#speaking from experience jeans that are tight down there are hell on earth

[small-toast]

Happy Fat Cock Friday to Nikolai Krol and the absolute MONSTER that he is hiding in those jeans

[forcefullyawake]

Hello! This is for @ketslketslketsl claws and creampies collab.

Summary: It’s not every day a pretty girl gives you her number, or pursues you so much. Sure, it looks like Mikasa is hiding something, but how bad could it be?

Pairings: Mikasa x Reader, Monster! Eren x Reader

Warnings: non human sex, noncon, violence, tentacles, gaslighting

WC: 4.8k

You look like an idiot.

There’s really no way around it. The dress your friend had all but forced you into is a little too tight, the straps on it digging into your plump flesh a little too much. The color on your lips is a little too red, the makeup on your eyes a little heavier than you’d ever done before. All of this to stand out, to show to the party at large that not only were you available but you were looking- something you hadn’t gone out of your way to advertise before. Your friends say that you look hot before you leave, but you think you look like you’re trying to hard.

It’s especially obvious when you’re handed a red solo cup as soon as you walk into the door, and immediately find a place on the wall to people watch. Nobody gives you a second glance (well, maybe a couple do, but at the resting frown on your face nobody gives you a third or tries to strike up a conversation). All of the makeup in the world can’t overcome the fact that you just don’t like talking to new people. Hell, even the friends you came with tonight basically adopted you into their friend group your first week of college, instead of you engaging them.

People filter through the home all around you, some dancing where there’s open space, grinding on each other to a low thumping beat that reverberates through your chest. You have to shift on the uncomfortable heels you’re wearing, trying to subtly grind your thighs together. It’s not like you don’t want that- it’s not like you don’t want to throw caution to the wind and disappear upstairs with some pretty boy or gorgeous girl. It’s just that you don’t know how- it’s like you missed that lesson in school, too wrapped up in a book to learn to relate to people who didn’t exist on a page.

Your mother says it’s not too late to get out there and learn about these things, but it feels that way sometimes. In times like these, it’s hard to gather up the courage to strike up a conversation, even when you’re on your second drink. At least you think it’s your second drink- whatever is in your cup is red and fruity, and it doesn’t taste like there’s much alcohol in it, which even in your limited experience you know is a sure sign there’s probably a whole bottle or two of something in it. It makes your head swim a little, it’s nice in a way but it mostly makes you sleepy.

Maybe you can call an Uber. You can find one of your friends to let them know you’re leaving, call an Uber and go to sleep at an almost decent hour. Let them have all the fun, and the hangovers, while you get a solid eight hours of sleep. At least it’s the weekend, and you have two days of freedom before your job takes up your time again. Your eyes start slowly scanning the crowd, looking for anybody you know- Annie, maybe, she’s tall and her blonde hair sticks out. Or Reiner, the lone male in your group, but knowing him he’s snuck off with Bertolt the first chance they got. Lucky bastard.

“You look lonely,” Someone says to your right, and when you look over there’s a girl standing there. She’s a couple inches taller than you, slender but the sleeves on her shirt are short enough you can see her muscles too. Black hair, pulled back into a ponytail, a dainty gold chain resting on the pale skin of her neck with a little ‘M’ on it. Startling grey eyes that are doing their level best to bore into your skin. Definitely not the type to talk to you.

“Just trying to find my friends,” You say, but it mostly comes out as a whisper. She leans forward a little more, so you repeat yourself, a little louder. There’s a slight edge to her smile when she realizes you’re alone, you think, something about it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It must be a trick of the light, though, because the next moment it’s gone.

“It might be easier to find them if you’re in the crowd,” She says, murmuring right next to your ear, her breath dancing over your skin, “They could be upstairs, even. I could help you.”

You mean to say no, thanks but no thanks, you’ll be on your way. Your parents talked to you about stranger danger, and you’re on the wrong side of tipsy but what comes out of your mouth is, “Yes, please.” She smiles, victorious and promising.

“I’m Mikasa,” She tells you, putting her hand low on your back as you move away from the wall. The way the dress is designed, all wrapping layers, means there’s a gap in the fabric on your lower back, just enough that you can feel her hand on your skin, cool against you despite how warm it is in the room. You give her your name, watching as she repeats it to make sure she has it correct, eyes rapt on the way her lips move around it.

She doesn’t guide you upstairs, but closer into the makeshift dance floor. It feels like a scene out of one of the romance novels you have tucked away on your bookshelf at home. People seem to part around you, time stands still, all the cliche’s come to life. Her hands are on your hips as she moves behind you, steady and squeezing into you just enough to make your heart race. Mikasa isn’t especially broad but you feel remarkably safe with her right behind you.

“See anybody you know?” She has to lean down to speak in your ear, and between the alcohol and how close she is, you’re not sure you would even recognize your own face. You can feel her moving in time with the music, your own hips starting to sway with hers. Your eyes drift shut, letting her hands wander over your sides, skimming up to right under your breasts before the make a trail like fire back down to your hips. Maybe this isn’t so bad, you think, as you let yourself turn in her arms, her thigh moving between yours.

You’d think it’s a dream, that you did go home when you thought to, and your mind was wandering but the pleasure that courses through your when her jeans rub against your clothed cunt feels too good to be a dream.

“You do this often?” She asks, drawing you back to earth. All you can do is shake your head, arms coming up to wrap around her neck. She laughs at that, mouth forming words you can’t quite make out when you hear your name being called.

“I think your friends have found you,” Mikasa smiles, taking a step back as she eyes someone over your shoulder. Your hands drift back to yourself, helpless in the air before she catches one, grabbing a pen out of her back pocket to scribble something on the back of your hand. She presses a kiss on it when she’s done, giving you a warm smile.

“Call me,” She says, before being swallowed into the bodies behind her. On your hand there’s a phone number. You hold your hand close to your chest as your friends surround you.

“There you are!” Annie hisses at you, wrapping a protective arm around you, “What were you doing with her?”

“Mikasa?” You ask, glancing behind you like you would still be able to see her, “She was helping me look for you. You left me.”

“She looked like she wanted to eat you alive,” Reiner huffs, Bertolt nodding in agreement. You roll your eyes at them.

“Maybe you’re just seeing things,” You suggest, pulling away from them, “Either way I think I’m going to head out. You know this isn’t my scene.”

“I’ll drive you,” Annie says, looking over your shoulder, “Armin is ready to go too.”

“Thanks,” You walk with Annie and her boyfriend to her hatchback, stretching out your legs in the backseat. You ignore their hand holding and longing looks. Clearly, when Annie said Armin was ready to go, she didn’t just mean home. At least the drive home is short. You say your goodbyes and make your way into your apartment, locking the door behind you before getting ready for bed.

Normally you would be tired, but there’s a thrumming in your veins, an undercurrent of excitement at the number written on your skin. You enter it into your phone, debating on sending Mikasa a text, but you hold off, not wanting to seem overeager. Still, you toss and turn, your skin feeling overly sensitive, each brush of your sheets feeling like the brush of fingers.

With a sigh you give up on sleep, rolling onto your back, one hand trailing down your neck while the other pushes up your sleep shirt, fingers skimming up, cupping one breast. You let your eyes close, imaging someone else touching you, Mikasa’s fingers being the ones to curl around your neck, her fingers tweaking at your nipples until they’ve pebbled. You picture her lips, her tongue, when you spread your lips, fingers making tight circles around your clit. It’s not you touching yourself, but her, playing your body like a fiddle until you cum, quicker than you can remember in recent memory, hard and fast, one hand smothering down your moans from your neighbors.

Maybe it should concern you though- no matter how hard you concentrate on Mikasa, picturing her above you, or between your legs, you can seem to recall the color of her eyes.

They only look red in your memory.

Dawn rises bright and early, pulling you from your sleep. You wake up with your heart racing, pounding in your chest. You don’t remember much of your nightmare, only that something was chasing you, nipping at your heels as you ran for your life. With a shudder you roll out of bed, thoughtlessly grabbing your phone to take it with you to the bathroom.

You gather courage as you brush last night out of your teeth, compose a text while washing your face, and hit send right before you step into the shower. It’s nothing special, a quick text that lets Mikasa know it’s you. Your phone balances precariously too close to your shower, music playing steadily out of it when the sound cuts off- your ringtone starts to play. You’re getting a call.

Grabbing your towel from where it rests you dry your hand, half your body out of the shower as you take the call without checking who it is. Nobody calls anymore, you assume it’s an emergency.

“Hello?” You try not to sound too panicked. The voice on the other end laughs, low and throaty.

“I thought I said to call me?” Mikasa teases you, can you feel your skin heating up for a reason that has nothing to do with the shower. There’s no way to turn the water off from where you are now, not without getting your phone soaked, and you’re sure she can hear exactly where you are. “Though, maybe I should give you a call back.”

“Give me ten seconds, don’t hang up,” You say, not listening for her reply as you place the phone back onto the counter. Reaching over to twist the shower off, ignoring the soap left on your body to grab your towel and wrap it around you properly. It’s not enough but it’ll have to do.

“Still there?” You ask as you make yourself comfortable on the bed. Your sheets are gonna get wet but it’s worth it. Your skin is cold where the air hits it, but you don’t wanna hang up, not yet.

“Of course,” Mikasa breathes, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. “I know it’s a bit old fashioned to call people now, but I find it’s a much better way of communicating with people, don’t you?”

No, you don’t. You get flustered and stutter over your words, so you much prefer texting where you can make sure you say what you want to, but you certainly can’t tell Mikasa that and so- “Yeah, I think so too. It’s hard to read tone over text.”

That part isn’t a lie, at least. Mikasa’s laugh is like honey in your ears. “You don’t have to lie, I can put you out of your misery now, if you’d like. Send some texts with the letter u as you.” Her teasing doesn’t sting you, not even a little bit.

“Or we could just meet up?” You suggest, breath catching in your throat as you wait for her reply. It could be that you’ve completely misread the situation, maybe she’s just being nice, maybe she doesn’t like girls, maybe-

“Give me an address and I’ll pick you up tonight at 7,” Mikasa replies, so smooth and confident it makes your head swim a little. You rattle off your address and she tells you to dress casual before hanging up. You have all day to get ready but you start immediately, drying your hair and styling it before picking out what you hope is a casual enough outfit- a soft white sweater over a sundress patterned with strawberries. A few swipes of pink makeup later and you’re set.

Now all you have to do is wait.

It feels like the hours manage to double themselves, or even triple themselves. A whole lifetime of waiting in one day until you manage to lose track of time and doze off on the couch. Three sharp knocks on your door startle you awake, sending you flying towards the door.

“I’m awake!” You practically shout, throwing the door open. “I mean. Hello. Hi. Can we do that again?”

“No, it was cute,” Mikasa says, smiling at you. You can feel heat rush to your cheeks, trying to ignore it. You’re not sure if you should invite her in but she solves that problem for you. “Are you ready? The place I’m taking you isn’t that far away.”

“Just let me get my shoes on,” You say, quickly turning to slide your feet into the first pair of sandals you see, strappy ones that make you trip if you’re not careful. But it’s fine. You know you’ll be careful tonight.

Mikasa leads you to her car, a silver hatchback. The interior looks spotless, and there’s an almost overwhelming smell of cleaner permeating through the car. You buckle yourself in before looking at her.

“Got it detailed just for me?” You think your voice is teasing but Mikasa stiffens, inhaling sharply as she looks at you. Her reaction takes you aback. “Whoa. Sorry. Teasing!” Mikasa relaxes almost imperceptibly at that, but you can see her shoulders sag down a little.

“Sorry, normally nobody notices how clean a car is,” She says, “Took me off guard. You’re very perceptive.”

“A lifetime of being a wallflower,” You reply without thinking, “You get good at people watching, all that jazz.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” She teases you back now, bringing a smile to your face. She’s right, the place she takes you isn’t that far away and the drive passes smoothly as she pulls into the parking lot of your towns oldest diner. You sit up straighter in your seat- you haven’t been here since you were a kid.

“It’s a little old fashioned, I know,” Mikasa says as she gets out, and you must be distracted because the next thing you know she’s opening your door for you, and there’s no way she moved that fast. “But the ice cream floats here are to die for.”

“Oh no, this is great!” You exclaim, walking next to her into the diner. She asks for a booth in the corner, something you didn’t know people did outside of your romance novels.

“Order whatever you want,” Mikasa says, barely giving the menu a glance. “It’s my treat.” Your mother didn’t raise you to take advantage of someone’s generosity even on a date so you order a small combination meal- though you do opt to upgrade your drink to an ice cream float at Mikasa’s insistence you try one.

“What do you do for work?” You ask, trying not to cringe at your attempt at small talk while you wait for your food to come out.

“I’m.. uh,” Mikasa hesitates now, looking anywhere but your face. It takes her a fraction of a second too long to answer, just enough time to make you frown when she continues, “I’m a caregiver.” Even to you it sounds like a half truth, but you let it slide, not wanting to be too pushy on a first date.

“Oh?” You say, shifting in your seat, “How did you get started in that?”

“It just kind of.. picked me, I suppose.” Mikasa still isn’t meeting your eyes and you figure it’s time for a change of subject.

“How do you know Historia?” There, that should be a safe question. She was at Historia’s party last night, after all.

“We were friends way back in elementary school,” Mikasa explains, clearly relieved to have moved to something different. “I live one neighborhood over from her, so we’ve already just hung out together.” That makes sense to you- Annie has known Historia since high school, and Annie seemed to know of Mikasa.

“Got any embarrassing stories?” You know you probably shouldn’t ask but you can’t resist. The Historia you know is almost regal in nature, prim and perfect at all times. You can’t even imagine her as a child.

“Oh, do I ever,” Mikasa says, voice a little lower as she leans towards you, launching into a story from her childhood. You hardly notice your food appearing, and then barely taste it as you eat, hanging on Mikasa’s every word. She’s funny and engaging, and it’s not until you hear the pointed cough of the man behind the register that you realize it’s closing time for them.

“Yeah, Zeke, we’re going,” Mikasa says with a roll of her eyes as she pays him. He huffs at her a little bit but soon enough the two of you are sitting inside of her car, an awkward silence growing. What do you say now? You don’t want this date to end but would it be to forward to invite her over? Or will she invite you over? You don’t get too far into your thoughts when the car starts moving.

“Do you wanna come over?” She asks, the car sitting long at a stop sign. She’s looking dead ahead, fingers gripping the wheel so hard it turns white. She’s just as nervous as you are, you realize.

“Yes, please,” You manage to breathe out before continuing on, not wanting to sound rude, “If you want me to, that is.”

“Trust me, I want you to,” Mikasa replies, something laced in her voice but she doesn’t relax at all on the drive to her place. The drive is quiet, tense in a way you don’t understand, but there’s still an electric current in your veins as her house comes into view. It’s one neighborhood over from where you were last night, just like she said, a small place that looks like a two bedroom.

“I got it from my parents,” She explains as she leads you inside, locking the door behind you. “When they passed.” You’re not sure what to say at that but the moment passes. Mikasa leads you to the couch.

Now what?

“So,” You start, barely getting the word out before her lips are pressed against yours, pushing you back onto the couch. Her mouth is firm on yours, insistent. Her hands are on you, sliding down your sides, teasing your thighs under the hem of your dress. Her mouth moves to your neck, biting and kissing and sucking her way down.

It’s a lot, almost too much. You want to tell her to stop, to slow down a little but Mikasa presses forward, your dress sliding up as she slides down between your legs. The shadows on the wall dance in a weird way, that doesn’t seem to move with the way the lights are. You can’t voice anything as Mikasa’s mouth covers your pussy, mouthing at it over your underwear. Her spit wets the fabric, her tongue dragging over your clit, making your eyes roll back. Your fingers curl into fists at your side, legs spreading wider to accommodate her shoulders- which you realize seem too wide now.

You’re so close when your eyes finally open and you look down.

Mikasa isn’t between your legs.

Whatever’s taken her place isn’t human, the face looks human enough but his body (and he’s definitely a him- you think you almost recognize him) blends in with the shadow, tentacles sliding up behind him, reaching out for you.

“Hello,” The monster says, ignoring the way you scream. You manage to twist free, catching him by surprise as your hand shoots out to scratch right at his eyes. You’re on your feet, running as you hear two voices call out your name.

But your shoes, your stupid strappy sandals- your ankle rolls in them and then something grabs you before you fall completely, your head slamming against the front door as everything does dark.

“Wake up,” A harsh voice commands you. It’s a growl, in human and it seems to be inside of your head. You ignore it, trying to roll over, thinking you’re dreaming but you can’t move. That makes your eyes shoot open.

“You’re up!” The monster is looming over you, using it’s many tentacles to hold you down. Your clothes are gone, the cold air biting at your skin. You’re not even sure how it’s this cold inside of a bedroom, one that looks to be incredibly decorated as well. There’s a chair in the corner, a plush blanket under you. It almost looks like a hotel room.

“Mikasa brought you just for me,” It tells you , leaning in close, his tongue coming out to lick at your throat. “You’re so sweet, I can’t wait to play with you, can’t wait to eat you right up!”

“Let- let go of me!” You shout, trying to make your voice as loud as possible. Maybe a neighbor will hear you. Maybe the monster doesn’t like loud noises. “Mikasa!”

“You can scream all you want, nobody is coming to save you,” The monster seems to delight in the way his cruel words make you cry. “It’s just me and you.” It pauses. “Maybe I’ll let Mikasa play with you a little too, before I kill you. She really liked you, she almost didn’t want to give you to me.”

He leans closer, speaking into your ear, rancid breath sweeping over you, “But I insisted. And she won’t ever deny me.”

“Eren,” Mikasa’s voice comes from the door way, “There’s no need to be cruel.” She’s not looking at you at all, looking rapturously at the monster on top of you. She looks in awe, in love even.

And not even slightly afraid of him.

“You know they taste better when they’re afraid, Mikasa, how many times do I have to tell you that?” The monster, Eren, snaps at her, hardly giving her a second glance. A tentacle creeps up your leg, twisting around it, the tip grazing over your cunt. A shudder of revulsion runs through you when it taps your clit, sending a spark of pleasure through you. “It’s better when they fight it. It always is.”

“Whatever you say, Eren,” Mikasa gives a sigh, taking up the seat you saw before. She’s wearing sweat pants now, a sports bra, looking like she’s just came in from working out. There’s a light sweat on her skin.

“Going to watch this time?” Eren asks, shifting so he’s to your side now, his tentacles holding you open, putting you on display. You try to close your legs but he’s too strong, his grip too tight. “Normally you don’t. Is this one special?”

“You know as well as I do that she’s just like the rest of them,” Mikasa says, and that, more than anything is what breaks you. A sob tears from your throat, as reality comes crashing in. You’re nothing more than a mark- she was never really into you at all.

Of course, you think, why would anybody like her be into someone like you?

More of his tentacles come up, holding your pussy open to their gazes. Despite her harsh words Mikasa has a hard time looking away from it. Eren’s tentacles are softer than they look as one circles your clit, drawing wetness from you no matter how much you tell yourself you don’t want this.

The tip of the tentacle is insistent though, circling your clit with more pressure until your hips jump up, chasing after it when Eren moves it back. He laughs, mocking and mean, before returning to his ministrations. He’s not soft in the way he touches you, one tentacle coming up to start to slowly push it’s way inside of you. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever taken before and it hurts.

“Stop,” You whine, hips twisting away from him as much as you can, “It hurts, please, stop!”

“I’ll stop when I’ve had my fill,” Eren replies, his voice mockingly sweet as the tentacle rams into you, splitting you open. The one circling your clit has left, leaving you reeling as your mind focuses in on the pain. The pace he sets is brutal, and his tentacle doesn’t feel like a cock or any of your toys. It squirms inside of you, pushing upwards along your front wall until-

“Fuck!” You wail now, thrashing on the bed. Eren smiles, and Mikasa gives a little whimper. You manage to look at her only to see her sat low in the chair, her own legs spread, with one of her hands down the front of her sweats, clearly touching herself while the other works at one of her nipples. “Please!”

“I knew you would beg,” Eren sounds delighted, “They always beg!” Your words seem to be what he was waiting for- the tentacle returns to your clit while the other attacks that spongy spot inside of you. You’re crying outright now, absolutely sobbing with- with everything, really. Your cries are of pleasure, of pain, of fear, of ecstasy. You cum harder than you ever have in your entire life.

But Eren doesn’t stop.

He keeps going, now moving to to lap up your juices with his tongue, cleaning you as one orgasm trips into the next, and then another. You can’t tell if you ever really come down from one. It’s too much, it hurts again, and you don’t want this- you know you don’t want this, you want him to stop and-

You pass out, somewhere after what you think is an hour, if not more. Your mind blissfully goes blank, locking you away behind a door, away from your fractured reality.

People are talking above you, in quiet, hushed tones.

“We can’t keep her.”

“You said you just wanted a snack tonight, Eren. Not.. not that.”

“She’ll go to the police.”

“They won’t believe her, you know that. They didn’t believe Historia.”

“Historia was a child.”

“I’ll convince her she fell asleep or something, you know I can.”

“Fine. But Mikasa?”

“Yes?”

“Next time she’s mine.”

You don’t hear anything after that.

“Hey,” Mikasa is by your side. You’re back on her couch, clothes in place. You jerk up, away from her, looking for signs of what happened but there’s nothing. You don’t see any bruising. You feel sore between your legs, but nothing that would match what you went through. “You fell asleep. After we fucked.”

That’s not true, you know it isn’t true but the only other explanation doesn’t make sense. Monsters aren’t real. You weren’t… assaulted by one. Mikasa has to be right.

“Oh,” You struggle to sit up, feeling sluggish. “I’m sorry. I’m normally not like that.” The smile on Mikasa’s face is warm, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I think I need to go home. I don’t feel so good. Can you take me?”

“Sure, of course,” Mikasa sounds relieved. That’s good, you think, she’s not mad at you. It must have been awkward for her when you fell asleep, had that nightmare. It felt so real. She helps you gather up your things. One of the straps on your sandal is broken. You’re not sure how but it’s a short walk to her car, you can go barefoot.

She starts it up, already talking to you about meeting up again, maybe next week if you want? You tell her it sounds nice, that you had a really good time tonight. You can’t tell how she’s lying through her teeth.

You give her home one last look as she pulls the car away.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think the shadow in the window had a face, that it waved at you.

But you know better.

Monsters aren’t real.

[just-my-fandom]

Death Awaits (Vanya Hargreeves x Reader)

Summary; When Vanya Hargreeves wife is put in a coma thanks to Hazel and Cha-Cha, the apocalypse arises. The other Hargreeve siblings must do all they can to stop the apocalypse, starting with making sure Y/N wakes up from her coma.

Request; Umbrella Academy Vanya story- where reader isn’t apart of the 43 children but she has powers, and she is with Vanya when Cha Cha and Hazel attack the manor, and she helps the others fight them off-her powers being able to control earth, and water, and air to where she can like cut off people’s breaths lmao fiesty- but Cha Cha gets a shot at the reader and Vanya has to watch the reader collapse with blood loss? Thanksss

Request 2; I know you said you haven’t watched Season 2 yet (Or even finished Season 1) but AH please write a story with Vanya where the reader somehow finds Vanya after they are thrown into the 1960s and Reader actually lands with Vanya and she’s scared Vanya won’t remember her?

Warning(s); Gunshots, fighting, near death, angst.

A/N; I finally finished the show! I had a lot of fun doing this story. It is EXTREMELY long. Sorry.

Another A/N; Leonard is JUST A FRIEND. Like, reader and Vanyas best friend kinda shit.

Date started; Demember 16, 2020

Date published; December 16, 2020

. . .

“Too high,”

Vanya grunts in slight irritation at your comment. Her hand slides up her violin to fix the miss-pitch of her note, eyes barely glancing at where you sat on her bed in the manor.

Your legs gently swayed, wearing black riding boots- acquaintanced with a checkered shirt you had bought not too long ago with dark jeans. Leaning on your knees, you watch as Vanya repeated her line of notes, smiling when the wrong note is now fixed,

A slight jerk of her hand causes Vanyas note to hit too low, her shoulders dropping in defeat as she huffs a breath, “It’s never right,”

“Not if you give up that easily,” You raise an eyebrow, your wife copying your motion, “Breathe, baby. You’ve got this. There’s no one else in the room but me,”

Vanya smiles, tilting her head down before raising her violin to her shoulder, starting from where she had first messed up.

A muffled gunshot directs your attention to the door, going unheard by your wife due to the music right against her ear, so when she sees your brows pinch and your body move to stand up, she stops to watch, “What is it?”

On cue, two more gunshots ring, louder, Vanya setting her violin down gently enough despite being in a rush, following after you with you already feet ahead,

You skid to a stop at the bottom of the stairway, two masked figures standing back to back with Luther on one side, Diego on the other, and Allison opposite of you,

“Stay back,” You demand to the woman behind you, Vanyas eyes shifting to the back of your head before she steps back, moving to the empty hall feet from her,

You move three steps forward before raising a hand, fingers curling as you watch the earth under you raise, the masked killers looking down when the ground cracks beneath their feet, both pushing away from each other to avoid being dropped into the earths crust, now raising their guns to you,

A gust of wind forces their guns into the air and behind them, free hand raising to throw off their masks, revealing one male, and one female,

Your fingers clench on your left hand to wrap an invisible field around the males neck, his hands instantly raising in reflex in an attempt to pry the false pressure off,

Before the woman could run back for her gun, a bubble of water wraps around her head, and the Hargreeves siblings are forced to watch her hold her breath in a panic,

“What do you want?” You hiss, moving closer to slightly drop the water from her mouth, allowing her to gasp in a choked breath,

“We just want the boy,” Cha-Cha spits, your eyes narrowing- Five. “And we’ll be on our merry way,”

“Well he’s not here,” You flick your hand to where Cha-Cha is thrown back into the wall, turning your attention to the male, Hazel. He has now turned blue due to his circulation for air being cut off, a slight smile in your face.

You drop your hand so Hazel dropped forward with his hands on his knees, gasps wheezed as he coughs and hacks for air. You lift both hands so walls of rocks came from the ground, pinning at his sides so he yelled in pain at the pressure of his body.

Then you feel it. Vanya sees it. They all see it. Your powers screech to a halt when the bullet pierces the front of your shoulder, the bolders dropping to release Hazel to collapse, your eyes widening when you see Cha-Cha lower her used gun.

Diego is first to lunge forward, catching the top half of your body before you could fully collapse, your vision already falling black before Vanya could make it to your side,

“Y/N!” Vanyas voice is high pitched, breathy, in alert, “Oh my God,”

“Get Grace,” Luther demands, jabbing his finger to Allison, who stood in high alert,

“Now!” Diego and Vanya shout, Vanya pulling off her button up so she was left in her sweater, pressing the button up to where your white and black shirt was already stained dark red,

Vanya forces herself to look up to your face, eyes shut and skin pale, Diego’s finger pressing to your neck in search for a pulse,

“We can’t wait for Grace,” He hisses, moving to lift you off the debris littered floor, Vanya following, staring at the blood that stained the ends of her sleeves,

She’s quick to follow after her brother, the robot she called her mother calmly waving Diego into the medical room that had been used too many times, Diego lowering your body into the table so Grace cut the front of your shirt, revealing the bullet wound that Vanya forced herself to look away from,

“Pogo,” Grace calls, softly, pulling on gloves as she glanced to the ape, “Please escort the children out,”

“Wait,” Vanya pleas, brows pinched as she steps up to the table, but Diego is swift to catch her at her front, leading her backwards to the door Luther and Allison stood, “I need to be with her,”

“Grace has excellent medical experience. Miss Y/N is in great hands,” Pogo reassures, Vanyas eyes snapping up to your face, before she allows the door to shut, her chest tight with fear.

. . .

“I always knew your family having powers was weird,” Leonard lowers his steaming cup from his lips, frowning, “But now it’s just scary,”

“I know,” Vanya murmurs, stirring her cup mindlessly, “Y/N was just trying to protect my family,”

“How-,” Leonard clears his throat, “How is she? By the way,”

“She’s resting. At home. She hasn’t woken up yet,” Vanya shuts her eyes, pressing her hands to her eyelids, “My tryouts for the front chair is this afternoon. I don’t know if I can do it,”

“Dont do that,” Leonard shakes his head, Vanya lowering her hands to pinch her brows, “Dont put yourself down because Y/N isn’t physically here. Just,” Leonard pauses, hand waving in thought, “Is there anything that Y/Ns ever said that just- stuck to you?”

“Breathe, baby. You’ve got this. There’s no one else in the room but me,”

Vanya smiles, nodding, slowly, “Yeah. Just this one thing. It’s always been a constant reminder she gives me when I’m rehearsing. No one else but her is in the room. Even when someone else really is in the room,”

“See?” Leonard chuckles, sipping the last bit of his coffee, “Y/N gives off that effect to make you believe what she says. She knows it’s a sense of comfort for you,”

“She’s always been good at that,” Vanya murmurs, watching Leonard set down his mug and nudge her arm, standing up,

“C’mon. I’ll walk you home. We can get your apartment nice and cozy for when Y/N gets back,”

. . .

“What is your name again?”

Vanya regrets it. She regrets everything. Coming to this audition, letting you nearly give your life for her family. She regrets it.

“Vanya,” She cant stop how low her voice is, but the conductors booming, louder, please, demands her to state, “Vanya Hargreeves,” Four notes higher.

“Right,” The conductor clicks his tongue, looking up at Vanya on the stage which makes her want to run off, “Well?”

“Breathe, baby,” Vanya nearly hears you say, as she lifts her violin to her shoulder, “You’ve got this,” She raises her bow, “There’s no one else in the room but me,” And plays,

She finishes her last note with a pause, terrified of opening her eyes, but when she does and sees the conductor staring at her in awe, she can’t help the breath she lets out, head tilting back with a smile of relief.

She had gotten the front chair.

. . .

A short gasp enters your lips. Whining out in pain, you force your head to the side. Home. How did you get here? The academy-

You sit up, shortly, crying out at the sting of pain it caused to your shoulder, eyes pinching shut before you raise your head, looking around.

“Three new voice messages,” The voicebox of your phone startles you to cover your face, heaving out an exhausted breath, “Hey, Y/N. Just checking on you in case you wake up and I’m not home,” Vanyas voice speaks, your head raising. “I’m currently at rehearsal, on March 29th, about four in the afternoon. I love you. Call the Academy or the theater if I’m not home,”

“Y/N, it’s Allison. I haven’t heard from you, not sure if you had woken up. But if you have, please call me back. Vanyas went missing. I think she’s with Leonard,”

“Leonard?” You push off the bed, stumbling into the kitchen. You lean against the wall beside the phone, running a hand down your face. Vanyas keys were gone. As was her violin,

“Hey, Y/N?” Diego’s voice comes next, “You remember that apocalypse? Yeah. Vanyas the cause. Get your shit together and meet us at the theater the night of the concert. We need you,”

Your eyes widen, flickering around for your shoes before you grab your keys, moving out the door with a shaky hand on the door, “That’s tonight,”

. . .

“What the hells going on?” Your voice startles four of the Hargreeve siblings to turn around, all watching you rub your patched shoulder,

“Y/N!” Klaus cheers, arms up, “Youre awake!”

“Vanya has powers,” Luther hisses, your eyes flicking to him, “She’s out of control, starting with slicing Allison’s neck,” He jabs a finger to said woman, where you see a patch at her neck,

“Why are we here?” You exhale, Diego stepping up,

“The apocalypse starts today. And you had hell of fucking timing waking up. You’re going to be our distraction,”

“Distraction, how?” You demand, Allison holding up her finger before jotting down words on her notepad,

She’s been scared you wouldn’t wake up. She may calm if she sees you.

“What triggered them?”

“Leonard?” Diego questions, “Yeah. He manipulated her for her powers. Good thing he’s dead now, huh?”

“Leonard’s dead?” You hiss, Luther shaking his head at you,

“We don’t have time. You need to go. Vanya needs to see you,”

You nod, shaking your arms out and wincing at the pull it gave your shoulder, moving forward to the entrance to the audience.

Your footsteps remain slow as you move down the walkway, eyes firm on Vanyas seated figure at the front of the stage. Her eyes remained a bright blue- nearly white, on her paper.

Her eyes flick up at the sight of movement, meeting your own so you stop your footsteps, smiling tearfully at where she sat. Her lips pull into her own smile, pausing slightly,

“There’s no one else in the room but me,”

Her hand is quick to catch up to her song, your feet moving back down the walkway, screeching to another halt when her head snaps to the side, in time for Diego and Luther to rush out onto the stage,

You watch in alarm as she stands up, a wave of blue thrown off her bow so Diego and Luther are knocked off the stage, the audience around you shrieking in fear and running off in large groups,

“Vanya!” You call, over the panicked shouts of the men and women around you, moving up to the stage, “Baby! I’m here!”

Her glowing eyes force themselves to look down at you, waving her bow so the musicians behind her sat back down, her jaw clenching,

“Y/N, get down!” A rough tug on your injured arm causes you to cry out, Vanyas eyes opening to see Diego pull you behind a row of seats, your back falling against his chest with a short gasp, your hand pressing to your shoulder,

“I need to get to her!” You heave, looking across the walkway to Luther and Allison, “She’ll listen to me!”

Allison shakes her head, gesturing to her own arm. “Screw the gunshot wound,” You hiss, Diego’s attempt to catch your arm when you stand up failing, where you stand in the middle of the walkway,

Luther and his siblings are quick to surround you, “Here’s how it goes!” Luther starts, “We go at her from all angles,”

“I call front,” You state, moving around him to jump onto the stage, stopping feet from your wife, “Vanya!” You plea, hand up as she continued to play, her suit now white, “Baby- it’s me! I’m okay!”

Her eyes don’t leave yours as you take another step forward, before she raises her bow, your body quick to drop before the wave of blue could hit you, the four boys behind you lifted into the air, her power quick to suck the life from their bodies,

You look up in a panic, pushing to stand up in a rush, crying out when a gunshot rings through, dropping the four brothers to the ground. Your arms jolt out to catch Vanyas fallen figure, your shoulder screaming in pain as you lower yourself to your knees, Vanyas head rested in your lap,

“Vanya!” You cry, hand running down her hair as your free pressed to her neck, “No! No, baby-,”

Your sob cuts short when feeling her pulse and no blood, looking up at Allison behind you with a false gun in her hand. “You didn’t shoot her,” You choke out, looking back down to the woman in your hands, “Oh, my god,”

You lean down, lips pressing to Vanyas forehead, sniffling as you clutched her hand in yours on her chest, “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re okay,”

“We did it,” Luther heaves, Klaus moving to point at the window in the ceiling,

“Then what’s with the giant moon rock flying towards earth?”

You look up, eyes blurred with tears, sniffling as you look back down to your wife, fingers tucking her hair away from her eyes.

“So much for saving the world,” Klaus mumbles, your head leaning against Vanyas as your eyes shut, hiccuping.

“This doesn’t have to be the end,” Five rushes, moving next to you and Allison knelt by you, “I have a way out of here. I just need you to trust me,”

“Five,” You call, now looking at him, “I trust you,”

You feel your body lift off the stage, Vanyas body leaving your arms so you flailed in mid air, yelping when you are dropped onto the concrete just seconds later

Dallas, Texas, 1963

“Shit,” You whisper, looking up at where the blue vortex vanished, “Shit. Shit! Vanya!”

“Miss?” You look over, to a blonde woman standing with her son, panic on her face, “I have a woman saying her names Vanya. Might she be who you’re looking for?”

“Oh my gosh,” You mutter, nodding as you push off the floor and follow her to her car, where you see two bystanders helping Vanya off the floor, “Hey! Vanya, are you okay?”

“I think so,” She murmurs, taking your arms as she stands, her eyes flicking to your patched chest, “What happened to you?”

“You don’t remember?” You whisper, brows furrowed, your hand sliding to her cheek. You turn to face the woman from before, “Ma’am, do you have somewhere we can go? She needs to be checked up on,”

“Did I cause it?” The woman, Sissy, panics, moving up to you, “I didn’t see her, I swear,”

“It’s okay,” You breathe, and look back to Vanya, your eyes teary, “You’re okay,”

She nods, warily, letting Sissy move you to her car.

. . .

“I’m sorry, I still don’t understand,” Vanya exhales, leaning forward on the couch you both sat on in Sissy’s house, “We’re married?”

“Yes,” You nod, licking your lips in fear, “Is that okay? We- we don’t have to,” You pull your hand from where you reached for her own, Vanya shaking her head as she takes your hand, tightly,

“No- I mean- yes, it’s okay,” She smiles, your own lips pulling upwards, tiredly. You lean forward, allowing your forehead to knock hers.

“You two look like you’ve had a long day,” Sissy speaks up, handing you a cup of (favorite/warm/drink), “I only have one guest bedroom,”

“I can take the couch,” You heave, reassuringly, Vanyas brows pinching as she tugs at your hand,

“We can share, Y/N,”

“You barely remember me,” You murmur, clenching your jaw and laughing, tearily, “Why would you want to sleep with a woman who you don’t know?”

“I may not know you but I trust you,” Vanya states, raising your hand and hers to show the rings you had, “You say we’re married. I will keep trying to regain my memories as long as I can to remember our wedding day,”

Your eyes flick up to hers, smiling, weakly, with a nod, sniffling as tears began to refill your eyes. Your hand raises to wipes your cheek, Vanyas smile dropping in worry as her hand touches your jaw, directing your attention to her, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” You whisper, shaking your head, “It’s just been a very long day,”

You suck in a deep breath and sniff, looking up at Sissy who smiled, sympathetically, “Do you kind if I borrow your shower? And maybe some help rewrapping this?” You lift your bandaged shoulder, Vanyas hand falling from your face to her lap as Sissy nods, gesturing you to follow her down the hall.

You run a hand through your damp hair, silently shutting the bedroom door behind you,

Your eyes shift to Vanya on the bed, resting in a pair of Sissy’s clothing, same as you, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” You move to the bed, Vanya looking up at you- finally seeing the exhaustion in your eyes. What had happened to you today?

“Of course,” Your wife murmurs, extending her hand for you to take so you slide underneath the covers,

“I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” You whisper, now on your side to face her, “You don’t even know me,”

“But I feel like I do,” Vanya corrects, watching as the tear in your eye slipped from the corner and down your nose, “I’m trying to understand, but I can’t do that without you,”

Your lips purse to stop the sob in your throat, hand raising to cover your pinched eyes. “Hey,” Vanya panics, shaking her head as she slides her hand to the back of your head, guiding you to rest against her chest, “No no, please don’t cry. I’m sorry,”

You let your arm slide to her backside, tightly, hiccuping against the skin of her collarbone, “No, I’m sorry. I’m so emotional and tired, and I want things to go back to normal,”

“I know,” Vanya brushes her lips against your hair, her free hand dragging her nails soothingly across your upper back, “We don’t have to talk about it anymore. What do you want me to do?”

A pause, “Just hold me,” You whisper, leaning your head back to look at her, “Please,”

Vanya nods, quickly, her eyes flicking to your lips before she looks back up to your eyes, your body pushing forward to force your lips against hers.

Vanya exhales sharply against your mouth, her fingers tightening in your hair as you peck her lips, once, twice, barely pulling away so you still felt her breath on your skin,

“I love you, Vanya. I wish I could’ve helped you,”

Vanyas brows pinch, wanting to question what you had meant, but she only finds herself pulling you back in, allowing her lips to recollide with your own, slow against the darkness of the bedroom.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

The Scent of Cigarette Smoke

Summary: Arrow House has been in Ally’s mother’s family for a hundred years. For the first time, she’s going to visit her uncle who lives there. While she’s spending her summer holiday there, she realizes quickly that Arrow House is haunted. And not just by anyone, but by her great-great grandfather, notorious Brummie gangster, Tommy Shelby. 

//This was something meant for Halloween but kept being delayed. I hope you all enjoy it, I know it’s much different from my other fics but it was just something stuck in my mind for a while.

            Ally’s uncle lived in a mansion. At least, that’s what her father said when he ranted about unequal wealth. It was true that Ally’s father came from a working-class family while her mother was a part of a family that came from old money.

            “Got that whole fucking house all to himself. Fucking wanker. No one on this godforsaken Earth needs a house that big.”

            Ally had never been there before but she’d seen pictures of the house. They called it Arrow House and it had been in the Shelby family for over a hundred years. There were little whispers about how the Shelbys acquired their wealth, way back when. But Ally figured they were all funny little stories.

            Despite her father’s resentment, Ally accepted an invitation to stay at her uncle’s for the summer. He said if she helped with the horses, he would pay her as well as giving her free lodging. It was too sweet of a deal to pass up as a university student.

                       Arrow House was much more imposing in person than it was in pictures. When she pulled up the drive, her uncle came out to greet her.

            “Ally!” He exclaimed, hugging her tight.

            She enjoyed her uncle’s company. He was the youngest of her mother’s siblings so he wasn’t so stuffy and snobbish like most of that side of the family. She knew he was a good man with a good sense of humor. "Wow, Uncle Charlie, this place is incredible!" She remarked.

            “Come in, I'll show you around the place,” He took her bags to lead her inside.

~~~~~~~~~           

            After a grand tour of the estate that was in the middle of renovations, Ally’s uncle excused himself to talk to one of the people helping with the house. She made herself at home one of the guest bedrooms. Although everything was a little dated, it had a charm to it. She just couldn’t imagine living there all on her own.

            As she unpacked, she suddenly got a very strong whiff of cigarette smoke passing by her. She frowned and looked around to see where such a scent would be coming from. The windows were closed, as was the door. She put down the shirt in her hand and walked around the room to investigate. But the smell disappeared as suddenly as it came and she couldn’t detect any sources of where it may have come from. But throughout the rest of the day, she kept getting fleeting whiffs of cigarettes all throughout the house.

            That same night, Ally called her mother.

            “Does Uncle Charlie smoke?”

            “Smoke? No of course not. Our grandad smoked and it killed him. Charlie would never do the same.”

~~~~~~~~~           

            After a few days, it was driving Ally mad so she approached her uncle about it.        

            “I keep smelling cigarettes. Have you noticed that?” She asked as they were making dinner together in the massive kitchen.

            He got an amused look on his face when she brought it up. “Oh, that’s just Tommy.”

            “Who?”

            He chuckled and shook his head. “Did your mum really not tell you about the ghost that lives here?”

            “Ghost?” It didn’t sound completely outlandish. The old estate would be a prime spot for ghosts, but it was still a shock. She’d never had an other-worldly encounter before. She wasn’t even sure she believed in ghosts.

            “Keep going with this.” He wiped his hands on his jeans. “I’ll be right back.” He said before heading upstairs to retrieve something.

            Alone and now with the knowledge that she might be in the presence of a ghost, Ally felt a chill go down her spine. She looked over her shoulder and almost expected to see some shadowy figure standing in the corner, but there was no one there.

            Charlie returned and set a big book on the counter. “Here we are.” He flipped to a page and showed her. “Your great-great-grandfather bought this house in the ’20s. His name was Thomas Shelby. He was a gangster who made his money as a bookie initially.” Charlie pointed to the family tree. “He had two children, my grandfather Charlie. Your great-grandfather.”

            “Oh…” Ally wasn’t sure she knew the origin of her uncle’s name. And she certainly didn’t know about her great-great-grandfather.

            “We’re having one of his portraits restored. But there’s still one of him on the stairs with his first wife Grace and Charlie.” He said. “Go take a look, I’ll finish up here.”

            Curious, Ally left what she was doing and went to the foyer. There were many pictures and portraits but one of the largest ones was hard to ignore. A massive family portrait of a young woman with blonde hair holding a little boy in her lap. Beside them was a man who hardly looked like a gangster. Just a well-dressed man typical of the times. But there was something in his blue eyes that held a secret. Perhaps something he took to the grave.

            As she stood on the stairs, she picked up the scent of cigarettes passing her. Then, she heard a loud sound from upstairs. Although gripped with fear, she went up to the room she was staying in. That’s where she found her suitcase had been knocked over. “What the hell…”

            Grace.

            The deep whisper was clear as day in her ear. So much so that, Ally let out a scream. She ran as fast as her legs would carry her out of the room and downstairs. She let out another shriek when she ran into a solid form.

            “Whoa, whoa!” Her uncle steadied her with his hands on her shoulders. “What’s all the screaming about?”

            “I heard someone! I swear to God I heard someone speak to me.”

            “Did he have a real deep voice?” Charlie didn’t even bat an eye.

            “Y-yeah.” She nodded; her eyes still wide with terror.

            “That’s what I told ya, it’s Tommy. Maybe he’s taken a liking to you, took him years to say anything to me. What did he say to you?”

            Ally’s eyes went up to the portrait on the stairs. A chill went up her spine. “He said, Grace.”

            “Maybe he mistook you for her.”

            “Uncle Charlie, are you hearing yourself?” She scoffed in an exasperated tone. “I mean, ghosts?”

            He just shrugged. “Did you hear someone speaking to you or not?” He questioned.

            Ally was certain she heard the voice. She knew what he said to her. She heard the Birmingham accent in his deep voice. It was clear as day. Yet, admitting that to her uncle and to herself would mean she was admitting ghosts were real. She wasn’t sure she was ready to accept such a wild idea.

            “C’mon, dinner’s just about ready.”  

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Ally was terrified to go to bed that night. She considered asking if Charlie would stay up with her, but then she remembered she was a grown adult. She was perfectly capable of handling herself. Even if ghosts were real, what could they do to her? Aside from horror movies…

            She shivered and pulled the comforter closer to her. The big house was so drafty, it wasn’t helping the eerie feeling she felt in her bones. In the darkness, she was starting to see things in the shadows.

            Then, she smelled cigarette smoke pass by her again.

            Grace.

            Ally yelped and buried her head under the covers. “I’m not afraid, I’m not afraid, I’m not afraid. You’re not real.” She said over and over again. “Ghosts aren’t real.”

~~~~~~~~~~           

            She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep. For a good part of the night, Ally was awake, jumping at every little noise the old house-made. She realized she must’ve just passed out from exhaustion. Peeking out from under the covers, she found sunlight pouring in through the window. She sighed with relief. Ghosts weren’t scary during the daytime.

            After checking her phone to see it was nearly noon, Ally got dressed for the day. Downstairs, she found her uncle having lunch.

            “There you are, thought you were going to sleep the whole night away.” He commented with a smile. “I was about to check on you.”

            “Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night.” She admitted.

            “Did Tommy keep you up?”

            Her shoulders fell. There was no denying it anymore. Her uncle’s house was haunted. “Yes.” She mumbled.

            “Nothing to be afraid of.” He assured her. “Tommy’s a gentle ghost. Probably just wondering who you are. My advice, talk to him.”

            She gave him a look. “Talk to myself, you mean?”

            He chuckled. “Alright, I don’t want you going back to your mum telling her I’m crazy. She knows about Tommy too. She’s had her fair amount of experiences with him.”

            “No one has ever told me about any of this!” She protested.

            “Well, some people in the family don’t like talking about him. They don’t think his methods of business were very savory. But I know everyone’s had at least one encounter with him.” Charlie said with a shrug.

            Ally ran a hand through her hair, still trying to let the idea of ghosts sink in. “I’m going to go to the stables.”

            “Careful, Tommy wanders out there too,” Charlie called after her as she went to the back door.

            “Of course, he does!” She shouted back.  

 ~~~~~~~~

            Ally didn’t have any run-ins with Tommy in the stables. She got to know the other grooms who worked there and they all told her tales. There was consistency with her experience. The smell of cigarette smoke and a deep voice whispering to them.

            It got her thinking about why Tommy would be hanging around his old estate. Maybe there was something unfinished in his life, that’s why ghosts were stuck on Earth, right? She felt like she was making up a story in her head to try and explain it all away.

            After dinner, Ally sat on her bed with her laptop. She did some research on ghosts, scoffing at some of the theories and furrowing her brow with puzzlement at others.

            Around ten o’clock, she caught the scent of cigarettes coming into the room from the hallway. She was trembling as she put down her laptop and got off her bed.

            “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” She whispered to herself as she stepped out into the hallway where the smell was stronger. “He’s your great-great-grandfather, he won’t hurt you.” Her hands shook as she turned on her phone’s flashlight and held it up to see the end of the hallway.

            Her heart stopped beating when she saw a misty form pass right through a door. Instinct told her to run, but bravery pushed her forward.

            She continued down the hallway and stopped at the door where she saw the figure. She attempted to open it but it was locked. The scent of cigarettes eventually disappeared.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

            The next morning, Ally brought this up to her uncle. “There’s a locked door upstairs.”

            “Mhm, that’s Grace’s room.” He answered.

            “Grace, the woman in the portrait?” She recalled.

            “Right. Tommy’s first wife was murdered. The room was left exactly how it was the day she died. I decided not to renovate it, just to let it be. Out of respect, you know? Sometimes, we’ll go in and clean a bit, just to make sure there are no damp or pests.”

            “Can I see it?” Ally asked hesitantly.

            “Sure. It’s quite the sight, everything left as it was from the ’20s. You finish eating, I’ll go get the key.”

~~~~~~~~~~~           

            Upstairs, Charlie opened the door and let his niece inside. It smelled musty and old, but the appearance was almost like stepping through a time machine. Everything was pristinely kept as it was when Grace left it. As Ally explored, she found Grace’s dresses and makeup. There was a pair of heels left by the vanity, the pair that Grace decided not to wear to the gala the night she was killed.

            It was overwhelming and Ally felt a deep sadness come over her. “He must have loved her very much.” She said quietly.

            “People said he was never the same after she died,” Charlie remarked, swiping a bit of dust off the windowsill.

            “Could you leave the room open, just for tonight? I want to try something.” Ally asked.

            “Sure, just be mindful. Everything is very fragile because of how old it is.”

            “I won’t mess anything up, I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~ 

            Later that night, Ally made her way to Grace’s room. She continued to breathe deeply to keep her nerves under control.

            She closed the door and turned on a flashlight that her uncle had lent her for the occasion. She sat down on the floor, not wanting to damage any of the furniture.

            After a few more breaths, she began to speak out loud. “My name is Ally. I’m your great-great-granddaughter. I’m here to visit my Uncle Charlie. He was named after your son. I saw the portrait of you and your family by the stairs. Your wife, Grace, was beautiful. I’m sorry about what happened to her.”

            Goosebumps formed on her arms when she caught the now familiar smell of cigarettes.

            “I just wanted to know if there’s anything you wanted to do before you died? Unfinished business that maybe I could help you with.” She waited in the silence for a painful five minutes. Then the scent got stronger.

             Jewelry box.

            Ally could hear him perfectly. It drove a chill up her spine but she persisted. “A jewelry box?” She stood and panned the flashlight around the room until she found Grace’s vanity. On top was an ornate jewelry box. “Do you…do you want me to open it?” She was hesitant to break the untouched nature of the room. Plus, she wasn’t looking to anger any ghosts.

            Inside.

            Taking that as a yes, she carefully unlatched the box and peered inside. The only pieces of jewelry inside were two rings. One was a man’s gold wedding band; the other was a woman’s engagement ring. She picked up the band first and turned it over in her palm.

            Inside, Ally found an inscription

            TS

            So, it was Tommy’s ring. It was in good shape seeing as he and Grace weren’t married that long, so there was no weathering of the metal.

            “I don’t understand, what do you want me to do with these?” She asked out loud.

            There was another moment of silence, then a louder whisper spoke out.              Bury.

            “Oh.” She came to realize what his disembodied voice was trying to get her to understand. “You want me to bring these to your grave? To bury them there?”

            But there was no answer. The room began to smell more like dust and mothballs again instead of cigarettes.

            Ally placed the wedding band back in the jewelry box and left it there. She would tell her uncle about it the next day, then he could decide what to do. In the meantime, she took her flashlight and left to let Tommy be at peace for a bit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

            “Huh.” Charlie looked a little confused. “You think that’s going to make him…disappear or move on?”

            “I don’t know. At least it might make him happy.” Ally shrugged. “It’s worth a try. If it doesn’t do anything, we can always go get the rings back. I mean, they aren’t really doing anything just sitting up there.” She pointed out.

            “I suppose you’re right.” Her uncle nodded. “No one’s really marked them as heirlooms. I think some people are under the impression that the rings are cursed.” 

            “Well, maybe this will make them uncursed or whatever. Where is Tommy buried?” She wondered.

            “At the village church, not too far from here. It’s where he and Grace got married. They’re buried next to each other. His second wife, Lizzie, is buried there too.”

            “Would you come with me?”

            “Sure, let’s go tomorrow after we finish taking care of the horses in the morning. We can take a ride out. It’s a nice trail, not too far.”

            “Alright.” Ally smiled. She felt as if she was doing something good. Something that had been unfinished for a very long time. There was no telling what would happen, but she hoped maybe, she could help Tommy Shelby rest. She just didn’t know how monumental that was.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

            That night, Ally slipped back into Grace’s room. “Hello.” She called out shyly as she moved toward the vanity. “I talked to my uncle and he said it was alright if we did what you asked. Would you mind if I take the rings now? I’ll keep them safe until we get there.”

            There was no answer and she couldn’t smell any cigarette smoke nearby. For a moment, she was worried that she had done something wrong. Could she have scared him off? Determined, Ally gathered the jewelry box with the rings and headed outside. Maybe she could find Tommy out in the stables as Charlie had said.

            Almost like magic, she opened the stable doors and was hit with a whiff of cigarettes. “Hello?” She called out.

            A few horses stuck their heads out of their stalls to see who was waking them up in the middle of the night.

            Ally walked down the stable aisle, heading toward where the scent was strongest even amongst the smell of horses and hay. She stopped at the last stall on the left, one that had been empty ever since she arrived that summer.

            The nameplate on the stall door was extremely weathered and looked as old as the rest of the stables were.

            Dangerous

            Ally hadn’t thought about the empty stall much. She figured it might be a horse that was out showing somewhere prestigious. Her uncle said that a lot of their horses came from good stock and were leased out by world-class riders to be shown across the country.

            “So…I’m going to take the rings to the church tomorrow.” She said out loud, hoping Tommy was there. “My uncle said it was okay.” She lingered around the empty stall for a few moments before catching a chill. “I’ll be going tomorrow, good night.”

            Good night, she had wished a ghost goodnight.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

            After feeding the horses and letting them out, Charlie and Ally tacked up two horses to take to the church. Ally hadn’t ridden a horse in a while so her uncle set her up with a calm mare who was perfect to take for a trail ride.

            Ally was nervous, not about riding necessarily, but about the rings. She had secured the jewelry box safely in her backpack, treating them as if they were priceless treasures. In a way, they really were.

            Charlie led the way down the old dirt road to the church. On the way, Ally asked about the empty stall.

            “Sorry, I meant to tell you sooner. But we keep that stall empty. Every horse that’s in there goes nuts. It used to be the stall of Tommy’s favorite horse, Dangerous. There’s a picture of her in the office.

            “Oh.” She nodded in understanding. “So, do you think it’ll be nice having things be a little quieter around the house?”

            Her uncle chuckled. “Well, be a bit lonely, won’t it? But that’s alright. He’s given me a fright plenty of times before, now I’ll have some peace and quiet. He will too, I think that’s nice.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            They arrived at the small church with an old graveyard nearby. Charlie tied up the horses and followed Ally into the overgrown graveyard.

            “Let’s see if I can remember where they are.” He thought out loud. “Think in the right corner, over there.”

            Ally went ahead, reading the names on the tombstones as she passed. Finally, she came to names she was now familiar with.

             Thomas Michael Shelby

            Grace Burgess Shelby

            Elizabeth Stark Shelby

             Ally called her uncle over and knelt down in front of Tommy’s grave so she could bury the rings. “I hope this lets you rest.” She said quietly.

~~~~~~~~~~ 

            That night, the house was silent. There was no smell of cigarettes anywhere. No deep whispers. The sadness that hung over the atmosphere felt lifted. Finally, it seemed, Tommy Shelby could be at peace.

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[boldycrazygirl]

Most People Think You Go To Either Heaven Or Hell, What I Experienced Was Much, Much Worse



By Elias WitherowUpdated June 26, 2021

 Forest Simon

I slowly opened my eyes. My head was swimming and a dull pain surrounded my throat. I was thirsty. That was the first thing I noticed. I licked my dry lips as my surroundings faded into focus. My body ached and I realized it was because I was tightly bound to a metal chair in the middle of an empty room. The barren concrete walls were stained and dirty, the floor beneath my bare feet was cold and slightly wet.

A single bulb lit the room, dangling from the ceiling by a string. It cast moving shadows and I blinked back darkness. An open door stood before me, but I couldn’t see anything but the wall of a hallway.

I tried to clear my head, tried to remember how I got here. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself not to panic. I slowed my breathing and focused my thoughts, desperately trying to summon some recollection of why I was here.

I couldn’t remember anything.

I opened my eyes and exhaled, my parched throat throbbing. I could hear sound echoing off the hallway walls outside the door. Screaming, clanging, howling, all very distant but that did nothing to help calm my nerves.

“Hello?!” I cried, the word tearing at my vocal cords. I felt my chest hitch in pain but I cleared my throat and yelled again.

“Is anyone there!? Hello!?”

The dark hallway remained silent except for the constant echoes. I shut my mouth and tried to wriggle free of my bindings, but the rope was knotted impossibly tight. I fought back against my imagination as it flooded my mind with horrific scenarios of what awaited me. If I could only remember!

Suddenly, footsteps erupted from outside the door, a rapid patter of small feet. My hopes rose and I trained my attention on the door, praying it was help.

A young boy ran into the room, dressed in a red onezie, complete with padded feet. Stretched over his face was a plastic Devil mask. The eye holes revealed massive blue eyes that greeted me curiously. Taken back, I opened my mouth to speak but that’s when I noticed something was off. His eyes were huge, impossibly round and bulging from their sockets. It sent a shiver of unease down my spine, but I shook it off. This child might be able to free me.

“Hey!” I hissed, urgently, “Hey kid, can you get me out of here?!”

The boy took a step closer, cocking his head, but remaining silent.

I rattled my bound arms against the chair, “Cut me free, please, I shouldn’t be here, this is some kind of mistake!”

The boy eyed me behind his strange mask and stopped directly in front of me. He leaned in close and whispered, his voice like wet silk, “You did a bad thing…”

Confused, I shook my head, “No! No this is a mistake! I didn’t do anything!”

The boy’s enormous blue eyes suddenly filled with sadness, “Oh, you did a really, really bad thing…”

I shook my head again, violently, “No! I’m sorry! I don’t remember, just please get me out of this chair!”

Suddenly, before either of us could speak again, a man came charging into the room. He was overweight and dressed in overalls, his grizzled face twisted in seething anger. He was holding a sawed off shotgun in his arms.

“I didn’t do anything!” I cried as he advanced on us, my voice cracking, “I’m not supposed to be here!”

The big man ignored me and instead grabbed the kid and shoved him hard against the wall. The boy grunted as his back struck the concrete and his eyes rose to meet the grizzled man’s.

Wordlessly, the man raised his shotgun, placed it against the boy’s forehead, and blew his head off. Chunks of gore splattered the wall as shock slugged me in the stomach like an iron fist. My ears rang and time seemed to slow as I watched in horror as the headless body crumpled to the ground.

My breath rushed back into my lungs and time seemed to readjust.

“Jesus fucking CHRIST!” I screamed, straining against the ropes, my eyes bulging in horrific shock, “WHAT THE FUCK!?”

The man ignored my screams as he bent down and picked up the boy. He slung the ruined corpse over his shoulder and walked out the doorway.

Suddenly, the hallway erupted with malicious laughter, a chorus of voices all howling in glee. I shut my eyes, the noise deafening, as absolute terror filled my every pore.

After a few moments, the laughter faded and I cautiously opened my eyes, unable to believe what I had just witnessed.

“Hello.”

I jumped as I realized there was another man standing before me. He was dressed in a simple, white button down shirt and jeans. His brown hair was cut short and he appeared to be in his early thirties. His green eyes were dull and lifeless, his full lips pulled down at the corners.

“What is going on!? Where am I!?” I cried, new fear pooling in my stomach like hot blood.

The man crossed his arms, “So you’re the new one huh?” He shook his head, “You people disgust me.”

Questions bubbled on my lips but he waved them off with a sharp chop of his hand, slicing the air and demanding my silence.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, sneering, “You look like you’ve already seen some of the horrors this place holds huh? Yes, I can tell by the look in your eyes. You’re terrified. You’ve seen something haven’t you? It doesn’t seem all that bad now does it, looking back? You’ve been here five minutes and already you’re shitting your pants.”

“Where am I?” I gasped, unable to hold back any longer, “What do you people want?”

The man crossed his arms behind his back, “I bet you want to get out of here don’t you? I bet you’d like to go back to your home, your family, everything.”

“Please,” I interrupted, “Whatever I did to you…I’m sorry, I really am, but I don’t remember!”

The man rolled his eyes, “You didn’t do anything to me. You did it to yourself. You really don’t remember anything?”

I shook my head and felt tears brimming in my eyes, liquid fear.

The man looked at me with contempt, “You waited until your wife left for work and then you went out to the woodshed and hung yourself. You’re dead.”

The recent memory rose in my mind like a monster from a bog. My eyes went wide. As much as I wanted to deny it…he was right. I had killed myself. The incident tore through my brain like a bullet train and left me reeling.

“I’m Danny, by the way,” the man said, ignoring the shocked look on my face, “And I’m number two here. I run the orientation process. I want to make this quick because I’m tired of repeating this fucking thing to you pathetic Suicidals. You get one question before I begin.”

He stared down at me and I scrambled to organize my thoughts into something cohesive. This was all horrifying. Why had I killed myself? I fought against the fog and panic and the mists of confusion slowly began to lift. I had just lost my job. Yes…that was the start. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced more of the memory to emerge. I had lost my job and I was about to lose the house. My wife…Tess…she found out and was going to leave me. I didn’t have any way out, didn’t have any options. Getting fired had come out of the blue and I didn’t have much in savings. I was broke, soon to be homeless, and my wife hated me for it. There was something else…yes…that’s right. She had been cheating on me. I had seen texts on her phone while she slept one night and confirmed my suspicions. My life had degraded to shit and I had run out of options. Humiliated and ashamed, I had decided death was my only option.

“Hey, fucker, do you have a question or not?” Danny said, snapping his fingers in front of my face.

I was sucked back into reality and I asked the only question that mattered.

“Is this Hell?”

Danny snorted, “That’s always what you people ask.” He began to pace back and forth in front of me, “No. This is not Hell. It’s not Heaven either. This is the Black Farm. And no, I didn’t name it that. This is where God sends the souls who have ended their own life. Suicidals. You see, he doesn’t really know what to do with you…and neither does the Devil. There are genuinely good people who kill themselves. Seems cruel to banish them to Hell for all eternity for a moment of weakness right? Personally, I think God and the Devil were just tired of arguing about it. And so, they send them here, to the Black Farm.”

“Did…did God create this place?” I asked, growing more and more confused.

Danny spit on the floor, chuckling, “Sure, at some point. But he lost control of it when he put The Pig in charge.”

“What’s The Pig?” I asked, unsure I wanted to know the answer.

Danny held up a hand, annoyed, “Can I fucking finish? God created this place, eons ago, put The Pig in charge, and then forgot about it for a while. Well, when his back was turned, The Pig decided to use his new powers to try and create his own little world. This mess you see around you is the fractured remains of that experiment. The Black Farm use to be a lot nicer, but The Pig wanted things to be different. He wanted to create his own vision. These people you see, these monsters? They are The Pig’s attempts at creating functioning life. Instead of mirroring God’s Earth, these mutated horrible creations are full of sin and hatred. They run rampant here, unabashed. This place is chaos. The Black Farm is a circus of freaks and monsters. And it’s your eternity.”

Fear boiled in my gut like thick oil. No. No this couldn’t be my end. I didn’t believe in stuff like this. This wasn’t real! I would wake up soon and realize I was just having a nightmare! That had to be it!

Danny stood before me and lightly slapped my face, “Hey, hey! Don’t go into hysterics on me. I haven’t finished yet.”

I raised my teary eyes to meet his.

Danny smiled, “You can always Feed the Pig.”

My breath pushed from my lungs like burning steam, “W-what does that mean?”

Danny spread his hands, still smiling, “It’s as simple as that. Feed the Pig. If you do so, there’s a chance he’ll send you back to your life.”

“A-and w-what happens if it doesn’t?” I bumbled.

“You get sent to Hell. So flip a coin if you have one. Stay here with us or Feed the Pig. If you choose to stay, I’ll let you go…I’ll let you go out there,” he said, pointing towards the door, “But let me assure you…what awaits you at the end of the hallway…well…let’s just say Hell isn’t that much worse.”

I swallowed hard, trying my best to digest everything. Why wouldn’t I try Feeding the Pig? Whatever that meant. If there was even a sliver of hope, I would take it. An eternity in this place, the Black Farm, be sent to Hell, or…or Feed the Pig? I would do anything for a chance to go back. This nightmare made my problems seem nothing in comparison.

Danny raised a hand before I could speak, “I’ll let you think on it a while. I’ll be back later.”

“I want to Feed the Pig!” I cried, not wanting to spend another second in this awful room. I could hear a woman screaming down the hallway, her cries rising as something meaty pounded into her. My breath came in sharp pulls and my throat burned. Danny noticed the noise and grinned.

“Sounds pretty bad huh?” He said softly as the woman’s voice creaked with agony. Something was still slamming into her, the sound of beaten flesh igniting my imagination with horrors.

“Please,” I gasped, breathless, “Just…just let me Feed the Pig. I don’t want to stay here any longer.”

Danny turned away from me, “I’ll be back later. Enjoy your time alone. Really think about your situation. Weigh your options. And remember…you put yourself here.”

And with that he was gone, leaving me in the dim room.

Tears streamed down my face.

The woman didn’t stop screaming for hours.

At some point, I fell into a semi-sleep. The darkness in the room seemed to press in on me and my eyes fluttered shut. My body ached and my throat was a halo of fire. Thirst raked at my windpipe like sharp glass. My lips felt like crumpled paper. My head thundered like a drum. The room swam in and out of focus and my mind drifted towards the horrific sounds that never ended.

I was lost in a haze, unaware that something was sliding into the room until I felt a sharp prick on my big toe. I jolted out of my daze as my bare foot ignited with pain. I screamed and tried to move, but my bindings held me tight.

The room rushed back into focus and I blinked in agony as I felt blood trickle between my toes. I looked down for the source of pain and I felt a scream claw up my throat.

Staring up at me was an armless man. He slithered on the floor like a worm, his bald head scabbed and filthy. His legs were wrapped together in barbed wire, forcing him to wriggle his body to move. His eye were lidless and wide, two bloodshot white orbs that stared up at me with hungry intensity. His teeth had been removed and replaced with long screws which jutted from his bleeding gums like a broken rock formation.

Around his neck was a chain leash, which I followed across the floor to the open door. The end of the leash was held by a tall, naked man. His body was hairless and flabby, covered in similar scabs like his pet. A dirty bag was pulled over his head that hid his features except for a single red eye that peeked out at me from a crude cut in the cloth.

He stared at me and groped his engorged penis, his breath heavy and labored. As the armless man wriggled towards me again, his master started to masturbate. I screamed as the screw filled mouth bit at me again and my cries seemed to stimulate the naked man even more.

“Get off of me! Stop it!” I screamed, horrified. I tried to kick at the man, doing my best to avoid his sharp metal teeth. I brought my heel down on his head and he screamed as his face bounced off the floor.

A moan of pleasure escaped the bagged man’s mouth and I turned away as a mist of black sprayed out onto the floor. There was a rattle of chains and I turned back to see the two of them leaving, the armless man dragged by his neck out the door. I looked at where the bagged man had ejaculated and saw a puddle of dead ants. I vomited onto myself, thick chunky curtains of bile and slime.

“GET ME OUT OF HERE!” I screamed, strands of puke running down my chin, “I DON’T BELONG HERE!”

I listened to the two men retreat down the hallway, the clank of chains accompanied by the sound of flesh being dragged across the concrete. I screamed again, but I knew no one was going to help me. I spit a wad of phlegm and bile onto the floor, ridding my mouth of its sourness. I forced myself to calm down. It wasn’t easy.

After some time, I heard someone else approaching. I had been in a miserable lull, my mind a blank canvas of dark despair, but the noise roused me from my trance like state. The muscles in my arms burned from being restrained for so long and I shifted them desperately, trying my best to prepare myself for whatever horror was about to walk through the door.

Footsteps drew closer and then a woman walked into the room. She stopped at the doorway and looked at me. One of her eyes was missing, a dark cavernous hole in her skull. Her hair was ratty and wild, a brown tangle like a forgotten nest. Her skin was pale and filthy and she was dressed in rags. I couldn’t tell how old she was, but there was maturity in her one good eye.

“Still thinking?” She asked, her voice course and brittle.

“What?”

She took a step closer, “Are you still deciding whether you’re going to Feed the Pig or not?”

I looked at her cautiously, “Yeah…I am. Who are you? What do you want?”

“I was once where you are now,” She said, “trying to decide my fate. I couldn’t believe that this was what happened…what happened after we die. It wasn’t what I was taught…religion didn’t warn me about this place.”

I tested my bindings again before asking, “You killed yourself too? You’re a person like me? You’re not one of those…those creations?”

She snorted, “Breaks my heart you have to ask, though,” she touched the hole where her eye should have been, “Though I can understand your caution. Yeah, I’m a Suicidal. I’ve been here a long, long time. But that was my choice. I decided to chance it here.”

I motioned with my head towards the door, “What’s out there? What is all this?”

She exhaled heavily and leaned against the wall, “I can’t even begin to describe this place. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen. You walk down that hallway and go out…into it…and…” she swallowed, “You’d have to see it to understand.”

“How bad is it? Why are all these mutated people hurting and killing each other?” I asked.

She let her head loll back against the wall, “It would take years for you to fully understand this place. Years you don’t have. Right now you have to make a decision. Stay or Feed the Pig. They tell me Hell is worse than here, but it can’t be by much. Monsters and Suicidals roam the Black Farm…killing, raping, brutalizing…and then you wake up and wonder how long you can survive before something else kills you. It’s an endless cycle.”

“So why did you stay?” I pressed, “Why didn’t you Feed the Pig? I don’t even know what that means, but I would do anything for a chance to go back. I can’t stay here, I…I just can’t!”

She smiled sadly at me, “Why? Why did I choose this? It’s simple really. I’m a coward. I was a coward when I was alive and I’m a coward in death. When it came down to it, when the moment presented itself, I chose to stay here. I didn’t know what awaited me outside. It boiled down to a simple choice fueled by my own fear.”

“What is The Pig? What does it do to you?” I pressed.

She suddenly turned to go, “I’m afraid that’s for you to find out. But let me warn you. Think hard before you make a decision. Sometimes suffering through your fear is better than suffering for eternity. Be brave.”

“What do I do!?” I yelled, shaking in my chair as she walked out the door.

She paused and took one last look over her shoulder. Her eyes darted around and she dropped her voice to a whisper, “Feed the Pig.”

And with that she was gone.

I sat in silence once again. My mind was spinning, desperately turning over my options. I still couldn’t fully understand the situation I was in. It was too much, too overwhelming. The other side of death wasn’t supposed to be like this. I didn’t know what I had expected, but it wasn’t this nightmare. Questions crashed over my mind like cold waves onto a sinking ship. How was I supposed to make a choice when I didn’t even know what my actions entailed?

This place, the Black Farm…I couldn’t stay here. But what if I went to Hell? What if I didn’t get sent back? I would be out of the fire and into the frying pan. My existence would forever be damned to unending misery. Here though…here there were people like me. Suicidals. It wasn’t all monsters and mutilated murderers. Maybe I could hole up somewhere with them, try to scrape together a passable existence. Surely that would be better than getting sent to Hell!

No. No this wasn’t going to be how I spent my eternity. I refused to let it be. If there was even the slightest sliver of hope, I would take it. I didn’t want to wonder what could have been. I didn’t want to be tormented by doubt. I would Feed the Pig and accept whatever fate chose for me. When I boiled it down, that was the only option left.

I would Feed the Pig.

“Hey! Hello!? Danny!” I yelled, rattling in my chair. “I’ve made my decision! Danny!”

After a couple seconds, I heard footsteps echo down the hall towards me.

Danny walked through the doorway, an annoyed look on his face.

“I’ve made my choice,” I said, “I’m going to Feed the Pig.”

“Sounds like you’ve really thought a lot about it since I left you,” Danny said sarcastically.

I licked my lips, “You’d do the same thing if you were in my place.”

Danny walked behind me, “I was in your place once. And I chose differently.” My eyes widened and then Danny wrapped my entire head with a strip of thin cloth, blinding me. I sucked in as much air as I could, but each lungful felt empty.

I felt Danny cut me free from the chair and my body sighed as my stiff muscles were released. I rolled my shoulders as my hands were released and I moaned with relief. I dug my fingers into my back and I stretched, my bones creaking.

“Keep your blindfold on and follow me,” Danny said, pulling me up.

My legs shook as I put weight on them, my thighs trembling after their long cemented position. I groped blindly in front of me and found Danny’s shoulder. I rested my hand on it as he walked us out of the room.

As were entered the hallway, I could suddenly hear sound I hadn’t before. The clank of metal, a long fleshy tearing noise, something vomiting…these sounds sprang to life in my ears, painting the darkness before my eyes with imaginary scenes of horror. I gripped Danny’s shoulder tighter, stumbling behind him, my heart thundering.

I heard something trailing behind us, but Danny didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t care. Flesh slapped the concrete mere inches behind me and I suddenly felt hot breath on my neck and the click of a wet tongue against gums. My breathing became even more labored as fear choked me.

“Go’in ta feed da piggy are ya?” Something whispered in my ear. I felt something press against the back of my head and I tried not to think about what it might be. It was wet and slimy and I heard the thing chuckle.

“Ee’s a ‘ungry piggy, you make shor’ ee gets iz meal now,” the thing whispered again, its voice low and unlike anything I had ever heard before. It was like a series of grunts and moans jumbled together to form broken words.

To my relief, I heard the thing retreat back to wherever it had come from and I continued to follow Danny. He remained silent as we walked and I could feel shifts in the air. The thick heat gave way to a cooler, almost pleasant temperature, but then it kept decreasing and soon I was shivering violently against the cold. I couldn’t see anything but I felt a breeze on my face, like we were outside. I didn’t hear Danny open any doors, but nothing about this place was natural. It was like reality blurred and bled into itself, like reels of film melting together.

Teeth chattering, I was suddenly blasted with intense heat and I gasped. My feet tripped over themselves as the terrain changed and I was suddenly walking on what felt like warm iron. My ears were filled with the sound of blazing furnaces and the clash of working machinery. I couldn’t see it, but I felt like there was a vast open expanse overhead. I smelled ash and tasted dirt on my tongue, sweat already forming along my spine.

Suddenly, I crashed into Danny as he came to a halt. I backed up a few paces, quickly, and muttered my apologies. I could hear movement in front of us, a rustle of chains and an odd clicking sound on the metal floor. Something else too…something…snorting.

And then the room filled with a deafening sound of an immense pig squealing. I covered my ears, head splitting at the high pitched wail. I grit my teeth as the noise echoed off the metal and faded into a series of snorts and grunts.

It sounded absolutely enormous.

“I’ve brought another one,” Danny announced, a slight tinge of respect lining his voice. “He wants to Feed the Pig.”

I waited, expecting to hear some answer, the cloth around my eyes sealing my sight to darkness. I realized my knees were shaking and my back was coated in sweat. I was terrified.

“If that is what you wish,” Danny said and I felt him bow under my hand. Apparently some unseen conversation had just happened and Danny took my wrist and pushed me forward.

“Approach The Pig,” he instructed.

My whole body trembled and my knees locked into place. Robbed from sight, I raised my hands, trying to get my bearings, the heat and ash filling my head with nausea. I felt like I was going to throw up, my stomach rolling like a dead sea. I didn’t know where I was or what horror lay before me. I felt lost and tiny, a fresh splash of tears dripping from my eyes and soaking into the cloth around my face.

“P-please,” I begged, “Let me see what’s happening.”

Danny was suddenly behind me, pushing me forward. He guided my hands towards something as we stepped together in unison. Even with the cloth around my face, I could see a giant mass of towering darkness before me. It was a spot of black on an already darkened canvas.

As we walked forward, I was suddenly assaulted by a horrendous smell and I gagged, turning away. Danny’s grip tightened and forced me to continue. I could sense something just in front of me, a living shifting mass of flesh. The smell increased to a wretched level and I gagged again. Then hot air was being blown on my face, a blast of heat that came in repeated short bursts.

I vomited into my cloth, the source of the smell stemming from the hot air. I choked as the bile gushed over the fabric, soaking it and momentarily cutting off my oxygen. Danny slapped my hands away and I took a few seconds to steady my breathing again. I was opening crying now, fear and misery collapsing my willpower.

The wet cloth stunk as I sucked in soggy breaths. My own stomach acid coated my skin and I begged for all of this to be over.

And then something squealed directly in front of me.

I felt my bladder go. I was standing before The Pig.

It was the source of darkness in my obscured vision; a fat, titanic creature that filled my senses with every breath it blew into my face.

Danny raised my hands and suddenly I was touching The Pig’s snout. I recoiled immediately, but Danny forced my hands back. Its fur was stiff and brittle and as my shaking hands explored up its nose, the size of the animal became clear to me.

It was gigantic and had weight over a ton. Its flesh wiggled under my sweating hands and it opened its mouth slightly. My fingers curled around teeth the size of kitchen knives and I realized its mouth was absolutely cavernous.

The Pig squealed again and I heard its hooves clack against the ground. It sounded like thunder rolling across an open field in the middle of summer.

“Take this blindfold off, please,” I begged, my legs turning to jelly.

Danny had taken a few steps back and I heard reverence in his voice, “You don’t want to do that.”

I jumped as The Pig nudged me with its nose, the wet circle of flesh squishing against the length of my face. I shuddered away, raising my hands and omitting a cry of fear.

“Feed the Pig,” Danny instructed, his voice like cold steel now. “You made your choice. Now live with it. It’s the only chance you have of going back. Or maybe The Pig won’t like how you taste and send you to Hell. Only one way to find out.”

My eyes widened behind the vomit soaked cloth, “Won’t…like…how I taste?!”

“Climb into its mouth.”

My bladder let go again and I felt warm piss run down my leg, “N-no…no you can’t mean…”

Danny’s voice hardened, “Climb into its mouth and don’t stop crawling forward until its done with you.”

“P-please,” I begged, turning towards Danny’s voice, reaching out blindly, “Please there has to be some other way…don’t make me do this!” I was a mess of snot and tears, my words bumbling from my mouth like a toddler.

Danny stepped forward and spun me back to face The Pig, “DO IT! You made your choice! It will all be over soon! This is your only CHANCE!”

I could feel The Pig breathing onto my face, its snout mere inches from mine. The smell and heat it omitted made me want to vomit again but I held it back. This was insane, this wasn’t happening. My mind spun and twisted in chaos and fear. There had to be some other way. I couldn’t do this, I COULD NOT do this!

Suddenly I remembered the words of the woman: Sometimes suffering through your fear is better than suffering for eternity. Be brave.

This was my only chance to get back to the world of the living. I had made such a terrible mistake in killing myself. If I could go back and change my life, I wouldn’t have to spend eternity here. I could change my ways, ensure a spot somewhere else. Somewhere away from The Pig. But what if it decided to send me to Hell? How much more suffering could I endure?

I had to take the chance.

“Please, God,” I whispered, taking a step forward, “If you can hear me…please…have mercy on me.”

My shaking hands reached out for The Pig and I grasped its thick fur. I felt it slowly lower its head and open its mouth. It was waiting for me, its thick, hot breath stinking in my nostrils. This was it. No turning back now.

I slowly gripped its teeth and pulled myself forward into its jaws. Its head was at a downward angle and so I immediately fell onto my stomach at a forty-five degree angle. Its wet tongue squished under me and I was shaking so hard I could barely breath. Tears soaked my blindfold and my heart crunched against my ribs.

I slowly reached forward and found another tooth to grab onto. Gritting my teeth, I pulled my body inward past my knees. The Pig raised its head and I was suddenly completely horizontal on its tongue.

Saliva and mucus dripped around me and the heat was so intense I almost blacked out. My knees clacked against its front teeth as I pulled myself even deeper. Its inner cheeks pressed in around me, squeezing my body like a soaking fleshy coffin.

Crying, terrified, I reached ahead of me and found more teeth. I pulled myself deeper into its mouth and I felt my feet slide past its lips. My whole body was coated in slime and I openly wept, grasping in the darkness for another tooth.

And that’s when The Pig started to chew on me.

I screamed in crushing agony as my body was compressed between its massive teeth. I heard my legs snap instantly and felt wet bone pop from my skin. I shook violently as my body spasmed in shock, a mangled twist of blood and pain.

Its tongue shifted me in its mouth and I felt it bite down on my shoulder. My eyes bulged in their sockets as I howled, a hot pillar crunching down on my collar bone. I threw up violently, unable to control myself, the pain overwhelming.

Keep crawling.

Screaming, bloodshot eyes rolling wildly, I reached forward with my good arm, wetly searching for another tooth. I grit my teeth, blood squirting between them, as my fingers wrapped around something solid.

The Pig bit down again, its tongue twisting my body so its molars could snap down on my knees. The pain brought darkness, but my howling screams forced my eyes to remain open.

“JESUS MAKE IT STOP!” I bellowed, my trembling hand still gripping the tooth ahead of me, “PLEASE MAKE IT FUCKING STOP!”

I ground my teeth together so hard they cracked, screaming as I slowly pulled my body deeper into the mouth.

Something was changing, the tights walls of its throat squeezed my head and I realized I was almost through.

“COME ON YOU MOTHERFUCKER! COME ON!” I begged, vocal cords cracking. I reached ahead of me and grabbed onto a thick wad of flesh. My head felt like it was splitting and The Pig bit down on me again.

I gasped, blood exploding from my mouth in a great gush of red.

It had pierced through my stomach, obliterating my insides like bloated noodles. Darkness rushed in on me and I was in too much shock to even scream.

With the last of my strength, right as the blackness took me, I pulled myself forward one last time and felt myself slide down its throat.

Darkness. Falling…screaming. I was screaming. Heat. Heat so intense I thought I would melt.

Clanging. Something was hammering on a metal. Colors and images flew past me so quickly I could only make out their shape. Blood poured into my eyes.

I felt like I would keep falling forever.

Suddenly, my eyes snapped open and I was falling, my breath rushing back into my lungs in a great wave of purity. My face bounced off wood floor and I cried out as I felt my nose break. I tasted blood and saw stars.

I had stopped falling.

There was a ring of burning fire around my throat and I felt impossibly thirsty.

I was lying on the floor.

I slowly opened my eyes again and the darkness began to fade like morning mist under a hot sun. Colors blended together and shapes came into focus.

I was in my woodshed.

I reached up around my throat and grasped at the source of heat. It was the rope I had hung myself with, but now it was severed, releasing me from the grip of death.

Relief rolled over me in overwhelming waves of thanks. I curled up on the floor and sobbed, tears dripping from my eyes onto the dirty floor. My body shook, unbroken, as I wept, wet horse cries rising from my quivering lips.

I had been spared. I was alive again.

From my spot on the floor, I turned my eyes upward, my voice cracking, “Thank you God. Oh thank you.” I fell into another fit of uncontrollable sobbing, “I promise I won’t waste my life again. I promise I’ll make things right, I’ll fix everything.”

I don’t know how long it was before I got up. Time seemed to stretch for eternity. My mind refused to rebuild, the horrors of what I had just witnessed crushing me.

But I knew I would do everything I could to make the most out of my life. I was going to live every day to the fullest. I would devote myself to helping others in dark times. I would reach out to as many Suicidals as I could and try to save them from awaited on the other side.

I didn’t want anyone else to have to witness the horrors of suicide.

I didn’t want anyone else to have to Feed the Pig.



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Elias is a prolific author of horror fiction. His books include The Third Parent, The Black Farm, Return to the Black Farm,and The Worst Kind of Monsters.



“Growing up reading the works of King, admiring the art of Geiger, and knowing fiends like Pinhead left me as a pretty jaded horror fan today. It takes a lot to get the breath to hitch in my throat and the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end.. My fiance is quite similar, so when he eagerly begged me to let him read me a short story about The Black Farm by Elias Witherow, I knew it had to be good... And I was not dissapointed. Elias has a way of painting a picture that you can feel with all your senses and plays the tunes of terror created when our world meets one much more dark and forces you to keep turning the pages hungry for more.” —C. Houser

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My Arm Was Amputated, And Something Really Weird Is Happening With My Phantom Limb



[theoriginalladya]

Intimacy Prompts #23: wearing someone's clothes for Rhys/Kaidan

from this prompt list

on AO3 here

Okay, thank you so much for this one!  I’m still trying to work out the post-Alchera years for Rhys (because flip/flop, Kaidan being in the typical Shepard role is the one to die - you have been warned!) and this helps SO MUCH with that.  But that said, ouchie!  (I may or may not be drawing on personal experience for this one, too).  Anyway, thank you!  *hugs*  Hope you enjoy it - please don’t hate me!  *ducks*

Setting:  Shepard ranch and cabin, Wyoming, Earth; post ME1, post-Alchera

~~~

He doesn’t care what he shoves into his pack at this point, just so long as he has a few changes of clothes.  Something appropriate for the weather.  Jeans.  A sweater. Some t-shirts.  Socks and underwear.  Grief is a nasty bastard at best, he’s lucky he has enough clarity at the moment to even remember to pack, let alone what.  The only items remaining, he’s already wearing. Boots.  Hat.  Jacket. Jacket.  

Without his permission, Rhys’ gaze is pulled to the peg next to his bedroom door, to a denim jacket from another time.  A decade ago.  A lifetime ago. He stalks over, grimacing as his boots thud heavily against the wooden floor.  When within range, he reaches out a hand, but cannot quite force himself to make contact with the fleece lined denim.  For a minute, he stands there, staring at it, willing himself to grab it, take it, put it on

(One sleeve at a time, Rhys …)

… and he just … he can’t.  

Kaidan.

Footsteps wander just outside of his room, soft, hesitant.  The door is shut – his grandparents have enough to worry about than waste their time over him, especially with how things played out at the memorial.  Still, pain blooms in his chest with the knowledge he is pushing his grandmother away.  That he does it even though he knows it hurts her like he hurts right now, is unforgiveable and yet he does it anyway.  She doesn’t deserve it.  

Yeah, but neither did I …

Cursing himself a coward in more ways than one, he makes a fist and punches the jacket into the wall.  It does little to soften the blow, save maybe keep him from breaking the bones.  When he pulls away, his aching fingers curl around the collar and bring it along. It’s a step in the right direction. Maybe.  His gaze drops and he stares at it as it hangs loosely on his fingertips.  

Why are you still even here?  I should have been rid of you years ago, after you left here … but even then, I never could just let you go, could I.  

A tight lump in his throat makes swallowing a challenge and he runs his free hand over his face, biting on the knuckle of his index finger to fight back the pain instead.  Back then, there’d been plenty of reason to get rid of the damned thing; the disagreement, hurt feelings, a misunderstanding.  Stubbornness. All of that and more, followed by years of anger, indifference, regret.  But he’d kept the fucking jacket.  

Why?

Returning to his pack, Rhys shoves it inside.  It’s just material, that’s all.  An article of clothing that serves a purpose.  But he has one of his own, and that’s good enough for now; new, crisp denim with a thin fleece lining that does very little to protect from the cold.  The fabric is still stiff, unused, one that leaves him feeling like he’s wrapped in cardboard.  

In the back of his mind, he can almost hear Kaidan, laughing softly at his indecision, that small smirk curling at his lips that he’d get, the one with just a hint of mischief in it, like he knew more than he let on.  Why did it always hurt so much to admit that he did?

(You always this foolish, Shepard?  Wear the damned coat.  You know you’re going to need it.)

A shudder rakes across his shoulders, violent enough to leave his teeth rattling.  He reaches for the flap, prepares to yank it up and secure the bag. He needs to get out on the trail so he can reach the cabin before dark, and he still has to saddle up Thunder …

(Shepard …)

Without thinking – and maybe that’s the key? – he yanks the jacket back out of his pack, tosses the brand new one on his bed, and pulls the older one on.  It’s a little big; Kaidan always was a bit broader in the shoulders than he is, even back before the Alliance, but it fits like a glove.  The denim soft, worn, broken in; the fleece, thick and warm. It’s … like having Kaidan’s arms around him again …

His hands move jerkily as he secures the pack, grabs his hat and shoves it on top of his head with a bit of added force. It, too, is new and not yet broken in. Exiting the room, he descends the stairs two at a time, heedless of safety, and stumbles toward the door.  

Evelyn Shepard peers over the upper railing, shouting after him, “Rhys!  There’s food on the counter for you – don’t forget to grab it!”

She always thinks ahead, predicts his most likely actions, prepares for any situation.  She is quite good at it, too, even when he is in a mood.  Like now.  Especially now.  He doesn’t dare try to thank her for fear of breaking, however, and that is something he cannot do yet.  Not here, not now.

Before he reaches the barn, Rhys finds Callum Shepard exiting the building, leading his horse outside.  “He’s all set to go for you, though you’d do well to double check the straps,” the older man warns, handing over the reins.  

Rhys opens his mouth, attempts to speak, but only nods in the end.  It’s been a long time since he last rode.  Better safe than sorry.  So, he puts the food into the saddle bags, hefts his pack over his back, then mounts, pausing to make minute adjustments to the straps.  His grandfather steps forward to tighten one for him; again, Rhys nods his thanks, checks it one last time and only then guides Thunder away. His grandfather, thankfully, does not try to stop him.

His destination is hours distant from the ranch but Rhys rides it on autopilot.  Thunder knows the way, has made this trip for many, many years.  Rhys needs the time to shut down, to rebuild walls, the ones so easily found last time he was up here.  Hell, if he had another place to go this time, he would not be making this journey now, but really, what other choice does he have?  He needs space, time alone, some place people won’t hover, protective intentions or not.  It doesn’t matter that his most poignant memories of the cabin are the ones of him and Kaidan a decade before.  Of the good times and the bad.  Despite all of that, or perhaps because of it, it is a safe space, a familiar one, and the only one he can think of where he can grieve.

The winds start to pick up as he and Thunder crest the hill.  Tucked away in a lightly forested area, there is also a small horse shelter that, like the cabin itself, still stands strong after all these years.  He heads there first.  Care for Thunder comes before anything else.  He pays no attention to how much time passes, but even he recognizes when he is unable to avoid it any longer and makes his way to the cabin. As he unlocks the door, a strong gust of wind nearly blows him over, and it is only years of reflexes that enable him to grab the hat as it flies off his head before it gets out of arm’s reach. The chilly bite in the air leaves his face red and hands cold; not surprisingly, the jacket keeps him warm.  

It’s a good thing, too.  The inside of the cabin is freezing.  Rhys sets his gear aside for the moment and builds a fire in the fireplace to resolve that issue.  He stores the food away – enough to last him a few days, at least, maybe longer if he is careful – then tosses his pack and hat onto the bed.  

Now he has all the time in the world … just not the person he wanted to spend that time with.

(Get to the life pods, Rhys!  Go!  We’ll be fine …)

We.  Dammit, Kaidan, how can there be a ‘we’ without ‘you’?

Leaning his hips against the footboard of the bed, Rhys covers his face with his hands and slides slowly to the floor.  He tugs the edges of the jacket around him, hunches down into it as much as he can, seeking solace he knows he will never find, and finally allows the tears to fall …  

[littlesliceofmarvel]

Manipulating a God | chpt. five

Synopsis: Trying to break the information out of Loki during the attack of 2012 wasn’t exactly the easiest task, but it was a challenge you were willing to take head on. So, what happened when a master manipulator tried to get information from the God of Mischief?

Series warnings: Swearing, mentions of violence, blood, and gore

Pairings: Stark!Reader x Loki

A/N: I am so happy to be back writing on here. I apologize for the unannounced hiatus, I was dealing with personal issues and couldn’t find the motivation to write, but I am back and stronger than ever! I hope everyone enjoyed the holidays and may all of your 2020 wishes come true! Much love. xoxox

PS. There is a major storyline/timeline change here but don’t worry, it’ll match up with the movie timeline soon enough!

I know this chapter is shorter, but the next one will be a lot of fun!

-

For the millionth time that morning, Fury repeated the same question, “What did Loki say again? Give me the quote.”

Groaning and throwing your head back (also for the millionth time) you replied the same way you had all morning, “He said ‘the power I could find here on Earth is beyond anything your human brain can comprehend.’ Word for word - ish.” 

Fury placed the pencil under his chin as if he were contemplating the meaning of life and all existence, looking down at the notepad in front of him which only had that one exact quote written, no other details or clues or even doodles scribbled anywhere else on the small lined paper. For about half an hour, the two of you had been sitting here discussing what the God of Mischief had said, but nowhere nearer to deciphering anything. Thor, who was currently your best hope in this grand old mystery, was off paying his dear brother a visit in the meantime but hadn’t actually spoken to you all day so he was of no help thus far. 

In the half an hour you had been meeting with Fury, you had downed about eight coffees and your mind was having trouble staying focused on just the one quote, the meaning of it practically lost to you with the amount of caffeine flowing through your bloodstream. Your hands slightly shaking, eyes feeling fuzzy, you tried your best to keep focused and find any ideas flowing around your imaginative mind that could help out. But, in all honesty, you were blank.

Of course, you barely had any knowledge of ‘Outer Space’ in the first place, having only recently come in contact with your first-ever ‘aliens’ this week - and they were both nothing like you had expected from reading sci-fi and watching Star Trek. And that right there was the extent of your knowledge. 

“What if he’s looking for someone powerful? Instead of something,” Fury thought out loud, mumbling to himself as he started tapping the pencil to his chin. Mumbling a silent agreement, you let out a dramatic sigh as you continued sinking into your chair, bored of the endless circle of conversation that continued feeling pointless to you. No point had been proven and nothing could be confirmed or denied since Fury’s space knowledge didn’t seem to exceed your own.

“God, pick yourself up a little bit, Stark,” Fury spoke in disappointment at your slouched figure, “You’re worse than a seven-year old child after you’ve had your coffee.”

Chuckling at his comment, you sat properly in your chair, straightening your back like a stiff board and intertwining your fingers on the glass table like a posture-perfect model, “Is this better, Corporal Fury?”

“Y/N, I’m not messing around here, the fate of our planet is kind of resting in your hands.” 

Joking around was kind of your thing — you were a Stark after all. You knew that sometimes it got in the way when trying to hold a serious conversation (like right now), but there was nothing that could stop you from blurting out sarcastic or witty comments when people were relying on you for important answers.

You leaned towards him, a gentle smile on your lips, “I know, Fury, I’m just trying to bring some light to this dark situation.”

Fury nodded slowly, pointing down to the empty notepad in front of him, “Then try to shed some light on this.”

Dropping your smile, you pulled the notepad in front of you, staring blankly at the meaningless quote in front of you, “Have we ever considered that maybe Loki’s just messing with our minds? After all, that’s what he’s known for. This could just be an empty threat.”

“It’s not.”

Thor decided to make his entrance at the right time, arms crossed and a frown etched upon his bearded face — clearly, he had just come back from meeting Loki. He sauntered slowly over to the table and my eyes didn’t leave his figure. Something about the way he was standing gave me a feeling he was about to give us some information regarding what we’d been sitting in here discussing.

“Care to spill the beans, Thor?” 

“Sorry? Spill beans? I do not under—” 

“You don’t understand, yeah, I know. Just tell us what you think Loki means,” your patience was starting to wear thin with the Gods and their mysterious way of speaking. Still leaning over the table to direct your full attention to the blond hunk, you tensed your shoulders as you prepared for any kind of answer. 

“There’s this belief on Asgard, and most of the universe, really, that there are these things called the Infinity Stones,” Thor spoke, treading carefully as if detonating a bomb. The words meant nothing to you, and he seemed to notice this as he began to elaborate.

“There are six Infinity Stones, and they’re the most powerful things in existence. One is in Loki’s sceptre, and as you see, it’s been able to turn a few of your best men into what you have called ‘flying monkeys.’ They are dangerous and if in the wrong hands, can create catastrophic events throughout our knowable universe.”

Letting the knowledge sink in as if you were listening to science fiction theories, you pressed Thor to go on, “What’s that got to do with us?”

Thor grimaced, as if the answer tasted bitter rolling off his tongue, “He believes that they are here on Earth. If these stones got into Loki’s hands, it would be the end of your life here on this planet.”

You processed this sudden turn of events, sitting silently as you plotted a way to prevent Loki from getting these so-called Infinity Stones, even though you strongly doubted something so powerful would be casually sitting on your planet without your knowledge, “On Earth? Seriously? Out of all the planets and solar systems and shit, why would they be here? Don’t you think we’d know about them?”

“You only just found out about them, and you’re not a regular person. So, no, you wouldn’t know about them. Especially if they’re safe.” Although you had just met the rock-solid God, you could sniff the honesty coming off of him as if you’d known him for years.

Sitting back in your chair as if hit by a literal brick wall of information, you turned to Fury, “What the fuckin’ hell do we do now?”

Fury raised his eyebrow, thinking over the scenarios in his head, “We plan a meeting and discuss. I’m going to gather the team. We meet in fifteen minutes.”

And without another word, Fury left you in deafening silence with Thor.

- - -

Within fifteen minutes, Fury stuck true to his word, and the rest of the Avengers had groggily piled into the room. Thor explained the Infinity Stone situation and how they worked, even talking once more about Loki’s sceptre — which apparently homed the ‘Mind Stone.’ That explains the mind control.

“Has he mentioned the Infinity Stones to you, Y/N?” Tony asked, sarcasm laced in his voice almost in disbelief of the turn of events.

“Nope,” I replied casually, popping the P, “I haven’t really spoken to him much, so maybe next time I’ll try to bring it up, I dunno.”

“No — no, we can’t let Loki know that we know,” Thor’s eyes widened as if a lightbulb went off in his head, “If he finds out we’re onto him, he can very easily cause irreversible damage. I mean, I’ve never seen Loki willingly sit in a cage like this, it’s probably a part of his plan. So, we keep our mouths closed and let events unfold, I’d say.”

“Let events unfold?” Fury spoke up, “We are not letting that psychopath sit back and live his little life in that cage as if it were freakin’ Disneyland. Y/N, you’re going back in there for conversation. Find out the location of the Infinity Stones and his plan with them.”

I ran a hand through my hair, sitting upright with a tight smile, “Fury, I hate to disagree with you, but... I disagree with you. Look, Thor’s right, we can’t let him know we’re onto him about this because he can easily just... get out of here, or call his little backup boys or something. I’ll go talk to him and try my best to get everything that I can from him, but I doubt he’ll give in that easily,” I let out a sigh, trying my best to ignore the looks that everyone was giving me, “Just, give me a few days.”

And that’s exactly what Fury did.

-

Sitting face to face with Loki got less intimidating every time I did it. Probably because he looked sicker every time I saw him. Not that he was any less captivating — his blue eyes held numerous mysterious emotions and the smirk on his lips proved that he had secrets I wanted to know, but the fact that he looked as if his entire life was crumbling before his eyes made me feel like my job might just get a little easier.

“You’re back,” Loki smirked at me as I walked into the room. For the first time in about three days, I wasn’t wearing a tactical suit — meaning I didn’t feel as on edge, my body finally getting to experience comfort. My y/h/c hair flowed loosely down my shoulders and rested on my plain white t-shirt which was tucked into a tight pair of jeans.

“Yeah, hi,” I smiled, my mind replaying what Nat and I discussed this morning. 

Be kind to him. Understand him. Relate to him. 

Relating to Loki might be the toughest challenge out of the three, but my mind was witty enough to come up with something that made sense.

“I’ve persuaded them to let you eat if you want,” I smiled, looking down at the brown paper bag in my hand and held it out, “I’ve got a bagel and a hashbrown. I don’t know if you even eat, but this is good shit in my opinion.”

“I do not want it, but I appreciate the effort, Y/N.”

The way my name rolled off his tongue sent shivers down my spine, and I mentally smacked myself for focusing on it. He sat in the corner of the cell, leaning against the glass wall with his green cloak wrapped around him. His eyes looked more sunken in than last time I saw him and a part of me felt bad knowing he was probably losing his mind in here.

“If ever you do need anything, though, you can ask me — I know how to get my way with these people,” I smiled at him as kindly as I could, sitting down in the small chair in front of the glass.

He chuckled, eyes raking over my body quickly before locking back with mine, “Change of heart from our last conversation, wouldn’t you say?”

Now it was my turn to laugh slightly, remembering the last time I spoke to him and how different the encounter was, “Doesn’t change the fact that you will do as I say, but, I am human and I do have feelings. I’m not too good at the ‘being mean’ part. Even though I act like it.” That was totally a lie — I could slam and call out people in an instant — but I needed to play the role of a sweetheart if I wanted to get him to believe I had good intentions. 

“You don’t seem like someone who has trouble being mean,” Loki scoffed, shrugging his shoulders backwards.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” I raised an eyebrow at him, glaring him down as best as I could.

“Decipher it however you want,” he leaned his head backwards and gave me a weak smile. Something about him looked incredibly off and as much as it seemed like he was faking it for help, a tiny sliver of my mind told me he was being genuine and he needed help.

“Uh, so, how have you been?” I tried to strike up a casual conversation, still trying to figure out a way to pop the Infinity Stones in. 

He gave me a quizzical look, “Just peachy. What do you think? I’m bored.”

I smiled down at the ground, an idea popping into my head, “Well, what if we played a game? To get to know each other? Like, Never Have I Ever or 20 questions?” 

Loki rolled his eyes, “No, thank you. You seem incredibly boring.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” I scoffed, flicking a strand of my hair over my shoulder, “I’m bored too, this will give me something to do.”

Loki’s eyes flickered with an idea, and as he opened his mouth I knew I’d regret giving him the option to play.

“What do I get out of this?” He smirked coyly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Rolling my eyes, I pointed to the brown bag on the floor, “Food, duh.” There was nothing else I could possibly offer Loki — nothing that was good, anyways. I knew he’d ask to set him free, but that was not an option in anyone’s books.

“Not good enough, princess,” he shook his eyes, eyes playfully tracing my figure.

“Well,” I began, “You also get me as a friend!” 

The playful smile disappeared from his face, “Oh, yeah, that’s totally what I want.”

“Stop being a bitch, Loki, and just ask me a question.”

He placed his fingers on his chin as if pondering the situation for a moment before his eyes lit up and he shot me a toothy grin, the dark ideas swirling around his mind ready to break free from their cages. Was I going to regret this? Yeah, probably. Was I going to back down? No.

“Fine, let’s play.”

Taglist

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[backandimbamon]

bamon but make it halloween

im so terrible it’s literally almost a month after halloween but i had to post this. time is an illusion anyway, right guys? 😃 okay... ONWARDS.

“And you are...?” Caroline Forbes was patiently waiting for Bonnie to exit the bathroom, announcing her end of preparation for Whitmore’s biggest Halloween bash.

She bored herself with uninteresting conversation to pass the time but her patience was wearing thin, especially since the discussion was excessively snarky and headache-inducing. The absence of Stefan could really remind her just how much of a nuisance his brother could be. For Christ’s sake, why did he have to interrupt quality time with her best friend by bringing himself to the equation?

“A vampire, duh.”

Damon Salvatore donned an organic black cotton tee with black jeans, leather boots, signature bourbon whisky in hand, and a pair of cheap plastic fangs that almost lisped his speech.

“The blonde hair didn’t just come with the outfit, I take it.” He remarked, raising a disapproving eyebrow at Caroline’s Malibu Barbie costume.

“Guys, I’m almost done. Please don’t attempt to kill each other.” Bonnie’s incessant shuffling almost drowned out her voice.

“Fine.” They chimed in unison.

“Hurry, Bonnie. Caroline is doused in pink and that’s my least favorite color on earth. My eyes are starting to burn.”

“Did he just say doused?”

Caroline faced Damon and grimaced theatrically. “Honestly, you’re such a dick.”

He flashed a smile with those creepy plastic teeth. “Ninety-percent of me is, yes.”

“Gross. Did my ears just witness that... I-“ Rubbing her ears proved to be fruitless; the words had already made their stain.

Bonnie exited the bathroom and click-clacked her way to her two bickering best friends. “Before this situation gets any more awkward, I’m ready.”

And ready she was in fishnet stockings, black pointed-toe high heels, a teeny wicker broom and a dress that was tight and very short with thin shoulder straps. Her hair was long, pin-straight and down her back.To top it off, she had smoky eyes, nude glossy lips and a black hat with an exaggerated tip. An eyeful to say the least. There was no doubt that all heads would turn tonight in her favor.

“I’m a witch!”

Caroline squealed in excitement. “No Bonnie, you are that witch. Ohmygod, turn around! Look at your butt!”

“It’s kinda hard to do that,”

“Well if you could see it, you’d be amazed. You look so hot!” Caroline felt like the proudest best friend in the world, and if the night went as planned, she’d be the greatest wing woman to walk the face of the earth. Bonnie needed a boy toy, and with the help of her and that dress, Caroline’s mission would be easy peasy.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet.”

Caroline almost forgot Damon Salvatore was also an occupant in the room, annoyingly existing beside her. She observed his mannerism and was shocked to hear no snide remarks fall from his lips. In fact, he looked a little too appreciative of Bonnie’s costume with honest blue eyes that wouldn’t leave her face or frame.

Caroline’s eyes squinted.

Noted.

“Maybe you’ve put a spell on me, Bon Bon.”

- - -

“Did it ever cross your mind that it’s difficult to get Bonnie a guy when you’re death-glaring everyone I find suitable for her? They’re starting to think you two are a couple.”

Caroline pulled Damon aside, frustrated with his counterproductive antics. It was the biggest campus party of the year and she was trying to get her best friend laid because that was what best friends did. Bonnie looked too damn good to be just hanging around with her and Damon all night, especially considering the countless amount of eye candy surrounding them.

“We are. We’re a couple of best friends, looking to have a great, wholesome, spooky night.”

The music was getting louder as the bass thumped throughout the house. Red cups, mingling bodies, and flashing lights dominated the atmosphere. He had long since ditched the plastic fangs, Caroline presumed, to dig his teeth into some innocent girl later on that night.

“Damon, seriously. Stop attempting to scare these guys away. If anyone deserves a wild and crazy night, it’s Bonnie.”

“She can be wild and crazy with us. Two vampires and one witch? We’re the wildest trio to exist.”

“Yes but Bonnie’s a grown woman with needs not even we can help with.”

“Speak for yourself.” He winked.

Caroline’s brow raised in suspicion as she crossed her arms. Her pink jacket creased at the elbows.

“Kidding, kidding. Look, one dance with my little Bon Bon and I’ll stop being a bad vampire and allow her to make small talk with brainless douche bags. I promise.”

“Make it quick.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

Damon strolled over to Bonnie, interrupting her for what would be the last time, to his dismay. She was talking to some dick who had entirely too much cologne on, his vampire senses were agitated.

“I noticed you looked awfully bored, mind if I steal you away? You can just call me Life Saver.” There was a playful look in his eyes as he lightly tugged on her wrist.

The guy frowned at him and opened his mouth to speak but Damon pulled her away to the dance floor before he could respond.

“No, I’ll just call you Cock Block. He was super cute!” Bonnie hissed, with a cute frown on her face.

“Didn’t notice. Hey! I only want some one on one time with my bestie, for old time’s sake. Halloween parties bring back a certain nostalgia,” he looked off in the distance melodramatically, just above the crowd of tipsy college students.

“Of a time when we hated each other’s guts and I so desperately wanted to kill you?”

His eyes grew wide. “You feel it too?”

Bonnie stared at him and concluded that after years of knowing him, nothing could really accustom her to how frustratingly handsome he was. There was such a nonchalance that surrounded his charm, his whole demeanor screamed “I know you want to have sex with me but will you be lucky enough to get the chance,” without him saying one word. It was always there in his gaze; the party was completely out of his element with garish lights, cheap drinks, trite decorations yet somehow his devil-may-care disposition made him belong. It made spectators look. And almost every eye was on them tonight, especially for Damon, so she was truly puzzled as to why he insisted on assuming the role of watch guard. It was unlike him.

“Listen, Damon. You’ve been off this entire night... Are you okay?” There was genuine concern for him in her moss green eyes as she wrapped her arms around his neck and they swayed to the music.

Truth was, Damon couldn’t explain why it bothered him to such a high extent watching horny men trying to press up against Bonnie. Hell, if the roles were reversed, he would undoubtedly fight to be the first in line to take her home. He understood it, she was gorgeous and sexy and the way her legs looked when she wore heels and fishnets was a sin.

Yet she was also his best friend and maybe it bothered him so much because a random guy didn’t know Bonnie like he did, that they never could know her the way he had. Never sat with her, talked her through her tears. Had never been miserably stranded with her, and trapped in a prison world for months. Caroline couldn’t even compete with him in the experiences they shared and she was technically her best friend long before he came into the picture. He was all over Bonnie, she even smelled a little like him, was wearing head to toe black more often, had a bit of his cynical humor.

He couldn’t picture another male that fit into the equation even for one night. These strangers had never seen her before so how could they possibly think they could honor her the way she should be honored, even if it was for a one night stand.

God, what the hell was he thinking? He was starting to sound like Stefan in his own damn mind.

“Damon?” She lightly scratched at the hair on the nape of his neck, and the small gesture alone awakened far too many electrical impulses inside of him.

Elena, Elena, Elena.

His eyelids fluttered. “Hmm?”

The thought of Elena was almost intrusive because all he could really see was Bonnie. Bonnie irritated with him, exasperated, then understanding and pensive. Bonnie speaking.

Her mouth was moving, yes, but he was distracted. She was doing it subconsciously, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, and it was damn near driving him up the wall in the best way possible. Bonnie made him feel so comfortable always, everything was natural with her. She felt like home.

Elena, Elena, Elena.

But Elena wasn’t here and he knew that if he hadn’t picked Bonnie over her, his life wouldn’t feel like his- it wouldn’t belong to him. Plus, they could fix it once they found a cure. Someone would undo that linking spell and his best friend and his girlfriend would both be in his life simultaneously.

For now, Bonnie was home, he couldn’t live without her, so yes he would continue to stop any guy trying to get next to her because they didn’t deserve her. No one did. She was too sweet and pure, and seeing someone talk to her who wasn’t him or someone else she loved made something flare up inside him, something a lot like-

“...Like jealousy.”

“I’m not jealous!”

There was a pregnant pause, the fingertips at his neck slowed.

“...What?”

“What?”

“I said that I think Caroline’s a little jealous of our friendship. It’s like we’ve obviously gotten closer because of everything we’ve been through and Caroline might resent you just a teensy bit for it.”

“Oh yeah, she’s been so mean to me all night, Bon Bon. She barely allowed me to dance with you.”

“That probably has more to do with you shooting down every guy that comes my way.”

“I have not,”

“Mhmm.”

“No, Bon, I’ve been shooting down every asshole that comes your way. I believe there is a difference.”

“So every guy I talk to is an asshole?”

“Precisely,” he said, with a wiggle of his brows.

“You must be the king of them.”

He gave a mock wounded expression.

Her pretty face grew serious. “I know it’s been hard. The whole decision thing. Me or Elena. I miss her so much so I can’t even imagine how you must feel. She’s everything to you.” He could see tears welling up in her eyes. “Thank you. In all honesty, I accepted the fact that I would die because of the ultimatum but you really shocked me, Damon.”

Maybe that was it, he was acting strange because he missed a pair of doe brown eyes, olive skin and long legs. He missed a raspy voice always carrying the two syllables in his name like it was too heavy to pronounce. He missed the smell of her on him, a fusion of his natural spicy je ne sais quoi and her fruity shampoo.

That’s what was making him act weird. Not the thought of smokey green eyes glazed with flirtation, batting at the expense of a baffling fool. Or brown slender fingers outstretched, casting love spells on men who could never match her energy. And surely not the thought, tucked away in the recesses of his mind, of Bonnie Shelia Bennett, the little witch, opening her arms and legs to someone not worthy enough to lick the bottom of her shoe.

And he didn’t know why if he could picture one contender, it would be himself. Like if there was an invisible bar to set the standard, it’d be him. It’s not as if he thought of Bonnie- like that- because he hadn’t, it was just he was the only male in her life that treated her least crappiest next to maybe his brother. But Stefan was Caroline’s. And Damon...well he couldn’t imagine Bonnie welcoming someone else inside of her when she felt so much like home to him.

Wait, what?

If those words had tumbled out of his mouth she probably would’ve slapped him. She wasn’t his and he wasn’t hers, no matter how close they were, no matter how long they danced, no matter how many times he made her laugh. That was his friend, and he should politely remove himself if he was blocking her from having a good night, regardless of the pain he would feel from her absence.

He should. But.

“Damon.” Bonnie had a stern look on her face and it was then that he realized his fangs were out and his eyes were veined.

“Shit,”

“Seriously, what is going on with you? Are you hungry?”

“No! I was thinking.”

“Of tearing into my flesh?” She placed her hands on her hips and tapped a pointed toe.

“No? But.. since your mind is so clearly in the gutter,” he did that thing where he paced around Bonnie like a predator stalking its prey. Pinpointing her to the spot to be examined, he was on his second lap of encircling her when he halted behind her, smoothed her long hair to one shoulder and admired the slope of skin from ear to collarbone. He took the initiative to push the envelope by trailing his nose alongside the curve of her neck, light enough to give goosebumps. The magic that was bubbling under the surface of skin was almost enough to make him salivate.

She was unmoved, like there was a predictability Damon possessed that didn’t scare her, or even surprise her anymore.

He hated it. He felt neutered, like the monster under the bed who the kid was no longer afraid of because monsters didn’t really exist, only dust bunnies.

“I could sink a fang in, to really christen the night.”

“And I could send your ass burning to flames, for old time’s sake.”

“Kinky.”

His hands circled around her wrist to hold her still, because if he kept Bonnie in place in reality, she wouldn’t be able to run free in his mind. Damon needed control, he needed to remind himself of who he was. And maybe, just maybe, teasing Bonnie would make him feel as if he had leverage over her. Like he had won something even if Bonnie went back to her dorm with someone else.

“No really, Bon Bon. You taste so good.” He inhaled her scent as he spoke in her ear. “Why do you think I gave you that nickname?”

Despite his internal conflict, he couldn’t fight his bad habits: The longer he spent with her, coiled around her like a snake, the more men would assume she wasn’t available tonight, and sure, he was being a toxic friend but he didn’t care. Damon reveled in his toxicity because it left him less lonely, less abandoned.

“Oh, Damon, don’t kid yourself. You know you’re an old man. You can’t afford too many rises.” There was a smirk in her voice.

“I can teach you all about rises and more, Bon Bon.”

“Wouldn’t you just love that?”

He really wanted to push her, see how far she could carry this conversation. And see how much alike they actually were.

“I would love that for you, yes.” He pushed one skinny shoulder strap down and lightly pressed his mouth where it once was. “Then I could really find out if you taste as good as you look.”

Her knee buckled before she sent it back in its rightful position. He noticed her body was so warm, he could hear the blood sloshing around in her veins. The reactions Damon perceived as small victories for him. If there was a scoreboard it would read: Damon 1, Bonnie 0. One hand cupped her neck lightly while the other remained at her wrist, he continued to speak into her ear.

“You know, I would stop but something tells me you’re enjoying this too much.” He pressed his thigh between hers.

She squirmed and her voice dropped octaves. “What makes you think that?”

“It’s not what I think. More so what I smell.”

Her mouth shut with an audible click of teeth.

“I bet you make the prettiest face when you-“

The feeling of his brain splitting in half was so unwelcome that his hands immediately shot up as if he could turn it off. Bonnie seemed to have an immense presence; the perfect picture of witchcraft prowess and sex appeal and if his brain didn’t feel like it was broken, he would’ve been a proud masochist. He was on one knee in an odd proposal of pain, and then it stopped. He pulled himself up and attempted to recover from his aneurysm as if it never occurred.

Damon 1, Bonnie 1.

She straightened out her dress, dusted it off to exude the message that she had no intention of getting down and dirty but she did what she must. He felt like a child and that aneurysm was one hell of a scolding.

Her voice was still a bit deep, but considerably more clear. “Honestly, you should hang out around the dining room, I see some girls that are more your type.”

He followed her gaze to a group of Elena lookalikes.

Damon possessed a sharp, unreadable expression in his gaze. “And what’s that?”

“Hmm.. selfish. Insecure.” They held each other’s gaze in a Western Showdown fashion, with an unspoken challenge sitting in the open space between them. Bonnie gave him the last once over before she strutted off, trapping his eyes with the sway of her hips.

Bonnie 2, Damon 0.

When he looked back up, Caroline was giving him the glare of the century as he slowly backed up to melt away in the oven of meaningless costumed bodies.

It was going to be a long night.

[candyshua]

It’s a Long Way Home | Chapter 6

Pairing: Joshua x Minghao x Reader

Synopsis: It was dark, and then it was light. You’re finally lucid. After 15 years of not being conscious, you wake up in a desolate and post-apocalyptic earth where infected flesh-eating beings roam the streets. Soon enveloped into a mysterious group of survivors, you consistently wonder who they are. But most importantly, who are you?

Genre: Heavy angst, some fluff here and there

Warnings: Gore, bad language, physical & verbal abuse

Word Count: 3.2k

"What?" Joshua sputtered, and soon you had Minghao's attention as well because he was sitting next to you.

"Were there any special scientists on there? Famous ones?" You further interrogated, as Minghao tilted his head to the side and Joshua was stuck in sheer thought.

"Um...Oh shit-"

"What is it?" Minghao snarled, and Joshua glared at him playfully.

"Dr. Y/L/N. He was up on that station, along with Dr. Preston - also known as-"

"The Doctor."  You interrupted. Joshua nodded, and soon it was like everything was coming together. You were putting together a puzzle, with a smattering amount of pieces in the beginning - but now you were almost finished. The picture of you, Y/N Y/L/N, was being created. Your questions were being answered.

It's just, why  were you up there? And you were born in orbit? How were you able to walk without the gravity crushing you? Why were you on Earth anyway?

Great, you thought, more questions. That's what I need right now.

"But if-"

"Everybody just shut up!" You shouted, now grabbing the attention of all the members in the room. You even heard a "Hm?" from who you believed was Seungkwan in the "bathroom" (a disgusting room where you dumped your fecal matter into pipes). "I need to remember." You explained, and closed your eyes. You didn't really expect anything to happen, so you were extremely shocked when your father's face appeared in your head, and soon you were on a trip to your past recollections.

"Y/N...They found out - that's why you need to go right now." Your father ordered, waking you from your slumber (but sleep was never a peaceful thing for you).

"What?" You whisper-shouted, and you then saw him holding an outfit in his hands. It consisted of a camouflage jacket, black combat boots, jeans, a necklace with rings on it, and a plain black shirt.

"Get dressed. And here - drink this." He demanded, and you downed the glass of water within seconds. "Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you. You're no longer their experiment anymore, you're no longer Patient Zero. You're a force to be reckoned with. I'll make sure these people never bother you again, baby."

And soon, you remembered waking up in that same convenience store, in the clothes he gave you.

You didn't realize you were crying - no, sobbing - until Josh was hugging you and Hao looked at you with worried eyes, and the rest of the crew were piled around you out of concern.

"I- my father. He sent me down here." You sobbed, your choking wails and blubbers echoing in the sad entertainment room, and soon everybody except Hao and Josh left, and you were just crying. Why were you crying? Hell, you knew why. You were so fucking confused, the words that emitted from your father's mouth sending you in a downward spiral. Why were you sent down here in the first place? Where was your father?

"Shhh." Joshua comforted, hugging you and stroking your hair. Your heaving breaths that were once swift and hesitant soon slowed down, and your melancholy mood followed you into your state of utter confusion. You realized how weak - no, pathetic - you looked, but you didn't care. You trusted Josh and Hao, and it's not like your sobbing was a facade. It displayed who you were in that exact moment, a confused mess.

To Joshua, you were strong - stronger than him. He respected you greatly, for he knows he wouldn't be able to withstand such utter confusion if he was in your place. Not only that, he had grown to admire you and your very distraught and unique personality. You were intelligent and cunning, but you were snarky and rough around the edges. You weren't weak, and may God help him if he ever manages to anger you, because he knows he wouldn't stand a chance. Holding you in his arms was the least Joshua could do, but he wanted to do so much more.

You had done infinitely amazing things for Joshua in the somewhat brief time you two had known each other, and he feels like he is in great debt. He considers himself lucky to find such a humane person in such an inhumane world. You could've become the most evil person to ever exist, using your abilities for your own personal gain, yet you helped him and Fort Lockwood. You were amazing, and he wished you could see that.

Slowly, as your tears subsided, you got deeper into thought. You analyzed every single word your father said, and you couldn't help but become stuck on the word "experiment".

Is that all you were? Just an experiment?

But, if that was true, then for what?

-

The next day, the herd was surprisingly gone. They were scattered and no longer as strong, therefore you packed everything and walked out of the small house gratefully. You had finally met Wonwoo while gathering everybody into the cars. They were going to go back to Fort Lockwood, and while distracting yourself with the conversation of this intriguing stranger, you tried to push away the thought about going back.

"May I ask, how did you fortify these basements?" You asked, feigning interest. Wonwoo then went on about working with some other folks you couldn't remember the names of. It's like Minghao could read you, because he then called you over saving you from that very boring conversation.

"Thank you," Is all you said while walking back to the van together. You and Minghao hadn't exactly been alone together for a while, so when he signaled for you to get into the van with him while the others were still occupied, you felt a nervousness tug at your heart.

"I'm driving. You can sit in the front with me, if you want." Minghao offered, and you nodded while opening the car door and plopping into the seat. He went in on the opposite side, and soon a heavy silence immersed both of you.

"I don't know how to drive." You admitted, and Minghao looked over at you with his deep brown eyes, and his shiny black hair, and you felt all the tension that once constricted the two of you dissipate. He smiled at the sudden withdrawal of awkwardness, and soon the two of you were partaking in a very nice conversation just like you used to.

"You need to learn, or else you'll like, die." Minghao deadpanned, and you let out a slight chuckle.

"One of these days I'll learn."

"I'll teach you." He insisted, turning his head to face you. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw him staring at you, and one might've described it as longingly.

"Okay." You obliged, giving him a weak and tired smile. You then got lost in thought again, thinking about going back.

Maybe, just maybe, you needed to be alone for a while. Maybe without the daily routine you were drowning in, you could figure things out. And suddenly, you felt the urge to confide in Minghao.

"I want to go." You blurted, blinking rapidly.

"I know." Minghao admitted, smiling at you sadly. He was facing you again, and you were facing him. You were fumbling with your hands until he took your hands in his, and soothingly stroked him thumb over the top of your hand. It was a gesture of comfort and acceptance.

"I'll come back, Minghao. I promise on whatever God is out there, I'll be back. I think I just need some time alone so I can figure everything out." You declared, letting your words slur knowing Minghao would understand every syllable.

"Then let me teach you how to drive."

-

You tied your recently cut hair into a low pony tail, sighing while examining the map that was laid out in front of you. You were in a house somewhere on this street called "Alwood Avenue" merely camping in the residence for the night. You had been going from place to place for about three months now, not knowing exactly where you were headed. You were using this time to finally figure out who you were, and to put it bluntly, it wasn't going so well.

Only a smattering of memories had come back to you on this seemingly infinitely lasting trip. Yet, you had gotten to know yourself much better. It had been 3 months since you've talked to Minghao, Joshua, or anybody really. You haven't come across survivors (face to face, at least) at all. You've watched from afar, making sure they didn't know of your existence. Then, you'd run away, farther from Fort Lockwood.

As you got to know yourself, you knew your promises were a genuine and heavy thing. You knew deep in your heart that you would return to the fort, even if it took years. But for now, you had yourself to worry about.

You boarded up the windows, and blew out all candles except the one that was in your hand. Nightfall occurred early, since it was mid January. The year was now 2041, the new year just passing. You finally blew out the last candle, swallowing yourself into a lonely darkness. You closed your eyes, gun tucked neatly under the couch you were sleeping on. You fell asleep at around six to seven in the evening, because it led you to wake up around dawn, just when the sun rose.

And soon, you drifted off into a slumber, until you were greeted with something all too familiar.

Raw, broken screams were escaping from your dry throat. The pain you were experiencing was unbearable, every single joint in your body was on fire. You screamed until you couldn't emit any sound, but whispers of cries of help was all that could be muttered. The Doctor stood there, face as blank as a wall, and suddenly injected you with a body numbing serum.

Soon, the mind numbing pain faded away into a dull ache, as you struggled beneath the binds that held you tight. "Subject seems to be immune to virus D-3847. Experienced major pain, but no signs of turning were ensued." The Doctor concluded, speaking into a wiry microphone.

"Please stop!" You rasped, your breath heaving and quick.

"Patient is still conscious, shows that she can withstand great amounts of pain. Please write this down, Y/L/N." The Doctor ordered, your father nodding while scribbling down notes. He looked at you with sad eyes, the eyes that screamed louder than a million words, the eyes that screamed louder than you did. You knew he was sorry, and that he had to do this in order to be trusted. You were 19, and you knew you would be leaving soon.

Your dad promised, and he never broke a promise.

"We're done for today. Patient Zero is free to roam the ship once she stabilizes." The Doctor announced, and then strode out of the room. Your father came dashing towards you, unbuckling the straps that clenched around your limbs.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie." Your father cooed, a sign of his voice breaking in his tone. He looked and sounded like he was going to cry, but he kept strong for you. "Once you're down there, nothing can hurt you except the humans."

"Why me?" You rasped, voice hoarse and weak. "Why am I so special? Why do I have to be his experiment?"

"Because you're immune to the virus." Your father vacillated.

"See? You're unsure too. How much longer must I withstand until I'm no longer immune?"

"That's not how it works, baby. Go wander the ship and read a bit, then meet me for training at 4." Your father softly said, and you just nodded and limped away. You then walked into the ship's library, and picked a book about plants off the shelf.

Your eyes tore open, while your heartbeat quickened mercilessly. You looked up to the morning sky, the pink swirls signifying that it was dawn.

You knew what you had just experienced wasn't just another dream. It was a memory, and quite a colorful one at that. You vividly remembered the pain, it seemed to linger on your skin with uncertainty. The shock of what your mind just recollected soon settled in, paralyzing you.

You let out a hoarse cry, tears soon soaking your cheeks in rivers of ferocity. You sucked in harsh breaths, not exactly knowing how to deal with what you had just processed. You were an experiment, that much you knew.

And you were an experiment because you were immune. Immune to what, exactly? That ship was up there for at least twenty years, so how would you being immune to the virus down on earth correlate to anything? How could that possibly make sense? You threw your head back in confusion, your clammy and cold hands shaking slightly. In fact, your entire body was shaking, sweat dripping out of every pore.

You forced yourself to get up, and you went over the map that was on the table beside you. Before that however, you snatched your gun from underneath the couch. You searched the cabinets in the dead kitchen to see if there was any untouched food, and you found a gross looking can of beans which you took gladly. Any food was fine, since you didn't enjoy hunting very much. You knew you were trained in it, but killing animals effected you greatly.

Eventually you knew you'd get used to it. The slitting of throats would become second nature, but for now everything was just a bit apprehensive. Killing humans wasn't an instinct to you just yet, yet you wondered if it would ever be an instinct.

You got everything you needed, and peeked through the slits in the boarded up windows to find only a few of the infected walking among themselves. You walked outside extremely quietly, taking the smallest and most hesitant steps.

You then sprinted towards your car, opening the door and locking it immediately. As the stragglers limped towards you slowly like they always did, you started the engine and drove away, to wherever your spirit wandered to.

-

You decided to head towards New York City, wanting to go to the convenience store you woke up in. Once you arrived, you ignored the poignant twinge in your heart at the bitter nostalgia that was present in the thick, cold air. The bitter iciness sent you into a magnified clarity, you were hyper-aware of everything happening around you.

You parallel parked quite expertly (that skill being equipped from Minghao, of course) in between two old abandoned cars. You walked into the familiar store and observed the dry, quiet atmosphere. You did get some supplies you needed, like tampons and water, and brought those back to your car immediately. Then, you just walked around the store, looking behind the counter and in that bathroom filled with dried blood. The day was gray, which wasn't an abnormality due to the bleak winter threshold, but you felt more bland than the day outside. You felt like you were expecting something, but nothing was there. You were disappointed.

Sighing, you toyed with the necklace on you, fiddling with the various rings. The rings were merely silver, but no design or imprint was found on them. You walked out of the store and hopped right back in your car.

You noticed a group of about 20 walkers heading your direction, but it didn't really faze you in the slightest. It only made you pick up speed - until it stalled. Putting it retrospectively, your engine stalled. Your car refused to start and a what seemed like a massive group (only growing more massive by the second) of stragglers were heading toward you, and you sighed worriedly.

You checked your rear view mirrors, and even more walkers were heading from behind you. You had no choice but to run.

So, you zipped out of the car and grabbed your backpack, along with a gun and everything you could hold. You cocked your now fully loaded gun, shooting whatever walker stood in your way. You maneuvered yourself through the thickening crowd of the infected, trying to get yourself out of the city.

Then, due to your shit luck, you were trapped. You ran into an alley and found no other way out besides the way you went in, and the infected were just pouring in like rain. And slowly, the realization that this might be it came to your mind. You closed your eyes, bit your lip, and then grit your teeth, because fuck those infected bastards! You weren't going down without a fight.

So, you shot every walker you could, in the heart or head - whatever you could aim for, really. And then, you were out of ammo and you only had your trusty knife with you. Knowing that you were going on a suicide mission, you ran up to those meek bastards and stabbed them where the sun doesn't shine.

You were barely winded, but the incessant monsters just kept pouring in, and you knew you didn't stand a chance. The clear realization was a stoic force in the back of your mind, but you just kept fighting because you didn't have all the answers you needed, you still had so many questions!

Not only that, you weren't going to die at the hands of the infected. You had been through so much, and your death wasn't going to be an anti-climactic one. No, you would make sure your death would be an epic battle, in which you'd win despite if you lived.

You relentlessly stabbed each of the infected that dared to inch near you, until you were very  winded. And then, a miracle happened.

The moment you heard a gunshot that wasn't yours, you dove to the side, hiding yourself from the opening in the alley. And soon, the walkers fell like mere dominoes, their deaths caused by rapid machine guns.

Once you were sure they were all dead, you picked up your bag and fully prepared yourself to thank the strangers that had just saved your life. Instead, you came face to face with the opposite of a stranger.

There standing was the group that you had once saved, and that seemed like an infinity ago. And at the front of the group was Josh and Hao, and you suddenly smiled with a temporary peace residing in your heart. The warmth that radiated from them on this cold day was insurmountable. You soon realized that nothing could replace the emptiness in your heart when you were without them. The few of you stood there, smiling like mere idiots, letting yourselves soak in the glory that you had finally found each other on that cloudy day.

"I promised you I'd be back." You shouted to Minghao, trying your hardest not to cry.

"On God!" He shouted back, smiling fervently. You then ran past the two men, and then greeted Hansol, Junhui, Cleo, and Margo. You circled back to Hao and Josh, and you just smiled.

"Welcome back." Joshua croaked, smiling simply. His grin wasn't a weak one albeit, it was a strong and stoic one. It was a grin that had been through so much, but it still decided to bare its hardships and smile. He smiled for you.

And you smiled for him too.

[dancingwithdylan21]

Puppy Love

Summary: The reader’s dog wanders off and she finds him inside of a Jeep that belongs to her gorgeous new neighbor. 

Pairing: cop!Stiles x Reader

Prompt: “Are you seriously interrogating me right now?”

~

“Murphy!”

You swear to god your dog is a ninja. He’s constantly sneaking off and getting his fluffy ass into trouble. He’s a 100lb German Shepherd and he’s worse than a little kid for Christ’s sake. You really should be able to keep track of him by now.

“Murphy! Come here, buddy!”

The beautiful beast is too smart for his own good. Murphy’s a troublemaker for sure, he always needs to know what’s happening at all times. You have a slight suspicion that he thinks he’s a police dog.

“Murphy! Playtime’s over. Let’s go!” You hear a quick bark and your eyes land on a familiar blue Jeep that’s always parked across the street from you. Oh shit.

Murphy is sprawled out on the black back seat of your neighbor Stiles’ pristine looking car. He’s new to the neighborhood so you don’t know him that well. You do know that he’s insanely good looking and that he really loves this Jeep. Wonderful. Your foolish dog is lounging inside of Stiles’ pride and joy.

You run across the street and immediately lean over into the backseat, you try to coax Murphy out but he’s being a stubborn fucker. You’re practically crawling across the seat to grab his collar, your ass is sticking up in the air and of course you’re wearing your pajamas. You’re pretty sure you look freaking ridiculous.

Next thing you know, someone is loudly clearing their throat and it makes you squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment. You reluctantly spin around and there he is, the delicious man known as Stiles Stilinski. Wearing a tight grey Henley and ripped dark wash jeans with combat boots only laced up half way.

Damn does he look good.

You’re suddenly very aware that your pajama pants are covered in purple cats and that you have an over-sized Family Guy t-shirt on as well. Awesome.

Welcome to the neighborhood.

Stiles doesn’t even speak, his eyes just slowly rake over you before he focuses his attention back on the large intruder in his backseat. You snap out of your awkwardness (barely) and jump into a rushed explanation.

“I'm so sorry! Murphy likes to slip out of the house and explore without my knowledge. I came out and noticed that he climbed into your car. I’m trying to get him out now.” You finally take a breath, silently telling yourself to just relax for the love of god.

Stiles bends over a bit and watches as Murphy rests adorably in his backseat. A warm smile appears like he’s remembering a happy memory, “He seems pretty cool. I love Shepherds. I had one growing up named Bullet.” Stiles finishes with a chuckle and it makes you do the same.

“Besides it’s kinda my fault, I just ran inside to get some paper towels.” Your neighbor holds up the roll in his hand. “I left the doors open cause I’m cleaning out the Jeep.”

“This dog is just very nosy.” You add shyly. “Nothing looks ruined but I want to pay to get it detailed just in case.”

“No it’s ok, Y/N. I mean if this happened after I cleaned out my car then I would’ve reacted differently.” He glares playfully at you.

“Oh ok. Thanks for not freaking out.” You grin feeling relieved.

Stiles gives a quick nod then pats his leg as he calls Murphy’s name, the dog automatically jumps up and out of the car without any effort. “Seriously?” You laugh softly. “At least you listen to someone, Murphy.”

Stiles gestures to your cozy pajamas, “Having a lazy Sunday, huh?”

“It’s only like Noon, dude. Don’t judge. I was up late binge watching Shameless.” You mention slightly insecure.

With an amused expression Stiles pops the hood of his car, “No judgement here, Y/N. I’m just used to girls who won’t leave the house unless their hair and makeup is done.” He shrugs at you. That’s weird. He doesn’t seem like the type who’d want to deal with a high maintenance chick.

“Huh. Let me guess…they wear their makeup to bed too?” You giggle while Stiles tilts his head with a knowing smile.

“Are you speaking from experience, Y/N?” He says in a teasing voice.

“Who me? Nah…ok maybe.” You admit sheepishly. “I didn’t wear my makeup to bed though! I just always wanted to be made up when I left the house.”

Stiles hums and squints his eyes like he’s trying to figure you out. He’s too gorgeous. You almost feel like you shouldn’t be allowed to look directly at him.

The brown eyed ruiner closes the hood and all the doors on his car, now giving you his full attention, “So what changed?”

“Oh, that’s a story for another day.” You smirk at him.

“Well…” Stiles crouches down in front of Murphy and holds his face, “I think you and mom should join me for lunch. How does that sound, buddy?” He then glances up at you and you freeze. You feel heat rushing to your cheeks and you decide to just nod in response.

“Sweet. Do you like hot dogs? I was gonna grill some and I have pasta salad and corn on the cob too.”

A sexy man that cooks? Hell yeah. “Sure, sounds good. I’m gonna go change then I’ll be over.” You tell him already walking away.

“Make sure you bring Murphy!” Stiles shouts as you’re about to enter your house. Son of a bitch. He probably likes the dog more than you. That would be your luck.

You quickly change into faded jean shorts and a hot pink tank top, opting out of doing your hair and makeup. You decide that you don’t need to impress Stiles, even if he’s the hottest guy you’ve ever seen. After one last nervous check in the mirror, you grab Murphy and his favorite tennis ball then make your way back across the street.

~

Stiles’ front door flies open seconds after your hand hits the wood, it catches you off guard and it makes Murphy bark with excitement. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was anxiously waiting for your arrival.

The brown eyed stunner ushers you through his surprisingly homey living room and brings you into the kitchen. The smell of vanilla hits your senses as you move around his house and it thankfully calms your nerves a bit.

“Want a beer, Y/N? I have this new pumpkin ale stuff. I don’t know if it’s any good though.” Stiles asks opening his refrigerator.

You saunter over and peek your head in, “Oh! I’ve had that before. It’s pretty good.”

Stiles hands you one with a wink, “Here ya go, sweetheart.” He grins then moves towards the back door. “The pasta salad is done. I just need to grill the hot dogs and the corn on the cob.”

You and the pup follow your new neighbor outside into his backyard and you can’t keep your eyes off of his effortless swagger, every move the man makes is just sexy.

“Need any help?” You take a seat on the nearby patio and watch as he starts up the grill.

“Nope. Just sit there and look pretty, hun.” Stiles smirks your way. You roll your eyes but can’t stop yourself from smiling at the compliment.

“So I’ve only lived here for a few weeks, Y/N. Give me some dirt. The neighbors I’ve met so far seem nice but things are never what they seem.”

“Hm let’s see. Have you met Al yet? He lives a few doors down in the green house?” Stiles shakes his head no and waits for you to continue.

“Well…he suspiciously looks like Santa Clause. And he weirdly disappears around Christmas time.” You try to stifle a laugh.

Stiles tears his eyes away from the grill and shoots you a funny look, “Are you fucking with me?”

“No actually I’m not.” You chuckle. “It’s strange as fuck but he’s definitely a nice guy. Doesn’t bother anyone.”

“So I may or may not live near Santa. I can work with that.” Stiles snickers before taking a swig of his beer.

Murphy stops exploring the yard and comes running over with his tennis ball but instead of bringing it to you, he drops it in front of Stiles.

“Wow Murphy actually likes you.” You say without thinking.

Stiles pretends to be offended, “Gee, thanks!”

“Oh no! I just mean that Murphy doesn’t usually warm up to guys so easily. He’s always been that way. Not sure why, maybe a protective thing?” You shrug your shoulders.

“Murphy’s a smart boy. He can tell I’m awesome.”  Stiles adds with a crooked smile.

“Or maybe he’s just having an off day.” You sass with a straight face. Stiles breaks out into a full body laugh and it’s literally the best sound you’ve ever heard

“I’m just kidding!” You giggle at him. “Murphy likes you and you like him. It’s all good.”

“Yeah, I definitely like him.” Stiles licks his lips as he walks towards you. “But I have to admit, I like his mom a lot more.”

As if that admission didn’t make you completely melt inside, you give Stiles a quick smile and then pop up, “ Yeah I’m pretty awesome myself.”

~

With the yummy food grilled and the patio table set, you and Stiles finally sit down to eat while Murphy lounges in the shade. Part of you is thrilled because you’re starving, the other part is bummed you can no longer admire his muscles while he mans the grill.

“So what do you do for work, Y/N?” Stiles questions before taking a big bite of his mustard covered hot dog.

“I’m an event planner.” “Oh nice.” He delivers a cute smile. “That sounds fun.” “Yeah it is. What about you?” You attractively mumble with a mouth full of corn on the cob.

“I’m a cop.” Stiles tells you with a confident expression. No fucking way. You didn’t think it was possible for this man to get any hotter. You’re now on the verge of drooling because the sexy as hell image of him in a uniform appears in your head.

“Y/N?” Stiles’ deep voice yanks you back to reality. “Earth to Y/N.” “Oh! Uh that’s cool.” You answer sheepishly, tucking a few strands behind your ear which is a nervous habit of yours. With a squint of his eyes and a purse of his lips, Stiles’ curious side is now making an appearance, “What were you thinking about?” He stares intently at you.

Fuck it. “That you probably look really good in your uniform.” You mention casually.

An amused expression overtakes his handsome face, he leans over the table and whispers, “I’ll show you sometime if you want. I even have a gun to go with it.” You don’t trust yourself to speak, so instead your dorky self just looks down and starts giggling. Your reaction causes Stiles to laugh and sit back in his chair, he’s getting a kick out of making you blush. An enticing thought pops into your head, naturally you blurt it out before you can catch yourself, “So that means you have handcuffs.” You must be bright red right now as you lock eyes with your surprised neighbor.

“I mean…well…”  Shit. Did you really just say that out loud?! Stiles recovers quickly, instead of shock there’s now a smirk on his face, “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that, sweetheart.” He shakes his head looking visibly affected by your words. “Oh my god. I’m sorry.” You rush out before chugging down the rest of your beer. You really need something stronger. “Don’t be sorry.” Stiles chuckles at you. “It’s taking everything in me not to handcuff you to my bed right now.” Holy shit. Now it’s your turn to look fucking shocked. “But I’m trying to be a gentleman here, Y/N.” Stiles flashes a crooked smile. “I really like you so I need to do this right. You’re not some random chick that I met at a bar, you’re a hell of a lot more than that.” He finishes and it makes your body freeze up. Stiles quirks an eyebrow, “You gonna say anything back…” He notices you seem a bit flustered and is unsure on how to proceed from here.

Snapping out of your dumb ass stupor, you successfully come up with a plan within seconds, “Actually can I borrow them?” You say nonchalantly.

“What?” Stiles furrows his brows. “My handcuffs?” “Yeah. I have a date tonight.” You narrow your eyes. “He’s not a pussy so I’m pretty sure he’ll want to use them.” Stiles fails to hold back a strangled growl, “Don’t play games, baby girl.” He challenges with a tilt of his head.

Wow, that didn’t take much. You try not to but you burst out laughing, “You’re so cute when you’re mad.” You tease now pinching his cheek. He crumbles his napkin up and throws it at you with a pout on his lips.

You hesitate but then decide to just roll with it, “So do you always use handcuffs in the bedroom, Stilinski?”

Stiles ponders for a second, “It depends on the girl. I definitely don’t break them out with hookups. My real ones anyway. I’ll use the fake plastic ones whenever.”

“Why’s that?” “Because it’s never been a good experience with the real ones. The last girl I used them with started crying.” Stiles replies exasperated. “No she didn’t!” You gasp loudly then erupt into laughter. The police officer shakes his head, “If you pull on the handcuffs too much then they get tighter. I warned her so she wouldn’t hurt her wrists. Of course she didn’t listen and freaked out.”

“Wow. I bet that was fun.” You say sarcastically. “Based on her personality…I shouldn’t have done it. My gut said she wouldn’t like it but she promised she’d be fine.” Stiles lets out a sigh. “She must be so traumatized.” You feign sympathy making your neighbor snicker. Stiles suddenly turns serious, “Do you really have a date tonight, Y/N?” “Yes.” “With who?” He asks with his eyes boring into you. “Jeff.” “How did you meet him?” You raise your eyebrows, “The gym.” “Is it a first date?” “It’s the 4th date.” Stiles scoffs, “What does the guy do?” “Are you seriously interrogating me right now?” You question with wide eyes. “No.” He answers unconvincingly. “How about I take you out tonight instead? We can do whatever you want.” You gnaw on your bottom lip, “I can’t break a date last minute like that. Not unless there’s an emergency or something.” Stiles waves you off, “Just tell him you’re sick. We can try the new Italian place that opened downtown. Or there’s a..” “Wait you’re dead serious?” You cut him off. He just nods. “Stiles, he’s a nice guy. I’d feel bad blowing him off like that. We can pick another day.” You wonder why he’s pushing this. “4th date.” Stiles mutters himself. “So you’ve had sex with him?“ “Really, dude?” You crack a smile at him. This man is really something else. “You didn’t answer the question, Y/N.” “I’m not in custody, officer. So I don’t have to.” You sass back. “I can arrange that ya know.” Stiles crosses his arms and it accentuates his muscles even more, you do your best not to gawk at him. “You’re ridiculous.” You add matter-of-factly. “And you’re sexy.” He grins mischievously. You giggle softly and it makes Stiles’ face light up, it should be illegal the way his eyes are drinking you in right now. The feelings it conjures up makes you feel flushed and fidgety, it’s the perfect time for more alcohol. You spring out of your seat and make your way back into the house, heading straight for the kitchen.

Is it bad that you actually want to cancel tonight? That would be such an asshole move. You do actually like Jeff, he’s a decent guy who’s treated you well so far. But then there’s Stiles, the Adonis that moved in right across the street from you and there’s no denying that there’s an immediate connection.

Lost in your thoughts, you grab a couple of beers out of the fridge then twirl around right into Stiles, you didn’t even hear him follow you in.

“Are you a fucking ninja too? I swear you and Murphy should be best friends.”

Stiles barely reacts, he’s too busy blocking your way so you’re stuck between him and the refrigerator. His delicious scent is starting to fill the small space and you’re trying your hardest to not be affected by it.

“I say we have two options, beautiful.” Stiles leans in closer. “I ask you to be my girlfriend right now and you say yes.” Well this is unexpected.

“Um Stiles…”

“Or you reschedule with Jeff and let me take you out tonight. After that if you still like him then I’ll back off.” “Your crazy is showing, Stilinski.” You try to stifle a laugh, getting a dramatic grunt in return.

“Are you gonna make me beg, woman? Cause I will!” Stiles runs his hand through his messy hair, clearly not used to being in this position. “Why can’t we go out tomorrow? It’s just one more day.” You search his face for the answer, unfortunately your attention focuses in on his gorgeous eyes. “You obviously like Jeff enough to keep going out on dates, Y/N. He will probably make things official soon and with my luck it will be tonight.”

“Ok but I…”

Stiles continues on, “We don’t know each other that well but trust me…I’ve never put this much effort into getting a date. At the very least I want a chance. A real chance.”

The man in front of you is so annoyingly cute. You’re beyond torn on how to respond to him, your heart and your head are at odds right now. Before your brain can even register it, you’re sauntering away from Stiles and his intense stare.

You pause at the door way of the kitchen, “Come on.” You wave for the troublemaker to follow you, he hesitates at first but then catches up with you.

“Where do you keep your uniform? Bedroom?” You ask with a glance to Stiles, as you both walk down his long hallway.

“Uh yeah. Next door on the right.” Stiles tells you wearily, he slows down a bit and trails behind as you stroll on into his room.

You immediately notice the clean yet simple looking room and start to search around for what you have in mind. Without turning around, you can feel Stiles’ eyes on your form as he leans against the door frame. Your face brightens once you spot his police uniform draped on a blue lazy boy in the corner of the room.

There’s a dark wooden end table where Stiles’ shiny badge, gun holster and duty belt are all resting on top of it. Your nosy self finds his handcuffs tucked neatly in the cuff case attached to his leather belt. The cop they belong to is now standing closer, he looks very entertained by your sudden interest in his job.

You steal the handcuffs and examine them, subconsciously biting your lower lip while you do, “Get on the bed.” You speak firmly, pointing in the direction that Stiles should start moving in.

“…uh Y/N, what are y…”

“Shut up and get on the bed, Stilinski.” You command sternly.

~

Masterlist 

[kojoty]

you’re no bold villain

AO3 LINK

This was a commission for @ifridiot!, who wanted Isaac Summers/Good Guy Stryfe trying to convince Nathan/Cable to let Deadpool come to his ninth birthday party. :)  I hope you all enjoy!

--

Nathan has mostly, by this point, gotten over the gut reaction of painfeardisgusthorror that blooms in his brain whenever he sees this… strange little experiment of his. He expected this experiment to last maybe a year, max, and yet here they are, three years in, and it’s his reactions that seem monstrous, rather than Stryfe’s.

He’s mostly gotten over it, but there’s still a knot in his stomach when the child-- almost nine now-- is suddenly behind him, quiet and light on his feet even after three years of care under Scott Summers and Jean Grey. 

The arrangement is thus-- Scott Summers and Jean Grey raise the husk of a child Nathan managed to steal from Apocalypse’s clutches, and they all pray and hope that the kid doesn’t turn out to be as monstrous as his future self. Nathan visits once a year, checks in on the arrangement, and goes on his merry way and doesn’t raise the child himself for fear of waking up in a blind panic and slaughtering Stryfe where he stands.

“You’re staying in this time period a lot more often,” the child starts, and Nathan has to keep reminding himself that his name is Isaac now, a name he’s not sure if Scott knows just the significance of, the symbology involved, the blood red dripping strings of fate being strung wet and knotted tight. “And I think it’s because of Uncle Wade.” 

Nathan would almost laugh at the kid’s self-serious nature, his gaze steady and knowledgeable years beyond his physical body, the cool clouded white eye just a reminder, yet another reminder, just a goddamn reminder of who he is. But it’s hardly funny, and as Wade oh-so-uncharacteristically- seriously asked him several times, quietly, in secluded moments away from prying ears, it’s just another sign of where he was before Nathan could obtain him.

He’s been here all of ten minutes, taking time to compose himself in the entryway awning of the mansion, and already Isaac has managed to find him. It’d be uncanny if it were anyone with a different set of abilities; Isaac still manages to make it uncanny and eerie like a horror movie’s heavy handed metaphor for child horrors, abilities aside.

“I’m here for your birthday,” Nathan replies, and has to stop himself from reaching outwards, poking around, gauging the kid’s emotional state. He’s learned the hard way that even so young, Isaac has some very interesting self defenses against anything even approaching the non-physical realm of communication. 

“Yes. Like every year. But that’s not what I was saying.” His hair’s grown out since the last time Nathan’s seen him, six months prior by his estimation, and a strand of the white and brown intermingle and fall into his face almost clumsily, an adjective that Nathan never thought possible for Stryfe the chaos-bringer. 

“Then what are you saying? And where’s your father?” He tries to usher Isaac inside, and what he wouldn’t give for Scott to be sitting in the foyer, ready to relieve Nathan of the duty of speaking to his kid. 

It’s not even that he doesn’t like the child-- he does, in the allotted times he gives himself to be around him. It’s just too much to deal with, especially when Scott doesn’t know the full extent of the child he’s raising’s future. 

Jean, now Jean he knows understands. Read it from him the moment he dropped Isaac off, the memories and images pumping themselves through Nathan’s head despite his best efforts under sheer duress. Jean’s smart, and a good mother, but Nathan knows which parent has bonded closer to the kid, and it sure as hell isn’t her.

“Dad’s doing something with Mr. Xavier. It doesn’t matter.” Isaac moves to get in front of him, and he’s a short, skinny thing still, won’t fill out properly ‘till he’s almost sixteen. But until then, it’s no wonder he’s got Scott’s genes-- the kid is slimmer than anything, and he gets right up in Nathan’s face like he’s three feet taller and two hundred pounds heavier. 

Nathan stops, and looks down at him, raising an eyebrow at him very deliberately. Isaac responds well to the realm of theatrics, and when he’s theatrically stopping Nathan in his tracks, that’s what he’ll get in return. 

“I want Uncle Wade at my birthday party.” He says it with his chin lifted high, and his gaze is severe enough that his eye begins to glow. As confident and final as his voice is, it’s still quiet, soft, a reluctant return to verbal speaking and… Something else that Nathan can’t quite put his finger on.

“No you don’t.” 

“I do. You have to tell him to come.” 

“Isaac.” 

Isaac puts a hand to his hip and the look in his eye intensifies to an almost painful degree. “Yes, Uncle Nathan?” 

“It’s not--” Nathan’s jaw shuts, steely. Remove the strange circumstances of Isaac’s arrival and he is, well, still only about to turn nine years old, and he can’t exactly go into the intricacies of how mind-numbingly annoying, exhausting, and confusing it’ll be to have to explain to his future-past father and mother that he’s currently dating and borderline living with the mercenary Deadpool. 

“It’s my birthday party and I want Uncle Wade there.” And finally, finally, he crosses his arms, staring resolutely at Nathan like he can enter his mind, even though he knows Isaac can’t quite accomplish that feat, yet. 

Nathan pinches the bridge of his nose. This, this is why he didn’t want to raise the whelp. Beyond the circumstances of his childhood, beyond what he would become, underneath it all, Stryfe is still a diva. And a diva who knows how to argue, at that. 

“Besides, if anyone gets mad, I can just tell my mother to be mean to them in their heads.” Isaac says, and when Nathan’s expression goes even more steely, he continues, “Not me. I don’t do that. I’m not allowed. But Mother is sometimes, and I think Mr. Xavier, and well, it isn’t quite fair, I don’t think, but Dad says I can’t do it, anyways.” 

“But your mother can.” Nathan repeats, and he can’t help the exasperation that leaks into his voice. 

“I guess. I’m not the boss of her.” He says it like he’s told Nathan a secret and finally remembered to zip his mouth shut. 

Another day, another visit, and Nathan would let this continue. Poke and prod and figure out if there’s any signs of the Man-To-Be, warning flags to look out for that drip with blood from a psimitar. But not today, because, “Wade isn’t coming to your birthday party.” 

“I’ll find out his phone number and call him myself, then.” The kid doesn’t pout, necessarily, but it’s a near thing. And an improvement; the first year it’s just about all he did when something didn’t go his way. “I’m sure he’ll find it very rude when I tell him that you don’t want him here.” 

Nathan pulls in one breath. Then another. And finally, one more, just for good measure. It’s either blow the child off some more and get a dramatically furious Wade, or have Wade make an appearance and have to deal with the X-Men invited make the realization that the last time Nathan took Isaac out for the weekend, it was with Wade fucking Wilson. 

Neither option is exactly “ideal,” but he’s considering just biting the bullet and letting Wade get mad at him all he wants, when Isaac says, quieter, softer, his hands pulled away from his hips and his hair falling in front of his face, almost hiding behind the mess, “He’s just kind to me, and most people don’t like me all that much.” 

The way he talks, the vocabulary and sentence construction, you’d think he were older, almost an adult, but he’s small and hunched over himself, for the first time looking less like a rebellious leader standing firm before the mighty soldier in his way, and looking cowed, tiny, a child. Just a child. 

Just a child who Nathan knows Scott worries about, who has up until this point had very little luck in interacting with any of the other kids running around (it didn’t help that he’s young, younger than most of the mutants). Just a child who Nathan knows Jean feels red hot rage for, when he’s met with nothing, nothing but suspicion and vitriol and anger from the older X-Men (even if she, herself, Nathan knows, doesn’t fully trust him). 

Nathan will give Wade very little credit. At least verbally. But the one he’d be willing to admit immediately is the fact that Wade is good with children. Past the bad language and foul jokes, he cares deeply and empathetically for the lost children of the world, those who have been preyed upon and warped and transformed into something crueler, meaner, colder, because of the shitty hands they’ve been dealt. 

Stryfe or not, the child in front of him fits the bill, or at least did. No wonder Wade expresses having him over more often. 

The foyer is bathed in pre-sunset warmth, the golden light filtering in through the windows meeting the wispy strands of light coming from Isaac’s eye, and the brightness leaks into the sun’s rays. He looks as though he’s being swallowed by something bigger, something brighter, something made of the same light that he is. 

And Nathan can’t even enjoy the image of humbleness, because Isaac looks miserable and innocent. 

“...Fine. Fine. I’ll invite Wade.” 

He almost falters, Isaac’s face lighting up a beat too soon, picking up, most likely, on whatever emotional psychic residue leaked off him as he made his decision. In an instant the smile he beams at Nathan makes him look like the happiest child on earth, but Nathan knows it wasn’t deceit what was his previous expression, just the face of a kid who didn’t expect to get a ‘yes.’ 

“Thank you, Uncle Nathan,” He says. “I’ll make certain to tell dad to make an extra cheesecake so there’s enough for everyone.” 

Nathan squints at him, but nods, and as he walks past him, he pats his shoulder, and for once, Isaac doesn’t squirm away. 

--

Anxiety aside, it goes relatively smooth. Sure, Nathan gets a look or two from Scott and Jean, Wade gets zapped by Ororo fairly on for something, and Nathan finds out an uncomfortable truth about Logan’s… interests in men (turns out it’s skinny, angular weirdos who sure like primary colors), but over all, it’s fine. 

 Turns out, Scott can cook, and cook well, though he still manages to convince Nathan to man the grill while he finishes baking cheesecake (and when Nathan says something, Isaac gives him a witheringly patronizing look, like stating the obvious fact that Scott can cook is meaningless and pedantic), leaving Jean and Ororo and Bobby to lay out on the lawn and drink sangria Bobby ‘made’ (bought).

(Wade gets sore after a few hours and lays out with them to rest his muscles for a bit, and if Nathan’s not seeing things, he’s certain he sees Jean and Ororo actually laugh at one of his jokes.)

And of course, there’s Isaac. He demands to sit in between Wade and Nathan at the dinner table, and looks pleased as punch when Wade high-fives him and tells him it’s the best idea he’s probably ever heard.

Logan’s daughter, Laura, sits across from them, and she’s a quiet, sullen child, but she’s somehow become Isaac’s only friend here, the two of them lost and hurt and young, so very young. She eats like she’s starving, and she refuses to look at most people, but Nathan still watches her and Isaac chase one another after dinner, and scream laughing when Isaac ineffectually wrestles her to the ground and they tussle with a strength far past that of a nine and ten year old.

And then the cheesecake. A recipe Scott scrounged up from who knows where, because evidently Isaac doesn’t ‘like’ normal cake (a knowledge bomb that caused Wade to fall to the ground in mock agony and Isaac to get so worried he’d fallen that he psychically helped to his feet, levitating him for a good three minutes until Wade finally convinced him that he was ok), but rather the most decadent goddamn dessert that Nathan’s ever had. 

Isaac sits between them for that, too, leaning against Wade’s shoulder on one of the benches and kicking his legs out over Nathan’s lap like a goddamn pampered house cat, as he forks the pie into his mouth. 

“You should come over more often, Uncle Nathan,” He says after a while. “You’re a little mean, but so am I. I’m glad you and Uncle Wade could make it.” 

“I’ve never been mean a day in my life,” Nathan protests, and gives a good convincing eye roll, and has to hold back a chuckle when both Isaac and Wade turn to give each other a look, something that says, ‘can you believe this delusional man?’ 

“Sure,” They both say, in tandem, and maybe, just maybe, Nathan thinks he was way too over-worried about bringing Wade around.

It’s complicated, this arrangement, but sometimes it’s worth it, worth it if only to watch the man who Nathan thought was, perhaps, evil incarnate, squeal in childish joy when Wade pokes him in the side and startles him with what Wade calls ‘Stealth Tactical Tickles’ as he gives Nathan a fond, soft look, something that says ‘thank you’ even without any telepathy.

[seven-dragons]

TDBM Drabble Challenge: Blackout (300)

@it-is-bugs gave us the challenge “blackout.”

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

“Bloody hell”

Lucien poked helplessly at the fuse box, lit by a dim torch.

“It looks fine to me.”

“Lucien! What on earth are you doing?”

Lucien jumped at the sound of Jean’s voice behind him. The torch clattered to the ground and went out. Lucien swore. He reached out blindly looking for Jean but only found air.

“I was just conducting a little experiment with the lamp upstairs, for this new case. It was electrocution. But I have no idea what happened. The fuse box looks fine.”

“Of course it does. The whole neighborhood is without power. Must be a transformer.”

“Oh.”

Lucien let out a sigh of relief.

“Then lets go back upstairs. I can’t see a bloody thing.”

Lucien took two steps forward in the dark before tripping on the torch and lurching forward. Jean let out a shriek as he crashed into her, leaving them a tangle of limbs struggling against the wall for balance.

“Lucien!”

“Jean are you ok?”

“Yes I think so. I’m still standing at any rate.”

For a moment they stood in the dark, neither daring to move or speak. Eventually Jean shifted slightly against him. Lucien cleared his throat.

“Well Lucien, I think we should try and find our way out.”

“Yes. Maybe if I hold your hand we can reach the stairs together. It should be easy going from there.”

“Alright. But you’ll have let go of me first.”

“Yes.”

After a long pause, Lucien reluctantly pulled out of the tight embrace they were still engaged in. He could feel Jean’s hands slide slowly down his back as he backed away from the wall. Jean took his hand.

“Ready?”

Lucien sighed, “Not really.”

Lucien could swear she squeezed his hand as he turned towards the stairs, smiling in the dark.

[amethyst-noir]

and if you want another prompt, maybe just Stephen coming out to Tony? Like they were friends, ever since they all defeated Thanos they kept in touch and now they are best friends so Stephen thinks he should tell him the thing he only told Wong before? But he is very nervous and scared anyway.

This is cute, sweet and hopefully a little bit of fun. They end up together after pining away for each other,what did you expect? Happy end and all that. I’ve got a promise to keep.

Nothing to fear

“What am Isupposed to do?”

“First ofall? Stop running around like a squirrel. Second? Tell him.”

Wong, the originalunmovable object, just stood there, arms crossed, and looked at Stephen as ifhe were the greatest idiot of all times. To be fair, he kind of felt like thatat the moment. It shouldn’t be this hard. They lived in modern times, Tony wasa modern guy and Stephen should be able to just open his mouth and tell himthat he liked guys way more than girls.

That wasn’t theproblem. He could do that, he’d done it before. What he’d never done before wasgoing up to the object of his desire and tell them that he wasinterested. All his other affairs with men - which were not that many, to behonest, he’d always been more concerned with his career than sex - hadapproached him, not the other way round. Despite all his precautions they’dseen something in him, could tell his interest and acted on it. Sometimes ithad been great. Sometimes… not.

Fact was, StephenStrange did not know how to flirt when he was seriously interested. A fewharmless innuendos, not to be taken seriously, were no problem. He’d winked at TonyStark after knowing the guy for about thirty minutes, for heaven’s sake! Hecould do cute banter and sarcastic quips with the best of them. Which was Tony,once again.

“Stephen!”Wong broke through the endless circle of self-recrimination with a shout.“It’s easy. You like Stark, he obviously likes you or he wouldn’t keep youaround or come over all the time.” Despite the harsh words there was nocriticism in them; he liked Tony, after all, even though he tended to show itthrough sarcasm. A language both Tony and Stephen were fluent in. “It’s nosecret that he likes girls and boys, so I really don’t understand yourproblem.”

“But I don’tknow if he likes me.” It was a cliché, yes, but Stephen reallyhadn’t planned on speaking those words out aloud. He groaned, closed his eyesand finally sat down on the big library sofa. “Forget that I saidthat.” Even when he’d been a teenager he hadn’t felt like this. Thisis how you know that it’s the real thing. He shoved the thought away,again.

Wong laughed.“Never,” he said but he sounded kind about it. He sat down besidesStephen and even went so far as to put an arm around him. Physical touch wasunusual for them and Stephen leaned into it gratefully. “Believe me, helikes you. If you weren’t blind concerning him you’d have seen it months ago.He looks at you like you’re personally responsible for the sun rising in themorning.”

“That’s kindof his thing, isn’t it,” Stephen muttered. “Savior of the galaxy andall that.”

“Which hecouldn’t have done without you. Just tell him. He’s not going to run away andbanish you from his life forever.”

Stephen shuddered.Wong had put his fears into words. “He likes me as a friend, yes. But whyshould he…”

Wong stopped himright there and then with a gentle whack to the head. “Stop it. I don’twant to hear it. Swallow your pride and tell him or stop pining after him likethe lovesick fool you are. It’s getting tiresome.”

*

I don’t want toruin our friendship but I thought you should know…

By the heavens,this couldn’t get any worse. In his mind he’d tried pretty much every phraseand by now he had arrived at the stilted ones, straight out of some trashymovie. But at least they work, he thought and knew it that momentthat it was enough. Time to stop acting like a teenager and be himself.

The only problemwas that he just didn’t know how to be himself anymore. Instead he was anervous wreck; had been since the moment he finally realized that he’d managedto fall for earth’s greatest defender, also known as one of the suavestplayboys to ever grace the planet. In the same moment Stephen had lost everylast shred of his own composure and left behind was an insecure mess thatwanted but didn’t know how to ask for it. It was a new experience for him andhe hated it.

He’d cancelled thelast few meetings with Tony last minute and by now the man probably thoughtthat he’d made some faux-pas and that Stephen hated him. He’d seen Tonyspiral down into self-hate without much reason too often to not know that hewas not the only he person he was hurting with his behavior.

Time be himself;Doctor Stephen Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts and forty-three years old. Hecould do this.

The Cloakfluttered behind him, as if to give him support.

*

His resolve hadalmost left him again by the time he’d opened the portal to the tower.

“Hello,Stephen!” At least FRIDAY sounded happy so see him and Stephen automaticallysmiled at the nearest camera and nodded a greeting. The Cloak waved. “Bossis in the living room. You’ve got the authorization to just go through. He’swaiting.” Stephen’s spirits lifted.

He nodded histhanks, took a deep breath and went in search of Tony.

“Hi!”Tony, obviously told of his arrival by FRIDAY, smiled at him and Stephen feltthose mythical butterflies in his stomach. Tony’s smile really could not onlylight up a room but power the whole world for a week if he really meant it.“You made it! Great!”

Stephen smiledback by reflex. “Hi. Yes. Sorry about that.” Words were hard but hehoped that his expression showed his sincere happiness at being here. The Cloakgave him a little push to propel him a little bit nearer to Tony and he shushedit with an impatient gesture.

Tony, laughed,again. “Trouble with your cape?” The Cloak, who was used to this kindof teasing, swatted at him, deliberately missing him. “I must say that Ilike the new look.” His eyes wandered up and down Stephen’s body, hisintention clear, and Stephen couldn’t help but blush. It wasembarrassing. He was in normal clothes, just some old jeans and an even oldershirt. They were from before the accident, before he’d gained muscle mass, andwere a little bit on the tight side, but still comfortable. The outfit showedoff two of his best attributes - his legs and his shoulders. At least that waswhat the Cloak had told him before it had decided to be his jacket for theevening.

A jacket that nowfloated away to commune with FRIDAY, or whatever it did whenever they came overhere for an evening, and left Stephen just standing there, feeling exposed.

He likes you, Wong had said. And you’re both idiots. Considering the way Tonywas looking at him right now Stephen had to conclude that yes, he was an idiot,blinded by his own insecurities. He finally shrugged, still not knowing what hewas supposed to do, let alone say.

Tony finally cameclose to him, reaching out with one hand. “If I may?” He didn’t evenwait for an answer but stepped right up to Stephen and looked up. The heightdifference wasn’t that big but enough that Tony had to stretch a little andStephen had to bend down a little.

Tony’s hand landedon his shoulder and stroked over the soft, worn material. “Very nice,”he almost purred. He didn’t mean the damn shirt and Stephen could feel theblush creep over his face and down his neck. “At first I didn’t know whatto make of your skittish behavior,” he continued. Stephen wanted toprotest against that description but was too busy just breathing in Tony’swonderful scent. Besides, it wasn’t untrue. “But then I began to think andresearch,” Stephen shivered, he’d seen Tony in one of thisthink-and-research phases before and it was hot as hell. All that concentration,focus and pure stubbornness focused on him? Tony thinking about him,caring enough about him to dedicate time and effort? “And ask questions.Not that you noticed, you were so fucking clueless I couldn’t believe it. For atime I even thought that you might not be interested. You’re a master at givingmixed signals, Stephen.”

“It’s a gift.You’re not bad at them either.”

“I was justcopying the master.” Tony’s hand slowly wandered from his shoulder to histhroat - as if he knew just how much of a turn on that was for Stephen -and up to his face.

The sensualcontact finally broke through the numbness. He was a little bit hesitant but hebrought up a trembling hand to hold on to Tony before pulling him close for akiss. Finally, he thought, before his brain went offline to concentrateon other, more basic things.

=/\=

[ritacaroline]

Bonz Fan Fic  ch. 6

Record Shop Madness

With that, he took her hand and walked her into the cozy den, in which there was a fire blazing in the fireplace. He had brought with him a couple cold drinks and placed them on a table top in there. He sat on a chair and she sat on the closest edge of the sofa, to him. He sat there purposely so he could face her directly, able to move the light chair anywhere he wished. They were sipping their cold drinks and talking and laughing. 

She enjoyed his sense of humor so much and the two of them were just looking into each others eyes. With the fire radiating such a cozy warm atmosphere, and soft light, John moved closer to her and started touching her hair, and holding her soft hand in his other, massaging her wrist and palm.  He said, “You’re an absolute sight in the fire light my girl, I can’t resist you,” and he leaned forward toward her and started gently taking her sweet lips between his and licking them, one at a time. His kissing was sending bolts of lightning through her chest and stomach. Laurie put her hands at the sides of his neck and caressed him there and kissed him a few times on the side of his neck, right below his ears. And he loved it. He also smelled divine. Her response was thrilling to him, so he took her two hands and pulled her forward more, into his lap, so that she was straddling his legs. And he held her firmly at the lower back and felt her hips in his big hands and massaged her there. He pulled her body in closer, so they were pressed totally against each other. They were kissing and blending together in a hot wet union. He had his tongue in her mouth and she was melted against him. They were moving in such a sexy way against each other, that she was feeling dizzy with desire for him. He began pushing the dark sweater slowly off her shoulders and down her arms. Once it was off, he held and caressed her now bare upper and lower arms, since she wore a sleeveless tunic top under it. The feel of her skin in his hands further ignited him. He had his tongue running up and down the side of her neck, giving her shivers. He was getting hard again, with her right against himself, and had no desire to hide it. And she could feel it and was craving his body like crazy now. She massaged him all around his neck and shoulders as he was making some satisfied little sounds near her ear. She began unbuttoning his shirt and got him free of it, as he whispered to her, “I’m on fire for you, my love.” He stood up and put his arms under her bottom and lifted and carried her, face to face like that, into his bedroom. To him, she was lighter than air. She was loving it and continued kissing his neck as they entered the room. He didn’t put her down, but instead sat down on the bed and kept her straddled around his lap. He gently and slowly lifted and pulled her top off and she helped him, and she took off her bra. “You’re glorious my love,” he said in his deep voice. And they sat there awhile like that as she felt along his strong upper arms, feeling that gorgeous indent under his shoulder muscles exactly where they met his rock hard biceps. She rubbed him there, feeling that sexy indent, over and over, loving the feel of them. They probably became so toned and sexy from his strong work on the farm and also by his daily assault on the drums. “John, your arms are so manly and hard, you have my heart racing here.” She was so turned on by his muscular shoulders, she was completely ignited. He felt her gorgeous back and pressed his fingertips against her upper back, massaging into her muscles. It caused her to wiggle around a bit and she placed her head down forward against his warm shoulder, in bliss. He said, “Oh, my girl, you are more beautiful than I could’ve ever imagined. So delicate, so perfectly sexy.  I’m dying for you now.” He leaned down and nuzzled at her bare shoulders and sharp collar bone, covering there with kisses. She was smiling and he was just adoring her. She reached between them and with her small hands she unfastened and unzipped his jeans. The sight of her doing that for him was so hot, he was actually being turned inside out with lust for her. John lifted her up and he placed her standing on the ground for a moment and pulled his jeans down and off, and the boxers too. Until he had nothing on at all. Just stood there, then slowly, and gently began pushing her pants and underwear down as well, till she stepped out of them. Then he sat back down onto the bed and pulled her down next to him, so that they lay there on their sides, facing each other. Onto the fresh clean fragrant sheets. And he held her tight and continued kissing her, down her shoulders and began licking and kissing her breasts. Very warm and slow and wet, trailing kisses all over her beautiful breasts. Taking his time, sliding his hands all around her waist and hips, as his kisses were absolutely destroying her, she was so excited with him in her arms. He said, “My darling. You’re like heaven to me, you have me so hard now.  I’m going to make love to you now, sweet and slow. So I can show you how I feel about you. But if you don’t want to, or are unhappy in any way, you please just tell me and we can stop. Whatever you want, my love.” he spoke in such a low deep and sexy voice, she was just crazy with lust for him. “Oh, John,  oh my God, no, I want you so much right now, I’m out of my mind.” And he got the best smile on his face as he continued kissing her mouth passionately and holding her and caressing her lovely body everywhere he could. “Those are the most thrilling words I’ve ever heard, Laur. I’m so crazy for you, I don’t think I can wait a minute more.”  And she was just loving his touch. Smooth and slow and deliberate. He had his lips all over her and then slowly got on top, kissing her neck. His warm moist breath on her neck had her completely ready to have him. So he placed himself between her legs and slowly entered, until she heard him take in a strong breath. As he reacted to her soft warmth and her grasp on him. She was kissing his face and moving her hips around to get comfortable with him inside. Because he was a big strong guy, and it took a little shifting to get used to his size. She was comfortable after a few moments and he hesitated at first, caring whether she was fine. “Baby, are you ok ?”  he asked softly. “Yes, I’m alright,“ she answered. So, he began to move gently in the warmth a little, more, a little more. John said, “My darling, you feel so right and so perfect, you’re making me high. The feeling from being here with you like this, is incredible.” As he pressed in deeper and deeper, with her tightened around him he began moaning softly. And she couldn’t even speak, it was so sensual and so satisfying. She had her legs wrapped around him, holding on, and her arms all around his shoulders and his lovely muscular back. Pushing her hips up to meet his thrusts. And enjoying every beautiful minute. He was pressing up against her with every push forward and she was being massaged by him right where she needed to be. And she was making some high pitch sounds, sex sounds, which he loved hearing, and she was feeling like she was near to the top of her peak. She almost sounded like she was crying a little, but it was a uncontrollable response to her bliss. She began to say, “Oh, John, John, John, I, I’m, hold, Oh God, ..” and she took in some jagged breaths, stuttering something as she felt the lid blow off. Waves and waves of warm earth shattering satisfaction, flooded her mind and her hips, as she was crying out, and he was intensely loving every second, “Oh, my girl, hang on,“  he said shakily as he just couldn’t hold on any longer. The sexual sound of her voice in ecstacy, had completely pushed him over the edge. And then, suddenly, he reached his peak and his liquids flooded inside her.  He was shaking and moaning. And then, they lay there connected for a moment. Till they could slowly relax and disengage. He slowly backed away, and lay there, for a moment. “Oh my sweet Lord.” he said. “What you did to me. What you did.” Laura spoke softly, “Me ? What did I do ?”  He said, “You brought me to paradise is what you did. And I am going to remember forever. That was insane, how you made me feel. I’m going to need more and more and more of your sweet love. More,” he said while smiling. She just held him close and kissed his beautiful glowing face.  He said, “Laur, will you please stay ? Stay with me here tonight ? I want you right next to me, girl. Don’t go.”  Laura just nodded her head yes. He was hard to refuse. So gorgeous he was in every way. His body, his love making, his kindness, his beauty. She felt so warm and cared for, there was no way to say no to him. He was certainly someone she could get used to. And if that utterly beautiful satisfying experience was only his very first attempt to love her, hell, she said to herself, she’d definitely be sticking around for more. He was a force to be reckoned with. “Just so you know, sweetheart, your lovemaking was intense and beautiful, and I enjoyed you thoroughly. And yes, I would love to stay.” she said as she kissed his mouth again. He was overwhelmed with pleasure at her comments. His heart beat hard in his chest upon hearing that. And they spent a very relaxed and joyful night against each other. John had her wrapped in his lovely embrace, and blankets on top, and was so pleased and so thankful she decided to stay.

Next chapter (7) https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/183030611571/bonz-fan-fiction-ch-7

[laurabelle2930]

Back to the Start ~ Chapter 3

As always thank you to @mel-loves-all for her inspiring board which you see right here! 

To everyone who has taken the time to read this fic I honestly thank you from the bottom of my heart. It’s been very humbling to have even a few amazing people reading and connecting to this story. 

Read if from the beginning here

Read Ch 3 here or on AO3

Past, Present and, Future 

It was now a little past 7. The skyline had gone dark. The mountains that framed the doorway we're once again immovable structures of Earth and stone. Sara glanced down at her phone as she giggled wildly. “I knew it! I knew she wouldn't be to keep her hands off him!”

Donna moved in the background. Sara shot her mother a questioning look. The slender, 5’4 woman whose hair was still unnaturally blonde smiled sadly. “They could be fighting sweetie.” she breathed slowly. “They could be sitting in silence or even just sitting in traffic. We don't know what's caused the delay,” she finished quietly while she tapped fingers along her forearm.

Sara pushed herself away from the window ledge. She moved around the kitchen island until she was able to place a soothing hand along her mother's shoulder. Donna placed her temple along Sara's knuckles and sighed, “I really hope we did the right thing,”

Sara laughed gently, “Mom I'm telling you our precious Felicity is having car sex as we speak.”

Donna scoffed uncomfortably, “Oh she's not that kind of girl!” Sara raised her brows when Donna added, “We both are but, she's not the type.”

Sara squeezed her mother's shoulder and replied softly, “Oh please they've done it before.” Donna gave her daughter a horrified look. Sara groaned while she smacked herself mentally once for the words that had left her mouth.  

“Felicity and Oliver didn't have that type of relationship,” Donna asserted almost angrily.

Sara balked at the expression with in her mother's eyes. “Well they didn't always that would be accurate yes…” she rambled in hopes of keeping at least one member of her family on her side when Felicity came to kill her.

Donna's eyes almost glowed with shock, “Not before she left?”

Sara simply nodded slowly as she bit her bottom lip.

“But they were only together that one time?” Donna asked with a hint of pleading in her voice.

Sara suddenly prayed for the hordes of blood sniffing dogs. Her hand slid down to Donna's elbow before she let out a tight lipped, “Yeah that I think was the first time in an actual bed. “

Donna’s lips went pale. “What do you mean in a bed?” Sara felt herself burying her way to China Donna’s face fell.

Sara's brows knotted in sorrow and a smidge of guilt when she mumbled “She used protection?” after that the room went silent.

Donna didn't pace, hell Donna didn't move as she stood there and pieced the entire equation together. “So, all the trips they took for Oliver's father were…”

Sara felt the cool marble of the countertop as her forehead fell at her mother's conclusion. “Yeah mom, that was a cover,” she mumbled shamefully. “Why do you think I suggested this plan?” She added without ever lifting her head. “I knew if they were trapped together in that damn truck one thing would lead to another…”

Donna's lips began to curve while Sara kept her forehead along the counter. “So, by the time she gets here….” Donna nearly beamed, “That means…”

“They should be back together yes,” Sara grumbled as she slowly lifted her head. “I would also assume that Felicity will be opting to stay with Oliver since the inn as we call it is full until next week.”

Donna smiled almost cunningly. Sara's brow shifted as a look of wonder crossed her face. “What's that smile for?”

Donna patted Sara's arm gently as she said, “How would you feel about meddling just one more time?”

Sara cocked her eyebrow as she chuckled, “Are you thinking about a proposal perhaps?”

“I think you read my mind,” Donna laughed as she grabbed her car keys and headed towards the front door.

Some moments become memories before they've even begun and, some take you by surprise and become memorable while they're happening. For Felicity this was a moment that had become a memory the second she began to unbutton Oliver's shirt.

They were stretched out...well they were cuddling together in the backseat of Oliver's truck. They’d started in the passenger seat and, for some odd reason that wasn't enough to satisfy either one of them. Their first encounter was hard, fast and, almost clumsy. Felicity had managed to unbutton Oliver's shirt. He'd managed to get to her bra before they both began to grow anxious. While they were trying to strip the other they crudely switched places. Felicity could already feel the bruises along her bottom from where the seat belt buckle had been during the switch. She'd unzipped Oliver's fly while he quickly undid her jeans. Felicity managed to push the offending fabric to her knees while Oliver's fingers nearly shredded her underwear. Seconds later she felt him surging beneath her until she felt him moving within her.

The second time wasn't any more comfortable, but the pace was a bit slower. They were no longer two horny teenagers at a drive-in movie. Now they wanted to tease and test the other. The back seat allowed Felicity to stretch her fingers out along Oliver's abdomen as he roughly moved beneath her. Oliver in turn undid her bra and began to explore the curvature of her breasts until his thumbs we're moving along her nipples rapidly. Felicity felt the newly harnessed strength of Oliver's body pushing along her core until the heat in her belly began to swim throughout her limbs. She used her fingers to move along every inch of his chest until she could feel every change she'd missed.

Felicity felt limp as she fell atop his chest in completely satisfied exhaustion. “Well you certainly don’t disappoint, do you?” she panted once her heart wasn't slamming roughly against her chest

Oliver's rough, “Well you were kind enough to oblige my request…” left Felicity making a mental note to send God a fruit basket for this experience alone.

Now they were snuggled along the backseat of his truck. Oliver had managed to shrug off his pants before they'd gone for round two. Felicity was smiling as she ran her toes up and down the length of Oliver's calf while he softly trailed his fingers along the back of her spine. She was lying beside him with her temple along his chest. She was lazily moving her fingers along the panes of his lower abdomen when Oliver let out an amusing shout.

“I still can't believe we just did that!” he panted rapidly while Felicity giggled against his chest.

“Well believe it cowboy. Just be thankful I'm on the pill,” she laughed as she nudged her nose along the underside of his jaw.

Oliver's fingers slid over her lower back while he whispered against her forehead, “So was it better than you remembered?”

Felicity kissed the edge of his collarbone and murmured, “What did my screams tell you?”

Oliver chuckled, “That I've been forgiven for McKenna?”

Felicity swatted at his chest playfully but agreed quickly. “Yes but, I'm guessing my father won't be so forgiving if some highway patrol officer finds his naked daughter with her equally naked boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Oliver asked with laughter brimming in his chest. “I'm thinking I might be more than that…”

Felicity's cheek buzzed as Oliver's skin rippled in amusement beneath her. She smiled at his confidence as she pinched his stomach. “Promise ring or not, I'm not calling you my fiancé unless you get down on your damn knee and, ask.”

“Speaking of asking, what are you telling your family about us?”

Felicity kissed his collarbone once more as she replied, “We reconnected and, we're rebuilding our relationship why?”

“So….”

Felicity giggled, “So if I tell them that we're rebuilding our bond that means…

Oliver's chest rattled her skin once more when he said, “We'll have plenty of alone time?”

Felicity jabbed her heel in his calf before she grazed her teeth along the delicate skin of his pulse point. “Relax Oliver we’ll be having plenty of sex,” she soothed as he pecked her forehead.

“Have I mentioned I love you?” he asked playfully.

Felicity smiled before she curled into his side, “Yeah I think you screamed it maybe once or twice.”

“Good,” he whispered as Felicity began to move away.

She felt Oliver's fingers drifting along her back as she searched for her discarded clothes. She was pushing her bra back into place when she said, “Hey quick question…”

Oliver tossed her shirt at her as he moved for his pants. “Okay?” He replied a bit nervously.

Felicity glanced over her shoulder as she patted his still bare knee. “Relax baby, we just made love…”

Oliver smiled slowly, “So it wasn't just sex then?”

Felicity ginned shyly, “It's just a word but, it doesn’t describe what I felt in any way.”

Oliver's brisk, “Good,” pushed her back to towards her original question. “But back to my question…”

Oliver snickered as he replied, “Does it have to do with housing?”

Felicity blushed but gave him a shy, “I've spent ten years away from you, and I don't intend to spend another night without you.”

Oliver rubbed his palm along her spine. Felicity arched towards his touch as he whispered along her shoulder, “I have house about four miles down the road from yours.”

Felicity's chin dipped toward her chest once a whispered, “Good,” left her smiling mouth.

“Okay so what's the plan?”

Donna glanced towards Sara’s face. The way her brow crinkled, and her nose twitched when she was nervous about a plan reminded Donna of how Felicity acted whenever she too was trying to conceal the truth. Donna tapped her fingers along the steering wheel of her SUV. The road before them bumped beneath the tires, the winds had died down, so you can almost hear a pin drop. “I’ll tell you the plan if you tell me what’s bothering you,” Donna offered softly. She might not be Sara’s biological mother but, she loved her as if she were.

Sara glanced out the window as she spoke. Her lively eyes fell over the hidden landscape while her thoughts danced through her head. Donna almost became worried by the silence of the daughter beside her but, her fears were put to rest when Sara’s exhaled concerns came flooding through the car. “What if she runs away again?”

Donna shifted her gaze from the road for a mere moment to glance at Sara’s worried face. Her lips were pursed into a thin line, her forehead was knit into a thousand lines as she twisted her fingers along her lap. “You’re afraid that by pushing her like we did when she was child she’ll do exactly the same thing she did back then,” Donna surmised rather quickly as Oliver’s quaint home began to become visible through the darkness that surrounded the open land.

Sara’s mumbled, “Yeah that about sums it up,” was nearly lost along Oliver’s gravel laden drive.

Donna tossed her head to the side as she tangled her fingers through her blonde locks. She leaned her temple against her palm as Sara shifted her gaze from the windows and, towards her mother’s calm face. Donna felt Sara’s eyes asking the question she hadn’t dared to voice. “It’s different this time because they are,” Donna breathed once the gravel beneath the tires began to soften into compacted dirt.

“Mom if they actually had sex in the truck they can’t be that different,” Sara concluded the moment Oliver’s front porch could be seen without the aid of his porch lights.

Donna suppressed a chuckle as her lips curved into a soft if not knowing smile. “Sara have you ever been in love before?”

Sara stared at her as she maneuvered the car into the small driveway near the detached garage. Her voice dropped a bit when she slowly admitted, “No, I haven’t been that lucky.”

Donna shifted the car into park. She then finally allowed herself to look at one of her younger daughters. Sara was a bit shorter than Felicity with long strawberry blonde hair and, a small but still formidable form. When Felicity left Sara became her parent’s only child. She’d remained in Hamilton to help with the inn but, to also find what made her happy. Sara unlike her sister’s never yearned for life beyond the mountains she spent her life growing up around. She instead yearned to be one with the land the way that Felicity always had been. Her soft features were hidden by sarcasm and a mouth that a sailor would envy. She was beautiful, kind, strong and, brilliant but, she kept her heart under lock and key. Sara crinkled her brow. “Mom you’ve been silent for like three minutes would you care to share with the class?” she asked as Donna’s soft laughter filled her stomach with butterflies.

“Sorry sweetheart but, you don’t really understand why she ran to begin with,” Donna began to explain before Sara’s brows narrowed once more.

“Ummmm mom why would she run from love?”

Donna shifted in her car seat. Her smile shifted as she began to say, “Everyone assumed that once Oliver and Felicity graduated from high school that they’d move onto the next step,” Donna laughed begrudgingly at her own behavior as she muttered, “Hell I had their china patterns picked out along with the date, and time but, I forgot to ask a very important question,” she mused as Sara placed a timid hand over her knee.

“You forgot to ask if that’s she wanted and, then if that’s what Oliver wanted as well,” Sara realized quickly.

Donna nodded sadly, “Felicity didn’t run away from Oliver baby, she ran away from a life that she hadn’t chosen yet. She ran to give them both the space and, the freedom to grow before they decided to be together forever.”

Sara mumbled almost sadly, “Felicity never intended for them to be separated, forever did she?”

“No but, when Oliver reacted the way he did Felicity must have decided that they’re weren’t as in love as she’d thought and closed the book on their story; well that is until…”

Sara’s smile began to grow until her words could no longer be contained, “Until we decided to put her in a car with the one person she never intended to lose.”

Donna nodded agreeably, “Love like theirs doesn’t die Sara. It’s rare and, often mistaken for puppy love but, I knew it wasn’t over when Oliver ended his engagement and, Felicity kept breaking up with any man who’d managed to get past her walls in a matter of three months. Well that and she still wears that damn promise ring around her neck,” Donna added almost as an afterthought when she finally pulled the keys from the ignition and began to open her car door.

The two stepped onto the darkened pavement. “So, your plan is to what create a romantic setting for Oliver to pop the question?” Sara guessed as the two began to move towards the house.

Donna nodded as she zipped up her coat. “Exactly. I figure we give him a few candles, some flowers and maybe some twinkle lights and, he’ll take the opportunity to well set things right.”

“And when she calls to tell us she’s running late you’re going to what tell her no you have to stay with Oliver for the night?”

Donna chuckled, “Oh honey if you’re right about the “truck sex” then she’ll either sneak out to get to him or she herself will suggest that she just stay with Oliver until the inn isn’t booked.”

Sara let out an elated, “So when we tell her that we had to rent out her room at the last minute,”

“I’m guessing she won’t be crestfallen when we suggest she should stay with Oliver,” Donna agreed as they both admired the house before them.

Oliver’s home was an old farmhouse that he’d spent three years converting into a livable home after he’d come home from college. When he’d bought the land from his father the house was falling apart. The once white paint had been worn down by years of dust, rain and, the often-harsh mountain air. The shingles on the roof were turning into crumpled bits of dust and concrete. The windows were completely blown out and, that was just the outside appearance. The floors were covered with mold, vines and, every type of vermin that often prowled through the farm fields in search of water and food. Now the home was a treasure if not a feat of what a broken heart and, hard work could accomplish when given the right motivation.

Now the home was suitable for a young family and, if Donna had her way that family would be Felicity’s. The two moved along the path of oddly shaped stones. As the main house came into view the two were able to see the freshly painted white siding that seemed to shine like a spotlight beneath the five porch lights that were contained with the massive wrap around porch. The porch like the home was also painted white. The railing went around the entire structure of the house. If they’d come during the day, they would have gone in through the screened in back deck since Oliver rarely remembered to lock the back door. He’d been busy lately with planting since the red front door was flanked by hanging ferns on both sides. The flower beds were hidden by the night sky but, Donna knew they held flowers of almost every variety.

The two walked up the three front steps and past the hanging porch seat near the far-right end. He had a throw pillow at one end indicating he’d most likely woken up there this morning. The two women shook their hands as Donna searched for the key. They like Oliver had keys to the other’s home in case of a weather-related emergency or in some cases a week-long power outage. Living within the beauty of nature did come some downsides. Donna pushed her key through lock, once the deadbolt slid open the two women pushed opened the front door and switched on the light next to the small table in the entry way.

Sara glanced about the room as Donna began moving towards the kitchen. The stairs for the second floor were located mere feet from the front door. The space was open with gray hardwood floors throughout the entire first level. To the right was a formal living room which Oliver had converted into an office with not one but two rather large desks. Each had a stack of supplies that ranged from pens to computer screens. The space could be closed off if one bothered to shut the double French doors. To the left was the family room that empties out into the completely reinvented kitchen. Donna caught Sara’s eyes moving along the off-white walls and the modern touches as her fingers drifted along the black leather furniture.

“He certainly picked things that Felicity would find acceptable didn’t he,” Donna commented from behind the gray, marbled granite countertop of the kitchen island that held the sink and the dishwasher.

Sara nodded in shock, “He really missed nothing did he?”

Donna laughed slightly, “Yeah no kidding…”

The two marveled at the stainless-steel appliances that were placed within the endless white cabinets. There was a small nook off to one side with a bench built underneath the curved windows. Another table was near the back wall. Donna moved towards it when she saw a stack of papers and a pen. “Hey honey, I think Oliver might have a plan of his own…” she called out once her fingers were drifting along the various papers.

Sara moved past the nook as then placed her hands in her coat pockets. “How so?” she asked once she was at her mother’s shoulder.

Before them was a deed, a handwritten letter and, a set of blueprints.

“Houston, I think we have a proposal,” Sara breathed just as Donna whispered,

“Eureka…”

“So, we’re about 20 miles out…” Oliver mentioned as the small sign came into sight.

Felicity mumbled, “Yeah and I’m still not sure how I’m going to avoid telling Sara her stupid plan completely worked.

Oliver rattled off a soft, “What you don’t want to give a blow by blow of the how, when, and where?”

Felicity rolled her eyes in annoyance, “Not funny and, knowing that blabber mouth she’s most likely already told my mother the truth about our “errands” for your father when we were dating as kids.”

Oliver’s cheeks even flushed at that thought. “Oh god your mother might kill me when she realizes that I took her daughter’s virginity in the back of my dad’s old pickup truck.”

Felicity smirked at his gulped confession before she added, “Oh relax Bean she’s most likely thrilled that our last night together wasn’t our first time.”

Oliver gulped again, “Yeah but, your first time wasn’t special. It was some quickie in a truck underneath an overpass because we couldn’t find a better place to be alone.”

Felicity rubbed her fingers along his forearm as her reassuring, “It was perfect because I was with you,” drifted along his skin.

Oliver smiled then whispered, “You make loving you way too easy.”

Felicity grinned like an idiot when she replied, “Yeah well loving you isn’t exactly hard either.”

Oliver smiled but, their sweet moment was short lived. Another sign for Hamilton came into view. Felicity’s heart began to race as she moved her fingers down to Oliver’s wrist. His own heart had begun to race as he breathed, “Okay but seriously what are we going to do? I really want to spend the night with you but, I can’t imagine your parents are going to be okay with us making love in your childhood bed.”

Felicity glanced at her phone nervously. “Well I certainly can’t say hey so uhm we had sex in the truck on the way here and, well I’d rather stay with my boyfriend at least for a few nights before I stay in my own home now can?”

Oliver rolled his eyes but chuckled softly, “Oh I’ll put the truck to shame once I get you in my bed…”

Felicity shot him a sultry look and sighed, “Oh trust me I've already begun to daydream…”

Another sign for Hamilton came into view. Felicity's stomach swarmed with endless butterflies as the landscape around them began to improve. Signs of life were becoming more evident along the once barren highway.

She felt Oliver’s skin beginning to jump beneath her touch as his voice rattled out a worried, “Seriously babe what the hell are you going to say?”

Felicity sighed, “I have an idea but, I’m sure they would like it.”

Oliver’s eyes drifted towards her face. Felicity shrugged then mumbled, “I can call and say we got a bit delayed…” Oliver’s eyes rose with veiled amusement. Felicity shook her head then rolled her eyes as she continued. “I know that the inn’s booked until next week, so I can suggest that instead of waking a house full of guests perhaps it would be better if I stayed with you for the night.”

“Won’t they wonder why I offered my spare room to after ten years of not speaking?” Oliver offered as the 10-mile sign came into view.

Felicity patted his wrist like his question was absurd. “Oh, please they’ll practically cheer because if you’re offering then we’ve most likely made up,” she explained very matter of factly.

Oliver smiled because he knew it was true. “So, what should I tell the other one?” Oliver breathed through his striking smile.

Felicity rattled off a tepid, “Oh I’ll deal with him as well,” before she moved the hand she had on Oliver’s wrist back towards her lap. She then fished her phone out of her purse. She pressed Sara’s name and, felt Oliver’s nerves rise as she pressed the phone to her ear. Seconds later the bright “Oh well look who’s running late,” filled the truck’s cab.

Felicity rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. “And hello to you too,” Felicity muttered quickly while even Oliver smirked. Felicity’s eyes shot towards him. He shrugged while his lips moved into a tight smile.

Felicity mouthed, “you're going to pay for this…” Sara however distracted her from Oliver's response. “Yeah, yeah, we'll catch up later but, right now you're late and because of it we've run into a problem.”

Felicity felt something rising through her stomach. “Oh really,” she asked carefully with pins pricking at her skin. Oliver caught the change in her tone. She felt his fingers moving along her knee. She glanced at his furrowed brows and mouthed, “she's up to something.”

Oliver nodded as Sara said, “Well you do know that our house is also a B&B, right?”

“Cut the crap Sara I haven't been gone that long, and seriously! I was 12 when the business started!” Felicity noted with more annoyance than malice.

Sara's soft, “Fine. We had to give a very sweet elderly couple your room for the night,” caused Felicity to smile.

She cracked her neck when she tilted her head towards the window. “And let me guess you feel that I should what ask to stay with Oliver perhaps?” she nearly sang as Oliver chuckled beside her.

Felicity felt his long fingers stretching out along her knee cap as Sara's almost victorious sounding, “Well that sounds like an amazing idea!” left Felicity feeling like she too should hatch a plan to get back at her family for meddling.

“Well if he agrees should I still head for the house or just wait until morning?”

Sara remained silent for a moment. Felicity laced her fingers over Oliver's as they approached Main St. He tugged at her knee. Felicity moved her eyes towards his soft eyes as he mouthed, “You're scheming, aren't you?”

Felicity nodded slowly once Sara’s giddy, “Just head for his place and we'll see you in the morning,” hit her waiting ears.

Felicity let out a quick, “Okay then,” before she hung up and shouted towards the sky, “They want me in your house!”

Oliver laughed dryly, “So do I but, I'm guessing they've done something haven't they?”

Felicity squeezed at their joined hands as she dropped her phone into her purse. She then tangled her free fingers through her hair as she leaned her temple along the glass beside her. “Oh, they've laid some trap I'm completely sure,” she grumbled once they passed her mother's shop.

Oliver let out an easy, “Probably but, their first one didn't play out too badly now did it?”

“Oh honey, it turned out wonderfully but, those two won't stop until I'm dressed in white with you at the end near a priest,” she realized as the openness of the fields came into view.

Oliver's voice lowered when he caught the undercurrent of an idea in Felicity's light tone. “Felicity what are you planning over there?”

Felicity smiled at the landscape. Even in the dark she could feel the tips of the mountains beginning to move along her skin. She squeezed at Oliver's hand once more. She felt his touch along her knee as she replied, “Oh I'm planning to make a point but…”

Oliver mumbled, “This is going to involve my mother isn't it?”

Felicity shifted her gaze from the mountains and back towards his face. She smiled at how his jaw clenched when he was worried or even scared. He must have felt her gaze because his eyes drifted from the well-worn roads. She held his gaze for just a moment then asked, “Would it be so bad if it did?”

Oliver breathed, “No but, can we plot in the morning once I've slept?”

Felicity gave him a small, “Yes,” as they fell into a comfortable silence. She'd wait until morning. She'd wait for Oliver to reveal why he'd really gone along with Sara's plan and, then she'd call Moira Queen. Felicity didn't lie when she said she'd come back for Oliver but, she'd also come back for her. A month before she'd received a letter and, it was what the letter offered that finally pushed her back home.

Now she had to figure out if Oliver wanted the future that the letter could offer.

Tagging: @michealajulius @blondeeoneexox @relativelyobsessedfangirl @thebookjumper @emmaamelia95 @hope-for-olicity @coal000 @missyriver @supersillyanddorky06 @mel-loves-all @love2luvyyou @memcjo @smoakingarrow19 @independent-fics @green-arrows-of-karamel @blondiegrl00 @it-was-a-red-heeler @diggo26 @charlinert @oliverfel4 @swordandarrow @scu11y22 @vaelisamaza @ireland1733 @redpensandgreenarrows @emmilynestill @rivaroma @rivaroma23 @miriam1779 @jaspertown @marytagus @onceuponarrow @lalawo1 @pleasantfanandstudent @alemap74 @kathrynelizabeth89 @sweetzcupcake @jedichick04 @nalla-madness @quiveringbunny @mrsbubblelee @olicitylovemaking @almondblossomme @befitandchase @pimsiepim @andjustforthismoment @anonymiss118 @thelockpickingvictorian @yet-i-remain-quiet @lexi9515 @marniforolicity @myhauntedblacksoul @myuntetheredsoul @felicity-said-just-in-case @i-m-a-fan-world @emilyp05 @missafairy @cainc3 @captainolicitysbedroom @yespleasehawkeyee @tdgal1 @fangirlfromthenorthcountry @sabahuniverse 

[hellostarlight20]

Christmas Present 3/3

For @lizziea2 who asked for: Could I ask for some Christmas fluff for the TARDIS family of the Doctor, Rose and Jenny after the events of “I will….”? And @kelkat9 who wanted: Christmas Prompt: I Will Verse; Ten/Rose; The Night They Saved Christmas

Takes place in The Adventures of Bad Wolf and the TARDIS…and their Doctor a month after the events of I Will... Yes, you should read those, but it’s not 100% necessary. What you need to know: Bad Wolf Rose. Yup, that sums it up!

As always all my thanks goes to Mrs. Bertucci for her amazing beta and to my girls from FB where we had a great British Christmas song discussion! 

AO3, TSP, and Tumblr (and 2)

Rose crossed her arms over her chest. “You kidnapped my family. Why?”

 The three aliens cornered her in an alleyway, away from market-goers and innocent bystanders. They all pointing guns of some sort at her—killing weapons or whatever they used to take the Doctor and Jenny from beside her talking about snow globes into their particular snow globe—didn’t back down from her patented glare. She’d have to work on that. They also didn’t answer.

 “Who else did you take? I know you understand me.” The TARDIS hummed in her head, fully operational and pissed as hell that her family had been taken from her.

 Rose wondered if She always felt like that when the Doctor was in trouble, but until her time in that other universe, hadn’t noticed despite her bond with the TARDIS. A memory—brief and blurry, vague—flashed before her mind’s eye. Of Martha walking the Earth, carrying the fob watch the Doctor once hid his Time Lordy self in.

She’d heard all about Martha’s walk around the world, of course, and the Doctor shared his own memories of that time, the Year from Hell. This image felt more hers than someone else’s. Or maybe it was both, hers and the TARDIS’s.

 Rose promised herself, and the TARDIS, she’d look into it later.

 “No? Nothing? Well.” Rose dropped her arms and planted her feet, braced to duck or run or tackle meaty-paws and grab the snow globe. “I guess you should know that you’re in violation of at least a dozen Shadow Proclamation laws. This is a Level Five planet,” she added, pulling from her memory everything the Doctor had ever said about Earth. “And it is protected. Give me the globe. And run.”

 Nothing. Not a peep—though did one of their guns waver? Waver or steady, it was hard to tell. Rose tensed.

 “You speak our language so obviously know who we are.” The one holding the snow globe—the leader? —scowled at her.

 Not a clue, but Rose met his scowl with one of her own. “How did you think you’d pass on Earth?”

 He—or she, Rose didn’t know the gender or if they even had genders—scoffed. “We have been here nine days. They notice nothing, these pathetic Earthlings.”

 “Humans,” Rose automatically corrected. “We prefer Humans. But you should know that if you’ve been here nine days.”

 What she had said to Derica in the stall had been right, sadly so. No one had noticed the disappearance of whoever else these beings had taken or the fact that they only barely resembled humans.

 The long, sloping ears and the gill-like slits on their throats should’ve been a dead giveaway but alas.

 “This is the part where you tell me why you’re on my planet and what you want with Humans.” Rose emphasized that last. It seemed important they know the difference between Humans and Earthlings, though she couldn’t fathom why. Maybe it was the pounding in her head where the Doctor’s telepathic presence ought to be. Maybe she was feeling nitpicky.

 The one holding the gun laughed. “No, I don’t think so. This is the part where we add you to our collection.”

 Collection? Hmm, all right. Either they wanted Humans for pets—not the first time she’d heard that—or slaves or even repopulation. Possibly to experiment on, but usually scientists didn’t add to a collection for experimentation. That was a very specific word, that.

 The part of the snow globe facing her bulged.

 “No,” Rose shot back. “I don’t think so. This is the part where your collection escapes.”

 Oh, the confused looks on their faces! A frown was a frown was a frown, and apparently fuck truly was a universal curse word. Rose smirked and crossed her arms over her chest again. She really wanted to press her fingers to her temples and curl into a ball, but now so wasn’t the time.

 The globe itself, average sized and clear glass, had undoubtedly developed a protuberance on the side. The being holding it gaped—Rose valiantly tried not to snicker but doubted she succeeded—and nearly dropped it on the pavement.

 He juggled the globe. Rose braced to luge for it if he dropped it. What happened if it shattered? Did it kill her family? Her thudding heart skipped, but the alien steadied the globe. The swelling stopped, but didn’t rescind.

 Jenny and the Doctor had to be pushing from the inside. When the alien fumbled the globe, it must’ve shaken them from the glass, which was why the swelling stopped. They were trying to escape and believed they could by physically pushing their way out. So…if they pushed from inside, that meant shattering the snow globe would free them.

 Rose met the alien’s gaze, wider now as he held the snow globe tight. If he didn’t want to shatter the globe, either, then breaking it did free them.

 She grinned. He stepped back. The other two had regained their wits and now aimed their weapons at her. Rose ignored them. She focused on the middle man and braced herself.

 Two steps away from him. He held the globe in both large hands, Rose doubted she’d be able to knock it from him. He’d be more careful now that he’d almost dropped it. He met her gaze and stepped back, still cradling the snow globe.

 Rose leaped forward.

 She didn’t knock the snow globe out of his hands. Rose didn’t even focus on him. No, she rammed into the alien on his left, holding the ray gun on her. Knocking into him, she angled it just right—she hoped—so his taller, heavier frame knocked into the middle man.

 Like a domino effect, the three of them toppled down in the midst of grunts, curses, and frantic scrambling.

 The snow globe hit the pavement. Almost instantly, the bulge on the side, thinner than the rest of the glass now, Rose presumed, shattered. Ten people suddenly appeared in the middle of the otherwise deserted alleyway, normal height and looking none-the-worse for being trapped inside a snow globe.

 “Doctor!” Rose ran to him and crushed him tight in her arms. She reached out and pulled Jenny to her as well. “Are you both all right?”

 Very reluctantly, she stepped back, out of the Doctor’s arms and the gorgeous feel of him back in her head where he belonged.

 “We have to stop separating like this,” he whispered and pressed his lips to hers. “I thought we agreed, no more telepathic distance?”

 She choked out a laughing sob and kissed him hard, letting his love and relief, his very presence, soothe her. “I’ll work on that. Haven’t been back all that long, you know.”

 “Mum, you all right?” Jenny sounded concerned and Rose turned to look at her.

 “Yeah, darling.” She sighed and pulled the other woman into a tight hug. “You?”

 “You’re bleeding.”

 Rose frowned and looked down. Sure enough, her jeans were ripped at the knees, which were scrapped and bleeding. And, now that she noticed it, damn cold! “Oh. That’s nothing. Just a little street brawl.”

 She jerked her head to the trio on the ground, which was odd, Rose had expected them to make a hasty retreat.

 But then she noticed the others—all those who’d also been trapped in the snow globe now blocked the alleyway exit and refused to let the aliens by. Even though two of them pointed their guns at the Humans, no one budged.

 Rose hoped they didn’t have another snow globe.

 “And who do we have here?” The Doctor, hands in his trouser pockets in a deceptively casual pose, strolled to the trio.

 The Humans shivered. If the aliens had any brains, they’d have shuddered at the barely repressed fury in his voice. They did not. Instead, they turned to face him. They didn’t lower their guns and didn’t dare look in her direction.

 Maybe her glare had had some effect on them. Or maybe it was the tackling, snow globe breaking that did.

 “You have never heard of us, Human,” the middle one sneered.

 Which was a sharp turn from assuming Rose knew who they were because they thought she spoke their language. He did, however, use Human instead of Earthling. Rose considered that a point in her favor.

 “Oh, but I’m not Human.” The Doctor stopped just out of arm’s reach from the trio. “You should’ve scanned me before you kidnapped me and my daughter and caused my wife to bleed.”

 No reply. Rose hadn’t really expected one.

 “Now, then, a simple twist of my sonic.” In a flash, he pulled it from his inner jacket pocket and twisted a setting. “I can summon the Judoon. I’m sure they’d love to hear from you.”

 “I did try to warn you.” Rose closed the distance between she and Jenny, and the Doctor. “Told you this planet is protected.”

 “They never listen,” The Doctor sighed dramatically.

 “Why did you kidnap us?” Jenny asked. “Why trap us in a snow globe?”

 “Easy transport,” the middle man snapped then sighed and pressed his lips tightly closed.

 “Piracy?” The Doctor shook his head and clucked his tongue. “Even pirates know a Level Five planet is off limits. You’d have to be very desperate, or very stupid, to come here.”

 “Which is it?” Jenny asked, and she sounded genuinely curious.

 Rose snickered. That was so very Jenny.

 “We have it on good authority the Protector is dead,” Alien on the Left said and lowered his gun.

 Rose shivered but not from the biting cold. “What do you mean?”

 “The Doctor,” the middle man said. “He has died, opening up this planet to all its riches.”

 “The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” The Doctor stiffened, but didn’t look at her.[JB1] 

 “Who’s spreading rumors of your death?” Rose demanded. “Or did someone lie to them to get them to Earth?”

 “No idea,” he admitted. “But they’re not the leaders, so I doubt they know.”

 Just then a pair of ginormous rhinoceroses beamed into the alleyway. They spoke only a couple words in Judoonan, which the TARDIS refused to translate for reasons Rose didn’t want to examine. Just as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared with the trio, minus the shards of snow globe.

 “It’s over,” Jenny said to the group of Humans who’d been taken. “They’ve been arrested and are being dealt with.”

 Rose turned to the Doctor and hugged him tight. Jenny continued to talk to the others, answering questions and glossing over the whole aliens are real thing. All told, the eight people who’d been held captive for at least nine days took it relatively well.

 “I know what my favorite Christmas song is,” the Doctor whispered against her temple.

 “What?” Rose pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.

 “Christmas Present.”

 “Aww, that’s sweet but making up a song doesn’t count.” Even as she said the words, Rose knew he hadn’t made up the title.

 The intensity of his love for her washed over her skin, dark and possessive, consuming. All he was, all he wanted to be, she knew and held in her hands. His hearts. Rose blinked and took his hands, holding tight onto him.

 “Doctor?”

 “It’s by the Skyliners.”

 “The who?” Rose shook her head and chuckled. “I’ve never heard of them. Or the song.”

 The Doctor hummed a few bars then sang softly, “Baby, you’re my Christmas past, my Christmas present, my Christmas always.”

 “I love you,” Rose whispered and kissed him.

 “I love you, too, my hearts.”

This is the song Christmas Present by the Skyliners.