time as all of your memories played like some torturous slideshow at the speed of light before your eyes. Back to all the late nights studying in the Stanford library, as you slowly but surely fell in love with him; back to the laughter that echoed through the kitchen when he burned dinner on what was supposed to be your first date; back to all the times that he had made love to you in your shared apartment. ...And back to the time when he left without a trace, and your world collapsed in on itself. Sam Winchester.

"S-" The beginnings of his name died on your tongue when you remembered where you were, and you bit your lip hard to stop yourself from calling out. Not that it was any surprise, considering how much time had passed, but he looked much older. His hair was no longer short and mussed, with his bangs drooping into his face like you recalled. Instead, it was longer, smoother, and darker, no doubt because of age. The extra years he had to fill out his face and physique suited him. He looked far more comfortable with himself than he had ever been when you were together, and you were suddenly struck by the pang of how much had changed.

But those eyes - those beautiful greenish hazel eyes that could never make up their mind what color they wanted to be - those were still the same. And when Sam finally spotted you standing breathlessly, his eyes widened, though you couldn't decipher the emotions behind the wall he had put up.

"Agents," you called out, willing your voice not to shake. "We can speak privately in my office." You had only met Dean once: the last time you saw Sam. Judging by the way he brushed past you into your office without a second glance, he didn't even remember you. But you remembered him. Sam looked searchingly into your face as he followed his brother. You held his gaze for a brief moment before tearing yourself away, closing the door behind both of them.

Despite your better judgment, you found yourself standing in front of him, still not truly believing that he was really here.

"Y/N," he breathed, just as transfixed as you were.

"Wait, wait, wait," Dean cut in. "Y/N as in your girlfriend from college, Y/N? From fifteen years ago?" Dean's question fell on two deaf pairs of ears.

"What happened to you?" you asked. "I..." You swallowed hard. "I looked for you." Sam looked away shamefully, and you took notice in the way he was unable to meet your eyes when he answered.

"I had to deal with some family business." You had to admit, his answer surprised you. You knew Sam very well, and he was many things, but a liar just wasn't one of them. Since when did he not tell the truth?

"That does not answer my question," you pointed out irritably. "Nor does it explain why the hell you and your brother are playing dress-up as federal agents! Have you lost your damn mind?" The youngest Winchester turned to his brother for help, who merely gave a shrug as he suddenly became very interested in the blinds you had put up over one of the office windows. "You realize this can get you behind bars, right?"

"Well, what about you?" Sam asked with a not-so-subtle subject change. "You were working on law with me, not law enforcement. What happened?" Your heart stuttered sadly in your chest as you began to recount the story.

"October 31, 2005," you started, and Sam immediately grimaced. He already knew where this was going, but you didn't care. He wanted to hear what happened? Then he was going to hear it. "Dean broke into our apartment - which I still think was batshit crazy, by the way," you pointed out to which Dean gave a small nod of reluctant agreement. "You told me it was something with your dad," you continued, "and that you'd be gone for a few days - a week tops. Sam, that was the last time I saw you. It broke my heart, It almost killed me. Up until now, I never saw you again. I couldn't eat, and I couldn't sleep. I-I-" you started to stutter. You couldn't help it. "I stopped going to class." You saw the pity flood into of Dean's eyes as guilt filled Sam's. "My grades started slipping until..." You had to stop for a moment to get your emotions back under control. "I lost my full ride." Even though you felt your stomach fluttering like a leaf in a hurricane, you somehow managed to keep your voice even. "I had to go home. 

“My parents were furious," you continued. "They kicked me out, told me not to come back." Sam reached for your hand to give it a gentle squeeze as he listened to your story. "So, I packed up my car and moved out here. I took a waitressing job to pay the bills; I saved up for a few years for the closest police academy. The end goal there was to become a detective, so I could find you." Dean watched the two of you carefully, almost as if he was really seeing you for the first time. "I did it." You gestured to your old detective badge, displayed proudly on the shelf behind your desk. "But then they offered me the position of sergeant, and I realized-" A small choking sound came from your throat, and you realized that your eyes had started to well. You cleared your throat, blinking furiously. "-I realized it was time to let go. So, I took the promotion. That was four years ago." The chain from the overhead fan clinked against the lightbulb as phones rang outside your office door.

Somewhat lost in thought now, you nodded to yourself and moved back to your desk, where you rifled through a dusty filing cabinet. "But I still... Aha!" Your hand emerged from the thing with a huge cream-colored manila folder, packed to the brim, and rubber-banded shut to keep its contents from spilling out. Feeling a bit subconscious, you clutched the folder tightly in your hands. "This is everything I was able to dig up, but you disappeared somewhere around 2006." Dean gave his younger brother a knowing look, which you didn't understand, but you didn't press the matter. "Turns out, you're a hard man to track down."

When Sam opened his mouth to speak, eyes swimming with emotion, you were afraid your heart might stop beating.

"Okay!" You visibly jumped as the door to your office swung open, and Mason stepped in with a cardboard to-go cup. "One extra-large cappuccino, with an extra shot of-" She suddenly seemed to notice that Sam and Dean were in the room with you, and her eyes widened apologetically. "I'm so sorry," she apologized, setting the coffee on the edge of your desk before retreating back to the door. "I didn't realize you were in the middle of something. I'll get out of your hair."

"No worries, Officer Jones," you responded with a smile. "Our visitors were just leaving." Dean's eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he didn't object. "Agent," you addressed Sam politely, noting the disappointed air surrounding him at being treated as if the two of you didn't know each other. "I believe this should aid you in your search." When you handed him the manila folder that contained all hints of your extensive search, his fingers brushed yours, just barely, and his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat.

"Thank you." You saw the remorseful glint in his eyes, and in an impossible language that you couldn't explain how you understood, you knew that what he said was entirely different from what he was actually saying to you: I’m sorry.

With that, the two men were gone from your office. You felt yourself sag a bit in relief. It wasn't until Mason touched your arm that you realized she had been speaking to you.

"Are you okay? You look pale." Again, you concealed your emotions with a smile.

"I'm perfectly all right," you lied. "Just tired."

Thank you so much for reading! <3

As always, links to my masterlist, taglist, and inbox are in my bio!

What was your favorite part? I love when you guys talk to me :)

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@cole-winchester​ @alexwinchester23​ @1-am-made-of-stardust​ @thorukindig​ @fiftyshadesoffandom6783​ @hobby27​ @supernaturalenchanted​ @organicpurplepants​ @odysseyofasiren​ @defenderrosetyler​ @crystal-lilac​ @youshrimpdickfucknugget​

Sam Darlings:

@calaofnoldor​ @transparentfestivaltiger

[fantastic-rambles]

The Skylark’s Song [1 /4]

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

Characters: Hibari Kyoya, Hibari Kyoya’s parents, Unnamed Gang

Warnings: Violence, Gang, Implied Rape, Attempted Murder, Murder, Police Corruption, Gaslighting

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: My personal headcanons of the (pre-canon) experiences that made Hibari into the man that he is today. Part One: why he has such a strong hatred of crowds and the beginning of his commitment to discipline.

(The other parts won't be this dark. I think.)

It had been a day like any other.

On a warm spring afternoon, they'd gone out together as a family to his school festival, nine-year-old Kyoya running from attraction to attraction, his parents following at a more stately pace but always keeping him in sight.

"Mom! Dad! Here, here!" he called out, practically bouncing with excitement in front of his classroom. Laughing, they caught up to him, following him into the room as he tugged at their hands.

The walls were covered with the students' essays, and Kyoya paused by his, his chest puffed out with pride. Indulgently, they bent over slightly to read what he had written in his neat but still childish hand.

My Dreams

When I grow up, I want to be a great person like my dad. Dad is a hero, fighting the bad guys who are making people sad. He's like a policeman or fireman, except he's even cooler than that! Dad and Mom both love Namimori and want to make this town into a happy place for everyone, and I want to help them. They also love me very much, and I love them, too.

He beamed up at them as his mother knelt to hug and kiss him while his father ruffled his hair. Their pride practically emanated off them in waves, and Kyoya was the happiest that he could ever remember. After the festival, they'd gone to his favorite family restaurant, where he ordered a hamburger steak, still chattering away happily about school: how he was the top student in his year, how his teachers praised him for his work, what he was learning in class now... His parents had been smiling throughout his monologue, sometimes asking questions to encourage him to keep speaking.

But the day had to come to an end eventually, and the setting sun found them walking back to their house, Kyoya hanging onto his parents' hands and occasionally just completely lifting his feet off the ground so that he could swing between them, making all three of them laugh. By the time they arrived home, he was completely exhausted from running around all day, barely able to change into his pajamas and brush his teeth before he fell into his futon. The last thing he remembered before sleep claimed him was his mother sitting beside him, softly humming a lullaby.

It was completely dark when a loud crash woke him. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes sleepily, he called out, "Mom? Dad?"

But there was no answer, though he could faintly hear voices elsewhere in the house. Still only half-awake, he followed the sounds to the brightly lit living room, freezing in the doorway as the sight unfolded before him.

Men he didn't know were standing all around the room. His father knelt in the middle, his face battered and dripping blood onto the floor from a broken nose, while his mother sobbed quietly in a corner, held back by two men. A couple of the other men had wooden baseball bats... and guns. Kyoya started to shake as he recognized the weapons he'd only ever seen on TV before. Too scared to step into the room but too afraid to run away, he was frozen in place, at least until one of the men standing by the doorway looked down and saw him.

"Well, what's this?"

As he bent down, his movement caught the eye of Kyoya's mother, and he saw stark terror spread across her face as she recognized her son.

"KYOYA! RUN!" she shrieked. As if a spell had been broken, Kyoya turned and obeyed, his bare feet pattering on the smooth wooden floors as he blindly sought an escape. Suddenly, his familiar home was filled with strange shadows that jumped out of him, making him flinch in the dark corridors, all too aware of his pursuer behind him with steps like thunder. He'd just shoved open the sliding door that led to the garden when the man caught up, seizing him around the waist and swinging him onto his hip with ease.

"No! Stop! Let me go!" Kyoya yelled, pounding against his captor's back with his small fists. The man didn't even try to silence him--they lived too far away from anyone else for the commotion to be noticed--and returned the way they had come, eventually dumping the child in front of his mother. She grabbed him immediately, curling herself around him protectively and pressing his face to her chest as he squirmed, trying to turn around and see what was happening.

"Come on, you don't want to do this in front of your wife and kid, right?" a voice asked, harshly mocking. "Just give us the data and we'll leave, no harm done. It's not like we like doing this either, you know."

A few of the other men chuckled, covering up his father's quiet response, and Kyoya felt his mother cringe just before there was a dull, wet, thumping sound that was repeated several times. It sounded just like when they smashed watermelons on the beach.

"Change your mind yet?" the voice asked, sounding slightly winded. The only response was a groan and panting, and the voice sharpened. "Hey, bring me the kid."

"No!" Kyoya was pressed even harder against his mother's chest, half-smothering him, as hands reached out to grab him, trying to pull him away. Now he began to cry as his limbs were pulled roughly, twisted behind his back or jerked as if they were trying to rip him apart, but his mother still clung to him.

"Take me instead! Please! Leave him alone!" she begged above his wailing.

The voice clicked his tongue, then replied, "Fine, whatever. Shut the kid up."

Her hands ran through his hair, and she pressed a kiss to his forehead, murmuring quietly, desperately. "It'll be okay, Kyoya. Be quiet, shhh, shhh, shh. It'll be okay."

"Hurry it up," the voice snapped, and they were suddenly wrenched apart, the absence of his mother making Kyoya start crying again, until one of the men casually backhanded him in the face, the sudden pain shocking him into silence as the taste of blood filled his mouth. He subsided into small whimpers, his hand pressed against his burning cheek, as he watched his mother forced to her knees next to his father. The man who seemed to be the leader of the gang tossed aside his bat and reached into his pocket, pulling out a switchblade that he flicked open before crouching down in front of Kyoya's parents.

"You've got such a pretty wife, Hi-ba-ri-san," he taunted, resting the blade against her face. "It would be a real pity if something happened to her, wouldn't it? Looks are everything to a woman, after all. Do you think you'd still love her if she was all scarred, without her nose and ears? Would she still love you, for letting it happen to her?"

"You'll kill us anyways, after you get what you want," Kyoya's mother spat. "Just get it over with. We won't tell you anything."

She flinched as the man dragged the weapon down the side of her face, leaving a thin red gash across her cheek, but she continued to stare at him defiantly. The man snorted, getting to his feet.

"Brave woman. But let's see how long that lasts. Hold her down." He began to unbuckle his belt, his comrades grinning as they dragged the woman down, piling on to stop both Kyoya's mother and father from struggling. Kyoya didn't understand what was happening, but he saw the look on his mother's face, and he ran between her and the man, spreading his arms wide to protect her.

"Stop bullying Mommy!" he screamed, tears and snot running down his face as he shook like a leaf. The man's face twisted into an expression of disgust and annoyance.

"Someone take care of this brat," he ordered, and another man stepped forward, hefting his bat in his hand.

"You got it, boss." Like a cleanup hitter getting ready to smack a home run, he drew back and swung, the sharp crack drowned out by the shrill screams of Kyoya's mother and the hoarse cries of his father. Kyoya collapsed, and the last thing he remembered was the feeling of a foot in this stomach, kicking him out of the way.

He awoke with a splitting headache to a room full of people and bolted upright, screaming, "MOMMY! DADDY!" Startled, somber faces turned to look at him, and a woman in a police uniform walked over to him, wrapping her arms around him soothingly as he kept screaming for his parents. Bright sunlight was falling into the room as other men and women walked around, taking pictures and putting things into labeled plastic bags. The policewoman cradled his head, then drew away in shock, her hand tacky with blood.

"We need paramedics!" she called out, carefully lifting the boy into her arms and heading toward the door. Draped over her shoulder, Kyoya continued to scream, his eyes fixed on two lumps in the middle of the room, covered with white sheets.

A week later, Kyoya stood in the Namimori graveyard, watching as two caskets were lowered into the ground. His head was still wrapped in bandages from the surgery to repair his fractured skull, the doctors having proclaimed it a miracle that he'd even survived. The young boy's eyes were dry as he stared at the marble headstone, dressed somberly in black and surrounded by adults.

Shock, they whispered when they thought he couldn't hear them, shaking their heads sympathetically. Poor boy. Who could have ever imagined it? They had seemed like such a perfect family. But everyone has their skeletons.

The case had been wrapped up quickly: a murder-suicide. Kyoya's mother had found out about his father's affair, and in the midst of a passionate argument, he'd killed her. Consumed with regret, he'd then attempted to kill his son before taking his own life. The boy's story was nothing more than the result of head trauma and a completely understandable psychological refusal to accept the truth. So he'd invented a wild tale of home intruders, blaming nonexistent ghosts for the crime while repressing his memories. The officers in charge of the investigation hadn't even bothered to write down his account, sitting patiently with him for hours in the hospital as they tried to explain what had happened to him.

But he knew. His parents had been slaughtered by that pack of animals: weak, undisciplined cowards too afraid to do anything alone. And they'd had enough influence to cover up the crime, so that the only thing that was published was a short obituary listing his parents' names and ages, and the fact that they had been survived by their child.

Heroes didn't exist. But that didn't mean that he couldn't get revenge.

[Part 2]

[stuck-in-this-mortal-form]

Children Of The Prophecy - pt. 1

Okay, so at the beginning I wanted to note that English is not my first language, so sorry for any misspellings or grammar. Also, I'm still figuring Tumblr out.

Next Masterlist

Tw: TWs: death of a parent mention, fear of loved ones being taken away, kinda disturbing descriptions, negative headspace and thoughts, burning, threats, murder/injuring attempt

While the snowstorm was subsiding, it did not in fact make Jesse’s day better. 

She was curled up on the couch, bundled up in blankets and her partner, Vi’s, lap, trying and failing to not let the recent events get to her.

Being the one who found Élaine, she had to touch her mother’s corpse, call 112, give her statement to the police and notify her siblings. And all in the short interval of the last four days. 

And now, since her mother didn’t have any living relatives, and Jesse was legally an adult , she had to attend a court meeting to get her siblings’ custody rights transferred onto her.

Summarizing, the day was awful in every single of its many aspects.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” asked Vi, putting her hand on Jesse’s shoulder in a reassuring manner “This must be a lot”

Vivien Ember Duvau, to most known as just Vi, was a nineteen year old, icy-blue-eyed trans girl, and Jesse’s queerplatonic partner. She usually had her ashy blonde hair in a fishtail braid, with a bay leaf shaped hairpin holding half of her bangs from her face.

Jesse was quiet for a few seconds “yeah, it’s just..” her breath hitched “I have no idea what to do, y’know” she said, her voice shaky “everything just kinda collapsed. My mother’s dead, the twins are god knows where and might get taken away”

She leaned her head against Vi’s shoulder, cueing the latter to put her arms around her, which she did.

That was a month ago. Truly a disaster, if you ask me.

Well, at least one good thing came of that, and that is; Jesse V. Blackwood managed to win custody of her siblings

Which also meant that—unfortunately—she had to prepare lunch.

And truth be told she couldn’t cook, even if her life depended on it, which I suppose it did.

So after destroying two pans and almost burning the house down, trying to heat up some half dead omelet that Vi made, she had to admit defeat.

And thus she decided to order pizza. She bought two, one with salami and one hawaiian. She hated pineapple, especially on pizza, but oh well, the twins loved it. 

While the pizza was still not here she went to the living room, definitely not looking at the charred spot that was haphazardly covered with a rug. And absolutely not having her mother’s dead eyes staring at her very soul flash before her. She flinched, repeating a string of ‘shut up brain’s and keeping her eyes shut.

When she finally managed to collect herself she flopped down onto the couch, and reached for the TV remote, but it turned on by itself.

“What the hell…” she whispered, staring at the screen in confusion

It showed a soap opera, or, more accurately, a single scene replaying over and over.

She didn’t however get the chance to figure out what that meant, because the kitchen radio suddenly turned on, making her jump. 

The volume gradually increased and she felt herself start to shake. The radio would only be able to pick up on polish stations, and yet it spoke in english. It was a snippet of an interview with someone.

Jesse could feel the temperature drop, which was now at somewhere close to 10℃. Her breaths soon turned opaque, as she slowly descended into the bottomless pit of panic.

She grabbed the triquetra shaped necklace she always wore and clutched it desperately. She’d gotten it from her father, Antoni, back when he still loved her was there. 

“Whenever you feel scared,” he’d said back then, with a soft smile “just hold it and think of me”

Then, she saw a woman materialize in front of her. She had really pale skin, almost like a (pun intended) ghost, with raven black hair. She had very prominent bags under her pitch black eyes and was dressed in a simple white nightgown.

Along with her arrival, the main light started flickering.

Jesse wanted to sc— well, at this point her to-do list was horribly long and thus she did nothing, just staying frozen, staring in horror. 

The woman stared at her, before saying:

“It is really you” her voice was eerie, somewhat robotic and generally unsettling “She, of whom They speak”

Despite all that was currently happening, every ounce of fear Jesse had, seemed to disappear, leaving her to dumbfoundedness. 

“Wha..what are you doing in my house??” she asked, her mouth somehow not making any sound

Still, it didn’t bother the woman the least. She paid Jesse no mind and just kept talking

“I truly cannot fathom you exist” she said, her body still “The Daughter of A’graeth” a sinister smile ghosted on her thin, pale lips “As luck would have it, you’re all by yourself, dear. All the wardings are down…”

Jesse just stared

“Oh, and would you look at that” she teased “It seems that you have just lost your mother” 

“Get out of my head” whispered Jesse, her tone dripping with spite

She knew she should’ve been scared, there was a ghost in her living room for hell’s sake. 

And yet she couldn’t

Huh, that’s strange

“Oooh She speaks!” the ghost beamed, taking a step forward “Well, why don’t you tell me your name, dearie?”

Jesse slowly stood up and took a shaky step in the direction of the exit. “Why should I? You’re a ghost; it’s not like you can hurt me” right??

The ghostly woman just laughed. It was an awful sound, demonic almost. It made Jesse think of the way a serial killer might laugh while murdering their victim. Loud. Disturbing.

“Oh, sweety,” she didn’t stop laughing. “You poor child. You see, that would’ve been true, if you weren’t wrong about something else” Jesse paled significantly “Because I, my child, am not a ghost”

There was not enough time to react. Jesse bolted to the exit, but the woman was too fast. She lunged at her, pinning the girl to the wall.

SHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT

Jesse tried to wiggle herself free, but the woman's grip was made of steel. There were small trails of smoke coming from where the woman’s claws fingers were touching Jesse’s black hoodie.

The woman raised her hand, her awfully long claws ready to lacerate the girl’s whatever vital point she had chosen, when she suddenly stilled, her hand frozen mid strike.

Jesse dared to look at the woman and, seeing her lips locked in a silent scream, slid to the ground. 

And luckily she did, because the next second the woman was engulfed in flames. 

They were so bright she was actually afraid they might permanently damage her eyes, and so she shut them, not looking at the horrible sight in front of her. She couldn’t move, as if her limbs were made of lead, and glued to the ground.

And at the exact moment, the front door opened.

---

Alright, so this is the first part of my Fic. Lemme know if there are any misspellings or stuff like that because splish splash my autocorrect is trash.

[issabangtanfic]

[Jungkook] The Windmill House (Chapter 5)

Masterlist

Synopsis: When for once rich doesn’t rhyme with Christian Grey.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

A/N: Feel free to submit a cover! Tell me what you think in my inbox! Enjoy!

-

“What the hell are you doing?” I splutter, recoiling from him as his fingertips graze my shoulders. I turn around, giving him a look of pure confusion. He looks down at me with a wolfish grin.

“Getting an early start?” He shrugs, taking a step towards me. I frown deeply. What the hell is he talking about. I step back, replaying our encounter from the beginning, trying to figure out where I messed up.

“I should have called dibs, but Jungkook won’t mind if we start without him.” He explains, taking his suit jacket off and throwing it carelessly on the table where multiple dildos are displayed.  He follows me as I back away from him. What the heck is he saying? Did I really just agree on a three-way without realizing it? Am I that drunk already?

“What? I breathe, still trying to escape him. The back of my knees hit the edge of one of the strategically placed beds, and I plop down on it with a squeal. His hands come down to his belt.

“Now- “

“No!” I shout, my hand coming up to hide his groin from my sight. He frowns, but his eyes stay playful.

“What do you mean, no?” He asks me. “Isn’t that what you’re here for?”

My jaw drops open, and my frown deepens. How dare you?! Do I look like being a bloody hooker is my side gig? Where the hell did he get this idea from? I’m so offended, I struggle to form words. All I can do is scoff, and he’s quick to move on. I

“Or are you into pretending you don’t like it?” He tilts his head to the side. I start to panic.  One of his hand reaches behind my head as he pushes his fingers in my hair, gathering a fistful of it before tugging sharply, tilting my head back. He brings his face close to mine.

Oh hell no.

“I really don’t mind- “

I jerk one leg with all of my strength, kicking him in the balls.

“AAAAAAARGH!” He cries out in pain, letting go of me to attend to his wounded testicles. Heaving, I shove him and he falls to the ground. I get up and grab the adjacent dildo displayer, pulling down and making it fall on him.

Adrenaline pumping through my veins, I run out of the room as quickly as I came. Not sure whether he’s following me or not, I make a dash to get my bag.

“Miss Fair?” Mr. Jeon is walking towards me, frowning at my panicked state. He looks clueless, but apparently he’s in on this. He’s made me understand so many times he wants to have sex with me.

“Get away from me!” I yell at him, pulling out my pepper spray. I’m armed. He better not try anything stupid. At the same moment, his brother emerges from the room, still groaning in pain and hunched over, I back away so the two are in my sight.

How the hell am I getting out of here? Mr. Jeon is standing in the way to the front door and I don’t know this place enough to figure out another route.

“What happened?” Mr. Jeon asks, taking slow steps towards me. I back away.

“What kind of fucked up trap is this, huh?! You guys are sick!” I shout, glancing between the two in case one of them tries something. I have to be smart about this. If they both attack me at the same time, I’m done. I only took so much defense classes. I lost interest when the hot instructor got replaced.

Mr. Jeon turns to his brother, his face a knot of confusion.

“What did you tell her?” He asks Eliott.

“Nothing!” He replies, still struggling to stand upright.

“Nothing?! You assaulted me!” I retort.

“I thought we were playing!” He counters, seeking support in his brother’s eyes. Mr. Jeon doesn’t give it to him.

“Playing what, Eliott?! Are you fucking stupid?!” He bellows, shoving him against the double doors of the red room. He could be pretending. Hargreeves said he was in on this. He said he was supposed to join us.

Taking advantage of the commotion, I decide to turn on my heels and run. I’ll find a way out of this place.

“Maya!” I hear Mr. Jeon call after me. I run out of the hall and close the first door I find, which happens to be French doors that give onto the extension and its spiral staircase. Despite Mr. Jeon trailing me, I decide to stop to lock the door and slow him down.

“Maya, wait!” He bangs on the glass, startling me. “It’s really not what you think!” He shouts, his voice muffled. Yeah, sure. Not taking any chances, I start running again, climbing the stairs two by two, and retracing my steps but from one floor above. This is the same place he brought me the first time, so I know how to get out from here. When I make a left turn to take the stairs, I bump into Mr. Jeon’s firm chest.

“Maya, stop!” He orders, grabbing my shoulders. He gets a kick in the balls as well. This is something I have wanted to do for a long time.

“Aaaaargh!” He groans, falling down on one knee. He deserves it. I make a final dash down the stairs and to the front door, successfully getting out of the mansion.

“Maya, you’re pissed! You can’t drive!” Mr. Jeon screams after me. In this frenzy, I still manage to pick up on his British accent, which I had never heard before. I unlock my mini and jump in, but the gate is closed.

Shit.

Mr. Jeon appears at my window, banging on my door.

“Maya, I swear this is a misunderstanding. Let me explain.” He begs.

“Leave me alone!”

Without me even beginning to think about a way to drive off, the gate lights up, buzzes and starts to slide open. Mr. Jeon disappears. This is my chance.

“Don’t open the bloody gate! Fucking dingus!” I hear him yell in the distance. When the gap is big enough for my mini to speed through, I start the engine and drive off. I speed down the long and dusty road that leads to the mansion, but I soon hear the loud roar of a sports car.

I look into my rearview and see a bright red, low car speeding up behind me. The rich bastard. My mini is no match. In less than ten seconds, the car passes me and blocks the road, making a sharp turn to the right and effectively blocking me. I’m forced to stop.

I watch is Mr. Jeon steps out of the car, pacing towards me. I turn on my main beams to blind him, but it only works for a coup of seconds. I lock my doors.

“Get out the bloody car, Maya.” He orders once he’s at my level. His eyes are hard and stern, his frown subtle.

“No!”

“I’m not moving my car, you bash it and I sue you.” He points a threatening index at me.

“I’m calling the police!”

“Maya, this is a misunderstanding! My brother got the wrong idea!” He exclaims. He definitely did, but I’m pretty sure he’s the one who put that idea in his head!

        I

“You two had planned on having sex with me!”

“No!” He says categorically. "I mean, I want to, but not with him. I wouldn’t share you with anyone.” He explains. Share me?

“He said he should have called dibs and that you would join us.” I counter. He just shakes his head.

“He's got the wrong idea.” He repeats. “And he’s half as pissed as you are."

I glare at him. I don’t know if he’s being honest, but I want to leave this place.

“He’s… I don’t even know why I bother with him.” He says, dropping his head in defeat. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if I believe him. I don’t care at this point. I’m safer in my car, and I just want to go.

“He’ll apologize.” He promises after a beat, looking back at me. I don’t need his apology; I need to get home!

“Maya, I promise you. I would never do anything like that to you.” He says when I don’t reply.

“You just did.” I counter. He puts a hand up on the roof on my mini and leans further down so he’s at my eye level.

“No, my brother attacked you and I’m sorry. But you have to believe me, I had no idea he would do that.” He says slowly. I don’t know anymore. That could be true, but I’m more interested in getting out of here.

“I don’t ever want to see him again.” I declare. He lets out a sigh of relief.

“That’s fine. That’s even better.” He murmurs. "I wouldn’t have let him touch you. Consenting or not.” He adds on a more serious tone. Consenting or not?

“Whatever.” I mutter. “You can move your car now.”

“Maya!” He says disapprovingly. Oh what now? Can I just go home already? I just want to get away from here.

“I just want to go home!”
 I cry.

“I’ll take you home, then! I’m not letting you drive after all the wine you've had!” He raises his voice as well, visibly losing his patience.


“I don’t want you to take me home!” I retort. Who the fuck is he? My dad? Who in the ever-loving hell does he think he is to boss me around like that? Like it’s not even his fault I’m in this situation in the first place?

“Then I’ll call a bloody cab for you! Be fucking reasonable!” He bellows, his wrath making me shake like a leaf. Tears spring to my eyes.

“Stop yelling at me!” I shout. He flinches, removing his hand from my car. Fuming, I storm out of my car and slam the door closed. He takes a step back as I point an angry index at him.

“I am done putting up with your arrogant, abusive, and perverted ways Mr. Jeon.” I declare. "You have done nothing but make me uncomfortable and put me in danger.”

His eyes widen and his eyebrows connect.

“I am going to tell everything to my boss so I don’t have to spend another minute and you and your pervert of a brother. I am not going to endure another fucking second of this!” I spit at him, and it feels liberating. He stares at me, wide-eyes, speechless. His eyes search on my face. He doesn’t know what to do.

“It’s your cue to piss off!” I lash out, my voice echoing in the silent night.

“Let me get you a cab.” He says quietly.

“I’ll get it myself! Bye!” I yell. I can’t stand this man anymore. He thinks he’s so important to me, that I need him, that he has control over me, but he’s just another rich piece of shit. They all are.

“I want to stay and watch you get in.”

“And I want you to get out of my sight!”

“Okay!” He exclaims. “I get it.” He says more quietly. “But I’m leaving until you’re safe. Deal with it.”

What a stubborn little shit. Alright, then. I can’t physically make him move so I have no choice but to endure his presence a for an extra 20 minutes.

Sighing loudly, I pull out my phone to order a cab. The screen refuses to light up.

“You’ve got be joking me.” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“What?” Mr. Jeon enquires.

“Phone’s dead.” I mutter.

“Is it, now?”

“Stop.” I hiss at him.

“Maya, it’s late. You’ve had a pretty rough night, and you don’t want to see me- I get it.” He says to me. “I just want to drive you home. I won’t talk, I won’t try anything. The quicker you accept, the quicker you’re home.” He proposes. Exhausted by tonight’s events, and with the alcohol making my temples ache, I lose all will to fight him.

“Just don’t fucking talk to me.” I mutter, stomping my feet and walking over to the passenger side.

“Thank you, Maya.” I hear him say from behind me.

Mr. Jeon parks his car in a more decent way before climbing into mine. I buckle my belt and look out the window, wiling to twist my neck until in aches to avoid his eyes. For once since the first time we went, Mr. Jeon is respectful of my boundaries and doesn’t speak to me.

With this week’s stress, the adrenaline rush, and the now strong effects of the wine, I start to drift away and completely doze off by the time we reach London.

“Maya.” I hear him call my name. I convince my eyes open, feeling disoriented, and a little bit nauseous. I blink a few times, looking around.

“We’re at your house.”
Mr. Jeon says to me. Already? The hammering in my head begins. I’m in my car, still sitting on the passenger seat, the door open, Mr. Jeon crouching down in front of me.

“I have your purse. Can you walk?" He asks me. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I nod weakly, though I’m not fully awake. I unbuckle my belt and step out, but my heel gets caught on the side walk.

“Easy.” Mr Jeon, says, wrapping a strong arm around my waist to keep me steady. I’m against his chest, and he’s looking down at me. Okay, now I’m awake. Hello.

“Hi.” He says to me. Why does he have to be so bloody beautiful? Thanks to the alcohol in my system, I have an excuse for turning crimson red. I feel my cheeks heat up.

This won’t do.

Clearing my throat, I push myself off of him, finding my balance again. I am tipsy, not drunk. I can walk. I smooth my dress down and take my purse from his hand.

“Thank you for the ride. Good night.” I tell him keeping my tone icy and my eyes as cold as I can manage, not waiting for a reply, I turn on my heels and head for my front door.

“Maya?” I hear him call behind me. I decide to grant him a last piece of my attention. He stands there, one hand in his pocket.

“For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry for what my brother did and for how I’ve behave with you.” He says to me, his eyes apologetic. His puppy act misses my sozzled brain. I will not let him get me like this.

“Trust me, you’re not sorry yet. Don’t bother sending me flowers.” I reply coldly, before stepping into my home without another look.

[spookyceph]

Good Graces Pt. 2

Finally got the second half of this fic together. Find it on Ao3 or the first part here on Tumblr. 

Nothing explicit takes place, however, the non-canon talk is of a sexual nature. Also, Dabi is a masochist and likes being ordered around. But we knew this already, didn’t we?

Words: 2,789

Rating: M for language and sexual themes

The wait ended two days later in the same spot. Dabi was in the process of pouring himself his second drink of the night when a misty-edged hole opened in reality behind the bar. From it stepped the tall, elegant form of Kurogiri. Dabi had never really considered what a demon might look like, but the League’s second-in-command/butler/voice of reason provided plenty of inspiration. Impeccable suit. Ability to show up anywhere. Form too immaterial to hurt, but still capable of making someone pay for trying. As always, Dabi gave him a polite nod and fought back memories of how it had felt to unexpectedly be elbow-deep in that shifting darkness.

“Ah, Dabi. Just the person I was hoping to see.” Deep. Smooth as high-end nihonshu. The kind of voice that could talk somebody into trading away their firstborn. Or into joining a half-assed villain ensemble.

Dabi paused with his glass to his lips. He made a sound he hoped came across as Yes, I’m listening rather than Help, I’ve swallowed my own tongue in mortal terror.

“Shigaraki Tomura wishes to speak with you at your earliest convenience.”

This was it. This was not a drill. Dabi put down the glass without taking a sip. “Where?”

“He is in his room at the moment. I will open the way, if you wish to go now.”

He’d just slid off the stool when the words registered. The air behind him changed. It was like the faint static charge living things gave off and a feeling of being watched all at once. Except Dabi knew if he turned he’d see only a hazy oval of black floating there, the perfect width and length to swallow him completely.

He didn’t want to use the warp gate. No fucking way. Problem was he’d already gotten up—couldn’t sit back down without looking like a coward or a dumbass or both. And he sure as hell wasn’t about to admit he already knew where Shigaraki’s room was to the person who amounted to the closest thing the guy had to a father.

So, Dabi grabbed his glass again. Knocked back the contents. Pretended it was just like jumping into a cold pool on a summer day as he turned and plunged into the waiting darkness.

Nothing existed anymore. Not time. Not space. Not self. Then something—maybe Kurogiri’s will or just simple momentum—carried him back into being. He returned to reality with a gasp. Catching his balance, he blinked and took stock of his new surroundings.

Shigaraki sat on his heels not a meter away, staring up through the stiff fingers of his favorite fashion statement. Large sheets of paper littered the floorboards in front of him. Maps, Dabi realized, noting the grid lines and coordinate markings. Somewhere way out in the sticks, if all the green and brown were any clue. Turning his head, he saw shelves lining the walls. Books? No, too many the same size and too thin. Cases for games—hundreds of them. More than one person could finish without giving up on everything else in life. Then again, what did he know? He’d never been allowed to have any as a kid. Never been allowed to have anything that might distract him from the glorious future planned out for him since day one. And just look at how well that had gone.

At any rate, the room didn’t seem to have the right ambiance to banish or murder someone in. Dabi let his hopes peek out from the bunker of suspicion.

“What’s this stuff for?” he asked, nodding to the maps on the ground.

Nothing from Shigaraki for an adrenaline-spiking second. Then, he crooked the fingers of one hand. “Sit.”

Dabi obeyed, pacing himself. Step in closer. Let one leg fold under him. Just bend the other so the sole of his boot lay flat on the floor. Rest same side elbow on knee. Prop the whole casual façade up with the other hand behind him.

“You got something you wanna say?” Cool nonchalance despite all the spit having vanished from inside his mouth.

Closing those intense eyes, his boss-and-possibly-more drew a long inhale. Didn’t even gag on the musty museum specimen smell of the taxidermy clutching his face. Then it was Dabi’s turn to suck in a breath as Shigaraki pulled off the gray hand with fumbling fingers, setting it aside.

“I want you to lead the others on their first job,” he said, complete with direct eye contact.

Any pretense of self-assurance abandoned Dabi. His stomach clenched as if braced for a punch. He pumped his brain for something droll, snappy, cocky in response. The well had run dry. He settled for practical.

“What do you want us to do?”

Shigaraki’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, though his stoic expression never wavered. “I was given some interesting information about UA’s precious fledgling heroes. Seems they’re headed to a remote training camp in the mountains for the summer. No one will be looking after them except two of their teachers and four pros who specialize in wilderness rescue missions. I want you to ruin their little retreat.”

Dabi’s spine went stiff and straight as an exclamation point. “I didn’t sign up to kill kids—even baby heroes.”

But Shigaraki was already shaking his head halfway through. “Killing them isn’t the point. That would generate too much outrage, hypocritical or no. The police might actually pry their heads from their asses and make a united effort to hunt us down with that much public pressure on them. Not to mention every third-rate pro in the country would crawl out of the woodwork, looking to make headlines. We’d be finished before we ever got started.

“No, what I have in mind is some training of our own.”

Attention swapped places with apprehension. “Oh?”

“None of us have worked together. Most of us haven’t worked on a team at all. This is an opportunity to test how well your quirks and styles compliment or clash with one another.”

“So, what? We crash their field trip and start fucking shit up? Flee the scene when the fighting gets too heated?”

“I came up with a level objective for you to focus on.” From on top of the maps, Shigaraki scooped up a thick manila folder and handed it to him.

Taking it, Dabi flipped to the first set of pages inside. His expression stayed set in stone while his stomach took a cliff dive.

A pretty girl with skin the color of bubblegum and squiggly little horns peeking out of her cotton candy hair smiled out at him from the photo in the top corner.

Name: Ashido Mina

Age: 15

Quirk: Acid

“You got hold of the students’ profiles? Impressive.” And a potential fucking disaster waiting to happen.

Shigaraki shrugged modestly, lightly scratching a new crop of scabs that had popped up in jagged furrows on both sides of his neck. Scabs that hadn’t been there a few days ago. “It’s just their teachers’ assessments of their quirks and performance during class assignments. Personal information like relatives and home addresses were better protected.”

The vice slowly closing its jaws around Dabi’s thumping heart released. Regardless, he made sure not to linger on any one student as he leafed through several of the profiles. Just focused on breathing normally and pretending to read for what seemed like a reasonable amount of time before moving to the next. He’d wait until he didn’t have an audience to allow himself to register anything.

“What’s this objective supposed to be?” he inquired.

“Capture one of the stronger, more notable students and ask him to join us.”

A muscle in his cheek jumped when Shigaraki reached over and flipped to a report in the middle of the folder. Dabi forced himself not only to look but see.

The boy scowling out of the picture was blonde. Broad-shouldered. Red-eyed, though not as beautifully as the one sitting across the way. Dabi’s pulse evened out.

“Bakugou Katsuki,” he read. “Isn’t this the kid they had to bind and gag at UA’s Sports Festival—even though he won the damn thing?”

“The same.”

“The hell do we want him for? I thought we were full capacity on lunatics already.”

A sigh. “To spook the school’s supporters and society at large, for one. It’s not enough to kill heroes. More will just take their place. We have to convince people to withdraw their support of them. Turn against them, though that won’t come until later.”

Dabi snorted. “This little asshole will never agree to sign on with us. He’s obsessed with proving he’s above everyone else. I know the type.”

A twitch of interest crossed Shigaraki’s face. Instead of pressing, though, he filed the slip away in that mysterious brain of his. “I don’t give half a shit if he agrees. All that matters is he blabs to anyone who’ll listen that we targeted and tried to corrupt him once we let him ‘escape’.”

Tapping his fingers on the stack of papers, Dabi let the big picture come into focus. “Instead of outright attacking the school, we’re undermining their image. Making all the mommies and daddies wonder if a career as a pro is as great as they thought it would be for their precious snot-nosed bastards. Getting donors to think twice before reaching for those wallets. We’re playing the long game. Smart.” A thin smile tugged at one end of Dabi’s mouth. “Which leaves just one question. Why have me lead instead of yourself? People might accuse me of sleeping my way to the top.”

A lovely shade of pink, like the inner coating of a seashell, livened up Shigaraki’s cheeks. “We never—!” He huffed and turned away, pink deepening to rose and spreading to the tops of his ears when he noticed Dabi’s smile had widened to a grin. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

“Guilty. Well, on the last part anyway.”

Shigaraki continued to fume, hopes of an answer dwindling with each second of silence. Then, just when an apology was in the works, “Because I’m a shitty leader.”

Dabi exchanged his smile for arched eyebrows. “”And you think I’d make a better one?”

“You take initiative when you need to, and show restraint when you should. You’re able to read people without giving away much of anything about yourself. The others respect you. They like you. Anyway, from a purely tactical standpoint, since your quirk is long range you can attack and give orders without getting swept up in the melee. And…” Blood-soaked irises looked at him through a tangled curtain of white hair for a moment before flitting back to the safety of the maps. “I trust you.”

Every response Dabi had lined up crumbled. With them gone, he couldn’t pretend not to notice what they’d been hiding. Exposed to proper light and air, it bloomed, bright and bold despite the ruin it grew from.

“I won’t fail.” The words were hoarse, but came out easily enough for a promise he’d swore to make to no one except himself ever again.

“I know you won’t. Because this isn’t about winning or losing. I want you and the others to test yourselves as individuals and as a team. Do your best. Find what works. What doesn’t. We’ll figure out where to go from there. Together.”

He’d joined the League of Villains looking for a means to exact revenge. Being told what he’d always wanted to hear made for a hell of a bonus prize.

Dabi pounced. His mouth mashed into Shigaraki’s, muffling an astonished yelp. Cold hands latched onto the front of his shirt. Not Decaying. Not shoving. Clinging. Insisting. He obliged, wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist and shoulders, then letting his weight carry them both to the floor. They rolled across the maps, scattering stolen papers as they went. Lips and teeth and tongue combined in different ways between every panting break for air.

Winding up sprawled on top, Dabi relocated his kisses to Shigaraki’s neck. The whimper that came out of him when just a bit of suction was applied under the corner of his jaw went directly to Dabi’s dick. Shigaraki writhed, supple and strong, yet unsure and overwhelmed. His fingers—three on each hand—clutched hard enough to hurt through a carapace of scar tissue. The scabs crosshatching his neck scraped the tongue and tasted of rust.

He surpassed any fantasy conjured up in the past few weeks. Because he was real. Unpredictable. And, in that slice of time at least, he was Dabi’s.

Shigaraki gasped and arched at the feel of a hand slipping up under his shirt. Dabi became so absorbed in the smooth, cool texture of the skin beneath his fingertips he didn’t think anything of the arm that snaked around his own, or the heel hooked behind his knee until, with a sharp twist of hip, he was rolled. The air rushed out of him in a huff as he hit the floor. Shigaraki didn’t look it, but he was solid, planting himself on Dabi’s chest and pinning both his wrists above his head.

“No,” he said, decisive if out of breath. “We do this my way.”

Dabi kept perfectly still. One wriggle, one shift, and he would’ve cum in his pants right then and there. So, he relaxed one muscle group at a time. Controlled his breathing. Showed his boss what a good boy he could be.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked, already positive he’d like the answer.

Despite his command of the situation, Shigaraki’s gaze wandered off to the side. Unsure. Shy. God, it was going to be fun fucking both descriptions right out of him.

“I don’t have…experience…with this, ah, subject.”

Dabi had to keep his teeth clamped together to keep from laughing. Good. He had to be good or he wouldn’t get any treats.

“So, I thought…maybe we could each make a list. Of things we like—or might like. And of stuff we don’t, or aren’t interested in. Then…pick and agree on an option. Until…until someone gets bored or just doesn’t want to anymore or…whatever.”

The habit of exceeding expectations was quickly becoming one of Dabi’s favorite things about his new boss. “Is that what you’ve been up to these past three days? Thinking about what you want to do to me?”

Shigaraki shifted his weight forward a bit, breathing definitely speeding up a notch. “Not the entire three days,” he muttered.

Dabi rested his hands on slim hips, keeping them still before they sent him over the edge. “When did you want this list?”

He considered, worrying his already cracked bottom lip with his teeth and then catching the trickle of blood with the point of his tongue in a way that made Dabi’s toes curl in his boots. “We’ll need to start meeting regularly to work on the plan anyway, so…tomorrow, at this time.”

Meaning he had already made a list and wanted to see what Dabi came up with. “Done.”

“Well.” Shigaraki cleared his throat lightly. “It’s settled then.” Carefully, he started to slide his leg over. Froze when a soft hiss escaped Dabi. A finger stroked one of the staples in his cheek before pulling back, remembering permission to do so hadn’t been agreed on yet.

“Did I hurt you? When we rolled over?”

Absolutely precious. Dabi smiled. “Not as much as I want you to.”

Red eyes blinked rapidly, wide and startled. “I’m…sorry?”

“Don’t be. Now go on. Let me up.”

Still looking a bit lost, Shigaraki did, sitting with his arms wrapped around his legs. Dabi sat upright on a long exhale. Paused to collect himself. Got to his feet when he was reasonably sure he wouldn’t ruin his last clean pair of pants doing so.

“You’re leaving?”

The note of disappointment in Shigaraki’s tone almost toppled his resolve. He looked over through lowered lashes. “I have something pressing to take care of at the moment. Unless you don’t want to wait for a list to find out what it is.”

One glance below Dabi’s belt transformed confusion into open-mouthed understanding. “Oh.” Shigaraki buried his face in his knees. “Sorry?”

“I already told you. Don’t be.” And before his willpower evaporated completely, “See you tomorrow.”

He’d made it to the door when a final thought sprung on him. Pausing with his fingers on the handle, he peered back over his shoulder. “You didn’t come up with this whole training camp plan just to score some alone time with me, did you?”

The choked sound that came from Shigaraki was answer enough. Dabi finally allowed himself to laugh as he let himself out.

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Monument Woman

Pairing: Marcus Pike x OC (Rosemary Carter)

Warnings: Violence

A/N:  I’m back on my Monument Woman bullshit, but thanks for the Smile love!

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tag List:

@zeldasayer​ , @beskars​ , @coolmaybelateruniverse​ , @the-feckless-wonder​ , @pascalisthepunkest​ , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501​ , @fioccodineveautunnale​  , @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ , @lilkermit14​ , @tortles   [please message me to be added or subtracted]

[PART 1]  [PART 2]  [PART 3]  [PART 4]

Part 5 – You Can’t Catch a Break, Can You?

Rosemary sat at the kitchen table, reviewing the documents in front of her as Banana curled up awkwardly in her lap.  His light snores were the only sounds that could be heard in the bright kitchen besides the shuffling of papers that Fern had brought to her earlier that afternoon.

Robert left everything to Rosemary and now she had a home and business to contend with, knowing that her hands were tied until the probate cleared. Thankfully, Robert had made Fern the executor of his estate, knowing that Rosemary wouldn’t be in the best of places to handle so much information.  But there were still papers to initial and checks to sign for the store in the meantime.

Just a few days before, she had walked down Hoffman Street to visit Fern’s office and passed by Jak Spravy Books.  She and Robert had closed the store in August as his health worsened. She felt her heart cheer up a little at all the flowers and mementos left by people in the community.  Robert had been well loved.

“Ow, Baba!”  Rosemary cried out as the dog suddenly shifted, stepping heavily in the crease of her thigh.  The dog whined at her sudden movements before jumping down and padding into the living room, on the hunt for a bed that didn’t move.  Shaking her head, she went back to the folder, initialing where Fern had marked in the paperwork.  

Sighing as she closed the folder, she stretched her arms out and let out a groan when her shoulder popped.  Rosemary stood up, letting her lower back crack as well.  The late afternoon sun was starting to pour into the kitchen, illuminating a life well lived.  She wandered towards the living room herself to watch the dog snooze before she felt the itch to get out of the house.

Robert’s house – no, her house now – was situated a couple blocks from the cemetery where he was buried, and she grabbed her keys off the hook before locking the door as she left.  The early October air was brisk as she wrapped her jacket around herself, and it smelled deeply of autumn.  She crunched through the leaves on the sidewalk and thought absent mindedly that she should hire the teenager across the street to rake the yard.  The walk was a short one and soon she found herself standing in front of his gravestone.

“Hi.”  Her voice sounded small.  “You’re probably rolling your eyes at me now, not believing I’m back again.”

She chuckled as she sat down, getting comfortable against the stone. She’d been to the cemetery every day since they buried him the week before and she found herself spending at least an hour just talking out loud.  Sometimes she cried, but mostly she poured out her heart, telling his stone her fears about the future, her loneliness, her gratitude that he had been so generous.

The sun was low in the sky and the cemetery was shrouded in the hazy purple of dusk when she finally made her way back to the house.  She saw cars in the driveway as she came up the street and began to jog, realizing her friends had arrived.  None of the women had left her alone since he passed, and Rosemary was grateful to have such loving people in her life.

The night Robert died, she said she was alone now.  But now that the shock of death had passed, she realized that was wrong.  She wasn’t alone so long as her girls were with her.  She bounced up the stairs with a spring that had been missing since Robert told her he was dying and opened the door.  The bright light of the kitchen and the warm smells of a hearty dinner enveloped her as tightly as the three pairs of arms did.

No, she thought, I am not alone at all.

-*-

Eventually Rosemary returned to work, warmly welcomed by the rest of the staff – even Bob.  Walking into her workstation, she gave Marquetta a long hug, which was heartily returned.  Their staff was a small one and Marquetta had become a treasured work friend and the curator worked hard to mentor the young woman.

“I have two tours today, but if you need me, come find me.”  Marquetta leaned back and flashed her million-watt grin at Rosemary, who nodded.  As she left the room, she squatted down to give Banana a pet on the head and in return she received a happy doggy grin.

“Good luck with the little beesters, M!”  Rosemary called down the hall to a ‘yeah yeah.’  She shook her head as she looked around to figure out what was her next project.  Noticing the large pile on her previously empty ‘To Be Accessioned’ shelf, she sighed heavily and rolled up her sleeves to get to work.

-*-

Music played quietly in the background as Rosemary continued to work into the late evening.  Everyone else had left hours ago, but she had been on such a roll that she couldn’t stop. She hummed along with the song absent-mindedly as she carefully stuffed the sleeve of the fragile dress that had been donated while she was gone.  The satin had already frayed at the seam and she held her breath as her arm entered the sleeve.

The breath she let out was tinged with glee as she realized no further damage had been done to the beautiful piece.  Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she reached over and grabbed another sheet of tissue paper to start the process all over again in the other sleeve.  Just as she began to roll up the flimsy paper, Banana suddenly growled.  Rosemary startled at the sound.

The dog never growled.

“Baba?”  Her voice was cautious.  “What is it?”

The dog suddenly barked and before she could react a sharp pain radiated through her skull.  The force of the hit knocked her into the work bench before she bounced off the wooden surface to the floor.  The ringing in her ears nearly muffled the voices talking above her.  Why did everything feel like she was mired in molasses? Shaking her head, Rosemary tried to move to her hands and knees when a steel-toed boot connected with her ribs. The air rushed out of her lungs along with a shattered cry.

Banana barked again, baring his teeth at the intruders, but cowered under the table when another boot swung at him.  He whimpered, looking from the two hulking shapes that had entered the room to Rosemary, who squirmed on the floor.

“Where is it?”  The voice was distorted from the growing headache and all Rosemary could do was groan. A hand reached out and slapped her. “I asked you, where is it?”

Another voice wormed its way into her addled brain, but for some reason she couldn’t understand it, as if the speaker were talking in a foreign tongue. The nausea that she had been fighting was winning and she could feel the bile rise in her throat.  She rolled to her side, hoping to stem the tide, but a hand reached out and yanked her head back.  Her groan sounded wet and the voices argued again in that tongue she couldn’t identify.

She heard crashing and something breaking above her head and she tried to protest, to protect the artifacts she had been processing.  She reached her hand out and felt a sharp pain as glass sliced her palm.  Crying out, the attackers must have heard her and looked down.  A heavy boot slammed down onto her arm, pinning her into place.

“It must be in here, she got it before she left.  Find it, I want it!”  A third voice floated into the mix and Rosemary raised her head slightly, feeling as if what she heard was familiar.  The boot on her arm moved and a sharp pain radiated through her skull as she was kicked again.  Rolling onto her back, she could feel something wet underneath her and as the darkness enveloped her, she wondered if she would wake up again.

---***---

“Mrs. Morgan, I need for you to please take a deep breath.  I need your help.”  The young officer had kind eyes as she held onto Helen’s hand.  The director was shaking like a leaf, face streaked with tears as she watched them carry Rosemary out of the building.

Nothing was out of place when she entered the museum that morning, noting that Rosemary’s car was in the lot.  She shook her head, hoping the curator wasn’t overworking herself to get through the grief of losing Robert.  Helen went up the stairs as she usually did, responding to a text message from her son.  When she got to the top floor, she smiled as she heard the music and took a left turn towards Rosemary’s workroom.

She isn’t sure how she found the ability to call the police, her shock at the devastating scene in front of her rendering her as still as a statue.  At the sight of her, Banana stood up from his spot next to Rosemary and sprinted towards the familiar face.  The room looked as if a tornado hit it – items torn or broken, supplies tossed everywhere, an entire shelf knocked over, and one of the cabinets was wrenched open. And in the center of it all was Rosemary, lying on the floor - unconscious or dead, Helen wasn’t sure.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.  Let me try again.”  Helen took a deep breath as requested and recounted everything she had witness before the police arrived.  Marquetta and Bob had shown up shortly before the police did and they stood off to the side in silence, a mournful looking dog in the young woman’s arms.  They watched as the paramedics left the building and Marquetta buried her face into Banana’s warm neck.  Bob laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and squeezed, tears prickling his eyes at the scene before him.

After promising the police not to touch upstairs until they were done, the three museum employees quietly decided to keep the place close for the day. Not wanting to be alone, they walked down the street to a small diner, one they knew would let Banana in.  They weren’t hungry, but they didn’t want to be alone.

Who could have done this and why?

---***---

“Fuck.”  The word sounded scratchy and raw as it tumbled from Rosemary’s mouth.  Fern and Amy sat up immediately, relieved that she was finally awake.  The bright lights seemed to burn her eyes as she slowly opened them but attempts to move her hand seemed difficult as if it weighed a ton.  “What the fuck?”

“That would be your first word after being knocked out.”  Tina let out a chuckle as she entered the room with three cups of coffee.  Amy reached out to touch Rosemary’s forehead while Fern left the room to find a nurse. “How you feeling, Muhammad Ali?”

“You’re not funny, bitch.”  Rosemary mumbled and Tina let out a louder laugh.

“I’d say you’re no worse for the wear with that response.”  Amy looked over at Tina, who raised her hands.  The sound of heavy footsteps came closer and the doctor entered the room with Fern in tow.  The two other women raised their eyebrows at the man standing before them, his slight stature not what they were expecting from all the noise they had just heard.

“Ms. Park here says Rosemary’s awake and by the sounds of Ms. Steinberger, already on her way to the Cracker Jack Club.”  Dr. Westen smiled broadly, his eyes crinkling in the corner as he watched Rosemary attempt to give a withering glare in his direction.

“You’re not funny, either.”

“I know, but my husband would argue otherwise.  Now, on a scale from ‘eh its fine’ to ‘I want to die,’ how bad is your pain right now?”  He pulled at her eyelid, shining a light into her eyes.  She groaned loudly and tried to swat away his hands.

“Stop, the light makes my head hurt.”  He stood up, nodding

“Well that may be, but your eyes are reacting normally, and I’d say your concussion won’t leave much lasting damage.  But you’re going to have a gnarly headache for a few days.  Can you wiggle your fingers and toes?”  She complied and he grinned again.  “I want you to stay one more night just for observation, but I say you can go home tomorrow with no problems.  I’ll write a script for you for the pain.”

After chatting further with the three other women, the kind doctor took his leave and Rosemary’s friends turned to look directly at her, their eyebrows drawn in frustration.  She knew that look and weakly held her hands up.

“I’m just waking up, don’t jump on my ass yet.”  She sighed.  “What do I have to do to get some water around here?”

-*-

Three days later, Rosemary rode the elevator at work, ever grateful for its existence.  The idea of walking up three flights of stairs made her headache seem worse.  She closed her eyes and sighed, leaning her head against the wall of the car, trying to ignore Officer Garcia, who was riding up with her to the third floor.  She knew they were waiting on her to give her statement, but she feared what she was going to find.  The sounds of breaking glass and metal on metal still echoed in her head.

She slowly walked down the hall, a steady hand at her elbow from her new companion and she smiled as she saw Baba waiting for her outside her workshop. The dog ambled up to her, having stayed with Marquetta while Rosemary was in the hospital.  She swayed a bit as she bent down to pet him and when she stood up, she felt nauseous at the dizzy sensation swirling in her head.

“I promise we’ll make this quick,” Officer Garcia sighed in concern as he felt Rosemary’s hand grip his hard.  “I know that this will be difficult, but the sooner we know what happened and what’s missing, the faster we can solve this crime.”

She nodded and they continued down the hall.  She gasped when she saw the room, realizing it looked worse than she feared.  Shuffling into the space, she started to tear up at the box of Austrian crystal that had been donated by Mrs. Heard, a beautiful set that was planned for one of their exhibits.  With the help of the officer, she bent down, shifting the box to see if anything was salvageable.  It was hard to focus and she righted the box, hoping to come back to it later.

When her eyes landed on the workbench and saw the dress she had been processing was still there, she heaved a sigh of relief.  She could see small spatters of blood, but she brushed it off, knowing they could remove it carefully.  She made a mental note to sit down with Marquetta before she left to list what needed to be done.  Until the headaches went away, Rosemary was useless in this space.

Officer Garcia dutifully took notes as the curator slowly walked through the space, noting that nothing seemed to be gone.  She’d have to check the records though, she pointed out to him and he nodded in return.  As she turned around, her eyes landed on her cabinet and she stood still, ears ringing for a completely different reason.

Someone had ripped open the cabinet, the metal doors hanging off their hinges and rendered into hunks of nothing.  Rosemary stumbled forward with a cry, noticing it was completely empty. She began to say ‘no’ over and over until Officer Garcia placed his hand on her shoulder.  She turned around; her face twisted in panic.

“It’s gone!”

“What?”

“The Cornucopia!”

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Please Don’t See Me - Chapter 9

It was concerningly easy to lie about the circumstances of their hospital visit. All Ford had to say was ‘there was a bear-’ and the nurse was already taking Stan off of his hands, nodding like this was an everyday occurrence. No questions asked or police notified or rangers called.

Then again, this was Gravity Falls. That seemed to be a sentiment that never got tired.

The nurse also didn’t bat an eyelid at Stan’s jumpiness and apparent inability to communicate with anything other than body language – whether that was a symptom of shock, or of his… condition, remained a mystery. However, when Ford had last seen him Stan seemed to be relaxing somewhat, enough to mutter ‘yes’ and ‘no’ to the doctor’s questions.

Ford had only suffered some scrapes and bruises and minor puncture wounds, so once those had been cleaned and covered he was just… left in the waiting room. To wait, presumably.

Ford hated waiting.

And now he was stuck here in this practically empty sterile room, listening to a clock on the wall tick idly. Tick, tick, tick. It set his teeth on edge. But it couldn’t begin to distract from the complete and utter confusion swirling around in his skull.

Ford pulled his journal from his pocket with shaking hands and began jotting down information, in the hopes of organizing his mangled thoughts.

·      Rebus appears to be some sort of shape-shifter

·      Is also Stanley???

·      Why didn’t he tell me who he was?

·      Why is Stanley here at all?

·      Stanley is a human. But this isn’t a human.

·      By all accounts, it seems to be him.

·      Stan – Rebus? He protected me. Rebus has always been protective of me.

·      Stan was protective of me before he was kicked out left

·      Same person?

·      Why is he so scarred? What has he been doing these last nine years?

Ford hesitated, seeing fresh wounds crossing old scars in his mind’s eye. They’d been visible under Rebus’s pelt and on Stan’s skin alike. Stan’s – pelt? Try as he might Ford couldn’t reconcile the two individuals in his head. There simply wasn’t enough data to come to any conclusions!

No, he could still work with this. The first step in the scientific method was having a question, coming up with a hypothesis, speculating on possible solutions before investigating. But where to start?

Stan certainly hadn’t come to Ford of his own free will, not with Ford rescuing him from being beaten to death and then locking him up. The thought of that cage made Ford feel quite ill, now. The thought of trapping his brother behind steel bars and studying him like any other specimen…

And for some reason, Stan hadn’t revealed himself, despite the fact that he seemed perfectly capable of it. But why? Ford resisted the urge to pull at his own hair in frustration. His life’s work was studying and quantifying the anomalous and unexplained, but somehow his brother’s decisions baffled him far more than any Manatour or gnome civilization ever could!

“Mister Pines?”

Ford startled at a nurse’s voice in front of him. He snapped his journal shut and hurriedly straightened his glasses.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Your brother’s ready to be discharged.”

“Already?” Ford found himself saying. The nurse shot him a funny look.

“It… it’s been several hours.”

…oh. Ford may have been a little more lost in his thoughts than he’d realized. He flushed and cleared his throat. “Ah.”

The nurse roused himself and glanced down at the clipboard in his hands. “He sustained a lot of flesh wounds, but luckily no bones have been broken except for a few ribs. Those have been bound and he’s on pain medication for it, but there’s not much else we can do for those. He needed quite a few stitches on that arm, and – well, just about everywhere else too. That being said, he’s in surprisingly good shape. The doc cleared him to leave but you’re gonna have to pick up his pain meds and antibiotics from the front desk before you go on your way. Wouldn’t want injuries like that getting infected.”

“No.” Ford agreed uneasily. The nurse continued, talking about the importance of taking the full course of antibiotics and proper dosage of pain medication and how Stan shouldn’t be operating any heavy-duty machinery, which Ford filtered out because he already knew it all.

There was paperwork, and a prescription to get filled, and then finally a familiar figure approached, arguing loudly with a nurse about how ‘no, he didn’t need a wheelchair thank you very much, he wasn’t an invalid’ and ‘he’d had worse, who cared about a little blood loss’. He had recovered from his shock enough to be difficult, it seemed. Stan shut his mouth once he caught sight of Ford.

Ford scanned his brother quickly – he was dressed as well as he could be in shredded clothes over bandages and assorted wound-dressings. He was also obviously doped up on some kind of medication, given the slight slur to his words and his unsteady gait. It didn’t help that one arm was pinned to his chest by a crisp white sling.

The nurse sent Ford a harried look that seemed to say ‘he’s all yours’. Stanley shuffled on the spot and wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Ford sighed. “My car is just outside.”

Stan still quiet as he followed Ford to the car. It made him uneasy – Stan was meant to be loud and exuberant and big, not quiet and… small. He wouldn’t even meet Ford’s gaze. He stared out the window as Ford turned on the engine and pulled out onto the road.

Ford opened his mouth, realized he didn’t know what to say, and closed it again. They drove in silence.

They had just started on the winding forest path when Stan mumbled, “You can just drop me off here.”

Ford slammed on the brakes.

The wheels squealed and both brothers were jerked against their seatbelts as the car jerked to a halt on the thankfully abandoned road. Stan swore and rubbed his chest. Ah yes, broken ribs. Whoops.

“Shit, I’m going, okay-”

“You owe me answers.” Ford didn’t mean to sound so accusing. But good grief, he’d been kept in the dark for long enough. He twisted around in his seat to face his drugged-up brother. “Stanley, you are not leaving this car until you explain to me exactly what is going on.”

“Alright, jeez!”

“Rebus.” Ford said. It wasn’t quite a question. “The whole time, that was you?”

Stan grunted an affirmative, shoulders curling in.

“Just… how. Just how.”

“Apparently I’m a werewolf now.”

…well. Not the weirdest thing Ford had heard. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t wanna get kicked out!” Stan snapped. “Okay?”

Ford spluttered. “What on earth gave you-”

“Obviously that plan’s bumpkus now. Well, I had a good run. Later, Sixer.” Stan rambled as he fumbled for his door handle. Ford gaped.

“You’re leaving?”                        

“Well, yeah. No use overstayin’ my welcome.” Stan was still struggling one-handedly with the door. “Now, just – gotta get my stupid car – if it hasn’t been impounded – I’ll just get outta yer hair-”

“Stan!” Ford said loudly. Stan jumped. Ford sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not telling you to leave.”

Stan stared at him like a fish out of water. “But – you-”

“It is quite literally my life’s work to study the paranormal. You really think I would throw you out?”

Something Ford had said must have hit a cord with Stan, because he slumped and turned his face away. “…no. Not when you put it like that.”

Ford nodded, pleased that his brother was finally getting it. “Good. Let’s go back to my house, it’s – well, you already know where I live.” And wasn’t that strange? “I have several tests I’d like to run; and I’m going to need to hear about how this whole thing started. In my studies I’ve never come across conclusive proof of the existence of werewolves. Knowing how it came about would be very useful for classifying…”

He trailed off when he noticed the click of the car door and the fact that the seat next to him was empty.

The crunching of footsteps through leaf litter snapped him out of his shock. Ford undid his seatbelt hurried from his seat to follow his brother, who was currently making his way into the forest.

“Stan!”

Stan whipped around to snarl, “Fuck off, Ford!”

Ford blinked at him like a startled owl. “I… what?”

“Ya made yer point!” Stan’s words came somewhat garbled through fast-growing fangs. The glint of them sent a shiver down Ford’s spine. “M’no’ gonna be yer science ‘periment. ‘Tha mithtake thtaying here a’ all.”

“What on earth do you mean?” Ford demanded. Stan growled out an answer but it was lost in the distortion of his no-longer-human vocal cords. Stan threw up his hands and turned to stalk off into the woods.

“Stanley! Where are you going? Stanley!”

Ford shouted after him, but Stan had already disappeared.

 _______________________________________________________________________

Something’s wrong.

Everything’s wrong.

His head was stuffed with cotton wool. It made the world around him blurry as he stumbled deeper into the forest. The forest was Safe. Trees were Safe. They felt almost like home. Now that he was surrounded by them, he couldn’t even remember what he was running from. Or where he was running to…

He hadn’t been in this form for so long. He’d forgotten how weak humans were. His vision blurred and smeared (to be fair, that could be the lack of glasses), the cold nipped at his skin, his hearing was muffled as if he were underwater, all he could smell was dirt and sweat. He felt naked without his thick coat of fur, only jeans and his torn jacket chafing against raw skin. Everything was wrong. And that wasn’t even counting the oil-slick taste of wrongness that seemed to have pervaded his throat, making every rasping breath taste awful, like he was biting into that weird bear all over again.

But worse was how fucking intense this hurt felt. His chest pinched and it felt like his lungs were tied together with an elastic band, unable to inflate. He almost wanted to crack open his ribs to give them space to breathe. But… he couldn’t remember what he was even upset about. Why did hurt so much? What was he forgetting? Think, think, think.

He staggered and leaned heavily against a tree trunk. The light was all wrong, it glinted and glared and threatened to blind him. Was that his head buzzing, or had hornets encircled him? He swiped blindly at the air around him and his claws bit into bark. Why were his claws out…?

Ugh, it was getting hard to think and his mouth still tasted awful, like the air around that weird crystal, and the blood of the thing that had attacked them. His whole body was buzzing now. He tripped on not-so-human legs and fell forward into a more comfortable stance, spine shifting with a grinding crunch. The cloth binding his throbbing arm ripped and tore at the shifting of muscle and bones beneath it. This… this was wrong, he wasn’t in control here, what was going on? Where was Ford?

Ford. Ford, who didn’t care for him. Who saw him as an oddity to be investigated, and later discarded. He had been stupid to think that his brother would want him around. That hurt, enough to make his eyes prickle. Of course Ford wouldn’t want to help him.

(Yes he would. Brother is Safe.)

(But he only likes not-me.)

(Wait, that’s… me? Who am I…?)

Maybe it was easier to just let go.

Just for a little bit; let the hurt fade into numbness until it wasn’t quite as hard to bear anymore. Let himself forget the ache in his chest. Close his eyes and no longer be…

…who?

Someone who was already dead, just a ghost of pain and frustration.

It was all too easy to let go.