#not gore but police yourselves

[bitchlessdino]

scream your heart out (m)

🔪pairing: fem!reader x seventeen (???) 🔪genre: horror, slasher, smut 🔪tags: DISCLAIMIER!!! MAY NOT SUIT MOST AUDIENCES, Graphic sexual and violent imagery color coded in pink, abrupt changes in text color, features/mentions members (Chan, Seungkwan, Wonwoo, Minghao, Seungcheol, Seokmin, Junhui, Soonyoung, Joshua), established relationships, scream au!seventeen, Hybristophilia, erotophonophilia, homicidophilia, graphic images, mention panic attacks, smoking, mentions disfigurement of faces, severed body parts, knives, guns, threatening phone calls, face masks (horror), knife wielding, blood, gore, death/murder, knife play, bloody handjobs, cum mixing with blood, consensual sex but nonconsensual murder, HONESTLY SOME REALLY FUCKED UP SHIT AND IM SORRY BUT YALL SHOULD BE READING THE WARNINGS, sexual innuendos, kitchen sex, daddy kink, unprotected sex, cream pies, cuck! (??) member, voyeurism, exhibitionism, breeding kink, PLS LET ME KNOW IF IM MISSING ANYTHING PLS 🔪word count: 6.8k 🔪summary: you and your friends get caught up in a classic horror slasher movie, only it's in real life. Now you're off to fend for yourselves in Seungcheol's million dollar home. The question is, did you keep them out, or did you just lock them in? 🔪author note: thank you @multi-kpop-fanfics and @wonwussy for beta reading for me <3. here's some of their notes “I’m scratching my face to not fucking scream” “WELL SHIT BRO WHAT THE FUCK” -Zeta “It definitely does capture that slasher essence” -SJ this was so fun yet mind numbing to write but this is way more extreme than anything I’ve ever written like I lost a lot of sanity writing this. FR one of the most fucked up things I’ve ever written. I hope it was worth it. ENJOY EVERYONE and even tho it came out late HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Ever since the murders over a week ago, everyone in town has been on edge. All including the individuals most closely involved.

You had lost three core members of your eight. 

Joshua, someone you’ve known since grade school who was sliced open from the back before being stabbed 8 times to the point of excessive bleeding. He had just gone out to walk his dog, the poor creature being the only reason they found his body at all. If not for the dog’s bloody paws, and the trail of blood they left behind finding help, Joshua’s cadaver would’ve lost deep in the woods.

And then Chan, your long-time boyfriend, was stabbed fifteen times in the chest. His face was so disfigured from obvious violence and what looked to be burn scars, that he was practically unrecognizable if not for the fact he died in his own home. Police are still looking for his severed arms and legs to this day with no luck.

And finally, Seungkwan, who hadn’t died but lost to the paranoia festering in his blood like a disease. That caused him to take the train to the furthest destination possible to attempt to escape death if at all possible, leaving the rest of you with only the reassuring texts he left in his wake.

All that was left was you, Seokmin, Seungcheol, Minghao, and Wonwoo; the core five.

“Okay, absolutely no one is leaving this house for the time being. Until the psycho is caught behind bars, dead, or whatever the fuck! We’re safe here.”

Seungcheol, the eldest, did just as expected: contacted the rest of you into a personal prison. Luckily, he was loaded. The prison happened to be six thousand square feet of space with countless rooms, amenities, and a housekeeper to boot. From the looks of it, it’s paradise, but it’s definitely a prison.

“Holy shit, you have an indoor basketball court?”

A prison with an indoor basketball court. And a pool apparently.

Seokmin wasted no time to enjoy these features, breaking out of his clothes and cannonballing in his underwear. If you knew any better, Seokmin didn’t even look like he went through any trauma at all. It looked like every other day for him.

“There's a murderer and you’re doing butterfly strokes?” You asked, baffled.

The golden man scoffed, reaching the edge of the pool and resting against it with his forearms. “What am I gonna do? Wallow, crying to my mom, worrying about dying, and not taking advantage of this gorgeous mansion we’re staying in?”

“Thank you, Seokmin,” Seungcheol grinned.

Seokmin winked back at him, “Of course, daddy.”

“How are you both so unserious about all this?”

Wonwoo left a kind hand against your shoulder, looking back at you with warm eyes and a small smile. “They’re grieving. Just in their own way.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “They’re being ridiculous. We shouldn’t be here. We need to be at the police station or something.”

“You were there when I got the call. The creepy voice said no police or you all die. Remember?”

You shuddered, hands over your sides to relieve your chilled skin. “Of course I do, but we’re sitting ducks here. This isn’t any better. We need protection.”

It was Seungcheol’s turn to scoff then. He strutted in front of you, flaunting his wing span before flexing his arms and then crossing them over his chest. “Well, you have me.”

“And me,” Seokmin joined. “Pure muscle right here.”

“Maybe pure laughing gas, not sure about muscle. We’re actually living in a horror movie right now and you’re all making jokes.”

“Hey,” Wonwoo stroked your head as his soothingly deep voice serenaded you, “Don’t say that. We’ll make it out of here.”

His arms come around you, forearms pressed against your collarbones, and his chin crooked over your shoulder. “You have me too. I would run through that knife before it could get to you.”

You genuinely smile for the first time being there, your hand stroking over his embrace. Wonwoo delicately kissed the temple of your forehead, reminding you what it was like to be constantly adored.

You were grateful for what he had become in your life. Wonwoo had kept you company in your time of need. In the absence of Chan. He had come to your house with whatever he thought you might need, lent you his shoulder that you could cry on, lent his ears so that he could listen, lent his body that you could heal. In more ways than one.

“You’re right. You are.” You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his body and meeting his eyes framed in specs of hard plastic. “You’re the first person I can sacrifice if we face them head to head.”

He mused at you. “Ooh, now look who’s pulling jokes.”

“Who said I was joking?”

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Minghao commented coming through the back door. “Horror movie rules: they get killed while having sex.”

You punched the new face right in the arm, watching him scurry away to your other friends laughing.

“Not funny, Hao.”

Minghao sneers at you, a jester smile still on his face. “Ease up, princess. Wonwoo, watch your girl.”

“Only because she’s so pretty to look at,” he briefly grinned down at you before directing his attention to Minghao sternly, “but come on. We’re all a little psyched right now. Cool it with the murder talk. Alright?”

Wonwoo pulled you aside into the dining area, ignoring the careless laughter outside. His thumb stroked against your knuckles, lips pressing sweetly against your cheeks. His grin sunk deeper in his cheeks the further he made it past your jaw and then down your neck. He felt your throat vibrate against his lips. “Wonwoo…”

“I can’t have all these guys get you heated like this. That’s my job,” he teased with a rasp.

You slightly pushed him off, your arms swung over his shoulders. “You’re so ridiculous right now.”

“Anything to put that smile on your face.”

His lips reconnected with your neck, nipping at your skin. His humming sent tingles down your spine, and he took your body to press you against the side of the counter. Your hands grasped his baggy shirt, lip close to his ear, fanning your breath against his face. You smiled like a girl in love. Obsessed.  “Daddy…”

“I love it when you call me that,” he mumbled, just as love-struck, if not more. Your giggles brought out the pink on Wonwoo’s ears and cheeks while tightening the groin of his pants. You noticed immediately, cupping it in your palm, and running your finger along the seam. Your eyes skimmed over his taken expression, leaning your full weight into him. “I know there’s something else you really love.”

“Do you now?”

You nodded, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “But do you really want to do it here? Risk getting caught?”

He leaned into your touch, allowing your fingers to take apart his pants. “Try new things right? Like you always say. Plus you’re scared. Gonna turn that fear into pleasure. Make you feel good, just what my baby deserves.”

“You're so good to me, Daddy,” you moaned.

His hand finds the hem of your shorts, pulling them down to expose yourself to the cold air. He fingered through your panties and slid two digits through your folds. He felt your breath hitch as he squeezed your clit, eliciting your soft whines. “You’re so wet down there, baby.”

“Just waiting for daddy to fuck me where anyone can find us and watch.”

Wonwoo eagerly pulled down his pants, kicking them and yours aside, but not without pocketing your underwear. He lifted you up slightly from the ground, his exposed cock hitting at your hip. “Look what you do to me.”

Your throat went dry at the sight of him, hand aching to wrap your hand around his girth and have him shoved inside you.

He didn’t let you wait a second long, and pushed in slowly inch by inch, burying himself in your pussy until he was nearly balls deep. You grasped his shoulder in a gasp, savoring the fire burning in your stomach. The girth of his cock stretched your molten walls, allowing them to melt all around his cock as he spread your legs. You writhe in his embrace, your limbs closing around his lean and toned build, already blissful from the few seconds of him being inside you.

Wonwoo’s words kissed your lips, flushed your skin, and left a permanent smile on your face. It swelled pride in his chest, better than any physical trophy would have. His hips slowly rolled against yours, letting you adjust to his size. He massaged the flesh of your side through his fingers, mentally reassuring himself you were his and his alone, but his names on your lips became more than proof.

Your hips buckled towards him in heat, matching his pace before the carnal side of him decided to fuck you like an animal. His cock then plunged sharply inside you, and then again, a whimper coming out of your lips. Your hips stuttered the harder he pounded, arching your back, you felt his hand above your ass, pushing you against him.

“Daddy…”

He lost control when it came to you, addicted—religious—the second your body came in contact with his. He loved how your fingers ran through his hair, not caring how his glasses fell off his face in the process. With drool out of the corner of his lips, he could feel the blood rush up to the surface of your skin, making him feel warm at home inside you. Throbbing, he only got harder feeling how perfectly snug you were, pricking his clammy skin with goosebumps as he bottomed out.

“You’re sopping, precious,” he murmured with a sly grin.

He had you begging, flustered, and beautiful. Your hand clasped his face as your other arm looped around his neck, swallowing his lips, anxious and thirsty for his breath. You craved every part of him viscerally. “Cum in me, daddy. Please…”

He scoffed, lips ghosting over yours. “Will you take every bit of daddy’s cum, hmm? Hold my cum inside you.”

You nodded gingerly. “Yes, yes. I promise, daddy. Give it to me please, I want you to spill your cum inside me and make me yours…”

“Hold on to me.”

You obliged, met with the hot stream of his climax, yours quick to follow. He embraced your sides, devouring your lips and muffling your whines. His loads pumped into you in erratic thrusts, fucking his cum back into you and making sure you drained him of every ounce. His fingers dug into your flesh, feeling you just come apart for him, undoing the tension that festered earlier.

But that tension was needed. It was necessary to survive. Everyone let themselves forget the current predicament, basking in the glow of the sunset until dinner time arrived. Despite the housekeeper that supposedly exists, she hadn’t been around since all of you stepped foot in the house, like a ghost presence. Seungcheol scrambled to find her—reminding you of his peculiar obsession with the woman—as he wondered when dinner would be ready since a rise in temperature or a savory scent couldn’t be found in the kitchen.

“That’s strange. She’d be finished with a whole chicken by now,” the homeowner commented, noticeably picking his nails.

“Aww,” Seokmin groaned, “Well, is there anything else to eat?”

“I mean…you can look around.”

You narrowed your eyes at him in disbelief. “This is your house. You don’t know what you have in your own house?”

“You try navigating a five-story home with countless cabinets!”

“Buy a smaller house, you prick!”

“Guys!” Minghao chimed in. “Breathe in…and out. We’ll just find food. Seungcheol, your maid, your house, your search. She’s probably fine.”

Your hands slammed against those pristine marble counters. “We are NOT splitting up right now. This is what the killer wants. She’s probably already dead and we’re fucked.”

Wonwoo came to your side, laying a cool calm over your shoulder, and rubbed your sides. You let yourself melt in his touch, his sweet voice soothing you effectively. 

Seokmin sat up from his stool, “Okay, okay. I will help Seungcheol and you guys stick together.”

“That’s still splitting up!”

“Better than alone.” Seungcheol rebutted. “You guys stay.”

Despite your protests, they went on their search. Your head banged against Wonwoo’s chest, muttering in anguish about how everything was going wrong and that it’d only get worse. Meanwhile, Minghao seemed to regain some of that tension but masked the fear with the bright light of his phone, scrolling through TikTok. You didn’t know what was more annoying, sensation of imminent death possibly behind any door, or the same five songs replaying on Minghao’s feed.

After 15 minutes when they were nowhere to be seen, your patience had run thin. You picked yourself up from Wonwoo’s lap and dusted yourself off. “Fuck this. We’re finding them.”

You felt his hand on your shoulder, a concerned glow in his gaze. “Babe, hey. They’ve got it. Trust them.”

“Wonwoo, you know I can’t do that. Let’s just find them, hmm? Together?”

“Not a bad idea,” Minghao agreed. “Better in groups right? We go together, eliminate us as any potential suspects.”

Your boyfriend sighed, collected your hand, and laced his fingers through yours. “Fine.”

You were all joined together by the hip, making sure you were each other's sights. Through the wider than wingspan hallways, past the ridiculously expensive sculptures, you kept your eyes out for your estranged friends. Silence couldn’t have been more loud in these cavernous spaces, only hearing the gut feelings in your stomachs that’s churned in trepidation. Every step taken was the group closing in on the killer. 

Fortitude meant nothing if the danger was already inside.

Before turning around the corner, Minghao—reluctant to lead the group—crashed into a human-sized obstacle, causing the stumble of your entire party. You all faced a wide-eyed Seungcheol with the missing young housekeeper walking hand in hand with him. Suspicious, but besides the point.

“Holy shit, we said we’d come back!”

“It’s been 20 minutes, Cheol! You guys could’ve been dead for all we know.” You retorted.

“Wait, where’s Seokmin?” Wonwoo asked, noticing he didn’t see him nearby.

“He went ahead. He needed to piss or something and meet up later.”

“You idiot.” Your eyes burned a frustrated rage. “I said don't split up. DON’T SPLIT UP! That’s the number one rule of horror movies. You’re going get us fucking killed. He could be the murderer for all we know.”

Seungcheol scoffed, shaking his head. “Seokmin? No way. He’s the last person to even think to do that.”

“Well, do you see him? No! Probably he’s off someone being Ghostface reject with his stupid little voice modulator and cheap party city costume.”

“I told you—“ Before he could finish, his phone went off in the nick of time. When he pulled it out to saw Seokmin’s caller ID on display and the owner of the device wouldn’t help but smile. “See the bastard is even calling.”

He picked up and put him on speaker, eyeing you cheekily, amped to prove you wrong. “Seok, you little shit. How long does it take to piss, huh? Just say you wanted to take a dump.”

“Oh yeah, I took the shittiest, stinkiest, fattest dump. You could probably smell all the way from the other end of the hall.”

Instead of Seokmin on the other line, all of you were met with the eerie voice that had called you multiple times before. The voice that felt like spiders crawling up your legs. The voice that had you second guess whether you locked the front and the back door. The voice whose owner had killed countless people already. 

Seungcheol held the phone in a vice grip swallowing, fear stilling in his unsteady eyes. “You—Where the fuck is Seokmin, you son of a bitch?”

The morphed voice on the other end laughed, sounding bone chilling as nails against a blackboard. “What’s to say? Why don’t we play a little game to find out?”

“Mother fu—“You grabbed the phone from Seungcheol to answer in his place, cutting the older man off. “Why go through with this?”

“Why, I just want to help you find your beloved friend. All out of the kindness of my heart.”

“If it was all kindness, you could tell us where he is.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Psycho,” Minghao muttered under his breath, eyes wide in shock and fear, as if registering the idea of death for the first time.

“And if we refuse?” Wonwoo interjected.

“Seokmin dies, rock for brains,” Seungcheol gritted.

“Ding, ding, ding. Or should I say, chop, chop, chop, since that’s what'll happen if you get any of my questions wrong.”

You scoffed, coming down the stairs with your friends to follow. “Have at it then, you freak.”

“Hey, hey, play nice. Maybe I’ll get too excited and decide to cut him up early.”

Seungcheol glared at you briefly before taking back the phone, storming down the stairs, and reaching the ground floor. “Ask away, as long as Seokmin is safe.”

“First an easy one. What’s your favorite scary movie, Seungcheol?”

His feet stopped at the end of the couch in his living room, stammering to answer. “What kind of fucking question—uh, The Ring?”

“Don’t lie to your friends, Seungcheol. You know that’s not the answer, that’s just what you say to anyone that asks. Say the real answer.”

“That’s the movie though!” he started to shout, visibly shaking.

“Just say it, Cheol!” Minghao pushed.

“Stop playing around Choi Seungcheol! Just say it,” You joined.

“Fine!” He faced the friends, evidently swallowing his pride as he choked up on his answer. “I never watched a goddamn scary movie! Is that what you want to hear? I get panic attacks every time I hear one in the background, why do you I’m always going off smoking when you guys put one on,” he confessed through his tears.

“Congratulations. Your first right answer. Now was that so hard? Pussy boy?”

“Fuck you,” Seungcheol sputtered, tossing the phone back to you.

“Next question. ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,’ Leatherface is known for wearing a mask when it was in fact several. How many and what were they in the original movie?”

“Who the fuck would know an answer like that?” Minghao croaked in disbelief.

“Three. A ‘Killing Mask’, an ‘Old Lady Mask’ and a ‘Pretty Woman Mask.’” Wonwoo calmly answers, garnering horrified looks all around. “I wanted to be a filmmaker, remember?”

“Correct. Next question. What Was Freddy Krueger's serial killer nickname before he died?”

“It’s on the tip of my tongue,” you said slightly panicked, “Wonwoo?”

“The Springwood slasher.”

“Wow, Another amazingly correct answer. Hold on to that one, Y/n. He’s a keeper. He’s smart and fucks your brains out to the point of you screaming bloody murder? What a catch.”

You didn’t respond, impatience seething on the tip of your tongue, “Just tell us where this is all going.”

“Patience, sweetheart. Last question. What exact kind of knife does Ghostface use in the Stab movies? Here’s a hint: it’s the same one I’m holding in my hand against Seokmin’s throat. (Help me please...)”

“S-Seok.” Seungcheol gasped.

Seokmin’s voice could barely be heard on the other end, weak and afraid, only staggering breaths audible.

“Wonwoo, please,” Seungcheol begged, tears falling past his neck. “He’s our best friend.”

Wonwoo swallowed, gears visibly creaking in his head, “I know he uses a hunting knife, b-but—“

“Oh…” the voice cooed, “Well, that’s just not enough, is it? Seokminnie, say goodbye to your friends (Please, no…).”

“Seokmin!”

“Wait!” You barged, clutching the phone to the point of it almost bending. “A modified Buck 120. I remember now. It’s coming back to me. Now, let Seokmin go!”

The line went dead and in turn, light cast in the evening darkness of the poolside. All your eyes shot back at the change of light, startled at the sight in front of them. Seokmin was seated in a chair, bruises against his sides, bleeding from the splices on his forearms, and duct tape over his mouth. Yet the most frightening part was his closed eyes.

“Seokmin!”

You all rushed towards him, swinging the porch door in a panic. Seungcheol tried slapping him awake, pleading he’d be alive. “Seokmin please, please, wake up…

The poor victim's eyes start to flicker open, mumbling through the adhesive over his lips.

“Buddy,” Seungcheol ripped the duct tape clean off him, his ear coming up to his friend’s lips. “Speak to me…”

Seokmin’s voice came out in croaks, hardly incoherently, all except, “Be…hind…”

Minghao spat up blood, doubled over as Ghostface was revealed right behind him, and fell right into the pool. You and the housekeeper both let out a blood-curdling scream. The masked intruder wiped off the blood using his black rope, anticipating a lunge towards their next victim. 

“Run,” Wonwoo breathed out. 

He took your hand and ran with it. Taking a second to look back, you see Seungcheol and the housekeeper try to escape similarly before she was tugged right back towards the killer and she was stabbed right in front of him five times, each one faster than the last, having the poor Seungcheol paralyzed and fallen on his knees. The sounds of suffering were loud enough to hear throughout the neighborhood.

Wonwoo dragged you back upstairs, his survival instinct telling him to seek haven high and far up the house. 

“You left them there to die,” You proclaimed.

“He said he could manage it. You’re more important.”

“You actually believe that? Ghostface snuck up on Minghao with neither of us looking!”

“We’re going to have to. Secungcheol can handle himself.”

Finally, he finds the room, closing the door behind him and pushing heavy furniture in front of it for more time to stall. “We’ll be ok for a little bit here. Let’s look for weapons.”

He started rummaging through drawers, looking for anything strap, blunt, heavy, anything worth using. He was red in the face, sweat drenching his entire body. The only thing running through his mind was keeping you, the most important person in his life, safe. 

“Wonwoo, I don’t know if we’re going to find anything. Fuck. I’m so scared right now.”

He recognized the panic in your eyes, the bounce in your step, and the quiver in your voice. “Hey, hey, baby. Look at me.” He grasped your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumb. 

“I’m here, hmm.” He kissed your closed eyes. “You’re alright.”

Then your tempered cheeks. “We’ll get through this.”

The tip of your nose. “I love you like hell.” 

Finally your trembling lips. “I’ll keep you alive.”

“Promise?” You managed to breathe out.

“Scouts honor.”

The banging resonated from outside the locked door, only getting louder and closer every passing second as if teasing you to death. You shook in Wonwoo’s embrace, burying your face in his chest. “I don’t want to die here, baby.”

“You won’t. Not with me.” One arm wrapped around your body, and another had his fingers locked around the base of a lamp, tugging it from the outlet. Pitch darkness joined you, only having to rely on the dim-lit sky through the peek of the windows.

Whomever on the other side cracked through the wood of the door, breaking it piece by piece as it fell to the ground, knocking over the dresser that blocked 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Wonwoo pushed you behind him.

Finally, your barrier came down with a final kick, rendering it useless. Wonwoo let out a battle cry, charging at them with the lamp above his head. He swung his weapon while Ghostface swung theirs, both missing simultaneously. Gritting his teeth, Wonwoo pulled forward, aiming for the head.

They crash against the wall in the process, but not without mutilating the midsection of Wonwoo’s stomach. The visually impaired man fell back to the ground, groaning in agony as he clutched his stomach, while blood trickled through his fingers. “Mother fucker...”

Wonwoo’s vision started to fight against him with the loss of his glasses, dimming images before him, and slowly processing the murderous figure trodding before him. Wonwoo’s determination picked him right back up slowly, picking up his lamp once again, trying to take another move toward the perpetrator. And by pure luck, the lamp crashed against the crown of their head.

Ghostface stumbled back, quick to recover but visibly agitated.  Soon enough, they plunged the full length of the knife right into Wonwoo’s gut, sticking it deep and long before kicking him off of it. Wonwoo lands on the hardwood, blood gushing out of him like a public water fountain. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Wonwoo!” You come by his side, clutching at his wound desperately. “No, no, no.”

The sinister figure approached once more, hand creeping against the edge before he pulled it over and off his head. His eyes stared back at you both maniacally. His grin stretched from both ends freakishly before overtaking in deep chuckles. “Happy to see me?”

“…C-Chan?” Wonwoo managed to gasp.

“Hi, bestie.” His signature smile, once warm and inviting, reflected horrifyingly as if out of a film, one with too much bloodshed and betrayal to imagine. “Well, didn’t think you’d see me again, huh?”

“Chan, what the fuck?” You screeched. 

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Wonwoo voiced panic-stricken. “What, how?”

One foot over the other, Chan carried himself with conviction, ease, and the confidence of a man who slaughtered countless amounts of people. 

“You guys don't know how easy it is to fake my death. I was surprised by how incredibly stupid police officers are. Find a body that’s my height, my build, cut off their hands and arms to not get their fingerprints, singe their skin and face to the point of unrecognition, and plant them in your own home. I’m a fucking genius.”

“S-Seungkwan,” Wonwoo wept, his adam’s apple, “You actually—”

“It was beautiful. Masterful.”

“Why?” Wonwoo stammered. “Your best friend—“

“He was an imbecile. Weak. All bark and no bite. You will never understand how good it felt to stick the knife inside him and watch the blood burst off of him like a sprinkler. Like the knife going in and out of him surged power throughout my entire body. So, I kept doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. AND DOING IT.”

His smile. That violating smile.

You sobbed, covering Wonwoo’s wound with your hands. “Y-you monster.”

“This was all just fun for you?” Wonwoo bared his teeth. “You get your kicks from lying, deceiving, stabbing your friends? You think you’re some Billy Loomis?”

“Of course I have fun. I had lots of fun. We had so much fucking fun.”

“We?” Wonwoo repeated.

“What the fuck do you mean we?” You asked horrified.

Chan started to chuckle to himself, chest heaving exuberantly before he stood completely still. Dreadfully still. 

“Well, I'm not the one that killed Joshua, am I?”

A million guesses ran through Wonwoo’s brain. None made sense the more he thought about it. “Your Stu Macher? Seokmin…Seungcheol…?”

Your eyes turned to him fearful, before it melted into something else, something familiar. Something terrifying. “No…” your lips drew close to his ear. “Me…” 

Your hands squeezed around his wound, gripping, earning his moans of anguish, screaming at you to stop, before you retrieved the knife hidden behind your boot and drove it into his shoulder. Wonwoo let out the loudest scream he could ever muster, feeling the blade sharply cut his nerve whilst pain shot into his chest. He tapped his heel incessantly on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes, looking at you in disbelief, overcome with hurt.

“And he was a good fuck too until the knife I put through his back made him scream like a little bitch.”

You pulled out the knife from him, seeing how the pain he felt in his body only complimented the suffering pooling in his heart, his mind, his soul. His lips quivered in your direction, sucking in his breath. “Y/n…Why?”

You simply shrugged. “Why does anyone kill these days? They’re bored, daddy. Same reason why things can change in the bedroom, to spice things up. The flavor of life is murder now, darling.”

“You’re killing people.”

You drove the knife one more time into his thigh, savoring his scream of agony. “And we’re more alive than we ever have been,” you said, twisting the knife before pulling it out.

You walked toward Chan, helping him pull off his robe. “And so is our sex life.”

“So, Junhui, Soonyoung…Joshua, and even Seungkwan.” Wonwoo asked, catching his breath.

“Every. single. one,” You chuckled. “Draining their cum out of like having a second puberty until life is literally drained out of their bodies. What a bunch of pussy boys. So obsessed with sex, they didn’t see the knife coming their way.”

Your hand reached for the ottoman and pushed Chan there to be seated, underdressed in the black tank top and black jeans he hid underneath with his momentarily abandoned bloody knife at his side. You unbuckled his pants single-handedly, your knife still in your other hand. “And Chan just gets so fucking hard with all the bloodshed. Like a bloodthirsty animal.”

“You just look so fucking sexy with blood on your hands,” Chan moaned, “Touch me how I like it, baby.”

“Mmh, my pleasure.” Your hand used the blood covering it as a morbid form of lube, closing around the girth of his cock to squeeze and lightly stroking it from base to tip, softly thumbing over the small slit on top. 

His stomach flexed, bucking his hips in your direction as he bit down on his bottom lip, beaming like a child on Christmas. Horny for your touch, Chan couldn’t help but squirm in his seat, warning up to your touch. He was absolutely growing at a rapid pace. “Like that baby, like that.”

“That feel good, daddy? You like how the blood is covering your entire cock? Seokmin’s blood, Minghao’s blood, Seungcheol’s blood? Wonwoo’s blood?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

“You two,” Wonwoo’s shock couldn’t stagger from the scene in front of him, unable to process all this information at once.

“You’re massaging our friends into my cock so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” You traced your fingers over the details of his shaft, your nails prodding at the veins as your hand slowly picked up pace. You rolled him in your fist, letting him rut in your defiled hand as he moaned your name like an animal in heat. “I’m getting so wet watching fuck in my hand covered in blood. You’re just a sick lunatic obsessed with killing your friends and fucking my sweet pussy. I love that about you, Daddy.”

“Fuck,” he screamed, hands gripping the ottoman in restraint, brimming with passion, “Wanna mix Wonwoo’s cum you kept inside you with the blood. Sit that sweet pussy on my cock for me, lover.”

You nodded invitingly, not missing a beat. You never did replace the underwear from before, making it easy to remove your shorts and sliding him inside your warm walls, massaging his length as you rolled your hips against his. You held the knife you still had in a death grip, stabling against the reliability of Chan’s shoulders. You mumble his name pleased, arching your back as you grinded down on his lap. “Your cock feels so good covered in blood, daddy.” 

“Your pussy feels even better knowing how much fun you had stabbing Wonwoo for me.”

“Of course, daddy.” You turned to the body mutilated and defenseless on the ground, grinning as Wonwoo was forced to watch. “That look good, Daddy Wonwoo?” Your ass bounced purposely in Chan’s lap, the jiggle showing off the splatter of blood left from the handjob.

Everything in Wonwoo told him to look away but he couldn’t, like a train wreck or a car crash, he couldn’t part with the mess of a situation he was witnessing. He wasn't sure what this meant for him, mentally nor physically.

“You like watching Chan fuck me, Daddy? His bloody dirty cock fucking me like you did a hour ago, fucking me like a nasty little whore.”

He hissed through his teeth, right the strange feeling surging in his pain-stricken body, “Shut…the fuck up.”

You laughed obnoxiously. “You love it. You love being a little cuck, watching other guys fuck my pussy. As if you hadn’t peeped on me and Chan fucking when he wasn’t ‘dead’.”

“It’s not true, you bitch.” The twitch in his trousers told him otherwise.

“You’re such a liar a dirty, dirty liar like I’m a dirty, dirty fucking whore.” You groaned loudly taking Chan’s cock, bouncing against his lap as you felt him pulse around your walls.

“That’s right baby take my cock.” Chan’s hand came over your bare cheeks, striking them with his full palms while his hips jerked up your body. “Taking the murder fueled, hard fucking cock.”

“Daddy, your cock is making me so fucking wet, stretching my pussy the way you sliced open our friends,” You growled.

“Fuck you’re such a little succubus, baby. Bouncing on my cock, coating yourself in blood. And I’ll kill more and more for you. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Yeah,” You began slowing your pace, drinking in his every word. “You’d do anything for me?”

“I’d kill the entire human population for you.”

That left you smiling from ear to ear, the tension coiling in your stomach. Your chest pressed against his, pushing against his thrusts. “Yeah? Would you cum in me, Daddy? Mix our dirty mess inside me. Let me take your cum, daddy.”

“I’ll let you drain me of every drop, my little psychopath.”

“Cum daddy cum, make me full and breed me with our homicidal baby daddy. Make you a real daddy.”

Chan shuddered, overwhelmed with immense arousal. His hips found life of their own, hammering into you at top speed, and watching the pleasure morph on your face and the staccato rhythm of your breath leave your lips, all while the load threatened to burst out of his sack. “I’m cumming, baby, all for you, ah—“ then it exploded inside you. His cum launched out of his cock like a hose, he painted your wall in milky white, turning pink as it seeped out of you.

“I’m so close, daddy…”

Chan threw his head back to catch his breath, hands possessively finding purchases on your hips. “That’s it, baby. cum for daddy.”

“I’m cuming daddy, I’m—“ You gripped your knife, taking Chan’s abandoned one before plunging both in his head. His smile dropped, a small and weak, “baby” leaving his sweet lips before spitting up blood on your chest and he fell limp. 

You didn’t stop, however, given the fact that your orgasm had just arrived the mere second Chan tasted metal in his mouth. Your moans could’ve been mistaken for anguish if not for the smile on your savage face. “I’m cumming all over your cock, Daddy, fuck! You’re so good to me, you do so much for me. I love you so much. Hitting my spot even in death.”

The wave of climax finally started to fade, unlike your smile, wretched and demonic. “Thank you for your sacrifice, Daddy. I’ll miss you so much.” You kissed deceased Chan’s lips, coming down from him, and fixing his pants before fixing his pants before pulling your shorts back on your body.

“Y/n…what the fuck?”

Watching you pull the knives out of Chan’s head, Wonwoo's expression was a mix of confusion and horror, struggling to back away as you approached him calmly, almost serenely.

“Chan has served his purpose,” You answered plainly as if obvious. “It was his time.”

“You did that, all that, with him, and you MURDER HIM? Your partner in sick, sick psychotic crime?”

“I told you spice was necessary, plus I’ve grown rather fond of you.” You bent down to his level, eyes noticeably just a deep pit of disparity. “I couldn’t let him kill you, so I beat him to it. Good thing too, because that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

Wonwoo whimpered under your touch—well, the knife’s touch—as the tip of it dragged over his jaw, drawing out a shudder. “Y-you’re letting me live?”

Your smile. That damned smile. You and Chan were mere reflections of each other. How had he not seen this sick image sooner?

“As long as it's with me, because you love me right? That’s what you said. You’ll always love me and keep me alive. You promised.”

You pressed the blade against his neck, “You’re cold-blooded. Fucking your dead friend’s girlfriend, leaving your other friends to die to save me, and taking on a mass murderer just for me.” Your other hand caressed over his face. “That’s hard fucking core, baby. I love that so much. You really love and want me. Well, I want you just as bad.”

“Like you wanted Chan?”

You scoffed, using the knife to point at the abandoned soulless body on the ground. “Chan was disposable. He was already fucked up in the brain. I can nurture you, let you prove you’re that you’re mine and only mine. Then I’d have no reason to kill you. Not at all…say you’ll be with me forever.”

“…yes, sweetie. O-of course I will.”

You sighed a breath of relief, your harmless hand coming over to stroke over the stray hairs on his head. “That’s my daddy. My one and only. We can be the finals. Together. Only us—”

“Hello! Wonwoo! Y/n!” Miraculously, Seungcheol found their way to you, barely alive it sounds like.

Rage filled your eyes. “Holy fuck how is he still alive,” you mumbled under your breath. “I’ll take care of him.”

You held the knife to your side, standing by the door and away from its open view. “Cheol! In here! We caught the killer!”

Seungcheol managed to find the defaced door, peeking through the rubble to see a disheveled Wonwoo, panting and close to death. “Wonwoo!”

“Cheol…” Wonwoo grunted. 

“Hang in there, buddy. I’ve got you.”

“To…your…right.”

You glared at Wonwoo, betrayal in your eyes before launching yourself at the hero, who hardly had a scratch on their body. Seungcheol, taking his friend's warning in consideration, built up a wall of defense. His eyes caught you just in time and held up your arms, pinning you against a wall. His eyes finally registered on your face, and his grip on you only tightened. “Y/n, you evil little bitch.”

You chuckled tauntingly, struggling against his weight and strength. “Hi, Cheol. I know you always wanted to stick something in me, mind letting me do it first?”

“You—wow, you’re actually mentally deranged.”

“You don’t like that? Maybe my knife through your skull can change your mind.”

He kicked you in the groin, having you plummet to your knees, cusses streaming out of you like a river. “You pussy. Ass. Bitch.”

“Seungcheol,” Wonwoo groaned, painfully cheering him on.

You managed to kick Seungcheol down in your distress, crawling on top of him to gain leverage. “I know you liked to be topped.”

You held the knife, hands wrapped tightly around the handle before striking. Meanwhile, Seungcheol’s hands were wrapped around your wrists, the tip of the knife tickling his nose. Sweat beaded against his forehead, struggling harder than he thought he would as you smiled still.

“This would be a lot sexier if you let me run my knife inside you, baby.”

“Fuck you and your demented punk ass,” he grunted.

“I would if you’d just FUCKING DIE!”

A gunshot follows soon after and the blood gushed from your neck, pouring from both ends and falling lifelessly against Seungcheol, who let out a shrill scream.

“I found a gun,” Seokmin proclaimed weakly from the door before fainting to the ground.

Seungcheol rolled your body off of him, sick to his stomach. “Sick crazy bitch.”

He looked towards his friend who remained helpless his entire journey before his eyes got caught on the dead body he only realized now. “Is that…”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo whispered.

“And they…”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, dude.”

Seungcheol went around to pick up Seokmin from the ground, grabbing the gun. Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s eyes lingered over your body, in disbelief it was alive a mere second ago, then he saw something strange, causing his eyes to fly open. “Cheol behind you!”

Another gunshot. Right between your eyes and your body that stood for hardly a second longer than it should’ve—of course with the knife still in your hand—fell right back on the ground.

“They always come back,” Wonwoo quoted.

Seungcheol let out a deep exhale, loosening his grip around the gun. “And aim for the head.”

“Sorry about your house.”

“…sorry about your girlfriend.”

“Me too.”

post reading a/n: always like me to insert chan into anything fr. i have no excuses

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @smileysuh (felt fucked up not to tag you bc you’re fucked it just like me 💕)

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Something Wicked | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, implications of verbal parental abuse

Word Count: 4885

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The two boys were bickering over coordinates Dean had received from an anonymous number. 

“Dude, I ran LexisNexis, local police reports, newspapers, I couldn't find a single red flag. Are you sure you got the coordinates right?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I double checked. It's Fitchburg, Wisconsin. Dad wouldn't have sent us coordinates if it wasn't important, Sammy.”

“Well, I'm telling you, I looked, and all I could find was a big steamy pile of nothing. If Dad's sending us hunting for something, I don't know what.”

“Well, maybe he's going to meet us there.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause he's been so easy to find up to this point.”

You sighed. You weren’t about to get in the middle of this argument and tuned the rest of it out. Alas, Dean won the argument, as he often did. 

You stopped for some coffee along Fitchburg’s main street. The town itself was small, but it was quaint. A little too Middle America for your taste.

“Well… the waitress thinks the local freemasons are up to something sneaky, but other than that, no one's heard about anything freaky going on,” Dean sighed, handing you and Sam your respective coffee orders.

“Dean, you got the time?” you asked him.

“Ten after four. Why?”

You nodded in front of you at the playground you were looking at. “What's wrong with this picture?”

It was deserted aside from one child climbing on the jungle gym.

“School's out, isn't it?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah. So where is everybody?” Sam added. “This place should be crawling with kids right now.”

You and the Winchesters walked over to a woman on a park bench reading a magazine. Dean approached her, saying, “Sure is quiet out here.”

The woman sighed, “Yeah, it’s a shame.”

“Why's that?”

“You know, kids getting sick, it's a terrible thing.”

“How many?”

“Just five or six but serious, hospital serious. A lot of parents are getting pretty anxious. They think it's catching,” she explained.

All four of you watched the little girl playing by herself, and the wheels in your head began to turn. Why would John send you all the way to Fitchburg over a few sick kids?

The three of you made your way up to the pediatrics ward of the hospital to investigate the sick children. Dean and Sam donned suits, and you wore a pencil skirt and heels. You couldn’t lie to yourself, Dean looked amazing in his suit, but you much preferred his usual leather jacket and biker boots. 

“See something you like?” Dean smirked at you.

Your mouth opened and closed, unsure of what to say. He just snickered in response while your cheeks burned.

A doctor approached you and the boys before Dean could taunt you any further. You introduced yourselves and headed down the corridor with the man. “Well, thanks for seeing us, Dr. Hydecker,” Dean said.

“Well, I'm glad you guys are here. I was just about to call CDC myself. How'd you find out anyways?” the doctor asked.

“Oh, some GP— I forget his name— he called Atlanta, and, uh, he must've beat you to the punch,” Dean lied.

“So you say you got six cases so far?” you asked.

“Yeah, five weeks. At first we thought it was garden variety bacterial pneumonia. Not that newsworthy. But now…”

“What?”

“The kids aren't responding to antibiotics. Their white cell counts keep going down. Their immune systems just aren't doing their job. It's like their bodies are... wearing out.”

“Wait, but are there any signs of leukopenia?” you asked. “Any history in these kids of that?”

Dean looked over at you, confused by what you were saying. You continued to talk to the doctor.

“No, actually,” Hydecker answered. 

“What about neutropenia?”

He shook his head as a nurse handed him a clipboard full of papers.

“Then, whatever this is would have to be attacking the bone marrow as well as the respiratory system… Have you done biopsies?”

“No, we haven’t,” Hydecker answered. “I’ll give that a try.”

“You ever seen anything like this before?” Sam questioned.

“Never this severe,” the doctor said. “And the way it spreads… that's a new one for me.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sam.

“It works its way through families. But only the children, one sibling after another.”

“You mind if we interview a few of the kids?” Dean questioned.

“They’re not conscious,” the doctor replied.

You were shocked. “None of them?”

“No.”

“Can we, uh, can we talk to the parents?” tried Dean.

“Well, if you think it'll help.”

“Yeah. Who was your most recent admission?”

Hydecker directed you to a man sitting on a chair against the wall in the waiting room. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He explained to you the oldest girl was first, and then his youngest. He told you that her window had been opened, but there was no one who could’ve done so except for his daughter because her room was on the second floor. 

You and the boys headed out of the pediatrics ward and back toward the car. 

“(Y/N), how’d you know all that stuff?” Sam asked you, referencing your conversation with the doctor.

“I like to read,” you shrugged. Sam smiled at your response and walked a little ahead of you. 

Dean came up next to you. “You were really serious about nursing, huh,” he said softly enough so Sam wouldn’t hear.

“I guess. I really do just like to read, though,” you smiled. “I think I just wanted to stick it to my dad. I always thought I’d be happier not hunting. But, uh, I just don’t think I could ever go back to being ‘normal’.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he responded. 

Sam turned back to you and his brother. “You know, this might not be anything supernatural. It might just be pneumonia.”

“No way,” you shook your head, “pneumonia wouldn’t be lowering white blood cell count. It’d have to be elevated for it to be true pneumonia. Infection and all that.”

Sam hummed. “Okay, so then what’s your theory?”

“Honestly? Not sure.”

“I'll tell you one thing,” said Sam. “That dad we just talked to? I'm betting it'll be a while before he goes home.”

***

“You got anything over there?” Sam asked Dean. The three of you had climbed through the home of the last two kids who had gotten sick looking for clues.

“Nah, nothing,” the older brother answered.

“Yeah, me neither,” you chimed in. You moved over to the window and paused. “Hey guys? I really don’t think it’s pneumonia.”

The boys came over and followed your line of sight to a rotted handprint with long, tendril-like fingers. 

“What the hell leaves a handprint like that?” Sam asked.

Dean seemed to get pulled away into his own mind for a moment before he began to look a little sick. “I know why Dad sent us here. He's faced this thing before. He wants us to finish the job.”

Dean raced down the stairs to the window on the back of the house you’d climbed through. You followed him close behind. You would ask him what had happened to him in the little girl’s bedroom later.

Dean explained to you on the ride to the motel what he thought you were hunting: a shtriga.

“So what the hell is a shtriga?” Sam asked as Dean pulled into a motel parking lot. This motel was a little cuter than the ones you’d visited previously; centered around a white cabin with green shingles. 

“It's kinda like a witch, I think. I don't know much about 'em,” explained Dean.

“Well, I've never heard of it. And it's not in Dad's journal.”

“Dad hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin, about sixteen, seventeen years ago. You were there. You don't remember?”

Sam shook his head.

“And I guess he caught wind of the things in Fitchburg now and kicked us the coordinates,” Dean went on.

“So wait, this…” Sam paused, waiting for Dean to remind him how to pronounce it.

“Shtriga.”

“Right. You think it's the same one Dad hunted before?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“But if Dad went after it, why is it still breathing air?” Sam’s brows furrowed together.

“ ‘Cause it got away.”

Sam scoffed. “Got away?”

Dean was beginning to get frustrated, and you knew it was a cover-up for whatever was going on inside his head. “Yeah, Sammy, it happens.”

“Not very often.”

“Well, I don't know what to tell ya, maybe Dad didn't have his wheaties that morning,” snarked the older brother.

“What else do you remember?”

“Nothin'. I was a kid, alright?” Dean said defensively. You followed him into the motel lobby only to see a little boy watching TV in one room and a boy around ten or eleven walking out of it.

“A king or two queens?” The boy asked, looking between you and Dean.

“Two queens,” you and Dean answered quickly. “And one king, actually,” you added, stepping aside to reveal Sam behind you.

A woman entered smiling at you both. “Checking in?”

You nodded to her.

“Do me a favor, go get your brother some dinner,” the woman instructed the boy. 

“I'm helping a guest!” he protested, but turned away under his mother’s hard stare. “Two queens. And a king.”

“Will that be cash or credit?” she asked you.

Dean took out his card. “You take MasterCard? Perfect. Here you go.”

You watched him look behind the woman at the boy pouring his younger brother a glass of milk. And there he went again; pulled into what you could only assume was memories of himself and Sam.

The woman before you held out his card to zoned-out Dean, and you took it from her instead. “Uh, thanks.” She handed you the keys, and you nudged Dean to bring him back to reality.

***

Dean explained to you and Sam what shtrigas fed off: children, most commonly. The only thing that could kill them were specially designed wrought-iron rounds while the thing was feeding. They often take the form of something unsuspecting; like an old woman.

“Hang on,” Dean said. “Check this out. I marked down all the addresses of the victims. Now these are the houses that have been hit so far and dead center?”

“The hospital,” you noted.

“Now, when we were there, I saw a patient; an old woman,” Dean continued.

“An old person huh?” questioned Sam. “In a hospital? Phew. Better call the Coast Guard.”

You giggled at Sam.

“Well, listen, smart-asses, she had an inverted cross hanging on her wall.”

You and Sam stopped snickering and looked up at Dean. He raised an eyebrow at you.

And so, you headed to the hospital. Fortunately for her— but unfortunately for your hunt— the old woman with the upside down cross on the wall was just cataract-ridden and crotchety. Upon your return to the motel after thoroughly freaking out the old woman, you pulled Dean to your motel room for a talk before bed.

“What’s up?” he asked, sitting on a chair in your room. 

You sat on the bed across from him. “Where do you keep going?” you asked.

“Huh?”

“Sorry, I just realized how stupid that sounded. You keep, like, disappearing into your own brain,” you responded. “Like in the motel lobby. You zoned out looking at that kid and his brother.”

“Oh, that,” he said quietly. “I, uh, it’s stupid.”

“Dean,” you leaned over your crossed legs and rested your hand on his knee. “I’m asking you. It’s not stupid. I just care.”

“Oh, come on—”

“Dean,” you said. “You made me a pinky promise at that scary asylum. You promised you’d tell me. Please?”

He huffed out a small laugh. “You know how I said my dad hunted this thing before?”

You nodded.

“Well, I’m the reason it got away.”

“How? Didn’t you say it was sixteen, seventeen years ago? You would’ve been ten, dude,” you responded.

“Yeah, but it’s complicated. My dad left us alone in motel rooms all the time. He made me repeat to him what I was and wasn’t supposed to do every time he would go out on a hunt. Sam and I would fight over the last bowl of Lucky Charms from the groceries Dad got us for the week; y'know, stupid kid stuff,” he chuckled. “But it’d been days. I was climbin’ the walls, (Y/N). I had to get some air. I went to an arcade to just… blow off some steam, I guess.

"When I came back, the thing was over Sammy’s bed. I was frozen. My dad came in and shot it a couple times, but it got away. Dad just... grabbed us and booked. Dropped us off at Pastor Jim's about three hours away, but by the time he got back to Fort Douglas, the shtriga had disappeared; it was just gone. It never surfaced until now. Y'know, Dad never spoke about it again, I didn't ask." He looked away from you attempting to swallow his emotions. "But he, ah, he looked at me different, you know? Which was worse. Not that I blame him. He gave me an order, and I didn't listen; I almost got Sammy killed.”

“Dee, you were a kid,” you said softly. He went to cut you off, but you stopped him. “No, let me talk. I know how that feels. My parents left me with Stevie all the time. I would've done the same thing you did. We were kids. We had to take on parental responsibilities. Anybody would be going stir crazy, especially at ten years old like you were.”

“(Y/N)—”

“No,” you told him, grabbing his hand. “You cannot blame yourself. I won’t let you. Would you let me?”

He shook his head.

“Exactly.”

He held your intense stare and rubbed a thumb over your hand. The two of you awkwardly pulled away from each other, and Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, thank you, for, y’know—”

“Yeah, any time,” you said, walking him to the door. 

***

The next morning, you and Sam were teasing Dean about the old woman from the hospital the night before. You were headed to the car to go get some breakfast.

“ ‘I was sleeping with my peepers open’?” Sam laughed heartily, remembering the old woman's strange way of talking.

“I almost smoked that old girl, I swear. It's not funny!” Dean grunted.

“Oh man, you shoulda seen your face,” you giggled.

“Yeah, laugh it up. Now we're back to square one.” He looked over to the ten-year-old blond boy sitting on the bench behind his mother’s office. “Hang on.” He led you over to the child. “Hey, what's wrong?”

“My brother's sick,” he replied.

“The little guy?”

He nodded. “Pneumonia. He's in the hospital. It's my fault.”

“Ah, c'mon, how?” You could tell Dean’s mind was racing just based on his tone.

“I should’ve made sure the window was latched. He wouldn't've got pneumonia if the window was latched,” the boy lamented.

You watched, frowningly thoughtfully, as Dean looked away from the boy. 

“Listen to me. I can promise you that this is not your fault. Okay?” Dean assured him.

“It's my job to look after him,” the boy frowned, tearing up.

His mother hurried out of the motel toward her minivan. “Michael, I want you to turn on the 'no vacancy' sign while I'm gone. I've got Denise covering room service, so don't bother with any of the rooms.”

“I'm going with you,” he protested.

“Not now, Michael.”

“But I gotta see Asher!”

Dean responded before his mother could. “Hey, Michael. Hey. I know how you feel— I'm a big brother, too— but you gotta go easy on your mom right now, ok?”

His mom dropped her handbag in haste, cursing under her breath. You rushed to pick it up for her.

“Listen, you're in no condition to drive. Why don't you let me give you a lift to the hospital,” Dean offered.

“No, I couldn't possibly—” she answered.

“No, it's no trouble. I insist.”

Michael’s mother handed Dean the keys and thanked him before addressing her son. “Be good.”

Dean turned to you before he went over to the car. “We're gonna kill this thing. I want it dead, you hear me?”

You and Sam watched Dean pull out of the motel parking lot, driving much more carefully than he ever did when you and Sam were in the car.

“C’mon,” you said. “You got the keys?”

“Yeah,” he threw them to you. “Where we goin’?”

“Wait, you’re letting me drive?” you asked Sam.

He shrugged. 

You squealed childishly and jumped into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t lie, you loved this car. You loved how the steering wheel felt in your hands and the way the engine rumbled. 

“Seriously, where we going?”

“The library,” you answered. “Town records, national records, internet, anything and everything. Dean wants this thing dead, and I intend to get it done tonight. And I gotta tell you, dude, something’s really bothering me about this whole thing. I mean, I never even formally went to nursing school, but I knew it couldn’t be pneumonia immediately. Why would pediatric doctors be unable to figure that out?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I get you. Something isn’t right.”

***

You and Sam poured through as many books you possibly could as quickly as you could. Sam was at his computer, scrolling with a furrowed brow when his phone rang. “ Hey. How's the kid?... We’re at the library. We've been trying to find out as much as we can about this shtriga… Well, bad news. I started with Fort Douglas around the time you said Dad was there?... Same deal.

"Before that, there was, uh, Ogdenville, before that, North Haverbrook, and Brockway. Every 15 to 20 years, it hits a new town. Dean, this thing is just getting started in Fitzburgh. In all these other places, it goes on for months. Dozens of kids before the shtriga finally moves on. The kids just languish in comas, and then they die… Ah, I don't know. The earliest mention I could find is this  place called ‘Black River Falls’ back in the 1890s. Talk about a horror show.”

Your brain began to make connections between all of those events. “Wait, Sam, put Dean on speaker.” 

He did so.

“Okay, you’re gonna have to stay with me on this one. This could just be me spitballin’, but—”

“Just say it, (Y/N),” Dean said through the phone.

“I’ve been thinking, why wouldn’t Hydecker immediately rule out pneumonia? If he’s such a spectacular and caring doctor, why wouldn’t he know that pneumonia ups your white blood cell count; not depletes it? And the chance of all six kids having a pre-existing condition that lowers your WBC is incredibly low. I mean, why else wouldn’t he biopsy the kids?”

“Okay, WebMD, what does that have to do with anything?” Dean asked.

“I told you to stay with me.” You began typing in your computer searching for articles on the earliest case Sam had found in Black River Falls. “The point is, I think Hydecker’s our guy. Think about it— the center of the kidnappings is the hospital. And any pediatric doctor would be familiar with what pneumonia actually does to a kid’s body.” You smiled sourly at a photo you pulled up of doctors surrounding a child’s bed in 1893. You turned the computer around to Sam. “Boom.”

“(Y/N), that is huge.” He leaned over and lightly punched your shoulder. “Good going.”

“Thanks!” you grinned. “Dean, meet us back at the motel. Don’t deck the guy in the face, please. Not yet, anyway.”

“No promises,” he grumbled.

“Dean—”

“Fine.” He hung up the phone.

“Alright, we gotta get back before Dean explodes,” you told Sam. “Can I drive again?”

“Sure, why not. Just don’t tell my brother.” He tossed you the keys and you giggled.

***

“We should have thought of this before. A doctor's a perfect disguise. You're trusted, you can control the whole thing,” Sam said. 

You and the brothers were back in the motel room. 

Dean threw off his jacket and paced agitatedly. “That son of a bitch.”

“I'm proud of you for not drawing on him right there,” you said.

“Yeah, well, first of all, I'm not going to open fire in a freakin' pediatrics ward.”

Sam nodded. “Good call.”

“Second, wouldn't have done any good, because the bastard's bullet proof unless he's chowing down on something. And third, I wasn't packing, which is probably a really good thing, ‘cause I probably would've just burned a clip in him on principle alone.”

Despite the situation, you found Dean aggressively grumbling about guns very attractive.

“You're getting wise in your old age, Dean,” Sam quipped.

“Damn right. 'Cause now I know how we're going to get it,” replied Dean.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Shtriga works through siblings, right?”

You knew what he was getting at. “No, Dean, I don’t like that.”

“What?” Sam asked, clearly not picking up where you and Dean were at.

“(Y/N)—”

“No, dude, we gotta get Michael out of here. I’m not letting you use him as bait.”

“Dean, what?! That’s out of the question!” Sam protested.

“It's not out of the question, Sam, it's the only way. If this thing disappears it could be years before we get another chance.”

“Michael's a kid. And I'm not going to dangle him in front of that thing like a worm on a hook,” Sam scoffed. 

“Dad did not send me here to walk away.” Dean turned away from you and Sam and gripped the edges of the dresser.

“Send you here? He didn't send you here; he sent us here,” Sam replied.

“This isn't about you, Sam. I'm the one who screwed up, all right. It's my fault. There's no telling how many kids have gotten hurt because of me.”

“What are you saying, Dean? How is it your fault?” Sam paused, taking a moment to calm down. “Dean. You've been hiding something from the get-go. Since when does Dad bail on a hunt? Since when does he let something get away? Now talk to me, man. Tell me what's going on.”

Dean proceeded to explain what he had to you last night. Sam gave him the same lecture about how it wasn’t his fault, but Dean began to protest again. “Don't. Don't. Dad knew this was unfinished business for me. He sent me here to finish it.”

You were surprised at the tough facade he gave his brother in contrast to the way he was vulnerable with you.

“But using Michael— I don't know Dean. I mean, how 'bout one of us hides under the covers, you know, we'll be the bait,” Sam tried.

“No, it won't work. It's gotta get close enough to feed— it'll see us. Believe me, I don't like it, but it's gotta be the kid.”

***

Michael was completely against the idea and even threatened to call the cops on you. You and the boys returned to their motel room dejectedly.

“Well, that went crappy. Now what?” Dean groaned.

“What did you expect? You can't ask an adult to do something like that, much less a kid,” the younger brother sighed.

There was a knock at the door, and you opened it to reveal Michael.

“Hey,” you said, surprised.

“If you kill it, will Asher get better?”

“Honestly? We don't know,” Dean told him.

“You said you were a big brother,” Michael started, “You'd take care of your little brother? You'd do anything for him?”

“Yeah, I would,” Dean replied quietly. Your heart swelled at how much Dean and Sam cared for each other.

The young boy nodded. “Me, too. I'll help.”

Dean had hooked up a security camera to the boy’s room, and you and he watched the monitor closely. You were beginning to feel cross-eyed from how tired you were. It was around three in the morning, and your body protested against your will to stay awake.

“You sure these iron rounds are gonna work?” Sam asked his brother.

“Consecrated iron rounds, and yeah, it's what Dad used last time.”

“Hey, Dean? I’m sorry,” the younger brother said softly. “You know, I've really given you a lot of crap, for always following Dad's orders. But I know why you do it.”

“Oh, god, kill me now,” Dean groaned.

You giggled to yourself, eyes returning to the screen. “Dean, look.”

There was a bit of movement off to the right of the screen outside of the window. You and the boys picked up your guns, holding them tightly and waiting for the right moment. 

“Now?” you asked.

“Not yet.”

The shtriga moved closer and leaned over the bed. You could see Michael tense under the covers and draw them closer to himself. The creature leaned over the bed, pushing the covers down. 

“Now?!”

“Now.”

You and the boys burst through the door and began to shoot the creature after Michael rolled away. It flew off Michael’s bed and fell to the side you couldn’t see.

“Mike, you alright?” Dean asked the kid.

“Yeah,” came his muffled reply from under the bed.

“Just sit tight.” Dean approached the shtriga, his gun at the ready. There was no movement for just a moment, before the shtriga shot up and grabbed Dean by his throat, throwing him across the room.

“Dean!” you cried, trying to run to him. The shtriga threw you to the side against Michael’s bed. Your back protested as you tried to roll and grab your gun that had fallen out of your hand in the chaos. You noticed the shtriga leaning over the top of the younger Winchester. Sam’s body went limp and began to go gray as the shtriga began to suck out his life force.

“Hey!” Dean gruffly spat. The shtriga turned to the older brother just to get shot straight between the eyes.

“Nice!” you said. You rushed to Sam’s side and smoothed a hand over his messy hair while he tried to catch his breath. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

“You okay, little brother?” Dean called from behind you. You thought it was adorable how much he cared.

You and Sam stood and you tried to help hold the tall man up on his unsteady legs. You guided him over to the shtriga, and Dean shot it three times at point-blank range. The shtriga’s body fell in on itself, disintegrating.

You looked up at Dean, whose face was still set in hard lines.

“It's okay, Michael, you can come on out,” Dean told the boy peeking out from under his bed. He rose to stand beside you, smiling tentatively. Dean put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. You looked on, feeling your heart swell at what you knew was a full-circle moment for Dean. You knew these moments were few and far-between in a profession like yours, and you had learned to savor them in your memory.

***

You and the brothers returned to your rooms to pack now that the monster was dead. As usual, you were finished packing before the boys were and leaned against the Impala waiting for them.

You watched Michael’s mom’s car pull up in the motel parking lot. At that moment, the boys came out to join you.

“Hey, Joanna. How's Asher doing?” Dean asked the mother of the two boys.

“Have you seen Michael?” she asked him.

“Mom! Mom!” the child in question ran up and hugged him. “How's Ash?”

“Got some good news. Your brother's gonna be fine,” she smiled down at the boy.

“Really?” Michael grinned.

“Yeah. Really. No one can explain it; it's a miracle. They're going to keep him overnight for observation, and then, he's coming home.”

You smiled as Sam asked, “How are all the other kids doing?”

“Good. Real good. A bunch of them should be checking out in a few days. Dr. Travis says the ward's going to be like a ghost town,” she explained.

“Dr. Travis? What about Dr. Hydecker?” you asked.

“Oh, he wasn't in today. Must have been sick or something.”

You shot a knowing look to the boys.

“So, did anything happen while I was gone?” Joanna asked her son.

The boy looked to Dean before responding, “Nah, same old stuff.”

“Okay.” Joanna smoothed a hand over Michael’s blonde hair. “You can go see Ash.”

A wide grin spread across the boy’s face. “Now?!”

She nodded at her son, who ran into the car. “I, ah, I'd better get going before he hotwires the car and drives himself,” she told you and the boys. The three of you watched as Joanna’s car pulled out of the parking lot. Sam and Dean turned to you and placed their bags in the trunk next to yours. 

“It's too bad,” said Sam.

“Oh, they’ll be fine,” you assured him.

“That's not what I meant,” he shook his head. “I meant Michael. He'll always know there are things out there in the dark— he'll never be the same, you know?” He paused. “Sometimes I wish that....”

“What?” Dean questioned.

“I wish I could have that kinda innocence.”

Dean walked to the driver’s side door. He leaned on the roof of the car and said, “If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could too.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth @favoritefandoms27 @star-yawnznn

hi hi! quite a few tags were broken :( please let me know if i've misspelled your tag! make sure you have notifs for my blog on so you don't miss an update!

[jasmines-library]

What do you think about a Batfam x Supernatural crossover??? Like, Reader is Dean's twin, and Sam's older sister, but she can't take the boys' nonsense anymore (like the pranks in the first season) and goes out to hunt a nest of vampires alone, only in Gotham, Batman V and confronts her, she even runs away but is caught, so she tells the truth, he takes her to the mansion and everyone is extremely shocked that these creatures are real (including Bruce) but there is no way to deny the facts!! And meanwhile the boys are freaking out because their badass sister is missing and they're looking for her like crazy?

Changes

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Note: (how strange, someone requested something very similar: anonymous also requested here.

Warnings: Swearing, blood and gore but not descriptive.

Word Count: 1.9k

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

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You had finally had enough. You just couldn’t take it anymore. The constant bickering and blame passing, the constant nights spent laying awake blaming yourselves when another got hurt…you were sick of it. 

It was in the very early hours of the morning that you slipped out the door, with a handful of your belongings stuffed into a bag. It’s not like you had planned to ;eave forever..you just needed to get away for a little while. To take a breath of fresh air. You had found a hunt a few states over; a nest of vampires which should be simple enough. 

You made your way to the bus station about 10 minutes before your bus was supposed to leave. It was just a short walk from the motel. You had considered taking a car or hitching a ride with someone, but you knew that Sam and Dean would be able to track you much easier if you did that. So, you opted to take a bus and exchange half-way there just to make sure they wouldn’t follow behind as quickly as you wanted them to. If you were lucky, you would make it back before they even figured out where you were. To say that they were going to be pissed when they found out would be an understatement. But you were an adult, for crying out loud. Hell, you were the same age as Dean and he seemed to run off without a care in the world. 

There was little to no-one on the bus as it sped down the freeway. Supposedly that's because most people weren’t mad enough to get up at 2 in the morning to get on a bus. Either way, it was nice. You had disabled the tracker on your phone and plugged in your headphones to prepare for the drive. 

Gotham city was a strange place. Extravagant, but strange. Dawn was slowly creeping into day when you hopped off the bus, and you could tell that the city was lively. There were people roaming the streets as the streetlamps flickered off and the lights inside the skyscrapers blinked on. There were dog walkers, couples holding hands and businessmen hailing cabs over the road. An eerie feeling hung about the city. You couldn’t place it, but there was something malevolent about this city. With the high rise buildings and twisting alleys,it seemed the perfect place for crime. The city was so big that people could just vanish. It was the perfect place for vampires. 

You found your hotel a little way up the street. It was quaint with only one bed and a small table next to the wall by the ensuite, but it suited your needs perfectly. 

Concealing a machete is not easy. Even though the city had died down slightly now it was past the mid-day hubbub, there were still people everywhere and you did not want to risk being caught by the police for carrying a weapon around. By wearing one of your jackets, you managed to conceal it under your arm as you began to scope out the city to find where the vampires were supposedly nesting. 

When you finally found it, it seemed to tick all of the boxes: glazed windows, outskirts of the city, two entrances that you hoped wouldn’t lead to your untimely demise. Vampires were never very subtle. They were always the same. 

The entrance to the building was concealed down a side-road. Checking your surroundings to make sure the coast was clear, you began to work on the lock. It snapped open and you made your way inside. 

~

Sam and Dean were frantic. 

The day had started out like any other. Sam had slipped out the door early in the morning for his run (a habit which Dean despised and thought was completely unnecessary). He had made nothing of the pile of pillows which you had stacked up on the couch beneath a blanket. It was only when he returned to find Dean nearly burning a floor in the carpet as he paced, taking angrily into the phone. 

“No, I don't know where she could have gone, that's why I'm calling you!”  Dean was scared. Sam could tell that from the first word he spoke. 

There was a pause as the person Dean was on the phone to spoke. Clearly, he wasn’t happy with the response they gave as he slammed the phone shut and threw it across the room. 

“Son of a bitch” he yelled, hands coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“What's going on?” Sam asked. He had a nasty feeling that he already knew. 

“Y/Ns missing.”

“What?” Sam blinked. 

“Yeah. I thought she’d been snatched at first but most of her stuff is gone too.”

Sam bit his lip. “Have you tracked her cell?”

His older brother nodded. “Nothing. I’ve tried calling her too. She’s turned it off.”

“Shit.”

~

You had managed to get yourself in a little bit of a pickle. And by ‘little bit of a pickle’, I mean ‘there were a lot more vampires than you thought and now you were fighting for your life’. So the usual, really. 

When you had slunk inside the building it was completely silent as the vampires sheltered from the sun. But as you moved further into the room and began counting how many there were, you paled. Things hit the fan when you stepped backwards and knocked over a stack of books. All eyes snapped to you and you struggled to keep up with the sheer number of them. The scent of blood and sweat filled the room as you fought and swung. Most of it theirs, but some of it yours. 

No matter how many you took down, their attacks never seemed to end. You had just sliced the head off of one when another three raced before you. They were about to reach you, their fangs bared and snarling, when someone tackled them to the ground. The boy was tall, muscular and dressed from head to toe in black, besides the brown jacket slung over the top and the red emblem on his chest. Another figure appeared to your left, also dressed in black. Though this time, his face was concealed by a domino mask and a blue symbol was imprinted on the front of it. 

Although the vampires went down, it seemed the two vigilantes didn’t know how to kill them which meant that even with their help, you were going to get nowhere. So as they tussled with them, you swung your arm to defeat the one before you before moving to help them. When the last one went down, their attention snapped toward you as you wiped the end of the machete with the hem of your sleeve. 

“What the hell was that?” The one in blue had you pinned up against the wall before you could even blink. 

You scoffed. “A thank you would be nice.”

You pushed against his arm, trying to free yourself but he had you stuck firmly in place. 

He lowered his voice, leaning closer to you. “I’m gonna ask you again: what the hell were they?”

“You won't believe me.” You told him slyly.

“Try us.” The one in red said. 

“Vampires.”

The one in red snorted. “Funny. Now start talking before we arrest you for murder.”

“I told you you wouldn’t believe me.” You rolled your eyes. “If you let me go I’ll prove it to you.”

~

Dick and Jason honestly weren’t sure if they believed you or not. They had heard the commotion when they passed a building on patrol. People had been going missing in the area recently and they were investigating the area. When they saw you inside they were taken aback. Their initial instinct was to attack you, but when they realised that you were trying to stop the group of people they realised it was you who needed help. They thought it would be easy to take them down. That was until they actually tried. The attackers had sharp canines that came very close to their faces and only stilled when you attacked them with your machete. 

When you revealed to them that they were vampires, they thought you were messing with them, but after you showed off their sharp fangs, they were convinced 

They were silent as they walked you back to the cave, unsure what to make of it. They were shell shocked; creatures that they thought only existed in movies were real…?

Even more so, they were surprised at how unfazed you seemed. It made them wonder how long you had been doing this for. They didn’t recognise you, and you had refused to give them a name. Jason was going to ask Tim to run a search on the database later, though he wasn’t even sure if he would find anything. 

Bruce wasn’t sure what to make of it. When the two vigilantes brought you into the cave after introducing themselves and explaining their work, Bruce was hesitant. He thought that this was some kind of joke. A prank by his two sons. You were adamant however, and showed him pictures on your cell and research papers online. 

When you turned your cell back on, you were bombarded with dozens of miscalls and twice as many unread texts from both of your brothers and anyone else who they decided to contact about your disappearance. Shitttttt

Just as you were about to speak, a loud clatter sounded from across the batcave. All of the vigilantes in the room stood to attention and you reached for the gun holstered in your waistband. But as soon as you did so, you came face to face with eyes you knew very well. 

“Dean?!” You gawped at him. 

“Y/N? Oh thank god.” He pulled you close to him. 

The vigilantes dropped their weapons slightly. “You know them?” Jason raised an eyebrow.

“My brothers.” You nodded. They must have managed to track the bus you got on. 

“Jesus christ, Y/N. What the hell were you thinking?” Sam chided. “You could have gotten seriously hurt.”

“Relax, Sammy. I’m fine. I needed to get away from your bickering for once.”

Dick laughed from across the room “You can say that again.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean frowned. 

“I mean you two are constantly arguing and I’m sick of it. I needed to get out on my own for a day or two. I was planning to come back tomorrow morning.”

“And you planned to stay here with these...people?”

“...not exactly.”

“Y/N.” Dean warned. 

“They helped me.” 

“You told them?!” 

“Kind of hard not to when you’re being attacked by a group of blood thirsty vampires.”

“It’s true.” Jason said. “We didn’t believe her at first.”

“Sorry…”

“It’s alright.” Dean said. “We’re sorry it got so far that you felt you had to leave. All that matters is that you’re safe.”

Bruce decided to speak next, his interest peaked by your earlier statements. “So about those vampires…the other things are real too?”

Dean nodded. “Pretty much all of it.”

“Oh god. I have a feeling things are about to get a whole lot more interesting in Gotham.”

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BATFAM TAGS

@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff

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SPN TAGS:

@defonotashleyr @aestheticdaisies @xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys @inlovewhithafairytale @harleycao

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[sourcherryandsprinkles]

omg omg maybe like chad x riley weathers reader

doesn’t have to be anything super specific maybe like comforting them after dewey dies or after gale is attacked

or hcs honestly anything

Warnings: mention of character death (Dewey)

my taglists are here (I added one for SCREAM) + you can requests here at any time

—

The day your parents announced their separation to you was the worst day of your life.

You had only been thirteen years old, but you remembered it like it was yesterday.

Mindy and Chad had invited you over for the weekend-long sleepover. You spent the weekend watching horror movies in secret — and hiding in Chad’s shoulder during gore-y parts you couldn’t stomach —, eating popcorn and ice scream, scraping your knee when falling from Mindy’s bike. It was a really fun weekend. You were excited to tell your parents all about it when they picked you up, but only your mom was in the car.

When you got home, your dad was there and you could tell by his face that he wasn’t in his best mood. You thought it had something to do with your grandmother, but it wasn’t. Your parents sat you down and announced that they would be divorcing.

You never thought another day could take this day’s position — until today.

You were at Chad’s, hanging out on the couch and distracting yourselves from the return of ghostface, when you received a text from Sam asking you to come to the hospital. Since Tara had not been released yet and she didn't have access to her phone, you assumed she wanted to see you, but when you arrived at the hospital you were faced with a totally different scene.

Lights from police cars were flashing around the entrance, giving away that something — likely ghostface related — had happened. Your stomach twisted at the thought and you leaned into Chad’s side, getting the feeling that this was ghostface related. He released a shuddered breath, wrapping a protective arm around you.

Chad was the one to point Sam and Richie talking to the police in a corner. He pulled you toward them, but your eyes caught a body-bag being rolled out of the hospital by coroners. There was a tag attached to the bag — a name —, but it was too far to be able to read it.

Was it Tara? Did ghostface finish her?

It didn’t make sense though. If Tara had been killed, Sam would be crying the loss of her sister. Instead, she and Richie were looking at you with sad and pitying faces.

‘’We’re so sorry, Y/N,’’ Sam said, heavy-heartedly informing you that the body in the bag was Dewey.

An agonizing scream derived out of your lungs as all the air was knocked out of them. Your heart began racing in shock and disbelief, refusing to accept that your father was dead. He was strong and resilient, he had survived many ghostface attacks and stabbings. He couldn't be dead, no.

Sam was retelling what happened inside the hospital. How ghostface had attacked Tara and that Dewey came to help them. Although he had retired, helping and saving people was something he would never stop doing.

He fought until whoever was under the killer was knocked out, but he didn't come with Sam, Tara and Richie in the elevator. He went to shoot ghostface, because according to the pattern of the past, it's the only way to kill them.

After a moment, Dewey was not coming out so Richie went back to check on him and found the ex-sheriff in a pool of his own blood — dead.

You slipped from Chad’s grip and ran to the coroners, hot tears streaming like waterfalls. ‘’No! Dad!’’ you screamed as the two men set the body-bag in the back of the van.

Before you could reach them, one of the police who knew you pulled you away. Her heart was breaking at the loss of her old co-worker, but she couldn’t let you get close to the body-bag. Another scream left your lips as you attempted to get away from the policewoman’s grip, the pain in your heart so big you needed to scream.

Chad came over to you, taking over from the police officer, and immediately you stopped screaming, turning them into heavy sobs. You felt your knees giving out, not strong enough to stand anymore. Thankfully, Chad caught you before you fell to the parking lot’s ground.

He didn’t say anything, knowing no words would fix your pain. Chad didn’t have any experience with death. The only person he lost was his uncle Randy, but he wasn’t even born when he died. So he took the support route and wrapped his arms around you tightly.

You leaned against his chest, crying into his hoodie as sobs shook your whole body.

Your mother had been called too. Her car pulled up in the parking lot a few minutes after you. She got out, calling your father’s name like she did in the past attacks, but this time he wasn’t there.

All she saw was her daughter crying in the arms of her boyfriend. 

—

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[kenny-the-ken]

Alone at Last Pt 2

ALL AGED UP CHARACTERS!! You can find the first chapter here!! WARNINGS!!: guns, gore, violence, angst, character death, drugs, gangs, strong language, MINORS DO NOT READ!!!!

It had been four months from you and Kenny had ran off together, ditching South Park and forging a new life with each other.

You were now in California, the weather a stark difference to that of Colorado, especially in the mountains. The weather was hot, the people were hot, and everyone had one shared love.

Drugs. And by god was Kenny in business. He knew a few people feom California that used to ship his supplies to South Park, but now he was on their home soil, he became a personal dealer for their gang. And boy was he slinging drugs.

He had sold that much that you were both able to rent a luxury apartment, feed yourselves and Kenny still had enough money left at the end of the month to hand you his bank card, telling you to treat yourself.

Kenny loved having money, he wasn't used to it, and he spoiled you endlessly, all the things he'd have loved to have done when you both lived in South Park. He'd bring you bouquets, just because, order you food when he was out working, just in case you were hungry, random packages would be delivered, all addressed to you, and Kenny would've ordered you clothes you'd shown him, shoes, luxury handbags and expensive jewellery, he had you spoilt rotten.

There were a few problems though, drug money isn't safe money, in fact it's entirely illegal. And people who are higher up the food chain of a gang than you are can offer you bigger, better jobs, better reward, higher jail time.

Kenny and you ended up on the road quite a lot as the months went on, constantly travelling the world, seeing all these amazing place, and occasionally smuggling some illegal substances in the process, and had thankfully never been caught.

It was only when a major gang war had erupted did shit get real, and it got real fast. Molotov cocktails becoming an average thing to hear about in the news, people being shot, police officers being targeted by multiple gangs, the streets became a scarier place, and you were becoming more and more worried for Kenny's safety, not that he cared.

"Babe, I die all the time! You know this! You've seen me die before! If someone kills me, I don't think I'm gonna even worry about it at this point." Kenny rambled, a blunt hanging from his lips, taking a few long drags before passing it to you, exhaling the smoke out the window of his car. You accepted, taking a long drag yourself, and exhaling with a long sigh. You were on a road trip together, a chance to get away from everything for a while. You were going to a nice place in California, where rich people normally stayed, it would be nice to pretend, if even for a little while.

"Ken, I mean it. This feud is getting out of control! Someone got shot through the head last week!" You exclaimed, taking another drag of the blunt before passing it back to your boyfriend who ashes it out the window before placing it back between his lips.

"Pussies. I've been shot in the head more times than I can count." Kenny snickered, and you pushed his arm, a stern look on your face.

"Well what else am I supposed to do, baby? Slinging drugs doesn't take skill, you've just gotta make sure you don't get caught, it's quick, easy money, babe." Kenny spoke, and you let out a defeated sigh, both of you knew you'd be fucked without Kenny dealing, the only good thing was that if he was killed, at least he'd come back.

And that was when it happened, pulling up at the set of traffic lights, a car pulling up beside you, the window rolling down, and before either of you could react, shots were being fired at both of you, one hitting Kenny right on the temple, and back out the other side.

Your screams could curdle blood, loud shrieks escaping your mouth, staring at your partner, now lifeless, head drooping and eyes dull.

You were covered in what you could only assume was Kenny's brains, your once beautiful clothes covered in blood and pieces of flesh, and you took of your seatbelt, moving to your partner, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cupped his face in your hands.

"K-Ken, Kenny, please god no, Ken?" You spoke, but of course he didn't reply. Even though you knew he would be back, seeing your boyfriend getting his brains blown out was not something you had ever wanted to see, and you were certain you'd be scarred for the rest of your life.

Police were everywhere, taking Kenny's limp, blood stained body from the car, placing him on a stretcher and pulling a clean, white sheet over his body and face, putting him into the ambulance.

You were in a complete trance, as an medic pulled a few shards of broken glass out of your skin, you didn't even realise that you'd been hurt, so focused on what had just unfolded mere minutes ago.

The police brought you home once you'd been patched up, and you entered your empty apartment, the vibe of the place completely shifted. A place that was warm and homey was now cold and dull, you could see Kenny everywhere, his half smoked joint sat in the ashtray, the bowl he'd used for his breakfast still sitting in the sink, his shoes still laying messily beside the front door, and as you entered your bedroom, you barely blinked. The bed lay still unmade, and you stripped from your blood splattered clothes, dumping them outside the bathroom door, and getting into the en-suite shower in your room.

Even the bathroom reminded you of Kenny, his shampoo and conditioner, his body wash, shaving foam and razor, even his toothbrush brought tears to your eyes, as you turned on the scalding water, leaning your head back and sobbing as the water soaked you, a steady stream of red water trickling down the drain.

And you stood there for what felt like forever, until the water ran clear, getting out and wrapping a towel around your body and hair, and once your skin and hair were dry, you opened the wardrobe, pulling out one of Kenny's orange hoodies, and you quickly put it on, breathing in the scent of your dead boyfriend, tears still welling in your bloodshot eyes.

Your head pounded, body ached and wounds stinging as you crawled into bed, wrapping the duvet tightly around you, putting the hood of Kenny's hoodie up over your long h/c hair, and slowly sobbing yourself to sleep, your whole body shaking.

You awoke to the sound of your bedroom door closing, making you sit up in your bed, rubbing your eyes that were nearly glued shut, the tears having dried into your face as you slept.

"Hello? Is someone there?" You spoke, before hearing the soft plop of clothes hitting the carpeted floor. You brought your knees to your chest, too scared to make another sound, until you moved to turn on your bedside lamp, your body jolting quickly from the bed, lunging yourself at the figure you were scared of a few minutes ago.

"Kenny! Oh my god, Kenny. You have no idea how glad I am to see you!" You exclaimed, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck, pressing kisses all over his face, and he returned your hug, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to his bare chest, standing in nothing but his boxers, his clothes laying in a pile.

"I missed you, baby. Are you okay? Are you hurt?" You shook your head no, and Kenny quirked his brow.

"Not even a few cuts and bruises?" He pressed further and you finally spoke, tears running down your already tear stained cheeks.

"A few pieces of glass got stuck in my arm but... I- I was more concerned with your blood and flesh that was all over me, and the fact you were dead." You whispered against his chest, and Kenny ran his fingers through your hair, shushing you as you cried.

"Don't cry baby. I'm here, you're safe baby. We need to get out of California for a while, I don't want anyone trying to target you, I'd never be able to live with myself." Kenny spoke, his voice breaking as the tears began to fall from his own eyes, and you both stayed still, in each others warm embrace for a few moments, before Kenny picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, as he placed you on your side of the bed, climbing in himself.

Kenny pulled you down to cuddle close to his chest, pressing gentle kisses along your face, a small smile on his face.

"Let's get some rest, baby. And then tomorrow we're getting a flight to New York, the gangs moving me, I'm their best asset at the moment, and the fact I'm immortal certainly helped. There's no feuds happening there, so we'll be safe baby. I promise." Kenny spoke and you nodded, leaning up to press a deep kiss on your lovers lips.

"I love you, Kenny. I'm so glad you're back." You whispered, and Kenny smiled, turning the bed side lamp off before he broke the silence.

"I love you too baby, I'm not going away again, I promise."

[lucid-ivory]

ex Anam Cara

Anam Cara is a phrase that refers to the Celtic concept of the "soul friend" in religion and spirituality.

summary: reader was betrayed by a friend who somehow ended up leading the cartel you were "hunting". you showed no mercy.

characters: ghost, soap, price, gaz & alejandro x fem reader

genre: angst-ish with comfort

cw: typical violence, gore, implied SA attempt

note: reader is young, again. "he" is just an imaginary villain aaand there's a long introduction.

you've known him for long enough, maybe there was a spark between you two.

you barely had alone time for yourselves, but maybe that was better.

the other friends in your group never said anything, at least in front of you.

he was...

gentle, caring.

lovely.

but he vanished.

Your teammates, including you, were tied to different chairs in an eerie room. Walls were covered in dry blood and you all could see cut limbs from people that don't exist anymore scattered all over the floor.

You knew for a while already he was in charge. All the clues you've found just reaffirmated this.

Fortunately for you, the adrenaline in your brain wasn't letting you feel. Why would you care now about all the memories you had together along with the other friends? Your mission was to make it out alive before he sold your organs for a simple gram of any drug he could find.

The rest of your teammates knew how hard this case was for you: betrayal was nothing unknown for them, though you were kind of new to this.

You had him in front of you, almost wanting to make you submit; you felt his punches and harsh words, you heard him admit everything he's done, you've heard him whispering all the cruel things he'd do to you. In his eyes, you were the traitor for exposing his business.

You expected the worse: he knew your fears, your triggers. He knew how much splitting your arms open would make you cringe, he knew how humiliated and dirty you would feel if he just did filthy and profane things to you in front of the other men, your so called "teammates". He convinced you they would enjoy it.

All of you were tied , but only you were threatened. It's like he didn't see the rest.

You felt irritated, your arm was shaking though not in fear precisely; you felt the need to punch, cut, split open, harm, hurt, kill. You felt responsible and almost guilty for leading your team to this place, for bringing up this cartel.

What about the rest of your friends?

They weren't clueless.

You still remember this girl that suddenly vanished too. She was close to you. You remember the police saying how she simply ran away. And now you remember his words from some seconds ago, explaining how he tortured her, how he ate her alive, how he "made her a woman" only to finally kill her and pick her organs like anyone would pick cherries from a tree.

To sell them later.

"What did you expect me to do?"

His words only made you want to bite him and spit his skin far away like a savage animal would.

"Hm. You'd be expensive".

Your wrists were burnt from all the friction with the goddamn rope that was holding you in place, but you weren't even able to feel it. You just needed to free your hands, and then you'll think what goes next.

His fingers started undoing your hair that you usually kept in different hairstyles to not bother you. It was almost loving, he did it carefully.

You did not want his hands on you, you did not want him near you or anyone else. You could only use your teeth, and so you did.

A hiss of agony was heard, as if he was still trying to play tough in front of you. He tried to remove his hand from you, but you kept biting through only to free yourself from his threatening aura.

Your teeth were now stained crimson, and he stared almost in horror at his hand as he finally removed it. You groaned and spat the blood.

Ghost was the only one who felt almost proud at seeing you in such a violent and primal state. He knew he didn't have to worry, at least for now. He was convincing himself you could handle this.

Price was worried, though. He wasn't fond of the way he was "caressing" you after so casually explaining how he would "physically corrupt" you.

Soap was almost as angry as you, about to go feral. He appreciated your emotional and physical strength to just bite him as if you were some sort of dog; using the last resources you had.

Gaz didn't do or say anything. He was just constantly looking at Price. Maybe that's why Price tried to act rough in front of him. If the leader is scared, everyone will get scared.

"Leave her alone, cabrón!"

His words were ignored.

"I always wanted it to be you".

You almost froze, eyes sharp staring at him as if you were about to snap at any moment.

"But she was always hanging out with us. She won it".

"You fucker! You killed her!"

A different type of hate and disgust could be heard in your voice.

"She was your friend, I know. Mine too."

You let out a heavy breath along with a shaky groan.

"..you killed her..."

You could simply repeat your words all over again. She wasn't missing, she wasn't kidnapped, she was killed. By *him*.

If it wasn't for the situation, your reaction would almost be fascinating and mesmerizing. Strong.

You felt the blood on your wrists, and a kick on your stomach. You were now laying down on the floor, you don't even know when it happened.

He grabbed you by the shirt, he screamed in your face, he punched your stomach again. You couldn't breathe.

The rest of the team could only sit and watch you in agony, watch you being dragged by him almost as if you were...

...dead?

You struggled, but you still managed to move around and kick. They knew you were still alive, but probably on the verge of passing out.

But everything went for the better when you got rid of the rope holding your wrists and you managed to punch him in specific parts of his legs that would make him see stars for a while. Your wrists ached and stung, burned by the friction with the rope. You didn't care, you went for it, for everything, for the sharpest tool you could find to cut his ankles and legs. You threw him on the ground, you opened his throat. The men swore they could see you almost trying to drink his blood. You stabbed his chest and stomach several times, enough to make him unrecognizable.

Soap looked at you amazed, almost with some sort of psychotic smile on his face, he never expected to see you in such a state of pure rage. Ghost calmly watched you do your job. Gaz was surprised, almost... terrified.

When you were done with your massacre, your whole body was covered in blood and you were breathing heavily. You were sure you probably hurt yourself too in the process, but the fear and shock in your brain wasn't letting you realize. You stopped, and stared at the mutilated body below you. Nothing felt real anymore. You killed lots of people already but... it was never that bloody and violent. It was never someone close to you.

You slowly got up, your hands weren't dirty with blood; they felt stained.

"Good job, mi chula".

You faked a smile at Alejandro and proceeded to use the same knife to cut the other ropes that were tying the rest of your teammates to their chairs. Your hands were shaky and everyone noticed, you simply said it was the adrenaline.

Price could almost hear your heart crushing, it was like he read your mind: you didn't want to be there anymore. You wanted to cry your eyes out. You killed him in the most disturbing way possible.

Maybe your mission was already done. The cartel would not work with all the people and their leader being dead.

[...]

"It's okay, you're okay".

Ghost wanted to comfort you. Your eyes were watery, your leg was non-stop bouncing and your hands were still shaking yet you would never show your panic.

"You did great, Sergeant".

You turned around to look at Soap on your other side, crouching on the floor next to you, holding onto the chair in which you were sitting.

Price was in front of you with his arms crossed. This type of violence wasn't anything new for them, but this kind of reaction, especially coming from you, was.

You were surrounded by the entire team, and you didn't quite know if it was comforting or overwhelming.

"It could've been worse, trust me. I thought he was going to kill you right there".

Gaz still looked terrified; terrified of you, and terrified of the entire situation they just survived thanks to her.

"You saved yourself, and us too." Price said. "Maybe you deserve a higher rank."

"You were badass back there, querida" Alejandro continued. "No need to cry".

It almost felt unreal how everyone was trying to cheer you up. Their words still didn't help that much as you simply stared at some empty point of the room with your eyes wide open and your entire body still shaking.

"Betrayal hurts, Sergeant. But by the way you're still trying to keep your tears inside I can guarantee you were made for us".

You let out a shaky breath.

"Thanks, Ghost..."

You barely finished your sentence when you were immersed in warm, tight hugs and friendly pats.

shorter than i expected it to actually be and it's a bit shit but hope there's someone out there who likes it 😭 also this is my first time writing an actual story instead of just headcanons so i'm not sure if it's fine. ALSO my requests are open !!

[hoffstrap-yuri]

In My Head, In My Heart

ao3 // masterlist

*Summary: Petra Strahm had come to terms with the fact that she was a lesbian after Husband #2, but never did she think she'd swing so hard for a pregnant woman.

*Rating: +18 for explicit mature content

*Content/Tags: Fem Hoffstrahm, Fem Coffinshipping, Yuri Coffinshipping, Yuri Hoffstrahm, WLW Coffinshipping, WLW Hoffstrahm, Petra Strahm (Fem Strahm), Maureen Hoffman (Fem Hoffman), Fluff and Smut, Shameless Smut, Plot What Plot, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnancy Sex

*Status: First Fic in Series/Completed (Second Fic Here)

Author's Note: Basically the thought of pregnant Fem Hoffman made me pass out with a nosebleed and when I woke up, this had created itself. But in all honesty I've poured at least 24 hours into this thing because I was like "I gotta write before my muse leaves my mind" so enjoy this fic!

I've got more fem Hoffstrahm coming, but this was just something I had started before taking requests so have this to tide yourselves over

Holy Shit.Petra had stopped a few steps short of the bottom of the staircase leading to the murder scene of their confidant, Alison Kerry. Sure she expected gore, maybe a head that flew off to one corner of the room…. But she hadn’t expected to see a heavily pregnant woman working the scene. She was going to launch into her ‘Open the Door and You Will Find Me’ spiel she had been mentally preparing while still in Perez’s car, ready to call out the city’s police department for its incompetence at handling a serial killer of this infamy. She decided better of herself and quietly hid behind her partner as she did the introductions. “Detective Hoffman, I’m Special Agent Lindsay Perez of the FBI. This is my partner, Special Agent Petra Strahm.” “Pleasure.” The detective leaned forward a bit, putting a strain on her dress shirt’s buttons and held out a hand for the two agents. Petra reached out first, surprised by the heavy grip the other woman hand. She pulled her hand back and behind Lindsay’s back massaged her hand. “How can I help the FBI?” “‘Open the door and you will find me’, does that mean anything to you, Detective?” Petra replied, the edge coming back to her words as she tried not to look at Hoffman’s giant baby bump square in the center of her plush body. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t understand your cryptic bullshit.” Hoffman scoffed at her, “Pregnancy brain leaves me so confused these days.” “Pregnancy brain, my ass.” Another officer under Hoffman’s command muttered under his breath. Hoffman’s heel just so happened to ‘hover’ over the top of his foot before pressing down; making the detective curse loudly before scurrying off to the opposite side of the scene. Hoffman covered her mouth behind her hand as she let out a reserved laugh. “Anyway, no. That means absolutely nothing to me, Agent.” She finally replied to the special agent’s inquiry from a moment passed. Strahm made some kind of grunting noise as she examined Kerry’s body. Hoffman pulled out a legal pad where she kept notes and flipped through them, hoping to provide some kind of information to the agents. “There must be another apprentice.” Petra stated “You’re sure that this isn’t the work of John…” “John Kramer was a bed-ridden cancer patient. Absolutely not.” Strahm countered “It could’ve been Amanda Young. Used a pulley system…” Hoffman offered once again “There’s no way. Amanda’s arrest record puts her weight at 107, and Detective Kerry was 130…” “Special Agent.” Hoffman batted her eyelashes at the other woman, “If you’re here for any other reason than just to assist, I suggest you back the fuck off.” “Wouldn’t want to miss anything your pregnancy brain let slip.” Petra bit back and walked through the crime scene. She heard Lindsay sigh behind her, probably shooting Hoffman an ‘I’m sorry about her’ look before following behind the older woman. After looking over everything, and some of the lower detectives shuffling back to the precinct, Hoffman approached the two agents. “You’re welcome to set up in the conference room back at my station.” One hand rested on her back for support, while the other rested over the crest of her bump. “Thanks, we could use a cup of coffee.” Lindsay cracked a smile at the matronly detective “You’re welcome. I’ll see you two later. I have another fire to put out.” She replied, turning on her heels before walking up the stairs. Lindsay craned her head up, making sure that Hoffman was out of earshot before nudging her partner with her elbow. “What?” Strahm asked, before being nudged again, “What?!” “I saw you staring at her.” “I was not.” Strahm rolled her eyes “Were too. She’s exactly your type.” “Bullshit.” “I’ve seen your ex-husband.” Lindsay retorted, “Only Maureen's got more curves.” “Why don’t you take the car to the precinct, and shut the fuck up.”

“Damn.” Lindsay laughed, “I’ll go at least get the car started. Might want to cool down a little before you get in the car.” “Fine.” Strahm huffed a little bit, taking another walk through of the crime scene before deciding she was calm enough to face Lindsay’s badgering about her attraction towards Maureen Hoffman. Though there really wasn’t anything there. She hopped into the car and sat silently across from Perez as they drove to the police station together. The officer that Hoffman had stepped on came out to lead them to the conference room, showing them where the coffee machine was on the way in before the two pulled out their briefcases. Lindsay sat on the edge of the table as Strahm flipped through the manila file folders she crammed inside the case. “Do you think we should tell Maureen?” “No Linds.” Strahm replied, not taking even a second to look up at her partner, “We don’t know what they know and the evidence is stacking up that it’s someone on the inside helping the Jigsaw Killer.”

“I know, it’s just the tape said that there’s two police that’ll be the next victims and it might be better…” She started to explain. The whole atmosphere seemingly shifted as the doorway creaked slightly under the weight of the pregnant detective leaning against the frame. Petra looked her up and down with a level of disgust that she couldn’t even pretend to conceal. “Hope this is comfortable for the two of you.” Maureen said, walking across the room and taking a seat across from Strahm, “Certainly better than sitting in the bullpen.” “It’ll be fine.” Lindsay assured the other woman. Maureen pushed her chair back slightly to cross her leg over her lap, showing that she had switched to flats after coming back from the scene. “If you don’t mind my asking, how far are you along?” “Oh.” Maureen smiled in a manner that made Petra wanted to gag. So saccharine sweet, and for what? “I’m in my third trimester.” “Oh, then you’re due anytime now.” “I still have a couple of weeks before the due date, but yes.” Petra scoffed a little before saying something completely lacking any kind of tact, “Shouldn’t you be out on maternity leave, then?” Without hesitation and after looking at the simple silver band on her ring finger, Maureen shot back, “Shouldn’t you be with your husband?” Lindsay had to stifle her laughter and Petra shot her partner a look of ‘you were supposed to be on my side on this one’. “I’m divorced for your information.” “Congratulations. Your ex must be a lucky man.” “Not nearly as lucky as I am to be rid of him.” Petra responded. “Either of you want coffee?” Lindsay got up and made a dash for the door before either of the other women could answer her. It was a courtesy more than anything, but she needed an excuse to get out from there. “I’d better go.” Hoffman grabbed the teddy bear she had in her arms previously when she walked into the conference room “What do you want from me, detective?” “What?”

“I said ‘what do you want from me’? Don’t tell me you were just walking in here to check on Lindsay and I. God knows you could have sent one of your lackeys to do that while you were resting in your office.” Hoffman scoffed back, “I’m not some delicate flower despite being with child. I can still flip a man over my shoulder… even though my OB/GYN has advised against it.” She got up from her seat and leaned into Strahm’s space when she heard the agent utter something under her breath. “I didn’t quite hear that, Agent, mind saying it a bit louder for me?” “It’s none of your damn business.” Strahm growled underneath the other woman. She looked over her shoulder for an opening, but Maureen was all up in her business. Maureen pulled Strahm’s chair back and placed her hands firmly on the arms of the chair, forcing the FBI agent to shrink herself further into herself. “I said, repeat yourself, Agent Strahm.” She said in a low voice. Petra was surprised she hadn’t miraculously turned into a pile of goop in front of the heavy woman before her. Barely louder than a whisper, she replied: “Hot.” “Louder.” “I thought it was hot.” Strahm kept her eyes moving, anything so as not to stare blankly at Hoffman’s chest. “What was?” “The idea of you throwing a man over your shoulder, in your state. A big bulky girl like you…” Strahm could feel a nosebleed starting and “You’re right, it is hot. And I’m not a girl, I’m a woman.” The hot air from her mouth sliding across the skin of Petra’s neck. Petra shivered in her seat, forcing her hands to dig into the fabric of the arm of the chair as she tried to keep herself calm and even-headed. Maureen lifted her tempting chest away from Petra with a mischievous little smile on her face. Strahm tucked her legs one underneath the other around the bottom of the chair and locked her knees. Maureen’s hands worked their way to her back and massaged herself as she stood upright. “That was a lot to make me go through, in my condition.”

“I thought you said you weren’t a fucking flower.” Strahm spit back “I’m not, but you’d better make up for this. You free tonight?” “Do I have a choice?” “You always have a choice, Agent. Make it.” “Yeah, I’m free.” Strahm switched the order of her legs to keep from fidgeting with her fingers “Good. I’ll drive you to my place tonight.” Maureen turned on the back of her heels out of the room and walked towards her office. Strahm sat still in her chair for a moment before realizing she needed to be looking at something before Lindsay came back with coffee. She unhooked her leg, and reached for the briefcase before realizing what a number Hoffman did to her. She brushed up against Lindsay as she returned with a drink for the both of them and Strahm made a beeline to the bathroom. --- “Is Nancy Drew still here?” Maureen entered Strahm’s office space, her jacket slung over her shoulder like she was a mob boss. Without the stupid garment, Strahm got a generous view of the suspenders that were probably functionally useless as the wide woman grew from her pregnancy. “Don’t call Perez that, she’s a damn good agent.” Strahm snapped back “Touched a nerve, did I?” Maureen smirked. “I’m done for the day, if you want to hurry it up and join me.” “I’m almost done.” Strahm flipped through her laptop and checked her emails one last time. Maureen’s foot hit the floor with a slight patter as she waited for the other woman to tie up her loose ends for the day. “It can’t take you that long to be ‘almost’ done.” Hoffman glared at her “What, you got a hot date with the baby daddy after you’re done screwing me for the night?” Strahm retorted

“You’re keeping me from what I want, Agent. And I always get what I want, when I want it.” Maureen bared her teeth, placing her palms flat on either side of the laptop. Strahm didn’t bother logging off the device, only shut the cover and grabbed her briefcase from below her. “Good. About time.” “Shut it.” Strahm replied as she fixed the collar of her dress shirt. Hoffman lead the agent to her car and slammed the door on Strahm’s side once she slid into the passenger’s seat. She buckled herself in, making a show of the way the material had to stretch around her stomach. “Gonna need a fucking extender if that bump grows anymore.” “You’d like to see that, wouldn’t you?” Maureen smiled down at her baby bump as she teased Strahm. Strahm crossed her legs in the other seat before saying, “Just drive us to your place.” She covered her beet red face the best she could behind the palm of her hand. Hoffman reached an arm around the back of Strahm’s head rest as she put the vehicle into reverse, pulling out of the station before driving around town. She turned the radio on when they were stopped at a particularly long red light and hummed along to some pop song. Strahm couldn’t help herself from looking at the way her lips curved as her mouth made ‘oohs’ and ‘you’s, the velvet lipstick accentuating her ‘ahhs’ as her hums turned to singing. Strahm pursed her lips as she watched, leaning in closer to the siren’s call from Hoffman. As she was about to kiss Hoffman’s cheek, Hoffman stopped the car. It jerked Strahm a bit forward and she stayed in her seat until Hoffman came around the other side of the car to get the door for her. She followed behind the detective once more as the woman rummaged through her purse to find her house keys. On a separate clip from her car keys, she pulled the keys from her bag and unlocked the door.

“Make yourself comfortable, Agent.” She slipped her flats off by the door and dropped her things across the living room as she made a line straight for the kitchen. Strahm sat in the armchair closest to the door, leaving her jacket on top of Maureen’s. She rested her head against her fists and spread her legs as far as they would go comfortably in the leather chair. Her leg started bouncing underneath her, and rather than try to force it down she just let it go until the urge to vibrate died on its own. Maureen came back with two plates of food, one with a slightly bigger portion that she put in front of her spot on the couch and put the other before Petra. While it was a friendly gesture, Maureen told Petra “Eat.” in a tone that sounded more like a command. Petra nodded and picked over the broccoli with her fork, going for the salmon piece at the center of her plate. She went back to the vegetables when it was clear that Maureen was watching her and begrudgingly ate the damn broccoli even though it was actually cooked fine. Almost as if to reward Strahm, Maureen took the straining buttons on her dress shirt and popped them open, showing off her ample chest. Strahm tucked her legs closer together and shoveled the rest of her food into her mouth before she said something even more stupid than before. With a heavy sigh, Maureen loosened her updo and let the almost raven brown hair fall onto her shoulders like a waterfall. Strahm’s hair was messy, full of split ends… what she wouldn’t give to run her fingers through the soft locks. Her heart was practically projecting through the whole house, or so it seemed to her. She felt her pulse pounding in her wrist as her hand wearily reached up to her own hair and ran her fingers through it to ‘fix’ it. “Come here.” Maureen was tired of the cat and mouse game the other woman was playing with her. Strahm felt her words pull her from her spot and before her at the couch. She didn’t think she was that desperate a woman until Hoffman’s hand wrapped around her shoulder and gently guided her down to the floor, resting on her knees before the pregnant woman. “The things I could do to you, Agent.” “Like what?” Strahm asked. Hoffman tisked, realizing that despite all her gruff and loud barks she really didn’t have any bite. “Let’s start off easy on you. God knows it already looks like you’re going to pass out from just looking at me.” She pulled her back up so that Strahm could sit behind her on the couch. She leaned back into Strahm and draped her hair over the other woman’s shoulders. Strahm carefully pressed her lips onto the crown of Hoffman’s head, who responded in kind with a satisfied purr. Her hands hovered over the space of the detective before resting them against Hoffman’s back. “Good girl, keep going”. Strahm hands slid down Hoffman’s back before resting in the space just above her ass, kneading into the tense muscles as Maureen lifted her feet up from off the floor. Strahm jammed her knuckles slowly into the soft fat that sat on the woman’s hips and worked her joints deeper into Maureen’s muscle. She carefully snaked a hand around the front of Maureen’s body and rested it under the baby bump before tracing a finger over the stretch marks that were created from Maureen’s gift of life. Maureen’s eyes were shut tight as Strahm spoiled her but every once in a while Strahm would extract a mewl from the mother to-be that was like music to her ears. Her hand slunk its way back to just under Hoffman’s shoulder blades and worked out the tension from the center of her back. “You’re such a good girl when you have something you want dangling in front of you… almost like a dog.”

“You’re a dog,” Strahm bit back, “A bitch even.” “That’s not very nice.” Hoffman didn’t even open her eyes as she gently scolded Petra. “I might look like a bitch in heat, but that doesn’t mean just anyone can say it. If you were my subordinate, I’d give you paperwork duty for a month for saying that.” “Spare me.” Strahm rolled her eyes “And you’ve been behaving so well up until now. Did I hit a sore spot, Agent?” She feigned naivety. “Do you want to breed me, huh?” “I…” Strahm started to stammer “Oh, dear.” Maureen opened her eyes and pursed her lips, “Darling, has that been your goal this whole time?” “I-No I mean…” “Why didn’t you just say so?” She guided Strahm’s hand in between her legs and pressed her thighs together, “Follow my instructions carefully.” “And then what?” “Then you’ll get what you came here for.” “Fine.” Strahm looked away from the woman “Go upstairs. My room is the first room on the right next to the stairs. On the opposite side of the door is my bed and next to that is my vanity. In my drawers get out…” “Okay, I get it.” Strahm walked off and went to find Hoffman’s room. She lugged herself up the stairs and went into the bedroom. The bed was made up perfectly and Strahm found herself gravitating to the silk sheets, sitting down on the over-sized mattress for one woman. She ran a hand over the comforter before getting back up and pilfering through Hoffman’s drawers. Without a doubt the toy that Hoffman wanted was there, and Strahm brought it back down to the detective. “Don’t act like you’ve never seen a dildo before, love.” Hoffman uncrossed her legs as Strahm approached her with the toy in hand. “It’s just so… pink.” Strahm looked at it for a moment before sitting down next to Hoffman. Hoffman leaned into her partner and covered her lips in kisses of varying lengths. The first couple were like a puppy lapping at Strahm’s face before Maureen’s teeth came down and tugged on the inside of her lips. Strahm dropped the toy onto the couch as she let out a moan. She pulled away for a second to throw the thing onto the coffee table before going back to making out with the woman in front of her. She wrapped her arms around Maureen, grabbing at her ass while their kisses turned into sloppy mashes rather than something coherent. “I need you.”

“Then take me.” Maureen purred into Strahm’s ear, backing off her slowly. Strahm swallowed back the fear sitting in her throat and tugged at the hem of Hoffman’s maternity pants. Even her underwear was stupid sexy… or at least stupid sexy to a woman in a very long dry spell. Maureen seemed aware that Strahm was distracted by something, so helped the other woman slide everything off her thick hips, past her generous thighs and onto the floor. Petra worked the buttons open off Hoffman’s shirt as her lips connected back to Maureen’s neck. Without looking up, she unhooked the back of Hoffman’s bra. The fat spilled out from the garment and Petra moved her mouth further south, sucking on the skin. Hoffman wrapped her fingers through Strahm’s hair and forced her head down further so that Petra would suck on her nipple. They both moaned as Strahm licked at the overly tender skin. “Oh, honey.” “Honey?” Strahm pulled her mouth away, eliciting a whine from Hoffman. Her hand slid under Hoffman’s tit and massaged her. “Yes, honey. Do I need to say it again?” “Eh, one more time can’t hurt.” Strahm shrugged, resulting in the most deadpan stare from Maureen. Strahm nervously hovered over the other woman for a second after the gaff before undoing her shirt and showing Hoffman a little more. “So pretty.” Hoffman leaned back into her, “I could devour you.” “I’d like to see you try.” “There’s my confident girl again.” Hoffman titled Strahm’s head up by her chin, “Now. Make me yours, love.” “Fine. Fine. How do you want to do this?” Strahm grabbed the toy and coated it generously in lube. Hoffman got onto her knees and leaned forward with her ass sticking up in Strahm’s face, “Guess you didn’t need to think much about that.” “No. Just been thinking about it all day since I saw you at the crime scene this morning.” Hoffman shot back at her. Before she knew it, she felt Petra slid the toy into her slowly. Hoffman bucked her hips up into Strahm’s hand, taking the agent by surprise. She wrapped her free hand around the inside of Hoffman’s thigh before slowly thrusting the dildo into her partner. Hoffman’s fist pulled on the fabric of the couch cushions underneath her as she backed up into Strahm once more. “I lied earlier.” Strahm said, adjusting herself so she could be over Hoffman completely. “You’re not a bitch in heat.” “Yeah?” Hoffman bit down on her own lip, “What am I then?” “You’re a fucking heifer.” Strahm’s words curled over the edge of Hoffman’s ear and sat in her mind for a moment. “Everything about you is fucking gigantic. Your chest… your stomach… On your knees like this you look just like a fucking cow. How much bigger are you going to get before you deliver your calf, huh?” “F-Fuck…” Hoffman stuttered as she kept riding on the toy in Petra’s hand. Petra’s hand moved from in between Hoffman’s thigh and up her stomach, stopping for a moment over the baby bump. After running her hands over it in a circular motion, she clutched one of Maureen’s boobs in the palm of her hand. She gave it a light squeeze and Maureen shoved her head into the fabric of the couch, suppressing her moan. Her legs shook ever so slightly and Strahm pulled the toy out before tossing it to the side and pressing two fingers onto Hoffman’s wet clit. She rubbed at the muscle for a couple of seconds before Hoffman’s legs gave out from under her. Her whole body twitched as she came with the help of Strahm. She balled up her fists and hit the couch until she was satisfied. She would’ve happily fallen asleep face first in the fabric were it not for Strahm’s help in repositioning her onto her back. She took Strahm’s hand and placed it in the space between her boobs, just over her heart. She looked up at her with eyes that asked for more from the other woman as her hair splayed across the pillow like raindrops ebbing along glass. Strahm leaned into Hoffman and pressed her lips onto her cheek, trailing her hand up just a little higher to rest just below where Maureen’s neck started.

Hoffman scooched over to allow for some room at her side, patting the space. Strahm laid on her side and wrapped an arm over Hoffman’s center, curling around the space heater of a woman. Hoffman pulled a blanket over Strahm and ran the back of her hand over Petra’s cheek. “Sleepy?” She asked “Yeah. Just a little.” Strahm replied, stretching out a little under the blanket. Maureen kissed her forehead and Petra returned it with her lips on Maureen’s. Maureen looked down at herself with a subtle smile before saying, “I’ve never been this happy with someone… You just feel right with me, Agent.” “Petra.” Strahm corrected her, “I think we’re past the point of titles.” “Alright, Petra…” Hoffman used her name cautiously, expecting some kind of scoff or a pull back from the FBI agent. “Like I said… something about you and I feels right. Don’t you agree?” “Yeah.” Strahm replied stoically, “I’ve never been with a woman…” Her thought trailed off “A woman like me?” Hoffman tried finishing it for her “No…” Strahm bit the inside of her cheek “Oh.” Maureen’s lip curled at the ends and she wrapped her arms carefully around Strahm. A hand rested on Strahm’s neck, nearly covering every inch. Strahm shivered slightly at the sheer size of the other woman’s hand, and Hoffman smiled back at her. It was a bit more devious this time, but Strahm couldn’t put her finger on why. “You’d look beautiful in a white dress.”

“I…” Strahm’s brain proceeded to force restart over and over as she thought about what Maureen had just said. “We could probably get hitched in Atlantic City, if we’re feeling real crazy.” She said it to diffuse any tension that was there between them, but did almost fear that Maureen would take her up on her offer. Not that she’d mind. Maureen Strahm had a nice ring to it after all. Her face must’ve been bright red because Maureen took her hand off the small of her neck and moved it to the center of her back instead. “I’d rather we go somewhere nicer.” Hoffman ran her other hand along the front of Strahm’s chest. “Plus we could take the babies with us.” “… Babies?” “Oh, you didn’t think I was this big for one baby did you, Agent?” Hoffman smirked “Yeah… I kind of thought you were.” “No. It’s twins.” Maureen kissed her “You’re lucky you’re so… hot.” Strahm fumbled with her words while she tried to wrap her head around the fact that she had gotten a girlfriend, and two children in a day. “I know, love.” Hoffman ran her fingers through Petra’s hair before telling her, “Sleep.” “Fine. Good night.” “Good night.” Maureen kept stroking the back of Strahm’s head until her partner was out. “You’ll be the perfect mother to my children… And I’ll have my happy little family.”

[wehaveimagineshere]

Request for Admin Frost! Could I request headcanons for Soap, Konig, and Ghost realising his feelings for gender neutral reader?

Hi I’m so sorry this took so long! I had to do some research on their backgrounds to make sure everything I wrote was accurate. I deffo went overboard but I hope you enjoy! I 100% enjoyed writing my first MW request ☺️☺️

TW: Blood, slight gore

Soap

• You and Johnny were childhood best friends and neighbors growing up. You would beat up anyone who made fun of him for any reason and he would do the same for you. When you were teenagers you would still do the same

• At the age of 16 you would join him and his cousin on trips to the base to see what it was like. You both absolutely loved what you saw and made plans to join as soon as you can

• You would tell Johnny to wait to join the SAS until he was 18 so you could join together but he decided to try to enroll anyway. He would lie about his age and would be caught and rejected every single time. You would laugh at him every time he came home and say I told you so

• You turned 18 before he did but decided to wait for him before you joined. Shortly after, you were both able to officially join the selection for the 22 Regiment. Both of you excelled in every single test and worked extremely well and smoothly together as a team

• Captain Price was evaluator for both of you and recognized your natural skills and dedication to get the job done as quickly as possible with little to no casualties on your team. While you trained as a pilot and intelligence expert, Johnny trained as a sniper and demolitions expert

• You had an IQ of 146 which made your planning for missions extremely successful as you were able to plan for every possible situation and a resolution for any potential problem you can across

• Price recruited you both for his Bravo Team to secure cargo for possible WMD’s. It’s where he gets the call name Soap which you laughed at when he told you. He’s proud of it tho and whenever anyone asks what the hell kind of name is Soap you laugh to yourself and try to conceal it when he shoots you a playful glare

• It wasn’t until Johnny nearly fell to his death until Price caught him, did you realize that you loved him much more than just a childhood friend

• You cried that night. Reality hitting you that you could lose him at any moment with this type of profession. Either one of you could lose your life just like that

• You debate telling him over the next week few years. When you try to tell him, someone or something always stops you. And there are times where you aren’t on the same mission together and don’t see each other for several months on end

• You felt yourself fall deeper for him when one night a Military Police officer kept hitting on you and touching you without consent outside of the bar you and Johnny were enjoying yourselves in. When Johnny comes back after using the bathroom and witnesses your altercation with the man, he comes up and punches him in the face. Knocking him out and he locks the officer in his own vehicle. You tell him that you love him that night and kiss him. But the next morning he wakes up with a hangover and says he doesn’t remember anything bc he was too drunk. You feel dejected

• A couple years later you join Price’s TF141 in the fight against Hassan

• Due to your excellence in planning and executing perfect directions, you’re able to find out the possible location of the compound Hassan is taking refuge in

• The team and Shadow Compamy takes Hassan to another town where you’re told not to kill him and are ambushed by the Mexican Army and cartel yet again. To the horror of everyone, especially Johnny, you did not make it to the extraction

• Johnny couldn’t sleep until they find you. He was searching everywhere and interrogating all cartel members in the hopes of learning of where you were taken. He wants to kill anyone who would think of taking you from him. His rock. His best friend. The person who he loved but was too scared to tell

• The team and Shadow Company get intel that you were taken by a cartel boss named El Sin Nombre and they want all the intel you have

• Johnny volunteers to infiltrate the compound as a hostage. When he’s being interrogated it’s Alejandro who discovers your location and the bad shape you’re in. You’re tied to a chair and they broke your leg so that you couldn’t escape if you were able to untie yourself

• He tells you that the group is here to capture El Sin Nombre and to rescue you. That it was Soap who helped discover the location

• You ask where he is and Alejandro tells you the details of the mission and you’re horrified. They could kill him. They killed another man right in front of you, his blood and brain matter sprayed on your face

• Alejandro tells you that he needs to go back downstairs but they’ll be coming back for you soon. When you hear that, you’re both worried and excited to see Johnny again. It’s been a hellish week. You just want to be in his arms

• Johnny is told to go wait upstairs and he meets up with Alejandro. He tells Johnny that he was able to find you and tells him the situation you’re in. Johnny feels enraged. He wants to kill every single person in this compound. But your safety comes first. Alejandro tells him what room you’re in and they split up

• When you see each other again you both bust into tears. You’re so relieved to see that the other is alive and Johnny quickly cuts the rope tying you down and carefully pulls you into a hug. You both finally felt like your heart was back together in once piece

• While the group and Shadow Company capture El Sin Nombre and kill the other cartel members, Johnny carefully carries you to the medevac so that the medics can take care of your wounds

• He never stops holding your hand. Not when they had to rebreak your leg since it started healing wrong, not when he learns the cartel boss is someone Alejandro used to be acquainted with, and not when you passed out due to exhaustion as you flew back to base

• He was there the whole time you were in the hospital. Knee bouncing and hands shaking while he waited for you to wake up

• After 3 days you finally slowly come to, you notice the smell of sterile chemicals and a bright white light. When you open your eyes the room is blurry but to your left you see Johnny leaning over the hospital bed asleep while gripping your hand

• Your slight movement instantly woke Johnny up and he immediately rushes to sit up and starts tearing up. He tells you that he couldn’t sleep knowing you weren’t beside him. And the exhaustion finally got to him the moment you were back in his arms. You ask him how he found you. And he said he tried to think like you when thinking like him wasn’t working, which made you both chuckle and smile

• You both start to say something at the same time but Johnny tells you to go first. You tell him about the night at the bar a few years ago. How you told him that you loved him and how you kissed but he said he didn’t remember. Johnny is shocked. He wishes he did. Then you would’ve gotten together a long time ago. He asks if you still do, bc he loves you so much he doesn’t know what to do with himself

• Of course you still do. And you share a long awaited passionate kiss

König

• König met you when you were both new recruits in the military at the age of 17

• During your recruit days you tried to have conversations with him. You were so curious about the giant man beneath the mask. The conversations you did have were always work related and when you asked him personal questions it always turned awkward

• You both signed up to be recon snipers but König was rejected due to his size and inability to stay still. You on the other hand, were ranked in the top 5

• König comes over to congratulate you but you can tell there’s a hint of sadness in his tone. So you tell him that no matter what he ends up doing, he’ll be phenomenal at it. And that you wish he was able to do what he wants

• He thanks you and you don’t see him again until you’re both recruited to join KorTac a few years later

• You’re surprised when you see him. His mask has changed and you could only tell it was him by his voice. You didn’t know it was possible for him to become bulkier but the man was the size of a mountain

• You’ve changed as well. You were able to hone in on your sniping skills and became one of the best snipers in the world with 247 kills under your belt in a short amount of time

• He walked up to you and said he remembered you from being recruits and asked you how you’ve been. You felt your heart skip a beat. You didn’t think he’d outright start a conversation with you

• You told him that you were doing well and asked him how he was, not expecting him to tell you anything just like how he was before

• But he tells you that he’s been doing well as well. That he took down Al-Qatala in Berlin which was involved in human-trafficking and managed to take down all 12 fighters single handedly and freeing the hostages. They were scared of his mask tho so his team had to take over

• You were throughly impressed. You told him how you were able to keep your whole team alive by sniping every enemy you saw with 100% accuracy

• Later on you both are constantly put together on a team to do extremely dangerous and difficult missions. Patching each other up when you get injured and having a lot of deep conversations when huddled up together in the safe house on cold nights

• You ask him why he never really talked to you before when you were recruits and he tells you he had severe social anxiety and it was hard for him. It took years of practice and therapy to start to be comfortable with it. Tho he never easily opened up to anyone like he has with you

• Over a few months you realize that you’re in love with him. You love who he is as a person. It gives you a warm feeling but you’re also scared. You don’t want to tell him your feelings in case he rejects you. You’re content with what you have

• It’s König who confesses first

• You’re on a mission in Russia during Christmas time and you’re trying your best to keep warm in the safe house during the harsh winter storm

• You’re sharing a blanket by the fireplace and keeping close contact so that the body heat keeps your fingers and toes from falling off

• König can’t hold it in anymore. He sits you both up and tells you that he needs to get something off his chest even tho this probably isn’t the best timing

• You tell him it’s okay and you feel your heart racing. Did he find out that you’re in love with him? Is he going to reject you and say he never wants to see you again?

• He quieted down your worries when he took both of your hands in his and looks you in the eyes. He looks extremely nervous

• He says that he’s been in love with you for years. Since you were recruits. That he’s so grateful for these missions to get the chance to get to know you and fall even deeper in love

• You feel the blush spread across your cheeks as he tells you this and your hands begin to slightly tremble. You tell him that you love him too

• He feels giddy and decides he wants to show you his face. And when he takes it off you didn’t think it was possible to fall in love even more but as you gaze into his pale, blue sea eyes and see his perfectly shaped nose, you ask him if it’s okay if you can kiss him

• He says yes and you lean in to gently press your lips to his. It’s the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had in your life and as you pull away and smile at each other, you both know that you want to spend the rest of your time together

Ghost

• You are a new addition to TF141 with high speciality in weapons and combat. Laswell told Price that she wanted you to join the team in the mission to capture Major Hassan Zyani

• The team was informed about a new member that would be coming within a week after Hassan escaped from their first capture due to the Mexican Army and cartel

• Ghost didn’t really have much of an impression or opinion about you at first. He honestly didn’t think they needed another member on the team but they can’t go against a direct order

• You kind of reminded him of Johnny in a way, with the way you always have a more positive look on things and try to crack jokes with him

• You and Johnny will even team up to poke a little fun. You’ll try to have Gaz join you, but he’s too terrified of the harsh glares and curses the Lieutenant sends your way to even think about doing something like that

• Despite your smaller stature, you’re one of the only few people who are able to go toe to toe against Ghost in combat without getting your ass beat in 5 seconds

• One time even managing to best him with the result of you straddling his lap with a knife to his throat

• It’s after that when you’ve slowly but surely managed to worm your way into his heart. He starts to pay a little more attention to you and your whereabouts

• He sees you as a close friend. Even goes to far as to tell you his real name and bits and pieces of his traumatic past

• His heart skips a beat when you hug him for the first time. He thinks nothing of it and passes it off as just being surprised with physical contact

• It’s not until you’re shot by Graves during the betrayal in Las Almas does he come to realize how much he cares for you

• Alejandro is knocked out and he sees both you and Johnny are on the ground covered in blood and he felt his heart stop

• When he yells at you and Johnny to escape and sees you both sliding down that hill, shooting at the enemy, he never felt more scared in his life

• Were you okay? Where did you get shot? Johnny was shot too, are you going to be able to protect each other?

• When he hears the radio crackle and your voice coming though, he felt like he wanted to fall to the ground in relief. But he had no time for that. He needed to help get you and Johnny out of there

• When you meet back up at the church he runs straight to you to check out the damage from the bullet wound and to make sure that you’re okay

• It’s when sees his hands covered in your blood and he realizes that he doesn’t just care for you, he loves you. He loves you so much that he doesn’t know what to do anymore. But he does know one thing, he needs to tell you. Today was too close of a call and he doesn’t want to live with any more regrets

• When you’re back on base and getting medical attention for the gunshot wound and, to his horror, some stab wounds you must’ve got during your escape, Simon comes into the room, sits down, and reaches for your hand

• You’re surprised. The only physical contact you’ve ever really had is when you’re training or the occasional hug you’d give him. You look down at the hand clutching yours and feel your heart race

• That’s when he tells you that he loves you. Seeing you get shot and not knowing whether you’re gonna bleed out or not was the worst agony he has felt in a very, very long time

• Btw Soap witnesses all of this but he knew how you both felt for each other a long time before y’all figured it out

• In private quarters he’ll take his mask off. The first time you share a room together alone he gains the courage to do it. You stare at his face for so long he starts to feel a bit self conscious and looks away

• But you put your hand on his warm cheek to get him to look at you and say that his jokes about being extremely handsome are actually true

• You look at his lips and then his eyes in silent permission. He understands what you want and meets your lips in a sweet and sensual kiss. The kiss gets a little heated but your bullet wound isn’t quite healed yet for anything spicy to happen

• Simon will show you all his scars and tell you the stories behind them. Some are pale that have healed with time and others are freshly pink. The ones on his back tickle when you run your fingers over them

• You go on every mission together from now on. With your specialty in weapons and combat along with Simon’s excellent sniper and leadership skills, you’re a powerhouse that cannot be taken down. Being alone in the safe houses ain’t too bad either, if you know what I mean

[angelic-writer]

Whumpcember Day 14 - Cornered

Summary: Thatcher Sr. and Meredith Weaver get more than what they bargained for when they take things too far.

CW: Racism, Torture, Whumpers turned Whumpees, drowning, graphic gore, major character death

"What do you want from us?" Katrina growled.

The older man simply smirked. "You know exactly what we want."

"We actually don't know. Why don't you tell us, old man?" Mervin spat.

They weren't supposed to be seeing them. They were on their way home to see their kids when those pigs stopped them. They already know what they're doing, why the town became the way it is. Not even the angels were enough to "purify" them. They know it was just a government ploy to cover up their crimes.

"Well, we want you to do something." Meredith spoke.

"What? Does it include you getting rid of that raisin face of yours?" Kyofu quipped.

Meredith growled. "We want you to check on the angels. We have a feeling they're not doing what they're supposed to be doing."

"Why? They're just kids. Don't you think they're focusing on more important things like school?"

"That's besides the point. The point is crime rate is climbing again and we have reason to believe that the alternates are on the rise again. We just want to make sure they're kept in check."

"Why don't you guys do it yourselves? You're cops. You should be doing something for this town instead of staying in your penthouse." Mervin said.

"Well, unlike you, we are enjoying our retirement, but we need to make sure that the citizens are safe."

"More like use them as your pawns..." Katrina muttered under her breath."

Thatcher Sr. snapped his head at her. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Hmm. Anyway, are you in or not?"

"And what if we don't do what you say?" Mervin asked.

He smirked. "Well, let's just say that your kids are gonna be having a little visit. Y'know, a courteous check-in."

They all glared at them, their stares threatening to freeze Hell over. "Touch them and you will die." Dave growled.

"Nonsense, David! We won't do anything to them as long as you follow our instructions. You wouldn't want your precious children to end up like their parents, don't you?"

Dave wanted to lunge at them, but they were pointing their guns at them, their fingers on the trigger as if you say "One wrong move and we'll shoot you." He didn't care. He will gladly sacrifice his life for his kids.

"You don't seem to understand, sir. We treasure our kids more than our lives. You can do whatever you want with us, but no matter how much you pay us, no matter how much you threaten us, we won't let you harm a hair on them!" Kyofu said.

Thatcher Sr. only smirked. "We'll see about that."

---------

Jonah Marshall couldn't sleep that night. He kept thinking back to his mother. How she turned up dead one day while he and Adam were at his house. Mervin tried his best to take care of the two boys, but he would sometimes catch him late at night with a glass of bourbon in his hand. He missed her, he could tell.

The police never found out who killed Kimberly. That didn't make any sense to him. When the wife of a famous attorney gets murdered, it would've been the top priority. It would be in the history books for years to come.

There's something off with this. It's almost like...

His thoughts were interrupted by the window being smashed. Thinking quickly, he ran towards the noise at the speed of light, knocking over whoever just broke in. Upon seeing Thatcher Sr., he scoffed. Trying to ignore the tingling in his hands, he said "Oh look, it's you. Aren't you retired? Shouldn't you two have fucked off in a penthouse somewhere?"

Thatcher Sr. groaned as he sat up. "What were you thinking, slamming into an old man like that? You could've broken my neck!"

"Pfft. With the amount of money you have, you could pay for all those treatments."

"Is this how you speak to your elders, more importantly, a man of the law?"

"What man of the law? You don't even work at the station anymore! You could've fucked off to Hawaii for all I know. Are you and Cruella de Vil so bored that you have to bother people to stay relevant?"

"You better shut up right now."

"Sorry. I'm a little cranky right now considering that you broke into my house! I should call the police on you!"

He smirked. "Go ahead. They're gonna cart you off for assaulting an officer. Besides, who is gonna believe someone who isn't white?"

".......You did not just-"

"Yes. So I suggest you keep your mouth and do what I say." He pointed his gun at Jonah. "Now, what have you and your friends been doing?"

The silver haired boy clenched his teeth. "We've been trying to protect the city, sir."

"Oh really? By working with the alternates and making things worse? Why did you think this was a good idea?"

"I don't have to tell you anything."

He pressed the gun to his head. He was sweating bullets now. "I have a sworn oath to protect my people and I need cooperation in order to do that. Now, answer my questions or I'll blow your head off."

"Heh. You can't kill me. I run at the speed of light. I'll kick your ass before you can even pull the trigger." Though in reality, he couldn't do that. His hands were tingling, his lips were beginning to feel numb and his organs felt like they were burning.

"What's wrong, kid? Not feeling good?"

He simply growled.

"Well, why don't we wait for daddy to show up, huh?"

"Jonah?"

Jonah's eyes widened. The others. Why did they have to show up now?

"Jo, what's going o-" Adam was cut off by a scraggly man pointing a gun at him.

"Don't move. Don't you even think of calling for help."

Jonah tried to run, but when he tried to channel the lightning inside him, pain shot through his head, causing him to fall. He grabbed his head, groaning in pain. The older man turned and smirked. "Well, someone didn't take his medicine."

"Jonah!" Cathy screamed.

"You leave him alone right now!" Cyrus shouted.

"Well, isn't that just cute? You're all trying to protect your friend. Well, your little friend here wasn't doing what he was supposed to be doing. Ever since you joined that... terrorist group, this town has gotten much worse! It's become infested with sin! And instead of doing what's wrong, the angels joined the enemy's side."

"Are you sure about that? When the "terrorist" group is more rational then you, you need to look in the mirror and ask yourself "What am I doing with my life?"" Adam said.

Thatcher Sr. flinched and almost pulled the trigger, but thought better of it. "You've got a lot of nerve talking to a former officer like that. Just like your little friend."

"Well, my dad always taught me to always tell the truth."

The mention of Adam's dad caused the old man to press his lips together tightly. Jude... I should've gotten rid of him along with his wife.

"What? Got nothing to say to that?"

Nothing. Adam was about to speak again when he heard a gun click from behind. Turning around shows Meredith along with some other officers pointing their own weapon at him. "So, it looks like we got some company." She said.

--------

It didn't take long for them to arrive. They gathered them into a warehouse that previously housed Bill and Charlie Flammia. They sat them down in individual chairs and tied them up. For Adam, they used stronger bonds that made it harder for him to get out.

"Alright, let's make things simpler. You either do what we say or we punish you with the full extent of the law." Thatcher Sr. began, walking in a way a prison warden would walk.

Adam scoffed. "Do whatever you want. It's not gonna get you anywhere."

Thatcher Sr. clicked his tongue. "What happened to all of you? You were willing to do your sworn duty to protect this town. You were doing so well. But you joined the alternates and you fell off on your sworn duty. I'm sure Mayor Carlos would not like what you've been doing."

"Why would we care what that quack says? We already know what's going on. Public reputation doesn't matter to us. What matters is getting the truth out." Cyrus said.

"So you'd rather be a whisteblower than do your job?" He sighed. "I know alternate talk when I hear it." He nodded to Meredith.

The older woman began to set up the electroshock machine. "Let's see...." His eyes landed on Adam. "Let's start with you."

Before the blonde could even object, Meredith shoved the device on his head. He struggled against his binds, but the added tightness of the ropes caused it to dig into his wrists. She turned the dial to a low setting. Before he even got the chance to scream, she flipped the switch.

His body jolted as the electricity coursed through him. He spasmed in his chair, his eyes rolling back. Everyone in the room started to scream.

"ADAM!!!" Jonah joined in on the chorus, trying to get himself out, but his body felt like it was being run over by a train. C'mon, move!!! Why isn't it working?!

After a few agonizing minutes, Adam fell limp, though he was still breathing. The shock wasn't enough to kill him.

"Hmph. He didn't even last long." Thatcher Sr. said with a displeased tone. He looked to the others, still crying and screaming. "Aww, what's the matter? Crying for your mommies and daddies? Well, let me tell you something." He walked over to Cathy and smacked her across the face. "No one's gonna save you and your little brat friends!"

The atmosphere in the room changed. It was like someone put the AC on blast. A strange cold.

Jonah started to vibrate. The pain was becoming unbearable, but he didn't care. He was seeing red.

He hurt Cathy. He hurt Cathy. He hurt my sister.

Meredith slipped the device off Adam and placed it on Jonah's shaking head. Thatcher Sr. pulled out his taser and slowly inched it towards the red haired girl. Before it could touch her, a force knocked him back, making him drop his weapon.

Baffled, he looked up. The triplets had gotten out of their bonds, the rope marks clear evidence of their struggle. An aura was emanating from them. "You... You hurt her..." Fred growled.

"S-Stay away from me, you demons!!" Thatcher Sr. screamed.

"You hurt our sister.... You will burn!!"

The older man tried to grab his gun, but he was flung back. Something picked him up and threw him across the room. Meredith tried to shoot them, but something hard hit her in the face. Jonah had gotten out of his bonds, incapacitated Meredith and got the others out. The speed caused the wire to snap, rendering the machine useless. While he stopped to get his bearings, Thatcher Sr. tried to grab at his shoulders to drag him back to the chair, but he felt a shock, making him pull back.

"Ow!! W-What-"

"Freeze!!"

Now what?!

Looking to the entrance, he saw Thatcher, Ruth and the rest of the task force gathered at the front entrance, their guns locked on them. The children had been relocated to where the parents were, although Jonah had already collapsed. Jude and Mervin ran to Adam and Jonah, picking them up their arms. Shaking them didn't yield any results. One of the officers requested an ambulance to get there as fast as possible.

"Well, looks like the cavalry came after all." Thatcher Sr. said.

His grandson stared at him with a mix of shock and disgust. "This..." He gestured to the warehouse that contained various machines. "This is what you've been doing? What happened to Bill and Charlie... You were behind it all, weren't you? You and Ms. Weaver..."

"Well, I suppose I am. But they were getting too nosey so I had to shut them up."

"By torturing them and making them almost vegetables?! Was being a lieutenant not good enough for you?! Is your legacy not good enough for you?! People loved you! I looked up to you! I wanted to be just like you! So why did you think doing this was a good idea? To get back at people you didn't like? You could've done anything instead of... these barbaric methods!!"

"Davis... You see, these children are a stain on the town. They make us look bad with their history, the way they react to things - Nobody really liked them as much as they want to claim they do. They just think they're annoying brats whose parents had to suffer with because abandoning them would reflect poorly on their reputation." He looked to Jonah. "Especially him. He's just the same as them. It seems that growing up with such a rich lawyer hasn't taught him to keep his head down. He should know that being a colored kid is very dangerous yet he keeps on being reckless for these people." He looked back to his grandson, his eyes still burning with a fiery rage. "Not my problem. He's just street trash just like those witches. If he dies, no one will miss him."

Thatcher gritted his teeth. "I see that what happened in the past hasn't caused you to think differently. What about Mervin? He's his dad. He'll sue your ass and he'll definitely win. They'll take away everything you've earned!"

"Why can't you see things my way? Don't you want to see Mandela be the town it once was? Beautiful, kind, caring, full of people that love each other?"

"Yes, I do. Although, it hasn't changed when you were in charge and it sure as hell isn't now." He stepped toward him. "I'll change this town for the better. With the angel's help, we can achieve your dream. Just not with your toxic views. I swear on it."

There was an eerie silence. Then, a smirk.

"Do you really think you can rely on the angels after they betrayed us and joined the alternates? I see you are a traitor too." He started to walk.

"No, I'm not! I want-" He was cut off by a white hot pain suddenly exploding in his abdomen. He looked down to see that a knife had been plunged into his stomach.

"And traitors must pay the price."

Thatcher crumbled to the floor, dropping his gun in the process.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

Ruth screamed. The building descended into chaos. Thatcher Sr. and Meredith ran as gunfire rang out.

Ruth wanted to run out there, to grab Thatcher and pull him away from the rain of fire, but if she runs out, she'll get shot. She stared at her co-worker, the knife sticking out of his abdomen, blood pooling beneath him. Tears threatened to spill out of her eyes, but she blinked them away. No, I have to stay strong. I need to... get to him somehow.

An aura suddenly surrounded her followed by Dave's voice. "Hurry up and go!!"

She realized that he had put a protective spell on her. Thanking him, she ran towards Thatcher. A few stray bullets hit the shield, bouncing off it. She caught sight of the old bastard and her mother running towards a back entrance. A sense of utter betrayal took over her as she pulled out her gun and shot at them as well. The bullet grazed his shoulder, causing him to growl and shoot at her. Of course, as she was protected by the shield, it didn't do anything. Not saying anything, the both of them took off.

"Follow them! Make sure to call all units! We've got runners!" One of the commanding officers said into the radio.

Ruth finally made her way to Thatcher. She grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him. "Thatcher!! Thatcher, get up!!" She shouted.

No response. He was completely still. His skin had grown pale from the blood loss. Ruth put her fingers to his wrist, checking for a pulse. She could still feel it. It was faint, but it was there. She spoke into the radio. "This is sergeant Ruth Weaver. Officer down. 10-52."

-----

None of them spoke in the waiting room. The hospital was a cacophony of patients, doctors, nurses; All of them blended together. Ruth couldn't focus on the news report playing on the TV, but she caught the words "Got away." "Still on the lookout."

Still on the lookout, my ass. They're probably gonna hide out somewhere until they give up.

Dave put his hand on her shoulder. "Hey, it'll be okay. Thatcher's gonna pull through."

"I hope so..." She looked to the others sitting in the waiting room chairs. All of them had visible concern on their faces. Even Jude was tapping his foot, impatiently waiting for any news on Adam. Despite his neglectful nature, he was still his son at the end of the day.

Ruth's heart hurt seeing them like that. These were their children in those rooms, being examined by doctors, people they don't know. Adam had been knocked out by the electricity and Jonah had overused his speed, so they were the top priority at the moment. She could sense some favoritism at play which irked her.

They deserve so much better than to be kicked around and treated like dirt. Thatcher swore to change Mandela for the better and she will follow in his footsteps.

Adam slowly opened his eyes to see that he was in a hospital room. Weird. How did he get here? Last thing he remembered was being shocked by Meredith... Thatcher Sr. was there...

Cathy... Jonah...

As he tried to get up, he noticed a well suited man sitting in one of the chairs. He looked like a hit man, though his facial features were soft. He gave off the aura of a concerned guardian. He knew that man. He saw him multiple times at the alternate base.

"Ira...?"

He started to sign.

[Are you okay?]

He weakly gave him an OK sign.

He nodded. [What happened?]

[We got kidnapped by Thatcher's grandfather and Ruth's mother. They tried to use electroshock therapy to "convert" us. From what Ruth told us, the police got there, but Thatcher was stabbed. I have no idea how he's doing.]

Ira gave off a grunt Adam knew didn't sound good.

[Do you know where they are now?]

He didn't say anything for a bit. [I don't know. I was unconscious.]

There was a tense silence. Then, [I'm gonna find them.]

[How?]

[I'll find a way.]

--------

Meredith looked out the window for any sign of the cops. No sign of them anywhere. "Okay, I think we're safe." She said as she pulled back the curtain. She looked to Thatcher Sr. who was sitting in an easy chair fiddling with his sling. "Sir, you can't mess around with that. It's gonna mess up the bandages."

"Sorry, it's just- I can't believe she just shot me. Your own daughter! And all for that traitor! Who does she think she is?!"

"Sir... Are you sure about this?"

"What?"

"I know what you're thinking. You're probably gonna find some way to get revenge, but the entire town is looking for us. Running away is not gonna help. I think you should... I dunno..."

Thatcher Sr. stood up. "Meredith, you can't be serious. We haven't gone this far just to throw in the towel now. Besides, aren't you the one telling me I shouldn't give up?"

"I know, but for god's sake, you stabbed your own grandson! Up until now, you kept saying how you were proud of him!"

"That was before I found out he was gonna ask for the angel's help despite them being with the alternates!"

"I know, but you could've done anything else rather than trying to kill him! The whole police squad was watching! How could you think this was a good idea?!"

"Because I want to show them that they're weak! The whole town, hell, the whole world is weak! We live in a fucked up society where people's minds are being poisoned by propaganda being spewed by people lesser than us! What happened to us being at the top? What happened to us showing them that we can do anything? Things were fine until Mayor Carlos won his campaign by making wishy washy promises of equality. Now this town is filled with stupid kids filling their social media with useless hashtags and using present day topics for woke points." He sighed. "These kids have no idea what they're talking about. This whole town is starting to fall for those terrorist's lies! And I'm not gonna let it brainwash anyone else!"

".....This is fucked up. What we're doing is fucked up. Kidnapping those two boys was just the start."

"I know. But we've done worse than that, Meredith. Don't try to have the moral high ground when you're just as fucked up as me." He looked at the clock. It was past eleven. "You should get some rest. We've got to move tomorrow."

"Alright. Try not to move your arm too much."

"I won't. Thanks nurse."

Meredith gave off a half smirk before she walked upstairs. Thatcher Sr. sighed before looking at the blank TV. Dad... If you were here, what would you say to me?

Tell me... Tell me what I should do.

He just about closed his eyes when he heard a shatter from the kitchen. Meredith was downstairs in seconds. "What was that?!"

"I-I don't know. I-"

"Shh." She grabbed her gun. "Stay here. The car's out front. Get ready to run if you see anything." With a deep breath, she stepped into the kitchen.

The old man's heart was hammering in his chest. Were the police already here?! No, they would have heard sirens. They would have came through the door, not the window. Why would an officer come through the window?

His shoulder ached and he gripped it tightly. What was he doing just standing around? He should be in there helping her! Why did he have to get shot by her daughter?! Why did-

A loud scream was heard followed by a thump. "Meredith?!" He ran into the kitchen, grabbing his own weapon. He turned the corner when he saw a tall man dressed in a dark suit on top of Meredith. He had his hands wrapped around her throat. She was struggling against him, trying to get him off. Thatcher Sr. didn't think twice. He fired his gun, hitting him right in the head, sending him flying.

Meredith gasped and coughed, her throat finally relieved of the pressure. "Are you okay?!" He shouted.

She wheezed, trying to get her vocal cords to work. "W-We need to get out of here now!" She wheezed.

He nodded and helped her up. Leaning her on his shoulder, they started to limp to the front door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the figure slowly get up. They hastened their speed to the front door. He tried to turn the knob, but it wouldn't budge. He tried to look for the key, but it was nowhere to be found. But the key was near the front door for emergencies like this, right? Where is that key?

"Hurry up! He's gonna hurt us!"

"I can't find the key! I can't find the key!"

"Are you shitting me?! O-Okay, we can sneak out the back door! If we can-"

She was cut off by someone hitting her in the back of the head. She fell to the ground, sending the older man down with her. Thatcher Sr. could see the man, now having a bullet hole in his head, but still clearly standing. He was holding a meat tenderizer which was stained with blood. He grabbed her by the hair and started to pull her dazed, but still conscious body, back to the kitchen. He started to crawl towards the man, his shoulder throbbing in pain as the movements threatened to tear his wound open.

As he crawled, he heard the sink turn on. What was he gonna do to her?

He made it to the kitchen where Ira was standing over her again. He had Meredith's hand on the counter, gripping her wrist with one hand and holding the meat tenderizer with the other. She gazed up at him, trying to keep her eyes open. Despite that, she was shaking. "Please... Please don't..." The words tumbled out of her lips, trying to find their way through the fog.

The man just stared at her with a blank expression, his face still dripping with blood. Upon closer inspection, Meredith could see a long horizontal cut along his neck, clearly scarred over. He blinked, raised the hammer high above his head - His lips moved.

"Retribution."

He slammed the hammer down on her fingers, causing her to scream.

"MEREDITH!!" Thatcher Sr. screamed. He lunged up and grabbed the man, trying to pull him off, but he pushed him back, sending him backwards. His head struck the table, causing him to become dazed. Stars danced in his vision as he lay on the floor. He continued his work, bashing her fingers with the hammer, hearing her blood-curdling screams as her bones were crushed and her tendons were torn apart by the spikes. It reminded Ira of the time where he would pound the meat for steaks. He could really go for steaks right now.

Her fingers had been rendered into bloody, bruised messes, her chipped nail polish now ruined by splotches of purple. The joints were bent at wrong angles, their attempts at movement only proving to be painful. Meredith was rendered into a blubbering mess, her eyes red from crying and her voice hoarse from crying.

The sink had been filled up with water. It was time for one of his favorite murder methods. Grabbing her by the hair, he shoved her head into the water. Meredith thrashed around, muffled screams coming from her as bubbles burbled up to the surface. Thatcher Sr. tried to move, but his limbs wouldn't move. It was like he was detached from his body, only watching through the lens of a security camera. The thrashing only got more violent as she slapped her good hand around, trying to pull herself up only for the man to pull her up, not giving her a moment to breathe before shoving her head back in.

Drowning is one of Ira's favorite methods of killing. It was bloodless and doesn't leave any traces of DNA. If the water was drained before the police found them, they could assume they died of natural causes. The perfect murder. Of course, he wondered, why did he pulverize Meredith's hand when he was going to drown her in the end? He already knew the answer. She was an accomplice to this man's horrible crimes. She gets to suffer before he ends it all.

He's saving the real fun for the real perpetrator.

After what felt like an eternity, Meredith fell limp. No more bubbles rose beside her head, her body giving off twitches as a last feeble attempt at survival.

"M-M-M..." His lips were cold. He couldn't find the words. His partner... She was...

Ira turned to him with his lifeless eyes, pulled Meredith's head out of the tub and dropped her to the floor. Thatcher Sr. crawled towards her, his entire body shaking. Her eyes were glazed over, her lips had turned grey and there was no sign of her breathing.

Fuck... No...

With one hand, he tried desperately to resuscitate her, but the pain in his head made it hard for him to think. How are you supposed to do this? Am I doing this right? I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing wrong.

With each pump, his strength withered away bit by bit. It wasn't enough strength to compress her heart. He was only slightly shaking her. If he wasn't dazed, he would've been at his A game, but his head felt like it was going to explode. The back of his neck felt warm and slick.

After minutes upon minutes of poorly done CPR, Thatcher Sr. saw that her skin had turned grey. Her eyes continued to stare into space, never to be full of life again.

All he could do was stare. Stare at what this monster has done. He craned his head to the man. He was tilting his head back as if he was... curious? Amused? By the situation. His eyes widened, the realization hitting him like a bag of bricks.

I'm going to die. I'm going to get killed.

Struggling to get on his feet, he stumbled out of the kitchen, up the stairs and to the bedroom. He might be able to find a window to climb out of and escape. Except why isn't he crawling to the window? Why is he hiding in the closet?

His vision was swimming. He couldn't keep his eyes open. He was trapped. He was trapped in the house alone with a psychopath on the hunt to kill.

His hand groped empty space, trying to grasp some sort of weapon. He was starting to fall in and out of consciousness. He closed his eyes for a moment... only to be thrown out of the closet and onto the floor.

Ira was standing above him, butcher's knife in hand. Thatcher Sr., the once highly renowned and fearless sheriff of Mandela county, started to shake. His black eyes stared into his soul, rendering him paralyzed. He examined the knife as if he had never seen it before. He took the old man's hand and placed it firmly on the floor. He inched the blade closer, the sharp edge resting on the joint of his index finger.

"For Lynn." He let out a raspy whisper.

He began to saw the tip. Thatcher Sr. screamed. Blood gushed out onto the oakwood floor as he continued his precise sawing movements. He pressed harder, separating bone and tendon from the rest. Each part of the finger he removed was every sin Thatcher Sr. had ever committed in his time at the station. Soon, there was nothing on his hands to remove. Ira could try toes, but toes are no fun.

"Please... Please stop this... I-I'm sorry..."

He continued to stare at him blankly, his expression never changing even as he was covered in blood. He rested the knife against the old man's neck. He slowly cut into it, separating skin and fat. Blood dripped down his shirt. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, bracing himself for the end. Ira lifted the knife away, leaving him confused. He looked up only for Ira to plunge it into his neck, cutting deep into his windpipe. He gurgled, more blood bubbled out of his lips as he gurgled. Twisting the knife deeper, the waterfall of blood flowing out as he slowly lost his strength, he whispered one last thing.

"For me."

-------

When the police arrived at the decrepit house, they found the bodies of Meredith Weaver and Thatcher Davis Sr. Meredith's death was determined to be by drowning. Her right hand had been crushed before she was drowned.

Thatcher Sr. was found upstairs in the bedroom. He had a wound on the back of his head, rendering him dizzy and confused. His fingers had been severed, joints and all before he had a knife plunged into his neck.

When the angels heard the news, they automatically turned to Ira. However, he just smiled and continued to make the steaks.

[lagt-duck]

"ugh why are people complaining about Xship instead of Yship i swear this was the worst of the fandom except the PROSHIPPERS"

....

DO YOU HEAR YOURSELVES

"i don't want people policing my ships if you don't like em don't watch them"

SO YA ALL FUCKING AGREE AND JUST WANT TO BULLY PEOPLE

Ya all just a bunch of fucking cowards that hide behind the moltitude in exchange of feeling good against someone who usually is just minding their fucking business but ya all think their existence is enough to attack them

THE FUCK ARE YA ALL FUCKING CATHOLICS!?

"oh racists and proship do not interact"

COOL TO KNOW YOU THINK A FUCKING JPG IS AS IMPORTANT AS A IRL PERSON.

look at me in the fucking eyes. Even if you don't think what i just said. THAT is what the proship do not interact is

It's a neon sign

That tells people who know

"this person is an incognita because they may send you gore or just disagree with you"

ESPECIALLY BECAUSE EVEN THEIR DEFINITION OF PROSHIPPER KEEPS CHANGING

i saw someone saying X ship was proship

And another anti saying they didn't want PROSHIPPERS to touch their FICS of said ship!

Because that is the reality. Especially because morality is the most stupid thing to base a piece of human expression on.

Because there is this thing on this shit ass planet, we are not all from the same fucking country or religious base

Ya all LOVE to be like "ew why you do you ship that" AND COMPLETELY IGNORE HOW HUMANS WROTE ABOUT THE WEIRDEST SHIT SINCE WE ARRIVED ON THIS BALL OF MUD

Look at mythology and tell me. TELL ME I'LL WAIT HOW MANY OF THOSE UNIONS WOULD BE CONSIDERED WRONG BY YA ALL PURITANS

ya all make my grandma feel like the most progressive person i know

MY GRANDMA WHO IS A FERVENT CATHOLIC HOME SHUT IN

[goonwithaface]

So close and so far. 'Cause you know what, I've fucking seen the seventy thousand faces, I've fucked Satan in his putrid fucking crusty melange stained bunghole, and what my only problem is I'm dealing with now is that I'm newly of drinking age with thankfully nothing to burn but my own rotting spit enzymes in a 15 minutes scrolling under the 70,000 teenagers reblogging this discovery channel narration. Think this freeform writing? I'm bleeding pus and shit from my teeth.

Daily. Pop 12 Benadryls in the middle of a thunderstorm watching Apocalypse Now. PCP. Blackout windows. Dig your own grave.

None of this shit's cursed, the loneliness is the only part that still gets me.

Tell me "Wonder why?" Tell me "Your own negativity" tell me so much that maybe you're just imagining that you're imagining things. If it's infinite enough to be dreamed from any healthy brain then singling me out for giving it a name is just culling.

I learned how to deal with hallucinations quickly and figured out voices recently and what I never learned to fix was dense motherfuckers. Dense fucking bastards and bitches and pieces of shit who got conditioned into commodifing life into a genre horror, preach diversity and acceptance calling Lovecraft a straight white faggot and moaning squirting all over his asexuality. That's reclamation, right? Rape porn is praxis and spamming vore is sex positivity. Fucking middle school narcissists, impressionable deuce vult irredentists, is what this bullshit is. I think H.P. lost both his parents to asylums if I remember correctly and Color Out of Space is something about losing a family.

If you want a less racist classic American 'cosmic horror' writer, revisit Mark Twain. Or Poe. I also think Kafka wrote very literally.

Call yourselves leftists, then recommend me the tranquilizers they "placated" black activists with. Take the money from the police and give it to ECT. Shit talk materialistic society, eugenics and nazis, then unironically turn around to tell me we live on a piece of meaningless minerals and humans can't understand anything because they evolved for nothing but hunting and killing on the motherland prairie. You all just sound depressed and not as good at writing as me. I will butcher a chicken over Carl Sagan's grave and smear its shit with my bare hands in his name. Look at that, you son of a bitch. Bury the rich, you blood fapping animal fascists.

This is madness This is madness boohoo fucking preach neurodiversity then call Philip K. Dick's episodes being a cis male white crybaby. I've been told off by jojo obsessed 40k gore furries for the same thing, they always bring up whatever marginalized identity they are when I call them out for harassing somebody. You know, I'm genderfluid. I've never come out or written about it because of fucking children descrbing it like a mental illness being the only face of it, and I'm an uglier one. Naturally I can't put this part of myself past the fact I'm insane--but have you ever met crazy ants?

Yellow ants, raspberry ants. Invasive things around where I am. Science has been struggling for decades to figure out why they chew up computers and freak out over metal for no apparent benefit--but haven't you ever licked a battery? It tastes great. Why isn't it alright for the little fuckers to just fucking enjoy things? Metal's pretty much my biggest fetish so I get it.

'Cursed knowledge'? It's more like fucking Buddhism. Go ahead and call me a hypocrite for being angry about this but you should see how much monks beat the absolute shit out of each other with sticks. I can't believe I managed to make it through all this without any ward visits or suicide attempts just to routinely run into this type of mind numbing shit.

'Cause I don't mean to piss on the parade, but it's not what people are saying, as much as the lack of people like me. The fucking irony.

I still don't even know how this fucking site works so sorry to all the OPs and reckless low blows I make since the posts aren't as bad as their reblogs but honestly all this nihilist wanking is juvenille and violating when you've lived it and to everybody else it's just some romance novel and viddie game.

Call me an ant to my fucking face. It's like the tone of voice some people have sometimes they just want to feel good about themselves or downright get off to turning characters into voiceless vegetables hearing things. Smug about how hopeless and edgy and grim everything can be and how nobody can know anything because of their pussy pinkie baby weak brain genes. That's just as obnoxious as the "oh no the monster now I'm crazy" shit to me.

Lovecraft was vulnerable and self-telling as fuck in his writing even if sometimes unintentionally and the real problem with cosmic horror today is that you're all too fucking sane and too fucking afraid.

People, especially games, get eldritch madness wrong a lot and it’s really such a shame.

An ant doesn’t start babbling when they see a circuit board. They find it strange, to them it is a landscape of strange angles and humming monoliths. They may be scared, but that is not madness.

Madness comes when the ant, for a moment, can see as a human does.

It understands those markings are words, symbols with meaning, like a pheromone but infinitely more complex. It can travel unimaginable distances, to lands unlike anything it has seen before. It knows of mirth, embarrassment, love, concepts unimaginable before this moment, and then…

It’s an ant again.

Echoes of things it cannot comprehend swirl around its mind. It cannot make use of this knowledge, but it still remembers. How is it supposed to return to its life? The more the ant saw the harder it is for it to forget. It needs to see it again, understand again. It will do anything to show others, to show itself, nothing else in this tiny world matters.

This is madness.

[cyarsk5230]

You bullies should k word yourselves!

Ro Bashe: Black Woman Hit By Brick Gives First Interview Since Viral Attack, Says She Suffers Panic Attacks & Nightmares Over Bullying

Jason "Jah" Lee

Bossip Video 

Source: Jacob Wackerhausen / Getty

Y’all gon’ argue over this because all you wanna do is bicker on the internet, blame women for things, and listen to morons on podcasts dictate, validate, and reinforce your “values”,  but we hope this woman finds peace.

Earlier this month, a woman named Roda Osman aka Ro Bashe set Al Gore’s internet aflame when she posted a video of herself severely injured after reportedly being hit in the head with a brick for not giving a man her phone number. In the clip, Bashe chides the group of Black men who she alleges stood around and watched her be attacked. The video was reposted by The Shade Room and all headass hell broke loose in the comment section and beyond.

While many women and men came to her defense, a particular segment of folks scoured the internet looking for reasons to blame her for the alleged attack. Several dirt-diggers found previous videos that Bashe posted that they used to question her character and inflammatory criticism of Black men. After all the think pieces, all the rhetoric, all the finger-pointing, arguing, chastising, and misogyny-tinged commentary, Bashe sat down to give NBC News the first interview since her viral misfortune became fodder for foolishness.

She says that she has suffered nightmares and panic attacks as a result of all the cantankerous conjecture.

“First they’re like, ‘where’s the police report?’ You don’t have a police report.’ I show the police report. Then they’re like, ‘Oh, it’s a fake police report,’” she said. “Then they’re like ‘Show us the hospital records. You don’t have hospital records.’ I show them the hospital records. ‘It’s fake hospital records.’” “The goal posts will never be met,” she said.

NBC News reports that they have viewed both the police report and the hospital records which reveal that Bashe had blood coming from her ear and a severely bruised face. Haters will say it’s photoshopped.

“I don’t know how I’m going to support myself. I don’t know how I’m going to graduate on time. I don’t know how I’m going to, you know, feel safe again.” she said. “It’s going to take months, maybe a year, maybe longer in my life to get it back together.”

She also told the outlet that police have identified a suspect in the assault and the investigation is ongoing.

Still despite that, she’s been receiving death threats and heinous threats aimed at her elementary school-aged son.

“People are calling my son’s school saying they’re going to come and rape my son,” she said to NBC.“Somebody sent me some soup and was like ‘Choke and die on this, b—.’”

Sickening.

Sadly, it comes as no surprise that a lot of men and women have an unbridled zeal to “expose” this woman. We hope she heals from all that she’s suffered.

Sent from my iPhone

Y’all biiiches bullied her threatening her life and you’re saying that her son should be raped?!? You bullies need to be raped or better yet you should either kill your selves or get murdered

[my-whumpy-little-heart]

The Zodiac Whumper - Aries

A continuation, and the first real whump piece, from yesterday’s post. I’m glad y’all liked it, and I’m excited to show what I have in store for each of the poor signs! Each one will feature a character drawing like the one up above, and a drabble with whump fitting thematically with a sign’s general theme and temperament that I make way longer than I’m anticipating every time.

Content warnings: choking, creepy/intimate captor (moreso verbally than in body language), descriptions of bleeding, mouth whump

Continued from here (note: “The Zodiac Whumper” is named Zoran now)

Early the next morning, Zoran finally began.

They strolled into the room, a duffel bag slung over their shoulder and a megaphone in hand. Each of their captives still looked to be asleep, but they wouldn’t be for long. 

“Good morning!” They shouted through the megaphone, voice amplified to an almost deafening level in the enclosed space. They saw several flinches around the room, and a yelp sounded from Libra’s cage. Perhaps a few of them had been awake after all.

“The hell was that for?!” The breathless shouting came from Sagittarius who was pale as a sheet, clutching at the bars of her cage like a lifeline. Most of the others were watching at this point too, varied expressions on their faces.

“How else do you expect me to wake you lot up, hm?” Zoran smiled at her, walking over to kick harshly at Cancer’s cage, who was the only one who hadn’t sat up from his curled up position on the floor. He finally blinked awake at the third kick, sitting up drowsily. They looked down at him coldly. “Come on, up and at ‘em Cancer.”

“Whhh? I already told you, it’s Carter. You’re getting mixed up with the, uh, the disease.”

“No, I’m not,” they replied simply, “but if you dare fall asleep during today’s activities, I’ll have you wishing you did have cancer instead of enduring what I’ll do to you.” 

“Activities?” Scorpio butted in, expression leveled in a sneer. “You better hope those activities include letting us out, or you’re gonna be sorry.” 

“Well, I don’t think there’s any reason for me to apologize then. Obviously I can’t let you all out, but you’ll all get your turn in time,” Zoran said. They walked over to Aries’ cage where the occupant had been glowering silently through the conversation, emerald eyes nearly glowing in the low light. They knelt down to the cage, fishing for the key color coded to the red lock, and stuck it in without twisting quite yet.

“Aries, are-” 

“Riley-!” Aries shouted over them.

“Aries,” Zoran repeated firmly, only continuing when they reluctantly stayed silent, “are you going to be good if I take you out of there?”

“Very funny. When I get out of here, you’ll be on the floor before you can blink.” Somewhere in the background, Scorpio shouted a, “yeah, you fuckin’ tell ‘em, Riley!” but Zoran didn’t pay any attention to him. Instead, they dropped their bag on the ground and unzipped it. Aries leaned over to get a glimpse of what was inside, but as soon as they did the lock clicked, the door swung open, and their head was slammed against the wall of the cage. They yelped as their vision went blotchy with black, and when it came back they were staring at the concrete floor they’d crumpled down to, and short platinum hair obscuring the rest of their vision. 

Aries felt their pliable arms pulled sharply behind their back and finally remembered to struggle again, but it was too late. Zoran kept their wrists together and wound something around them with strong, deft fingers, and when they pulled against it again there was the sharp pain that came with the splitting of skin and hot blood trickling down their forearms.

And then they were thrown on their back, a breathless keen pulled from their throat as the restraints tore through their sweater and pressed into the small of their back. The cuts bled on their hands, and the same restrictive wire wound around their ankles and up their thighs. Breathing in panicked gasps, Aries sat up and watched as fucking barbed wire that’s what it was dug into their ankles, their thighs, all the way up until the line of their shorts. 

“What are you doing?!” they shouted, horror and anger mingling together in their cracking voice. They couldn’t help the further struggling that only made the sparks of pain burn across their body. Their hands were slick with blood now, but they would rather that than showing weakness at a bit of pain.

“I don’t know, Aries, what does it look like?” Zoran didn’t even glance up from their work when they said it.

“Well, it certainly looks like you’ve tied me up with barbed wire, but it sure feels a hell of a lot like torture. And, well, I’m really not on board with that, so if you could just put me back on the shelf where you found me that would be lovely!” 

“Someone has a mouth on them! What is this on the nutrition facts label? Short tempered, angry little bitch?” They had the nerve to laugh at that, voice dropping to a low drawl. “Well that certainly sounds like something I’d like to have, so no: you’re not going back on the shelf. In fact, I think I’d like to own you. What do you think about that, hm?”

“I think you’re a bastard!” Aries grunted, trying to buck off the foot that landed on their chest, wriggling against the floor as the heel ground down. Each movement with the added pressure only shredded their lower back further, barbed wire slicing paths through marred skin over and over again. Their sweater was hopelessly ripped and stained by this point, and somehow they were worried more about that then the amount of blood loss they were going to suffer.

“Thanks for your input, but I think you talk just a little too much for your own good. Take notes, Scorpio.” And it was at this point Zoran finally lifted their head to address the rest of the room, most of which was watching in stunned silence. “In fact, everyone better be looking right at what I’m doing right now. That includes you, Libra, Pisces, Taurus…” Each name was growled with an unspoken threat that each pair of watchful eyes seemed to understand except for Taurus, who continued staring resolutely at the wall. 

“Stay still for a moment, will you Aries? I’m sure you won’t have any trouble with that,” they snickered, strutting over to Taurus’ cage and rattling the cage door with a well aimed kick. He flinched at that, but didn’t dare look at the source of the loud noise.

“Taurus! Darling. Look at me.” A pause. “Taurus, look at me now or I will make you regret it.” Soft black eyes glanced over, and even in the low light Zoran could see how they glimmered with unshed tears. 

“Oh, you poor thing. Is this too much for you?” An eyebrow raised silently back at them, and it would have communicated disinterest if not for the tear tracks now running down his cheeks. “Well, I’ll have you know that you’re next.” That got a reaction out of him. A flinch, a gasp, and a subconscious attempt to scoot backwards before he stopped himself.

“Yes, and you really should be scared. But if you don’t watch the entire time I’m torturing Aries, I promise you that you’ll be hurting far more than they’re about to be. Got it?” A slow, slight nod satisfied them, and they walked back to their current project who was still right how they left them, if only with more blood pooled on the floor around them. 

As they bent closer, they could see Aries muttering insults at them under their breath, which shook and shuddered with continued pain as they struggled. Zoran prepared another length of barbed wire, now kneeling over their chest with it poised over their still moving lips. It only took Aries a second to see what they were planning to do, and shut their mouth firmly, a glare locking on the offending piece of wire.

“Oh, come on now. Aren’t you only delaying the inevitable?” Not a word parted their lips, and Zoran sighed dramatically. Their hand wrapped around their captive’s throat, pressing down hard and immediately halting their breathing. Green eyes went wide with anger and fear, short gasps through the nose taking no air and mouth refusing to even try. 

Slowly they became more desperate, body struggling languidly in an attempt to dislodge the restricting hand, mind racing because there’s no air I’m going to die they’re going to kill me I’m going to die I’m going to--and pure desperation pried their mouth open wide hoping that the further apart their lips went, the more air they’d find. But nothing came except for sharp bits of metal pulling around their head and wrapping through their hair over and over and over again.

And finally when Aries was bleeding and losing the spark of hope deep within them, sweet blessed oxygen was back in their lungs, and they were gasping so hard they nearly passed out at the sudden influx of air alone. Sharp prongs dug into their tongue, their cheeks, their scalp, tightening at every movement of their mouth. They tried to speak, but they couldn’t make proper sounds around the rudimentary gag that only bled them further, and nearly choked them on the blood running down their throat.

“There. I trust you’ll be a little quieter from now on?” Aries yelled desperately in response, no shape around the sound that came raw from the back of their throat.

“Oh, well that’s fine though. I don’t mind you making noises, just so long as they aren’t words, yeah?” The sound this time was more of an exasperated whine, and Zoran was sure they’d be begging now if they could. “No, of course I’m not taking the gag out. It’s serving its purpose quite well, really. I mean, just listen to yourself.”

Aries stopped making noises and went back to controlled breathing, trying to erase the hitch in their breath the choking had created.

“Though, now that I’m thinking about it, this isn’t quite enough for you, is it? You’re still yelling at me in that dense little brain of yours, and still hoping you can get out of here. Just look at the mess you’ve already made trying to! You really did my work for me, digging that wire in as far as it’ll go. That’s gonna hurt a lot more to get off than it did to get on, you know.” They whimpered at that, but only because Zoran paired it with a shoe digging between their thighs, pushing them against the barbed wire and reigniting the wounds all over again until Aries was shrieking and writhing under their hands.

“That’s what I’m talking about! Spontaneity like that without overthinking it first is the spice of life, babe!” They smiled, and their enthusiasm was so palpable that it was terrifying. “If you’d just stop thinking about how upset you are with me, that headspace you were just in could get us so much farther.”

Aries very much did not like that headspace they were just in, but they couldn’t voice any of that anymore: especially not when a fist came crashing into the side of their face. Their head whipped to the side, left cheek slammed into the floor along with the wire that just dug deeper into their cheek. Another hit came, and another, and it was hard to count or think after that. Their skull was rattling around inside their head, and they were vaguely aware that every vulnerable noise they would have normally held back was coming out unrestrained, singing like music to Zoran’s ears.

After long enough, they felt that familiar pressure against their throat once again, cutting off air and coherent thought for just long enough to scar the deepest recesses of their soul before letting up and letting them breathe precious air for a few seconds before it was right back under. 

At one point, without warning, a burning pain slipped under the neckline of their shirt, pressing hard against their skin and smelling of rotted flesh, and they’d screamed their throat raw for the eternity that it had laid there, and even louder in the seconds after it ripped away.

And when all sensations of new pain finally left, and everything else only lingered like a bad memory, Aries found that they could hardly think at all.

Next Part

[letaliabane]

Scars

bruce wayne x reader/batman x reader

slight spoilers for the movie!! (Do yourselves a favour and go see it!)

warnings: little bit of gore, bodily scars

genre: implied smut (no full smut so below +18 kiddies get outta here!!), soft!brucewayne

a/n: won't lie this was created literally because of the gif above (look at that man damn) and is very self indulgent for meself so I’ll see meself out! anyway enjoy!

‘Long night again Ma’am?’

You blinked sleepily, a steaming teacup was placed in front of you along with a plate of cold meats and crackers. Rubbing your eyes, you looked up at him with a smile. 

‘Indeed Alfred. Why don’t you head off to bed? You deserve the rest of the night off you’ve been working so hard.’

‘Thats very kind of you Miss Y/N thank you. Please take care of yourself too, at least get some shut eye before Master Wayne gets back. I’ll take my leave.’ He gave you a sweet smile, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You’d basically become apart of the Wayne household and just like Bruce, saw Alfred as a fatherly figure.

As soon as the elevator disappeared out of sight, you released a massive sigh, leaning your elbows on the table, resting your head in your hands. 

It had been a very intense few weeks, more than the usual. 

With the Riddler taken down and locked up in Arkham, and the city of Gotham still in disarray due to the flooding, the worst criminals had taken it upon themselves to make the lives of the GCPD and citizens worse. But your boyfriend wasn’t allowing that to pass. 

You had offered your services to listen in on the police radio for any particular crimes that stood out before letting him know. Though you barely saw each you wanted to help as best as he could. 

Bruce deeply appreciated the help these past few months, especially in the last few weeks, though he didn’t show it too often. He couldn’t be everywhere at once, but at least he had someone helping in his corner besides Alfred. 

Working through the last few months, you noticed his tactics had changed, people rising more to the occasion of his presence within the city, a protective force more than a vigilante looked for his fix of adrenaline in a fight. And it made you proud, and you knew his parents would be so utterly proud of him.

Just as you began to consider laying down for a nap the screeching of tires made you turn, shielding your eyes quickly as the floodlights on the bike blinded you, coming to halt and turning off. 

Watching with a smile as the familiar silhouette got off the bike, you knew his routine. Post removing the paint from his face he’d wander to his desk, but instead, surprised you as he made his way straight towards you. 

He left a trail behind him, removing his gloves, the belt, his cape, the cowl, all falling behind him until he stood over you. Without words Bruce gave you a small smile. As if to say ‘it’s over for tonight. I’m home, I'm all yours.’ 

You sighed softly at the touch of his hand against your cheek, the unexpected softness sending you into a spiral. Whimpering as he leant to kiss your forehead, trailing them across your face so gently like butterfly wings against wind. 

Eyes flickering between his and his lips, a noticeable and recognisable fire was alight within hthem.

And you knew immediately you weren’t getting sleep anytime soon. Not that you were complaining though. 

A gasp left you, Bruce pushing you up against the wall, lips not parting from yours, his hands caging you in. You untucked his sweat slick shirt, briefly parting before tugging it over his head tossing it blindly.

You don’t how you had made it this far through Wayne Tower. Had Bruce carried you? Had you stumbled into the elevator together and all the way to the bedroom? You really had no idea! 

Bruce attacks your neck, mouth searing hot, wet and rough, hips seeking friction. Holding his head close, your fingers ran through his hair, a groan rippled against your skin from his lips. He pulled you from the wall and further into the room with hasty need. 

You leant up on your tiptoes to kiss his neck, smiling at the noises that escaped him, your tongue and lips press into his skin. But you slowed down as the light slipped over Bruce’s skin, allowing you to see him more clearly. 

Breathing heavily against his chest, you let your mouth skim against the large scar on his left collarbone. A small bullet wound he had gained recently, nothing life threatening thankfully, but it still remained as a reminder to lay thicker kevlar into the armour. 

Fingertips traced his skin, the map of scars that took up the canvas of his body. One in particular always stand out to you, it would for the rest of your life.

The large jagged scar just below his heart; one that you were far too familiar with. 

It had been the night you found out Bruce was the Batman. 

You’d been at the Tower, Alfred having told you the Master wouldn’t be home for many hours, and with the room that was always prepped for you (this was before you became a couple), and recommending you staying the night. 

If you hadn’t gotten out of bed for a late night snack, to this day your not sure if anyone would’ve found him.

You had stood in frozen horror at the sight of a barely conscious Bruce in the corner of the elevator surrounded in a puddle of his own blood, still in his suit and the cowl abandoned at his side. 

Your scream had echoed throughout the entire Tower (Alfred will never admit how it struck the fear of God within him; how he found you cradling Bruce in your arms, sobbing, trying to keep him awake) and it is an image that will never be erased from your mind, how close you were to losing him- 

To distract you from the image within your mind you leant forward and pressed gentle kisses against the raised skin, nose grazing the webbed lines. A tremble ran throughout Bruce’s body, a whine leaving his lips, hand gripping the back of your head. 

When he pulled your face back up to his you expected his kiss to be rough and full of desperate desire, instead it was slow, careful mere pecks. Before once more, building in intensity, making you get lost, almost forgetting to breathe. 

Succumbing to his dominance, you felt his hands dip beneath your thighs picking you up with absolute ease before carrying you over to the bed.

You cried out as pleasure overwhelmed your body, nails digging into Bruce’s arms as he held himself up over you, a deep guttural groan leaving him as the thrusts of his hips came to a halt. Sweat glistened against your bodies, burning with heat and pain at the strain of your muscles.

Even through the heavy haze, you noticed the shivers that overtook your lovers body, reaching your arms up to cradle him and bring him to rest against you, pressed chest to chest, legs tangled together beneath the sheets. 

Letting your fingertips wander, your hands ran over his back. You knew how weak it made him; the physical contact you shared, and he loved it. His own hands ran up and down your sides lovingly, exploring every nook carefully, memorising every detail. 

Both of you lay there in silence, no words needed as you caught your breath, his head resting between your breasts, listening to your heart thump against his ear, a soothing melody. 

'Bruce?’

His head lifted instantly, a tired smile gracing his lips when you kissed his nose cheekily with a giggle, cupping your cheek to press a kiss to your lips sleepily. 

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too, my heart.’ 

masterlist - robert pattinson masterlist

requests are welcomed in the ask box if anyone would like one

________

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tags that aren’t working:

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[nikoruistyping]

Stuck with you || Leon S. Kennedy (RE2 Remake)

Leon S. Kennedy x RPDOfficer!Fem!reader

Summary: It's a dark and stormy night in Raccoon City and also the perfect setting for a zombie apocalypse of course. You find yourself stuck in the RPD with none other than your partner in crime Leon S. Kennedy. As the both of you explore the new and abandoned environment you both find yourselves fending off zombies, running away from them, and getting stuck in safe rooms too...what more could go wrong? Maybe it's not so bad being stuck in a room with Officer Kennedy just for a few hours...right?

TW: Smut, Angst, Emotional Post Apocalyptical Shit, Nudity, Adult Language/Swearing, Roleplaying (Kinda), Oral sex (Fem Receiving), Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Intense Making Out/Kissing, Some Arguing, Violence/Gore (Basically just shooting zombies and some blood), Tending to wounds (Blood and open wounds stuff ya know), Gun Fire/Shooting (At Zombies obviously), Some Commitment Issues (because the world is ending obviously)

Word Count: 4,196

A/N: I totally forgot how much I loved this game and that I basically grew up playing RE4, 5 and 6! I saw some walkthroughs of the new RE2 & RE3 Remake like a year ago and this one-shot smut has been sitting in my drafts for a god damn year just unpublished. I decided to release it due to the new movie coming out to quench yall’s thirst for Leon from the video games at least since I lowkey hate the cast they picked for the movie. Hopefully, I nail everything on the head and get the details right! Hope you all enjoy it and thank you!

UPDATE: READ PT. 2 (RE4 Remake)

"Are you sure this is the right hallway to the darkroom?" You whispered as you held your handgun close to your chest.

Your breath was heavy from having outrun some zombies from the last room you ventured into with Leon. He seemed to be unaffected from all this exercise, it probably was all that training at the police academy or maybe he was just built well, very well you might add. Ypu were guilty of having stolen a few glances here and there at his budging muscles in his police uniform.

"You sure do ask a lot of questions Y/N. According to the map, yes it should be right around this corner." He clutched onto his shotgun tightly, swiftly turning the corner as you followed suit, making sure to look around and behind every corner.

"Well, maybe I wouldn't ask so many questions if you just communicated with me a bit more." You said with a snarky attitude as the moan and grunting of a nearby zombie echoed close by.

You decided to stay quiet, slowly stepping on your tippy-toes but that didn't last very long when another zombie started to wildly scratch at the boarded-up windows near the Darkroom. Another zombie crawling on the floor ready to take a bite at your ankles. You pointed your flashlight to the ground pulling the trigger on your handgun, shooting it right in the head two times without hesitation. Bang Bang. Blood splattered all over the floor and onto the tips of your shoes. Leon aimed for the zombie that was knocking at the window and shot right through the glass. Boom. You heard the loud cocking of the shotgun as he reloaded and shot once more, glass shattering and flying all over the both of you. You heard Leon loudly grunt as you were positive he cut himself with one of the flying shards. Both of your gunshots had only caused more trouble by alerting the rest of the dormant zombies that were roaming the halls carelessly and the moaning and groaning became louder. Shadows of rotting corpses creeping towards you, ready to pounce.

"Fuck! Come on, get in!" Leon said as you quickly ran into the Darkroom right behind him and he slammed the door shut with his shoulder. He shifted his whole body weight against the door holding it closed while their nails seemed to screech against the door, trying to claw their way inside. The wooden door rattling as Leon made sure that door stayed closed like his life depended on it.

"A little help would be nice!" He yelled at you from across the room. You quickly grabbed a metal chair making sure to put it right under the doorknob and propping it up to blockade the door. Safety at last.

"Jesus Christ...that was a close one. We really need to get you a silencer for that trigger finger of yours." He said bending down and putting his hands on his knees, exhaling while his eyes were focused on the floor. Blood was running down his bicep in dark red streams, droplets falling onto the cracked concrete, making creating a somewhat intriguing pattern.

"Seriously?! You wanted me to just do nothing while a zombie was about to bite me?! You also didn't need to use your loud and proud shotgun to take out one zombie!-” You we’re practically out of breath while you ranted, Leon never seemed to catch a break, you both have been acting like cat and dog all day.

“Thanks though...for saving our asses...again." You admitted, the tone in your voice defeated.

You walked over to the table in the middle of the room putting down your handgun and taking off your RPD hip pouch, unstrapping the bulletproof vest from your chest. A sigh of relief escaped your lips, you tried to take a minute to calm down. The adrenaline pumping in your veins had you completely on edge and you werent feeling like yourself all day, but then again not everyone is thrown into a borderline zombie apocalypse on their first day on the job.

You were one of the rookies that was suppose to start today just like Leon. The both of you had been paired to be working as partners but this wasn't what you expected when you had arrived to Raccoon City. Everything was abandoned, crumbling to pieces and it looked like a massacre happened outside. Nowhere was safe anymore and everything about your past life didn't matter right now, the goal was to survive every second.

You heard Leon curse under his breath while he sat on the spare cot that was in the room, his hand holding the bleeding gash that was on his bicep. You quickly decided to take action by rummaging around the room in hopes to find a first aid kit or anything at this point to help your partner. You might not have gotten off on the right foot when first meeting him but that didn't make it any less important that the both of you had to stick together through this, because being alone would have been much worse.

At last, after opening every drawer and cabinet you were able to find a first aid kit. You walked over to Leon, getting down on one knee as you put the open kit on the cot beside him.

"What are you doing Y/N? I'll be fine, I promise. Right now, we need to rest and wait for this to pass." He said giving you a weak smile looking down at you with his piercing blueish grey eyes.

"No Leon. It's not fine, you're bleeding all over the place and I don't think you want this cut to get infected, do you?" You asked tilting your head to the side, slowly placing your fingertips on his muscular bicep and rotating his arm closer to you so you could see the wound better.

"Take off your shirt." You commanded him to do without even blinking an eye.

You didn’t even realized how it sounded or what you had said but a blush came across your face at the thought that a half-naked Leon would be right in front of your eyes in mere seconds.

Leon hesitated for a second but proceeded to unstrap his bulletproof vest and toss it to the side. He slowly peeled his shirt off and Jesus Christ what a sight. You couldn't help but glance over and admire his sculpted body. The deep valleys and dips in his abs, his defined V line that ran against his waistline, and even his collarbones looked appealing. The crappy lighting in the room somehow making all the right parts of his body glisten like golden glitter.

"May I...?" You asked as Leon nodded his head in response and let you grab hold of his arm, rotating it towards you.

You grabbed the tweezers from the box and started to see if you could find any glass shards in the cut and of course, there were a few pieces lodged deep in there.

"This is...well it's going to hurt. There’s no sugar coating that." You say while starting to slowly spread the skin open with your fingertips and reaching into the fleshy parts, pulling out glass pieces one by one. You could hear Leon grunting under his breath, clearly in pain as a thin layer of sweat started to develop on his skin.

"I'm almost done, I promise." You say trying to reassure him and he grinds his teeth together in response.

His knuckles go white as he grips the bottom edge of the cot. You couldn't help but get distracted by his veiny hands and how hot and bothered he made you feel while admiring every part of him. You weren't going to lie, yes it had been a while since anyone's touched you in that way and this whole situation right now wasn’t your number one choice for getting out there to meet that someone special. You would be lying if you said you didn't find Leon attractive because he was way more than attractive, he was obviously your type. Strong, blonde, brooding and blue-eyed type that you wouldn't mind if he pinned you against the wall and took you right then and there.

You shook your head trying to get the dirty thoughts out of your mind and you placed the tweezers down, moving onto the brown glass bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide. You picked up a hefty amount of cotton gauze, unscrewed the cap, and soaked it in the liquid. You hesitated a little bit before pressing the gauze firmly into the wound and you could feel Leon squirm a little, most likely because it burned like a bitch.

"Fucking hell..." He said a bit too loud and placed his hand onto your shoulder squeezing tightly as the liquid filled his wound with white fizzing bubbles.

"Just hang in there. One more step left." You said reaching into the kit for the antibacterial liquid and dabbing it into the cut with your finger. Leon let out a sigh of relief as the burning had stopped and you wrapped up the gash with white bandage that was in the kit. You made sure to tightly wrap it around his arm, trying to also be delicate and not touching the sensitive area too much.

"Thank you…I appreciate it." His voice low and shallow.

You got up off the floor and sat in the spot right next to him on the cot. Leon had noticed a stray piece of hair in your eye and brushed it back, tucking it behind your ear. He let his hand rest on your cheek for just a moment, pulling it away quickly when he realized how close he was to you. Your cheeks got all flushed by his touch and you could feel your body heating up by being this close to him, what the hell was happening to you?! It couldn't be possible that you had actually developed feelings for him in less than 24 hours. It's just impossible. Your body was clearly reacting because you craved the touch of another human being, right?

"Sorry, I-it looked like it was in your eyes." He said with a smile as you were leaning more and more into him that both of your lips were inches away from each other but the moment quickly fell flat when it was interrupted by radio static coming through the walkie-talkie.

"Oh shit! That must be Marvin." You say reaching for the walkie-talkie from your hip pouch that was on the table.

You fiddle with the buttons to get the right channel and you press the button to speak.

"Marvin?! Marvin are you there?" You shout into the walkie.

"Y/N? Leon? It's Marvin! I____the lobby is__________with_____too many of them!" He says over the very static signal and his words get chopped off and broken, the signal soon dies out.

"Fuck! God damnit! This whole place is getting overrun. We need to get out of here Leon." You say in desperation as you put your hands on the table, hanging up the walkie-talkie, and turning around to face him while you lean against the flimsy wood of the table.

"I know, but right now we need to wait it out. I don't think you have any ideas on how we can pass the time, do you?" He asked with what seemed like a mischievous smile on his face while he stood up and walked towards you.

His hands immediately resting on both sides of the table, pinning you in between. His head slowly cocking to the side while he leaned in closer to you.

You looked away for a second breaking eye contact with him. You could feel the heat of his breath on your neck and that alone was making you weak in the knees. He was acting pretty bold for a man who you thought was all about being a hero and saving the world. He acts as if you both weren’t literally bantering five minutes ago.

"I have a few ideas..." You said with a small smirk on your face as well.

You placed your hand on the waistband of his uniform trousers. Your fingers fiddling with his belt buckle but not fully undoing it. You saw the way he raised his eyebrows at you, his breath hitching ever so slightly as your fingertips glided along the edge, teasing him.

"Please do enlighten me Officer Y/LN. What were you thinking of doing to me exactly?" His eyebrows furrowing slightly as if he was geuinely curious.

"Well, I was hoping that actually, you could do something to me..." You paused for a moment as you leaned closer towards his body, your hands sliding up from his waist to pressing against the pecks on his chest and your lips going to his ear.

"I want you to....fuck me, Officer Kennedy. Can a rookie like you handle that?" You said pulling away to see his expression, it was like you had unleashed a beast within him by uttering those words. You were pretty sure that Leon was also just as touch-starved as you were, so what was the harm in indulging in one another?

"When you say it like that, how can I refuse?" He said as his hands snaked around to your waist, having a firm grip on you as he lifted you up in one swift movement, high enough so that you could sit on the wooden table.

Next thing you know his lips found their way to yours and there was no stopping this now. The way he kissed you, so ravenous, this man was in dire need and so were you. His hands caressed your body in all the right places as you opened your legs wider so that he could fit perfectly into the space inbetween. You wrapped your legs around his waist and your hands went straight to the nape of his neck, tugging at the little hairs there. His tongue pushing and pulling with yours while the both of you fought for dominance. You let a small moan slip from your lips when you felt his hands grab at your ass, squeezing the soft tissue, his hands snaking up your back bringing along your shirt with them. The kiss broke apart for just a moment as he pulled the shirt off of you and tossed it to the side and he took a moment to admire your body, observing every curve, dip, and even the valley between your breasts.

"This looks like it might be illegal. I'll have to confiscate this Officer." He said in heavy breaths, not even giving you time to respond back. His hands went immediately to your back, his skillful fingers unclasping your black lacey bra and freeing your breasts, leaving you completely exposed.

You responded with a small moan as he began fluttering kisses down your neck and making sure to leave hickies all over, biting your delicate skin and licking the spot over and over again. The heat of his tongue made your core boil even more while he squeezed and touched you in all the places you were craving for so long. Each kiss he placed needy and feverish while you squeezed your legs around him tighter, your hips grinding against his in unison. You could already feel his hard-on through his trousers, you were in the same boat as you could already feel yourself becoming wetter the more he did everything right to your body. Your hands made their way down to his belt buckle expect this time you made sure to push and pull it until it unbuckled completely and unbuttoned his trousers. Your hands slowly ghosted over his hard-on and you could feel him respond by pausing every few seconds while his lips traveled down your body, littering your skin with kisses left and right. One hand squeezed your breast while the other was hooked onto the belt loops of your pants, ready to undo them.

"Leon...please..." You begged in between small moans that you tried to suppress as you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

"I'm not finished with you just yet." He said almost with a husky growl as he slowly started to help you slip off your pants, your panties sliding off at the same time leaving you completely naked and vulnerable to him.

He wasted no time getting in between your legs, his kisses making your inner thighs get goosebumps by the touch of his lips on your skin. You bit your lip at the sight of seeing him on his knees for you, worshipping you like a goddess. Leon seemed to be completely enthralled with the idea of going down on you. He started by swirling his tongue around your clit and then moved back down to trace your slit. Your hands immediately moved into his hair, raking through his brownish blonde locks and pulling him closer. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, your body reacting to him like it never had before. He continued to lick up and down your slit, his calloused fingertips rubbing at your clit, a whole new kind of sensation coursing through your body as you let out a wanton moan. You bucked your hips against him, grinding your pussy on his lips needy for more.

"I'm so close-" You barely were able to get out as he relentlessly continued to pleasure you with his tongue and god did this man have a skilled tongue.

Your whole body clenched when you suddenly felt two fingers prod into your enterance and slowly push in. He scissored his fingers, spreading you open and you certainly were tighter than expected. You could feel the knot inside your core tightening to the extreme. The feeling of his lips around your clit and his fingers being thrust in and out of your pussy made you see stars, your eyes shuttering, and your body trembling.

You came, crying out his name, you were pretty sure even the zombies on the other side of the door probably heard you. He kept licking stripes up and down your slit. You could feel your cum running down your inner thighs as your legs squeezed around his head bringing him closer. He pulled away for a moment to take a breath and stood right back up, his hips aligned with yours as you watched him lazily, drunk off the feeling of reaching your climax. Slowly he lowered his trousers and briefs just enough to reveal his popping erection. Laid flat up against his lower abs, he bit his lip seeing you so unraveled and needy for him. His lips found their way back to yours, his tongue pressing up against yours making sure you could taste yourself on his lips. The way he kissed you was passionate yet rough it was like nothing you had ever experienced before. He had you under a complete trance and for a moment you even forgot that the world was probably crumbling outside of this room that the two of you were stuck inside together. Your hands slide up his arms and you gave a gentle squeeze to the bandaging you had put on his bicep. He pressed a bit harder into kissing you, his teeth grazing your lower lip catching it and biting it in response to the slight pain he felt.

"Fuck Leon, I need you...please..." You said practically begging at this point as you craved to have his cock inside you.

"Did I mention how hot you sound when you beg?" He said with a smug look on his face,  your legs already feeling like jelly at this point but you had just enough strength to pull his hips closer to you.

His cock filled you completely in one stroke, the head brushing against your wet slit as it entered you. You squeezed your eyes shut as his length stretched your walls. He drew his hips back and then thrusted back into you. Gasps and whines fell from your lips while he fucked you. You drew arbitrary patterns on his back with the pads of your fingers. Your toes curled as he slammed into you over and over again. His hands gripping the table under you as he struggled to steady himself with each and every thrust the faster he went in and out of you. His nose nuzzled into your neck as he struggled to hold back his groans of pleasure. You bit your bottom lip in the process while your fingers scratched into his back, definitely leaving a mark. His cock stroked along your g-spot, coaxing your orgasm to come faster. You could feel your muscles tensing. Your second orgasm was on the brink of happening and your moans were louder than you thought possible being as you couldn’t hold them in any longer.

"Cum for me...Y/N..." He had whispered into your ear, it flushing red with each and every word he had said.

You had cursed his name under your breath as your whole core had tensed up for a moment as you came. His hips still thrusting into yours as you rode out your high and you could feel him release inside of you, your fingers relaxing and tapping against his shoulder blades as both of your breaths were heavy and panting. His head leaned against your shoulder as his hands laid against the small of your back holding you close. Your legs had tightened around his waist keeping him close to you as you both took a moment to really process what just happened. That really fucking happened?!

"So...that really happened..." You say in a low whisper, as Leon had taken the liberty to pull away from you, fixing himself as he pulled up his boxer briefs and his trousers, bending down to find his belt and buckling it back in place, his hand going up to his forehead and wiping off the layer of sweat that had built up from the workout you both had done.

You start to scramble to pull up your own panties and pants as you hopped off the table looking for your bra that had been discarded on the floor. The room had fallen under a heartbreaking silence as the both of you acted as if nothing had happened.

"Jesus Christ Leon! Say something! See this is your problem, you don't fucking communicate with me! You sure as hell were communicating with my damn body two seconds ago!" You say frustrated at the whole situation as you held your shirt in one hand while you stood across the room pointing your finger at him.

"Y/N please just give me a minute to think! I'm not good with this kinda thing...with commitment or whatever the hell you wanna call it." He says turning around to face you, slipping his t-shirt back onto his torso, his teeth grinding against each other while he lifted his arms.

"Oh please, are you really telling me you have commitment issues all of a sudden?! You sure weren't having those problems while you fucked me into oblivion on that table!" You yelled at him, the moaning and groaning of zombies from the other side of the door seeming to get inherently louder the more you raised your voice.

"What the hell do you want me to say Y/N?! That I really enjoyed it, that I might actually have feelings for you, that after all this is over I want to still see you again?! Is that what you want?" He says between heavy breaths, his eyes locking with yours.

"Leon...I-" You stutter to get out as you look into his blueish-grey eyes and you could see the fear.

"Do you have any idea how serious things are out there?! For fucks sake I don't even know if we are gonna survive this and right now you're the only person I have left...if I lost you...I don't know what I'd do..." He says under his breath as a tear starts to well up in your eye as you could hear the pain in his voice.

"I'm sorry Leon I shouldn't have said that...Things are pretty fucked up right now in the world and even though I just met you...there is clearly some type of chemistry between us is there not...?" You ask as if hoping he says something or anything at this point so the silence in the room doesn't kill you.

"Yeah...there is." He says as his steps make their way to you, his hand finding yours and holding it, squeezing every so often.

"Maybe, after all of this is over...I can get you a drink first...how does that sound?" He says with a small smile on his lips as you look back into his eyes and you couldn't help but chuckle a bit.

"Sure, I would love that. Promise you won't die on me, Officer Kennedy." You say as you pull him in for a hug, he really looked like he needed one.

"You know that I don't make any promises." He says as his hands clench at your back holding you tightly.

"Stop ruining the moment Kennedy." You say with a chuckle as you're still hugging him close, not wanting to let go.

The two of you still had a long time to wait out in the Darkroom and who knows what else would happen between you two during that time. You hoped that eventually the world would be saved and things could maybe go back to normal one day. You sure as hell weren't going to miss out on that drink Leon owed you.

READ PT. 2 (RE4 Remake)

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[littlegodzilla]

Hi!!!

Okay first at all, I said the story will be a prequel of TWD TV show line... well I was wrong... I can't stop writing, but I'm not going to focus myself at the TWD line so in the next chapters the story will be faster at some parts focusing myself in Daryl and the reader...

Anyways today we have a new chapter!!

I hope you'll like it!!

Enjoy!!

Your Name Masterlist

***

Your Name.

Mini series part 4.

Warnings: stressful stuations. Bad language. TWD gore. Violence. Awkward situation. Slow burn.

Words: 3273.

Summary: You need supplies, you need to find a safe place. But you only find Dixon problems.

Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @lilythemadqueen @darylsgarden @thefemininemystiquee @green-eyedladywrites @xxtinasxxblog @hail-yourselves @ravenwings73

(If someone wants me to add or delete you from the taglist just tell me)

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Part 4.

***

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

As if things weren't complicated enough on their own, now this. Nervously you search through your things for something to cover the name.

Your first reaction was to think of Daryl, even your cheeks still feel hot from it, but Merle is still there too. It wouldn't be the first time a couple hasn't matched names. Either because their main partner has died or didn't have a name until then. These are very rare cases, like people without a name. It's a long shot, but it's there.

"And as lucky as you are..." You said to yourself looking in the mirror.

Just thinking about Merle sends a shiver through your body.

It's hard to find something that can cover up the name, so you decide to put on a long sleeve t-shirt, you could go to the pharmacy and look for some wristband or bandages, maybe if people think you're sick they won't come near you and that means living a little longer.

Senoia was scary at night, not knowing where to go. In the morning it doesn't get much better, it even seems more chaotic. In the sunlight you can see all the damage caused by the night. There are some people lying in the streets, with torn skin, with bullet holes and other objects in their bodies, infected people are still hanging around, some mortally wounded are moving around as if nothing. It's clear that the undead have conquered the city, but you're not giving up.

Your plan is simple, or at least in your mind it is; you'll take the car, go back to the supermarket, buy food and some other survival stuff, go to the police and they'll get you to safety in one of those military camps that have been set up to get people to safety. You play and tug at the sleeves of your t-shirt before going back to the kitchen and grabbing a medium sized knife. You've seen some scary movies, the big knife is too heavy and a regular knife wouldn't do any real damage, so you grab an intermediate one. You haven't hurt anyone, on purpose, in your life, you doubt very much that you are capable of stabbing and killing someone, but you will try to defend yourself as best you can. You carefully put it away in your pants pocket and slowly walk out of your apartment.

You look both sides of the hallway before closing the door behind you, everything is deadly quiet and still, you fear that at any moment a neighbor will appear and your soul will come out of your mouth. You walk down the stairs, still looking in all directions, alert for any suspicious movements. On the floor below, in the distance you hear the sound of a television, a children's program, you peek down the hallway and at the bottom you see one of the open doors, you can see the TV screen repeating the same scene over and over again. You swallow hard, fidgeting nervously. Maybe you should go check if they are okay, if they have left or if you should run away. Your instinct screams at you to get out of there as soon as possible, that you haven't missed anything in that house, but your conscience tells you again and again that if you were in danger, you would want someone to help you.

Like Daryl did in the supermarket.

You stop as you become aware of your own thoughts and shake your head. For God's sake this is no time for that.

Hesitantly you walk slowly towards the house that is open, on the way you make sure that the rest of the houses are closed and above all that you don't hear anything strange inside them. The corner of your eye catches a moving shadow, your footsteps stop at the door frame and your breath hitches. You look and there is nothing. Your pulse quickens. Maybe it's just the anxiety you're beginning to feel because of how tense the situation is. You lick your lips and enter the house.

Apart from the noise generated by the television, the house is quiet, you only hear your shoes sinking into the old carpet of the apartment and that makes your nerves soar. Never. Never. A completely empty and silent room sounds well.

You gasp as you hear movement not far from where you are. Your eyes search desperately around you for where the noise is coming from, not far from your position is a piece of furniture and one of the doors is ajar.

Okay, it's time to leave and don't look back, your heart can't take any more shocks.

However, when you try to leave, the cabinet moves again and you hear a rustling sound inside. It doesn't sound like a gasp or a sick growl, it sounds more like a sob.

"Hello?" you dare to speak. "Are you all right? I-I'm not going to hurt you, I'm not infected." You try to calm the other person down. "I-I'm just passing through, b-but maybe you need help..."

There is no answer, everything seems quiet again. You don't insist, your level of heroism and bravery has a limit and you know you've crossed it long ago. You've tried to help, but they don't want your help, so you'd better get the hell out of there before things get complicated.

You turn on your heels and head for the exit. You hear noise again behind you and a tug on your shirt sleeve stops you. You turn your head and discover a boy of about six years old looking at you with big eyes full of fear and tears.

"Uh, hi, are you okay, were you hiding?" he nods and looks down nervously. "Are you all right? Do you know if any of those bad people, could they have hurt you?" you try to guess if he might have any wounds caused by those infected, but he quickly denies.

"M-my mom..." He whispers and your heart shrinks. "S-she wasn't feeling well and... she went into the bathroom, b-but she hasn't come back out..." He tells you and you hear him sobbing.

You don't like his story, it's obvious that his mother could be infected, that she had locked herself in the bathroom so as not to hurt her son or that she had run away leaving him alone. You bite your lip thinking about what you can do, you bend down a little so you can look at him and push his hair away from his face.

"I'm going to go see if he's fine, okay? W... Why don't you wait for me downstairs and we'll go get some ice cream?" you try to cheer him up, he looks confused and nervous, his parents have raised him not to go with strangers. You quickly introduce yourself to him to make him feel more comfortable and you see him smile a little. "What's your name?"

"Noah..."

"Okay, Noah, wait for me downstairs, but don't go outside, okay?"

"Okay..." He's still not convinced of the plan, but he walks away and goes down the stairs as you've asked him to.

As he disappears down the stairs you regret a little for agreeing to this, you could have taken the boy with you and then they would have taken care of looking for his mother, but now you have no choice. You can take a quick look around, open the bathroom door, check her condition and if she's one of those things, leave her locked in there forever, if she's just unconscious, you'll help her in any way you can. Your fingers brush against the knife in your pocket and in a reflex action you grip it tighter, pressing it against your chest. Your steps are slow, but not too careful, you breathe heavily as your fingers brush against the door handle. You stop there for a few seconds, you could have asked the boy what his mother's name was, communicating with her through the door would have been easier. Carefully you open the door, a thin crack through which you see the sparse interior, you look for the woman on the floor, but there is no sign of anyone. Perhaps she has left, as you thought. You open the door more confidently and stifle a scream when something hits you on the forehead. You look up and see her hanging there. You clamp your hand tighter against your mouth, your eyes fixed on the woman hanging on the beam overhanging the ceiling.

"Mom?" You hear next to you and move quickly.

"No, don't look." You cover his eyes as you push Noah out of the bathroom. The woman twitches and gasps, she's dead, but she moves.

"Mom!" Noah fights you to get loose but you keep pushing his little body.

"Let's go, that's not your mother. Not anymore." You scoop him up in your arms feeling him cry against your shoulder and rush out of the house closing the door behind you.

There is nowhere safe, even inside your own house that virus can tear you apart. You have to get out of Senoia, look for a shelter. You rush out of the building with the child still crying in your arms. With your eyes you look for your car, you will take him with you, you can't leave him to his fate, maybe you have never taken care of a child before, but it shouldn't be that hard.

"Noah?" You hear next to you and turn quickly. A couple with two other children look at you confused.

Noah scrambles in your arms wanting to let go.

"Aunt Jess!" he shouts running to the family, hugging them. Your heart melts a little, maybe all is not lost.

"What happened, where's your mother?" the woman asks, but you shake your head and see the pain furrowing her face.

"He was alone, I was going to take him somewhere safe..."

"Thank you very much, where are you headed?" Jess' husband asks you.

"I don't know yet, I've heard there are camps for people not infected, so I'll go to one of those."

"Be very lucky and thank you for taking care of Noah." The man repeats and you smile feeling like you've done a good thing. You watch them walk away and squeeze the car keys in your hand.

"Wait, take my car, you're going with kids, it's not safe for you to walk."

You see the family drive away with your car and again fear engulfs you. It's not safe for them to walk, but it's not safe for you either, you have no idea of self-defense and you wouldn't even kill a fly, the only thing you know how to do is run and even for that you're not good. You take a deep breath trying to calm down and start walking, you will follow your plan, go to the supermarket, get supplies, look for a shelter, surely on the way you can find a car or similar vehicle that can make things easier for you.

**

Of course you find it. In the supermarket parking lot there is a motorcycle and an old van. You thank the heavens for the stroke of luck and peek inside the van to make sure it has keys in it. You have a bit of a moral dilemma, their owners are probably still around, taking one of the vehicles from them would be a bitch, but they would still have the bike to escape, you just wanted to borrow it. Again you bite your lip and shake your head.

No, you're sure to find another car soon, for the time being you'll just look for something to eat and drink and some bandages for the trip.

"Well, well, look who we have here." That voice, that sound, that voice that causes your stomach to churn makes you turn quickly.

Daryl and Merle Dixon are in front of you, with their rifle, crossbow, some bags loaded with food and other gear, the clothes are covered in blood and for a moment you wonder if it's from animal or infected people, but the next second you'd rather not know the answer. Merle comes towards you with that crooked smile that makes you so repulsed and you crash into the van.

"Did ya wanna steal our van, sweetie?" he asks you, his breath brushing your face.

"N-no... I didn't even know it was yours..."

"Merle..." Daryl warns his brother, Merle looks to where his brother is pointing and sees one of those infected.

"Get care of them, li'brother, I'm talkin to my girl."

Your body trembles at his words, Daryl rolls his eyes, fed up with his brother and raises the crossbow firing accurately, just like the night before.

"Let's go." Daryl barks leaving what he was carrying in the van.

"Yer comin' with us."

"What? No." You and Daryl talk at the same time.

"Yesterday ya kept givin' me shit 'bout how ya saved her ass and now that I'm putting her on so ya can get laid, yer tellin' me no?"

"Oh, no, wait, no one's getting laid." You hasten to say. You find this conversation unbelievable considering how the situation is.

"Least of all with her." Daryl growls and that offends you a little. "People have gone crazy and there are dead people in the street. Stop fucking around and let's go." Daryl insists.

"Darylina, I think ya forget I'm the big brother, if I tell ya she's comin', ya get off yer ass and let her get in the van..."

Of course the conversation between the Dixons attracts unwanted attention, several infected people walk straight towards you. A frightened gasp escapes you and you try to move away, but suddenly you are surrounded and panic overtakes you. Daryl and Merle stop arguing to take aim and fire.

"Get yer gun out!"

"I-I don't carry! I-I only have a knife!" you yell too, not that you know how to use it either.

Merle pulls a small pistol out of his pants and puts it in your hand. All your hair stands up like you're a cat, eyes wide open unable to move. Daryl grabs your arm and pulls you towards the truck.

"Get in!" he shouts, opening the door.

You need a second push to finally react and do as he asks, almost jumping inside, taking the gun with you, at the same time crawling across the seat leaving the driver's side free. From the safety of your seat you see the two brothers fighting the infected, zombies? You're not sure if you should call them that, but you see Ethan among them and it's clear he's no longer alive. The door of the van opens then, Daryl gets in leaving his crossbow on the side between the two of them and starts the engine, next to you you hear the motorcycle as well and the two of them speed out of the supermarket parking lot.

You don't know exactly where they are going or where they are taking you, but they have saved your life.

Again.

Inside the van an awkward silence settles in, Daryl has his eyes fixed on the road, on his brother's bike, he chews his lip furiously and sometimes even exchanges it with his thumb. You don't dare to open your mouth, you lower your gaze discovering the gun still in your lap, you panic to touch it, you've never had one so close, its touch is colder and heavier than you had always believed and the shots of Merle's rifle thunderous. Suddenly Daryl's hand appears in your field of vision, he takes the gun from you leaving it on the dashboard of the van and extends his hand towards you again, he gestures, but you don't understand what he wants.

"Ya said y'have a knife, give it to me, yer capable of killin' yerself by accident." He tells you still with his hand outstretched towards you, but without taking his eyes off the road.

You feel a little offended by his words, but deep down you know he's right. You sigh carefully taking the knife out of your pocket and leave it in his hand. When Daryl closes his hand your fingers brush, you feel your cheeks burn for a few seconds, he doesn't even flinch, just glances at the object swinging it in his hand before setting it down next to the gun Merle had given you.

"Y'would have died before ya got to use it. It ain't even sharp." He tells you as he pulls into a dirt road, the van bounces and you have to hold on to the door so you don't jolt in the seat.

"I don't usually keep guns in my house, I'm not..." You bite your tongue in time, but you see him frown understanding what you meant.

"Like us? A fuckin' redneck?" He looks at you biting his lip again and you lower your head.

"I'm sorry..." You whisper playing nervously with your hands. "If you think about it, you guys are much more prepared for this world..."

"Leave it, Ain't need ya to lick my ass. As soon as we stop, ya get off and walk away."

"Hey I don't want to give you guys any trouble, really, b-but if you could help me get to one of those camps the army is setting up..." You ask without daring to look directly at him yet.

"Don't ya listen to me? I ain't give a shit what happens to ya, but Merle ain't gonna leave y'alone, if ya stay with us..." He shuts up, clenching his hands tighter on the steering wheel, and you understand what he means.

He doesn't trust his own brother, he thinks he might do something to you that he doesn't want to witness or be a part of. He's not doing it for you, he's doing it for himself. You smile a little apologetically, you can't exactly explain the emotions that are running through you at that moment. You remember Dixon's name on your skin, maybe that's it, being rejected by him makes you uneasy because one of them could be your destined partner. You swallow hard and nod your head.

"Thank you..." You whisper once more and then tell him your real name. Daryl looks at you at that very moment. "You called me Susy yesterday, but that's the name of a co-worker..." You explain with a shrug. You don't know if it will do any good, but you had the urge to tell him.

You see Daryl nod, but he doesn't add anything else, he maneuvers the van and comes to a complete stop when Merle does the same. You look up to find that you have stopped in front of a cabin. The Dixon's cabin. It's true that it's not the coziest place on the planet, but it doesn't look as bad as your companions had led you to believe. It's old and somewhat neglected, but it's still standing. Which is important.

"Stay in the car." You hear Daryl suddenly. You want to ask him why, but he's already out of the van and walks over to his brother to talk to him.

From inside the vehicle you see them talking, as little by little the conversation becomes rarefied turning into serious looks and they end up arguing, Merle moves back and forth like an animal as Daryl prances and raises his voice, you know they are talking about you because single words and phrases reach your ears. Daryl tries to negotiate something with his brother and his brother doesn't seem convinced, but finally agrees, or so you think, because he leaves Daryl talking alone to go into the cabin. Daryl hesitates, runs a hand through his hair and then turns around to walk back to the van and opens the driver's door.

To be continued...

"We'll take ya to one of those shelters." He tells you and you feel your heart racing again.

**

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I hope you liked it!!

See you in the next chapters!!