#we had to bend forward awkwardly to use the old sink and it hurt our back a lot at times

[thethingything]

so they've finally finished fitting the new bathroom and it's really nice, but one thing we have noticed is the the toilet, sink, and the walls of the shower cubicle are taller than the previous ones, plus the sink and toilet are bigger just in general, and there's now a fancy radiator that's taller than us, and it's all just enough that we walked in there and 🍬 immediately went "oh god why do I feel like I've shrunk. I feel so tiny..." and I feel a little bit bad for laughing at that

[mysterioh]

ᕼEᒪTEᖇ ᔕKEᒪTEᖇ - [1/8]

Pairing: Cop!Bucky Barnes x Cop!Reader

Summary: The year is 1989 and what better to prepare for the next decade than with a killing spree? A string of gruesome deaths has thrust the city of New York into absolute mayhem and terror causing intoxicating fear to settle within the niches of the city's underbelly. Having used up every trick in the book and earning nothing, Police Commissioner Stark seeks the aid of the NYPD's most elite task force. 

A force of two. 

A reticent genius and a cheeky casanova.

WARNINGS: Death, Murder, Graphic Depictions of Violence and Gore, Language, Usage of Drugs, All the makings of a Crime Show.

Written for @captainscanadian 1k Writing Challenge!

This is my first time writing crime so be nice to me alfskfjalsda. 

Masterlist

A Call

8:30 P.M. 

L’Artusi

New York, NY

Friday, October 13, 1989

“I thought you forgot about me,” Denise mused. 

Her red-painted nails tinkled against the glass full of Pinot Noir in her hands.

“Me? Forget about you?” Bucky asked in mock surprise. He takes her free hand into his. “Never, sweetheart. I've been missing you.” 

Denise smirks, prim and proper. She’s a beautiful woman with flawless skin kissed by the heated sun (or atleast the canned version) and sharp green eyes that swirl with blue under the right light. Her hair was curled, loaded with pints of hairspray to maintain it’s fluffy texture. She leans forward just a bit, letting the gold necklace adorning the bare skin just above her chest dip into her cleavage and taking Bucky’s eyes with it. 

She brings his attention back to her with a light chuckle. “Miss me?" she repeats like she's mocking him. She plays with her glass, twirling the ruby red liquid inside, and avoids his eyes. "You haven’t spoken to me since that night,” she stated. She sounds like she’s teasing and careless but in reality, she’s hurt. Bucky can tell that much. “Not even a goodbye. Not even a phone call,” she croons and it has him soft and guilty.

Bucky chuckles nervously with a swipe of his fingers through his luscious brown locks. “It wasn’t intentional, Denise. I was just busy with work,” he explained. 

"Too busy for me?" She pouts like a child, batting her long lashes and leans towards him, pushing her chest up while resting her arms on the table. 

He smiles, finding her teasing a bit annoying. But he lets it slide cause she's got a pretty face. 

"I just got caught up, I'm sorry, sweetheart." He takes her hand in his and kisses the back of it. "I'm all yours now," he says smoothly making the woman in front of him swoon. 

"You're a darling, James, I've missed you," she giggled. He chuckles along to the melody of her voice. The cool steel of his eyes melted into a warm blue under the twinkling light of the crystal chandelier. 

In the corner of his eyes, Bucky catches a dark figure walking towards him. Turning his head, his smile sinks when he sees you. 

With every step in his direction, the irritated pout painted on your face tightens a bit more and he gulps quietly. 

You strut towards him. Your scuffed Doc Martens squeak softly against the smooth tile of the restaurant. Your hair was tied back in a loose ponytail with strands shaping the sharp lines of your face. 

Bucky wonders how they let you in while wearing those black ripped jeans paired with a thick black turtleneck tucked in loosely, and topped with a black knee length coat that left a trail of water behind you.

You probably just ignored them. That's what you always did. 

The others in the room paused their conversation to raise a brow. Some murmured indignant remarks while others simply shrugged and returned to their meals. 

As the distance between the two of you shortens, Bucky's mind runs rampid trying to think of all the things he could've done since yesterday to piss you off. 

He emptied out the coffee machine when he was done with it. 

He didn't eat the secret stash of chocolates  you kept hidden behind the cans in the pantry. 

He made sure to never touch your books without asking, even if you left them in the weirdest spots in the apartment. 

Bucky can't think of anything. But even if he had, what could he have done that made you have to come and crash his date? 

You stop in front of the table, water dripping and all, and he smiles nervously. The corners of his eyes crinkling as he does. Denise tilts her head in confusion at the sight of the drenched woman standing in front of them. 

"There you are," you huffed, "I've been looking everywhere for you." 

Bucky's brows wriggle in confusion. He laughs awkwardly. "Well you found me," he jokes. 

You're not laughing. 

Bucky stops laughing and clears his throat. “Right,” he grunts, “Uh—Y/N, this is Denise, my date,” he emphasizes. 

The blonde smiles at you warmly, not minding your intrusive behavior. She lifts a hand towards you. 

“Hi,” she chirps, “my name’s Denise, nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, hi,” you say in passing, not even taking her handshake. You look at Bucky. “We have to go.”

“What?” he furrows his brows. “Why?” 

“Got a call,” you replied curtly.

“Well tell ‘em to leave a message,” he retorts, shooing you away with a hand. 

You cross your arms over your chest and balance your weight on one leg. You give him that look. The look he doesn’t really have a name for. He only knows how to describe it. 

You’re really gonna play this game with me?

Bucky tries not to look at you, but he knows you’re glaring down at him and you weren’t going to move. 

He clicks his tongue and looks up to find you staring at him with cold eyes. He huffs in exasperation and excuses himself from the table by shooting an apologetic smile in Denise's direction. 

He grabs you tight by the arm and pulls you along towards the lobby of the restaurant. You yank your arm out of his grasp and grunt. 

“What’s so important that you couldn’t wait till later?” he snaps. 

"It's urgent," you stated, unwavering in your stance.

"I don't care," he exclaims, making a few snooty waiters frown at him. "We’re taking the night off, remember?” 

“Yeah, I know,” you retorted, “I was having a great night with Charlie but it’s important.” 

Bucky shakes his head not wanting to listen to anything she said. 

"It's Fury," you inform him. "So unless you wanna deal with him, we gotta go now." 

He groans audibly. “You know what?” he scoffs, “Screw Fury. This is my first night off in the past two weeks and it’s yours too. So why don’t you go back home and snuggle with Charlie, huh?”

He turns on his heel and walks back to the table. 

“Bucky,” you call him back. Your shoulders drop with a sigh. You didn’t have to say a word for Bucky to know you were tired. Your face showed it just fine. The bags under your eyes. The dull color of your irises. 

Last time he saw you was earlier that night, snuggled up on the couch in pajamas with your cat napping in your lap and watching the evening news. You didn't have to say a word for him to know how you felt. You've never really had to and maybe that was the reason why you got along so well despite your polar personalities. 

Bucky sighs. He’s tired too and he’s not gonna let anything take his one night away. “Go home, Y/N,” he replies and turns back to leave. 

“It’s them,” you call out, making him stop once again. 

Bucky whips his head back to you then slowly rotates his body. His stubbornness slowly dwindles. His tired eyes fought against the rush of excitement beginning to pool in. His soft lips slowly twist and bend simultaneously with yours and you know you've got him in the bag. 

Friday night just got ten times better. 

9:45 PM

Bed-Nos Avs Station

Bedford-Stuyvesant, NY

Friday, October 13, 1989

“So you’re telling me the Commissioner, big ol’ guy at the top,” Tony mocked, “Called you two,” he pointed at them, “to help me?” 

“Did I stutter?” Bucky retorts. 

Tony laughs from the belly. “I’ve heard better stories from a seven year old, get the hell out of you here, ya nosy reporters,” he waves you off and turns away. 

“We’re not reporters,” you stated with a venomous twinge to your words. “Besides how the hell would we know this fast?” 

Tony turns the two. They're just kids. Probably a few years older than Peter. 

"Then I wanna see proof," Tony retorts, "Where are your badges?" 

Bucky groaned in exasperation. "We don't have badges," he replies. 

It wouldn't have killed Fury to tell his pigheaded men they were coming. 

"Oh," Tony's eyes grow wide as he feigns confusion, "and why is that?" 

“We work with the police not for the police,” Bucky explains. 

Tony shrugs. “No badge, no entrance.” 

A loud grumble escaped your mouth. "We don't have time for your games. Three people are dead and you haven't done anything to stop it. So why don't you move aside and let us work," you push past him.

Lifting the police line, you walk underneath and into the crime scene with Bucky right behind. 

Tony stands there flabbergasted. No one knew of the murders just yet. The police had decided to keep the information confidential until they could figure out what was happening. 

Tony stomps behind them, lifting the police line quickly and slipping underneath. "This is a crime scene and you're not allowed here,” he barks at them. Both of you pay him no mind. After putting on a pair of latex gloves, you pull a mini flashlight out of your pocket and begin to scan the alleyway and it only increases his frustration. "I'll have you arrested for this." 

The two look at each other in confusion.  "Arrested?” Bucky repeated mockingly. “Get outta here man,” he waves him off, beginning to inspect the area himself. 

"Excuse me?" Tony fumes with Peter right behind him. 

"Listen,” you stand straight with your hands on your hips. “Why don't you go call your boss and ask him who we are, hmmm?” you asked, sassily. “And let us do our work?” you gritted before turning back to your observations. You flashed your light over the strips of line used to mark the spot where the body should have been. The dim light flickering above wasn’t much of a help. 

Tony’s lips pursed into a scowl. His jaw clenched tight. He wasn't going to give up just yet. "There is no work to be done,” he walks to Bucky and swipes the flashlight out of his hand. "We've already been through everything." 

Bucky smiles and points a finger up as if to make a point. "As the great poet, Auden, once said: there's more than what meets the eye." 

"Are you trying to say my team is incompetent?" 

"Never," Bucky shakes his head innocently,  "wouldn't want to hurt your feelings, now would we?" he gives Tony a condescending smirk before snatching his flashlight back. 

Tony grumbles. He’s already having a bad day. He’s drenched to the bone, It’s past ten and he promised Morgan he’d make it home just in time for storytime. And now, he’s probably going to have to go home to hear a story from his dear wife of how his job was sucking the life out of him. 

Which it was. Tony couldn’t deny it. Pepper was right. She was always right, but when she advised him that maybe it was time to leave the force and focus on things that were more important, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it. He’s written a two-week notice a million times but it never left his desk unless it was going in the trash. His undying loyalty to his city was coming at the costly price of his family. 

Tony watches the two do their thing and a part of him — the tired part of him — wants to give up and just let them do what they want. Who knows? They might just help him. But it’s his pride as Captain that stops him from doing so.  

"Where's the body?" you questioned him. 

"We picked it up,” he states flatly. 

"Before you've done any type of investigation?" 

"It's raining."

"It's dead."

Your tone is cold, callous would be the right word, and it catches Tony off guard for a few seconds. 

"Give us the details,” you bring his focus back. 

Tony sighs. He doesn’t want to say anything but ends up giving in. "Victim was a woman. Caucasian. Most likely middle aged–" 

"Skip to the part that matters.,” you cut him off. You crouch down, umbrella in one hand and the other shining the light along the line of where the building meets the ground for any unseen clues. 

"Stabbed in the chest repeatedly. Not a mugging or rape just a brutal murder." 

"Find a weapon?" 

"No." 

"Witnesses?" 

"No." 

You look up at him with judgemental eyes. "Seems to me like you didn't get anything done." 

Tony’s lips twist into an irritated pout. His eyes flit between you and Bucky. Your friend doesn’t really seem to mind your cutthroat behavior as if it’s normal that people act this rude. 

"It's only been two hours." 

You blink blankly at him. "It took an hour and a half to destroy Pearl Harbor. Ninety minutes and twenty-four hundred dead. Never underestimate the amount of damage a small amount of time can do." 

Tony opens his mouth to retort but for the first time that night he had nothing to say. 

"Alrighty, Captain, trivia question of the night," Bucky calls him. 

Tony turns towards Bucky. He was grinning from ear to ear and Tony doesn’t understand why he’s so damn happy. They’re at a grisly crime scene for Pete’s sake. Bucky stands at the end of the alley towards the street. The rain had slowed to a soft drizzle. 

  "Which way did the killer come from?" Bucky asks. "Left or right?" he said, pointing in each direction with his head. 

If Tony had to be honest, he didn’t think that far yet. "The left,” he says without a thought. 

"Ehn’t!” He sounds like a buzzer on Jeopardy. “Guess again,” 

Tony rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "The right,”  he points in the opposite direction. 

Bucky laughs while shaking his head. "Wrong again." 

Tony grunts. "Then where the hell did he come from?" He snaps at him. 

"You said it just now.” Tony raises a brow at him like he’s crazy. "He came from hell,” he explains while pointing down. "Not literally from hell but from underground." 

"The subway,” Peter chimes in, reminding the crew that he was still there. 

"Ding ding ding,” the older brunette points at him. 

"This isn't a game,” Tony bites. 

"Life is but a game, my dear Captain,” Bucky sighed with a gentle shrug. 

“How are you so sure that she came from the subway though?” Peter questioned. 

“When’s the last time you’ve seen a white lady taking a stroll in the pouring rain in Bed-Stuy, kid?” he poses a question. Peter wags a finger at him in agreement. 

“Also because of this,” you added. Their eyes traveled down to the ID dangling off a lanyard that was hooked by a single finger. “Louisa Clark worked as a receptionist at a hospital near 8th Ave,” you informed, digging into the plastic that held her ID and pulled out a receipt that was mildly wet. “She bought a few tokens at 6:45 this evening to get on the subway.” 

“Where did you find that?” Tony took a step closer to see it. 

“Where your men couldn’t.” you deadpanned. 

Tony glares at you, but you remain steadfast in your expression. He’s not scaring you and he hates that. 

"Rush hour ends around 6:30,” Bucky points out. “And after that the trains are practically empty." 

"Making it a perfect time for a killer to strike,” Tony starts to connect the dots. 

"So he got on the train at the same time and followed her until he had her cornered,” Peter blurted in excitement. 

"Not exactly," you spoil his fun. His shoulders drop sadly, feeling a bit embarrassed. Tony pats Peter’s shoulder with a chortle. "We think that there may have been two of them." 

“You mean two killers?" Tony questions. 

"Yes, one to follow her and one to surprise her." 

"That means they know her schedule,” Peter says in an attempt to redeem himself. 

"Down to the minute," Bucky replies. 

"But how can you say there were two?” Tony brings up the question. “You have no evidence." 

"Harry Tucker," you named. "The first victim was a fifty-three year old Vietnam vet working as a security guard at a bank.” 

Tony’s eyes grow wide in shock. "How do you know that? That's confidential information." 

Bucky laughs, taunting the Captain. "We know a lot of things,” he looks at the man with a despicable smile. Tony holds back the urge to punch his pretty face. “Like I said, your boss asked us to help you so we did a little homework before coming." 

"Anyway…” you bring them back. “he's a big guy but got killed the same exact way. Unless our killer's the Terminator, there had to be two,” you point to fingers up. “One to hold him down and the other to strike." 

"That's amazing,” Peter gasps in awe. Tony sticks his nose in the air and huffs like a child. 

"I don't believe you,” Tony denies them. 

"Never said you had to." Bucky shrugs. "But in a case like this anything is possible." 

"We'd like to inspect the subway,” you pointed across the street. “If that's alright with you." 

Tony clicks his tongue and rubs the back of his aching neck. "I don't own the damn subway, do what you want. Not like you haven't been doing that already. Besides I've got a call to make.” he grumbles as he leaves with Peter behind him. "

The two of you slip underneath the police line and walk across the cleared street with only Tony’s car left behind. You leave your umbrella at the top of the stairs and run down with Bucky right behind you. 

"Y'know, you could've at least acknowledged her,” Bucky pipes up. 

"What?" you turn to him while walking down. 

"Denise,” he reminds,  “She was right there and you ignored her." 

You shrugged indifferently. "I don't see why I should fraternize with people I'll probably never see again." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Buck, you have a new girlfriend every week," you deadpan while jumping over the subway throng. 

"I do not!" he mimics your actions. 

"Denial is the first step to self-destruction, Bucko," you point out, looking around. 

Nothing out of the ordinary. The air is humid due to the rain. The aged walls are grey with paint and signatures in crude letters all over. The concrete ground was splayed with cracks and decorated with litter—old newspapers, empty bags of chips, and garbage. Not a single soul in sight. Not even a rat. 

The train rests in its spot. The doors were opened, letting the stale odor of a day’s worth of human mass mix with sticky air. 

A perfect setting for a murder scene. 

"Besides, Janet, Susie, Dani from the music store,” you counted on your fingers, “the receptionist at HQ shall I go on?" 

Bucky rolls his eyes as he steps into one of the cars to make a quick check. "Okay, the fact that you know about all the girls I've ever come across is just plain weird,” he remarked. 

"I don't think you remember but I am first a detective hence the good observation skills and second, your unfortunate partner and roommate." 

Bucky laughs loudly making his voice echo through the station and the dark tunnel. "Sounds more to me like you're jealous that I'm not taking you out on a date?" 

You stop mid walk and turn back to him with a scowl painted on your face. He thinks it's cute. "You're delusional,” you retorted.  

"But am I wrong?" he counters with an egotistical smirk. You can practically see the pride oozing off of him. You didn’t know where he got it from. He had zero personality and was as dumb as a doorknob. But then again, a fool doesn’t really know he’s a fool. 

"I don't have time to waste on you,” you grumble at him. 

Suddenly, the doors of the train slam shut making the two of you jump back and turn towards the train. The quiet chills your body, igniting goosebumps to bud along the skin of your arm despite the thick layers of cotton over them. 

The bell blares in tandem with blinking red lights signaling the train’s departure from the platform. It threatens like an omen, warning you of the things to come.

 The train departs, slowly at first then accelerating as the cars pass by one by one. A gust of fresh wind blows through the errant strands of your hair as the train speeds past. The sound of wheels chugging along the metal tracks echoes down the tunnel, growing distant with the drag of every minute. 

The sudden burst of fear from the signal bell dies but leaves a sense of apprehension within the two and a message sprayed along the tiled wall across the platform in scarlet red. 

“ꜱᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱʜᴀʟʟ ʙᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ʟᴀꜱᴛ”

- ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴇᴅɪᴘᴜꜱ

TAGLIST: @chuckennuggets1213 @murdermornings @miraclesoflove @fckdeusername @marshyrebelcloud @flyingowls​ 

[twdeadfanfic]

A not-so-quiet life Pt.8

Summary: You could say your life at the Greene’s farm after they took you in was a quiet one… as quiet as it could be considering corpses were walking around as flesh-eating monsters. At least, until a group of survivors in need take shelter in the farm.

Inspired by the request: The reader used to have an emotionally and physically abusive ex and the group runs into her ex and his group and shit hits the fan and the reader gets hurt.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Tags/Warnings: Violence and language typical twd style. Mentions of abuse and quite a lot of self-deprecating thoughts…and in the midst of all that, quite a lot of fluff too and also slow burn.

English’s not my first language so maybe there’re some mistakes, I apologize in advance.

Chapter: 8/13

-

Apparently, when Glenn and Daryl had said the road was not too blocked what they meant was that you could carefully drive through the abandoned cars, dodging the stranded walkers that roamed close.

They weren’t enough to be a problem and you were safe inside the car but you held your breath watching Daryl zigzag through the cars, leading you on his bike. You gasped aloud when a walker reached out for him but Daryl drove past it like nothing.

Maggie chuckled at that. “He’ll be fine, he’s used to it.”

You wondered why Daryl always went on his bike even if there was space in the car. No matter how much he loved the bike, you thought it was too much of a risk. He didn’t seem to share your opinion, he’d already brushed off your concern when you told him earlier, but seeing the walkers reaching our for him was wrecking your nerves.

Maggie was right, though, none of the walkers got to grab him. Glenn was driving slow, carefully maneuvering through walkers and cars, and Maggie opened her window and began sinking the knife into the heads of the closer monsters, and you followed her lead.

Eventually, you reached your destination, a big service area with a gas station, a small candies and gifts store, and a restaurant area. There seemed to have been a fire at the gas station and some burned and almost charred walkers were lying on the ground.

“That’s disgusting…” You said as you got out the car. “But with how big this place is we ought to find something.”

There were some walkers roaming around that began stumbling towards you. Maggie unsheathed her knife and made her way to them, followed by Glenn, while Daryl stayed slightly behind to shoot arrows at the monsters. You took your knife too, feeling a bit unsure about how to proceed but you sank it into the closer monster's head before sending it to the ground with a kick, yanking back your knife.

“Well done!” Maggie told you without stopping pushing forwards.

With a whistle, one of Daryl’s arrows embedded itself deep into the head of another walker which was getting close to you and then you felt Daryl’s hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t get behind.”

He warned you, shouldering his crossbow in favor of his knife, sinking it into another monster’s head, following Maggie and Glenn while you did the same until all the walkers were put down.

“Alright…” Maggie surveyed the place, hands on her hips, before looking at Glenn. “I say Glenn and I go to the gifts store and Daryl and Y/N to the gas station.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Glenn nodded.

You followed Daryl to the gas station, scrunching your nose at the smell of the burned walkers. It seemed all of them had died like that, and you yelped startled when a half-charred one opened its eyes with a small growl, reaching out and grabbing Daryl’s ankle. He yanked his leg away from its grip as nothing, kicking the monster on the face.

“Careful,” you said quietly, bending down to sink your knife in the head of the walker.

“It doesn’t have legs,” Daryl replied, not even looking at it.

“It can still bite and scratch.” You retorted.

You scooped around the outside but couldn’t find anything useful, the place seemed to have been raided, and so you made your way to the front door of the small store. Daryl knocked on the glass and in a second, a walker began banging it and growling from the other side.

You looked at Daryl in silence, waiting for instructions. He tried the handler of the door, not locked.

“Alright, you yank the door open, hide behind it and I put it down as it goes out, alright?”

“What if there’s more than one in there?” You asked, unsure, scared of opening the door and a bunch of walkers falling on Daryl.

“Nah…” Daryl looked through the dirty window into the dark store, ignoring the thuds of the walker inside. “I think that’s the only one. Come on.”

“Okay…okay…” You took a deep breath. “Three, two, one…”

You yanked the door open, making sure to get behind it, and a walker stumbled out but Daryl quickly grabbed it by the neck and put it down. It wasn’t wearing the uniform of the gas station and you guessed it might have been a client or maybe someone who went scavenging and got bitten…you tried not to think much about who walkers had been before, though.

“Done.”

Daryl walked in first, crossbow ready, while you followed him lighting the inside of the store with your lantern. The place was a mess, it had obviously been scavenged before and everything that hadn’t been taken from the shelves was littering the floor…nothing useful though.

“Alright, I think we’re clear,” Daryl said when no other walker showed up and you couldn’t hear any noise. “Don’t get far.”

“This place’s too small for that anyway.”

It was a single corridor, rather small, and what you guessed was a backroom behind the counter. You made your way to the fridge, which unsurprisingly was almost empty too. Some rotten premade sandwiches and a couple cans of cheap beer was all you could find, beside some precooked meals. You took one but the quality was questionable, it might not look rotten like the sandwiches but you thought it was more than probable that they were bad too. With a disappointed sigh, you decided not to take them, afraid it’d end up poisoning you.

“I hope Glenn and Maggie are having more luck…did you find anything?” You asked Daryl, who was behind the counter.

“Nah. Just money.”

“Just money…that’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear…” You said and Daryl chuckled quietly.

There were some magazines on the floor and you began picking some of them at random and stuffing them inside your bag, maybe somebody’d like to read them, take their mind off your less than ideal life for a bit, have something to do during some of those tedious evenings.

Daryl raised his eyebrows at you at that.

“What, we don’t have books or nothing, I thought people might like them.” You said. “But alright, I guess you won’t be asking me if I can lend you this…” You teased, picking one about motorbikes and waving it in front of him.” Guess I won’t take it, I don’t have that much room left.” You were already stuffing it inside your mostly empty bag.

Daryl said nothing, just gave you a smirk, getting a gun he seemed to have found somewhere behind the counter inside his bag. He tried the handler of the door of the back room but it was looked.

“Maybe we’ll find something better there,” you said, trying to stay hopeful.

“See if you can find the key,” Daryl told you and you both began rummaging through the counter again. “It can’t be this one…wouldn’t fit.” He showed you a tiny, old key he had found.

“Oh, it’s so lovely!”

You squealed and Daryl looked at you weird. You blushed in embarrassment and rushed to explain yourself, though you weren’t sure if you weren’t just about to embarrass yourself even more.

“When I was a little girl my grandmother used to have a lot of really, really old keys, from her old house and furniture at the village where she used to live, I thought all those keys were beautiful, kind of magical you know, being that old, I thought they had to open a lot of secrets…” You began explaining, fidgeting and half expecting Daryl’d laugh at you for being so silly and think like that about simple keys, but he seemed to be genuinely interested in what you were saying.

“So eventually my grandmother gave them to me before she passed and  I began collecting old keys, had quite a good collection…” You smiled a bit melancholic at the memories, you hadn’t thought about it for years, and you felt your heart ache when you thought about your missing family.

You swallowed hard, trying to stop your emotions from showing, not wanting to embarrass yourself more. Daryl seemed to notice, though, because he reached out to squeeze your arm softly, and you gave him a small smile before you kept talking.

“Anyway, I left them at my parent’s home when I got married and moved, I thought a couple times about going to get them and keep the collection or start a new one, but my husband said it was stupid cos you know, they’re just keys, a waste of space…I too know it’s a silly thing…” You shrugged, giving Daryl an embarrassed smile, but his face was serious. “But I think I have enough authority on keys to say that tiny one is quite a lovely one.” You awkwardly joked.

Daryl was frowning at the key and then he passed it to you.

“Take it if you like it.”

“No, I know it’s silly…” You said softly, twirling the key. “Gonna see if I can find what it opens, though.”

“Gonna try picking the lock.”

While Daryl worked on that you looked around the counter again until you found a small metal box half hidden in a drawer. You tried the key and it worked but there was nothing you could consider useful inside, just some handwritten letters, a couple of old pictures, tickets from the cinema…someone’s life memories. It made you feel melancholic again.

You closed it carefully and went to join Daryl, who was still fighting against the lock until you heard a click.

“Alright…”

“Do you think there are no walkers inside?” You asked worriedly before he could open the door.

“Nah, they’d be banging the door at the noise.”

Turned out the room was so small only one of you could get in, but inside Daryl found stored a couple of cans of gasoline.

“Ricks gonna like this,” Hel said, finally giving you a full smile.

“Are we ready?”

“I’m gonna give the place a last scoop, go out and see if Glenn and Maggie are ready too.

You frowned at him, you two had already combed the tiny place, but nodded and followed his instructions, walking out just in time to see Glenn and Maggie walking out the other store. You waved to them and they began walking to the main building but you wanted to wait for Daryl before joining them. He was out after not even a minute.

“Alright, come on,” he said, placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you to the others as you stepped through charred walkers again.

“Did you find something useful?” You asked hopefully to Maggie and Glenn.

“Well…I got a bag full of candy.” Glenn showed you a plastic bag with different kinds of candies in it. “But I think they’re questionable…I thought it’d make Carl happy, though.”

“And my sister, probably.�� Maggie smiled fondly.

“They make me happy too.” You chuckled. “I call dibs on that toffees.”

“Also a couple cheap sunglasses…” Maggie showed you the neon pink and yellow sunglasses that none had bothered taking already. “This couple of scarves…” Those were less hideous. “And I picked up some books so we can have something to read.”

“I picked up magazines too!” You said, looking pointedly at Daryl, who smirked. “I got one about babies for Lori, I’m not sure if she’ll like it or if she’ll throw it to my head…”

All in all, your haul didn’t seem that impressive and you were a little disappointed.

“This’s normal, sometimes we come from runs empty-handed, I know it’s frustrating,” Glenn told you. “But we still have to scoop that area.”

The door was locked from the outside with several metal bars, to keep the walkers inside, you guessed, you could already hear them banging the doors, and you helped the others remove the bars though you were quite unsure about how to deal with the monsters inside. You trusted the others knew what to do, though.

They stopped when there was only a bar left and you recoiled as the door shook dangerously under the pushes of the monsters.

“Alright…you two push the door close and try to let it open just a little, so only a walker can poke its head out and I put them down one by one,” Maggie instructed, talking to Glenn and Daryl. “What do you want to do? Push the door or help me with the walkers?” She turned to you.

“I…I don’t know.” You shrugged helplessly. “You sure about this? What if they can’t hold the door and all the walkers get outside at the same time, they’d all fall on you.”

“We have done it before, it’ll be fine,” Glenn reassured you, though you were still rather uncertain.

“Alright…” Maggie was looking at you as if in deep thought. “You get behind with your gun in case more walkers get out and we can’t handle it, you put down the most you can.”

You nodded though you feel a bit unsure about shooting walkers in such proximity to your friends, afraid of missing and hitting one of them instead.

“Pitty I can’t use your crossbow, it’d be silent.” You told Daryl while he got ready for his part of the plan.

Luckily, you didn’t need to shot as the others carried on with the plan without accidents, Glenn and Daryl pushing the door so only one or two walkers could get their heads through it, only to have Maggie putting them down as they did. You couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place, but you shook off the feeling.

The area was big, with some corpses on the floor, and it was full of tables, more corpses sitting down or lying on them, some half eaten, and you wondered how they had died, most seeming to have been shot on the head.

To the left there seemed to be the kitchen and bar area and to the right, there was a staircase.

“What do you think there’s on the other floor?” You asked quietly and Maggie shrugged.

“More tables? What if Glenn and I go check it and you two scoop this floor, we can go to the kitchen together later.”

You all nodded and while Glenn and Maggie made their way to the stairs, Daryl placed a hand on your shoulder to guide you with him.

“Wait, why don’t you go to the bar and I go through the tables, see if I can find something useful?” You told him.

“You sure?” He looked at you uncertain.

“They’re all dead right?” You pointed at the corpses. “Doesn’t seem to be any walker around…I can do it.”

Daryl seemed to think it for a bit, seeming unsure, but finally nodded. “Don’t stray, stay where I can see you.”

“Sure thing.”

A couple of the corpses had suitcases and big bags with them, and you began rummaging through them, trying not to think much about going through dead people’s stuff. You got some very basic first aid kits and some hygiene products that you were sure everyone would appreciate and then began to chose the clothes that you thought would be the most useful and would suit the most of you.

You were a bit startled when you heard some growling and you turned around to see a walker coming from the corridor that led to the bathrooms.

“Got it.” You told Daryl, as loud as you dared, so he wouldn’t worry too much and kept scavenging through the bar. You grabbed the walker roughly and sank your knife into its head.

There were some more growling and you saw another one coming from down the corridor, so you went to put it down too.

“Y/N,” You heard Daryl’s voice coming from the main area as you turned the corner of the corridor. “Stay here.”

“It’s okay, there’s only one more, it’s fine.”

You assured, already reaching out to grab it by the neck. When it struggled, though, part of the skin and part of the meat came off, making your hand slip and sink into the disgusting goo. You barely had time to feel disgusted by it, as the monster’s hands grabbed you and it snapped at you.

You didn’t quite manage to get a good hold of it and not knowing what else to do, you lifted your machete and hit it as hard as you could into the monster’s forehead, sinking it in. There was a sickening crack but the walker stopped moving, your knife reaching the brain.

From the corner of your eye, you saw another one stumbling to you and panic rushed through you when you tried to yank back your knife and you couldn’t, the hit seemed to have embedded it too deep into the skull and it was stuck.

Panicking, you stepped on the corpse to hold it down while you yanked at your knife until the other walker was on you. You grabbed its wrist, struggling to keep its claws away, recoiling as it began to snap and try to bit you, until your back hit the wall.

You tried to push it away but it was strong, you were grunting at the effort of stopping its hands from grabbing you while dodging its snaps, your brain working at full speed as you tried to  think how to end it, trying not to let your anxiety overcome you as it screamed to you that this was your end.

No matter how much you pushed it back, the walker wouldn’t relent, neither as you tried hitting his stomach with your knee, hard as you tried you weren’t managing to overpower it and you couldn’t think og a way of getting away from it and killing it without any weapon.

“Y/N!”

Suddenly the walker stopped struggling and fell on you, pushing you against the wall. You pushed it hard away from you and when it fell on the floor you realized it was dead with an arrow in his head.

You looked up and saw Daryl rushing to you, grabbing your arms when he reached you.

“Are you okay? It didn’t bit you, did it?” He asked frantically and you shook your head, finding it hard to speak. “I told you not to stray!”

“I’m sorry…” You said weakly, guilty tears threatening to fall down your eyes.

“It’s okay.” Daryl let out a sigh and pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around you as you snuggled to him, burying your face on his chest.

“Thanks.” You whispered, slowly calming down, and you felt his lips on your forehead.

“Y/N, are you okay?! What happened?!”

You heard Maggie’s panicked voice, she and Glenn seemed to have heard the commotion and they had rushed down, running to you and looking from the walkers to you and Daryl, who pulled away from you.

“I’m okay.”  You assured though you were still shaking and Maggie held you tight as you told her about the walkers you had encountered.

“You put them down?” She asked you.

“Just those two, Daryl killed that one, he saved me, my knife got stuck…” You explained, ashamed, even though nobody seemed to be blaming you for anything, they just seemed worried.

“How you managed to get it so stuck?” Glenn asked, trying to pull your machete out the walker’s skull, tanking him a few times until he managed, and you shrugged helplessly.

Back in the main area, you felt a bit better and less useless as you showed the others the stuff you had gotten from the suitcases.  Together you made your way into the kitchen, which was big and thankfully free of walkers. It took you all a bit of scooping around but finally, you managed to find a few cans of food and some dried vegetables that you hoped had been well preserved inside their hermetic packages.

“I’d say this had been quite a good run,” Glenn said cheerfully as you all got your haul into the car. “Food, gas, medical and hygiene supplies…we’ll be good for a bit.”

“Yeah,” Maggie wrapped an arm around your shoulders, noticing you weren’t as happy, you were still berating yourself for what had happened with the walkers. “Let’s go back to the camp.”

--

Well, it could have been worse, couldn’t it? Next chapter, we’ll see if those candies are edible...and we’ll see more talks between reader and Daryl. I’m sorry if some of you feel this story is moving slow, but I really enjoyed writing it like that.

Thank you all for reading! If you have time, please drop me a comment and let me know your thoughts about this!

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[pinknerdpanda]

Heaven Sent - Part 2

Word Count: 1,607

Characters: Y/n, Castiel, Dean, Sam (Mentioned)

Warnings: Snark, Heaven-Induced Insanity, Language, Angst if you squint

A/N: This is Part 2 of a mini-series I wrote for @ellen-reincarnated1967’s “Andi’s Back in the Game” challenge. Beta’d by @hannahindie and @wheresthekillswitch who also helped me to brainstorm and nail down exactly where I wanted to go. Thank you both so very much!

A/N 2: This takes place roughly midway through Season 4

Tags are at the bottom - please send me an ASK if you would like to be added (or removed).

Need to Catch up? - Series Masterlist

Heaven Sent Part 2

Dean

“What can I getcha, handsome?” the cute, red-headed bartender winks as she calls from across the wooden bar where I’ve just planted my ass for the the foreseeable future.

“Whiskey. Double,” I mumble just over the hum of noise filling the small bar. “And a beer,” I amend my order. “Please.”

“Coming right up!” She grins as she turns and stretches an arm to grab the bottle on the highest shelf. Try as I might, I can’t seem to ignore the golden patch of exposed flesh now peeking at me from above the waistband of her jeans as she strains for the liquor. Just as I’m beginning to make out the bottom half of what looks to be a small, simple flower tattoo, she cheers triumphantly and turns back around, bottle in hand to pour my drink.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” I smile at her and take a swig before glancing back up to lay on the charm, but she’s gone. Figures.

I swallow the rest of my whiskey before palming my beer and heading toward one of the pool tables. Maybe I can at least scrounge up a little cash before we hit the road again. Just as I pass the end of the bar, a man with scraggly, gray hair and who looks like he’s started to take root here slumps backward on his stool in front of me. Before I can react, he lurches forward again. Confused, I look back toward the bar to find a pretty woman, at least 30 years younger than him, perched on the seat next to him. One hand clutching his shoulder, holding him in place and the other wrapped around a tumbler of golden liquid. She freezes, glass in midair, her lips forming a perfect, pretty ‘o’ as our eyes lock.

“Nice catch,” I mumble, shaking my head. I throw one last glance back at the woman before continuing toward the back of the bar. Seeing that she hasn’t moved a fraction of an inch makes me chuckle.

The next few hours are a bit hazy as the beer bottles pile up on the table next to me. This town is too easy; it’s like shooting fish in a barrel. Sometimes I almost feel guilty for taking these poor bastards’ money - almost.

“I call next,” a voice that sounds like velvet and a lifetime of bad decisions carries over the conversations around me. I turn around to find the girl from earlier standing a few feet from me. She’s stroking the tip of the pool cue lightly and her eyes rake me over a time or two. Son of a bitch.

“Table’s all yours. I was just about to head back to my hotel,” I raise an eyebrow and grin at her. “Unless you’d like to join me. I’m sure we could think of some games we could play.”

“So it’s fine for you to cheat those men out of their money, but mine’s no good?” Her eyes are like fire and I am having a hard time interpreting the rage in them.

“No, sweetheart. It’s not that, it’s just…” I study her for a moment. “Do I know you?”

“My name’s y/n, not sweetheart. If you’re just afraid to have your ass handed to you by a girl, well, I mean...I wouldn’t blame you,” she plants her free hand on her hip, her fingers ball into a tight fist, but her eyes have lightened slightly.

“Ok fine, have it your way, y/n,” I quickly reset the table and gestured toward it with a stupid little bow. What the hell is my problem? “Ladies first.”

I don’t miss the eyeroll she gives me, but she says nothing as she steps up and lines up her first shot. It all happens so fast, one minute I’m appreciating the curve of her shoulders and back as she bends over the table and the next I’m watching helplessly as she darts around the table, sinking shot after shot.

“Eight ball, left side pocket,” she winks at me. She can’t...she can’t wink at me! That’s my thing.

The sound of the ball landing in the soft, velvety lining of the left side pocket is drowned out by her loud cheering. I have never been so pissed off and so turned on at the same time. It’s all very confusing. I start to pull the wad of cash I’d accumulated from my evening’s efforts and she laughs.

“How about you show me your hotel room and we can call it even, hotrod?”

I throw a $50 bill down beside the mountain of empty bottles and practically sprint toward y/n’s swaying and rapidly retreating hips.

In my excitement, I hadn’t really considered the possibility that Sam may still be holed up in the hotel room, trying to figure out a way to keep Lilith from breaking the last of the 66 seals. I hold my breath as the door creaks open, but there’s no sign of my enormous little brother.

“Mind if I use your restroom?” She smiles warmly as she enters the room. I nod dumbly but she’s already moving in that direction.

As soon as the door closes behind her I start pacing, trying to give myself a little “You got this, man. It’s ok that she killed you at pool,” pep talk.

“Hello, Dean.”

I practically jump out of my skin and whirl to find no-one’s favorite trenchcoated angel standing awkwardly behind the door of the hotel room. “What the hell, Cas? How long have you been standing there?”

“Since you were trying to convince yourself that your masculinity is not defined by your inability to win a game of billiards against a woman,” he squints at me and I can see him fighting to keep the smile from his mouth. Asshat.

“Are you just here to cockblock me, or do you actually have a purpose?”

“Where is your brother? I was hoping that I could speak to you both at…” the sound of the bathroom door interrupts him and he glances over my shoulder. The look on his face is one I’m not sure I understand. It’s like he’s relieved, confused and terrified all at the same time. “Y/n?”

I glance between the two of them. The rage I’d seen in her eyes earlier is back, but stronger somehow.

“Of course. Of course it’s you, Castiel,” she crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head so far to one side it looks like her neck could break. “I should have known you were behind this.”

“I thought you were dead, y/n,” Cas’ voice is barely above a whisper. “They said that your cell was…” his words trail off.

“Oh, is that what they think?!” She laughs and the sound is...I can only describe it as maniacal. “I wondered why no one came to look for me.”

“Will one of you two please tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Shut up, Dean,” she barks as she brushes past me roughly to stand toe-to-toe with Cas. “So this is what all that chatter was about. What did you do, rally the troops and spring ol’ Hound Chow over here,” she throws a thumb over her shoulder in my direction. “From the bounds of Hell?”

Cas stares at her silently as her words sink in.

“Wait are you an ang…”

“Shut up, Dean,” neither of them look at me as they say it unison.

“Why are you here,” Cas studies her, disbelief still marring his face.

She cranes her neck to look into his eyes. “Funny story, I was just enjoying a drink, contemplating my life choices and trying to keep Jasper from falling off his stool and getting hurt again...you know me, old habits die hard. Occupational hazards and all...anyway...when who to my wondering eyes did appear? This asshole in all his leather and flannel glory. I was sure I was dreaming or dead or something, but I’d followed him around for long enough, it was easy to figure out it was the real Dean Winchester. The only question was how?”

“I had my orders, y/n.”

“Right. Of course. Your orders,” she nods. “That’s why you didn’t come to visit.” It’s not a question. Her voice is low and colder than ice. Cas looks away.

“You know I went insane in there, right? Did they tell you that? And this asshole,” she jerks a thumb at me again, “is the reason I was there in the first place. And now he gets to wander the Earth and live life hustling pool and screwing barflies, but I was left to rot in that cell for who knows how long. Tell me again who’s getting their fair share of punishment, Castiel.”

“I am sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” She chuckles. “I doubt that.”

From the corner of my eye I can see her right hand jerk a second before a long, pointed silver blade slides into her palm. Without thinking, I rush toward them, but Cas has already stripped her of her blade and spun, pinning her to the wall. I grab the blade from the floor, gripping it tightly in one hand and appreciating the balance and weight.

“Everyone just calm down, and I swear to Whoever’s calling plays up there, if you tell me to shut up one more time, I will stab you,” I flick the end of it between them. Cas nods and releases y/n, but doesn’t step back. “Now, y/n. Who the hell are you and why do you keep calling me an asshole?”

Read Part 3 HERE

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[kahnah23]

Prompt III

Another prompt for my patrons over at Patreon!

61- “If you go anywhere near them, you’ll have to deal with me!” Project NEON Lads

77 - “You shouldn’t have even been there!” Project NEON Lads

The Lads are 12 years old

 Michael didn't even know what was happening until it was too late. It had just happened so damn fast!

Now they were in the back of some van with a bag over their heads and bound hands. Fuck.

The gents had been busy today, some big weapon deal or whatever, and Michael didn't mind it as much as he had before. He trusted Jack not to get into too much trouble during such small missions, and it helped being in Jack's apartment. Everything there just reminded him of Jack so much, the scent and the photos, and if Michael was honest he mostly stayed there when he could anyway. But not today.

Ray had been feverish and on the brink of being bedridden for a couple days and if Geoff had a choice he wouldn't have left him out of his sight, but the deal was important. So he had brought Ray to the base because Gavin was there, working on the next big heist. That way both of them would have company and Gavin could alert them in case Ray's condition worsened.

So Michael had taken a taxi to them because that sounded like more fun than chilling at Jack's place.

Apparently he had ran straight into a break in.

The worst of it was that both Gavin and Ray had the thing under control. The had pinned both of the guys down by the door, aiming their guns at them, and it would have probably worked if Michael hadn't stepped right in then. He should have reacted faster but he hadn't and just as quick he was in a headlock with a gun pressed against his head.

Great.

Now they had been driving for quite some time, sliding around with each turn and he was fucking pissed. It didn't help that Ray sat beside him, and he could clearly hear how hard he was breathing. The boy was sick, for God's sake! Couldn't they get a break?

Michael had turned enough to tangle their hands and Ray's felt sweaty and warm but he squeezed back

When they finally stopped it seemed like they'd drive since hours and Michael was roughly pulled out of the van. Now that the sound of the engine was gone he could hear barely anything else. No cars or the buzzling city.

Not good.

The ground beneath his shoes wasn't tarmac but dirt and it smelled different here. Where the fuck where they? Certainly not in Los Santos anymore.

At least whoever was guiding him wasn't very rough with him, they even watched out for his glasses when the bag was pulled from his head.

When Michael was able to see again night had fallen so they really had been driving since quite some time. He couldn't make out much more before he was pushed into a shed. The other two followed and then the door was locked behind them.

The shed was made out of dark wood, and it was fucking dark in here as well. Michael blinked in hope that it would help, but it didn't, not really. By the looks of it the thing was empty and barren besides two dusty boxes.

Just four walls to keep them inside.

Maybe they could work with that.

"Ray?" Gavin asked, and Michael also turned around to check on him. It was hard to in the dim light, but Ray did look a little pale.

"You okay?"

"Peachy," Ray snarled and tugged at the rope still binding his hands together. "I was taking a fucking nap when they barged in, what assholes!"

Michael snorted before heading towards the door. Sturdy wood, nothing they could break with pure strength.

"Is someone coming?" Gavin asked, and Michael pushed his ear against the door to listen.

"I don't think so, but it can't be much longer," he said and watched as Gavin crouched down. He had to bend awkwardly but finally pulled out a switchblade out of his shoe.

For someone normally not in combat Gavin always had a variety of weapons close or on him, all thanks to Ryan's training, and Michael didn't want to admit how often that had already saved their ass.

"Don't use it yet," Ray told him as he slid down the wall to sit down. "Let them get their first batch of threats out because afterwards they will let us stew because we are just oh so afraid. Perfect timing to get out of here."

Gavin nodded and hid the knife behind one of the boxes. Just in case they decided to pat them down again.

He waked towards Ray and then slid down next to him, close enough to let their shoulder brush against each other. Now that Michael slowly got used to the little light he had he could tell that Ray's face was sweating and pale with two red spots on his cheeks.

They had to get out of here soon because stress certainly didn't help Ray's condition, but first they had to play their cards right. The knife was good and helpful but they couldn't carve their way out of here with it.

"Gents are probably already on the way," Gavin said after a while as Ray leaned against his side. "I was meant to report back to Geoff every half hour so they know by now that things are fishy. They just need some time until they reach the base to check on our chips."

"And to get here," Michael reminded him. "I think we're somewhere in Fuckville or whatever."

And it was his fault. Shit!

If he could he would kick his own ass but that would have to wait until they got out of here. He couldn't believe he had been so easily taken down! Their kidnappers probably laughed about it!

Well congratulations, they managed to snatch three kids, one of which belonged in bed. Great achievement, guys.

Grumbling, he continued to listen at the door but for a while nothing happened.

He kept an eye on the other two at all times and what a strange picture they made.

Gavin had started wearing expensive designer clothes a couple months ago and even after their hourlong drive he just looked a little rumpled. On the other hand Ray sat there in his pajamas with bunny prints that Geoff had gotten him and bare feet.

Not ideal when they had to flee.

But they got what they got and would have to work with it.

A noise from outside made him turn around and when he recognized steps he quickly retreated from the door.

"Someone's coming," he whispered and the other two also looked up.

The door opened a moment later and a man stepped inside. It was a bit funny how he checked them out, like they were any threat to him, but Michael could clearly see that the other was carrying a gun.

They could take it maybe, it would surely help after they lost their weapons, but they were just three kids and the guy was big and bulky. No, conflict wouldn't help them here.

The man closed the door behind him and then turned towards both Ray and Gavin who were still sitting on the floor together. Michael tensed and stepped closer but didn't yet interfere.

He had to keep calm, surely for now the guy would just threaten them some before letting them stew. Old torture school and all that.

The stranger crouched down in front of both of them and rummaged in his pockets until he held something out. Michael had to shift a little until he could make out the pills in the palm of his hand.

"You got a fever, right?" the man asked and Michael was a bit surprised how nice his voice sounded. It was deep but kind and reminded him a little of Jack. He hated the guy instinctively. "Take those, they will help."

Ray just stared at him, face unmoving and sarcastic as if he wanted to ask if he looked stupid enough to risk that but it fell short. His chest was rising and sinking too fast and Michael could see sweat run down his neck.

"Seriously, we need you three alive and nobody ca-"

Gavin's foot shot up and Michael heard the clack of the guy's teeth as Gavin kicked his jaw close. The pills flew from his hand and rained back down, rolling over the wooden floor.

The slap when the stranger back handed Gavin echoed through the little hut next and Michael saw how Gavin's head snapped around with the force before he crumpled to the floor.

"Hey!" Michael screamed and took a step, but Ray was already surging forward. He didn't have his hands and not even shoes to properly kick and so he just plunged his teeth into the stranger's arm.

The guy yowled and fisted Ray's dark hair to tear him off and throw him like a sack of potatoes.

He hit the ground heavily but Michael didn't wait to check on him, he pushed himself between this stranger and the other two immediately.

Now that the man stood he was way taller than Michael, he was nearly double his size and Michael had to crane his neck to look at him, but that didn't stop him.

"If you go anywhere near them," he hissed, "you'll have to deal with me!"

It probably wasn't much of a threat, Michael was twelve years old and a bundle full of anger, but that would hardly bring this guy down. He didn't think about that though because he could hear the soft groan coming from Ray and Ray was sick and should rest! He had until those guys came to interrupt them.

How dare they!

"Don't make me laugh, boy," the man scoffed and grasped his collar. It was easy for him to pick Michael up just like that, but even when he barely stood on his tiptoes, he kept eye contact because he meant it. Nothing would happen to his little brothers, not if he could help it!

Maybe some of that showed on his face because in the next moment he was shoved away and stumbled backwards. He bumped against something soft, probably Gavin, and his hands tried to move to catch himself but they were still bound. He fell hard on his ass and was ready to jump right back up again and fight but the stranger was already back at the door and left.

All three of them stayed quiet, watching and listening in case the guy was going to charge back in any second but the steps retreated and then they could only hear the wind in the trees around.

Finally Michael took a deep breath and looked around.

Ray was sitting up in the corner and looked more pissed off than hurt, Gavin was crawling from beneath Michael's legs and shook his head when he sat up as if to get clear again. There was an angry red handprint on his cheek.

"You guys okay?" Michael asked and when both of them nodded, he surged forward into Gavin's space.

"What the fuck, dude?" he snapped. "There was no need for that! We are supposed to stay levelheaded in situations like this!"

"Who knows what kind of pills those were," Gavin fought back.

"Neither of us would have taken those! We're not stupid!"

"Says the one who shouldn't even been there!" Gavin snapped, and Michael had to press his lips together in anger. Gavin was right after all, if he wouldn't have charged into the base like that, they probably wouldn't be in this situation, but that was no reason to do something so stupid!

But the longer he watched Gavin, the more he understood and he forced himself to calm down.

Gavin had those sharp eyes again and he was hunched into himself. There was something dangerous and waiting in him, like a spring, ready to charge.

He was fucking pissed off and Michael knew why.

Geoff had asked Gavin to look after Ray while he was away, but Gavin hadn't been able to protect him. His little brother was sick and now in danger, and Michael could understand the anger coursing through Gavin now.

So he left him to it and turned to Ray instead.

Ray had already crawled towards the boxes and was fishing the knife out from behind them. His hands were clammy and shaky, but he easily cut through the rope.

"Stop bickering," he told them as he went to free them as well. "Also nice kick, Gav."

"Was kinda hoping he'd bite off his tongue."

"Dude, you'd be the first to throw up if that happened," Michael told him, and Ray nodded thoughtfully.

"Even though it would have been fucking hilarious if a piece of tongue would just drop out of his mouth. Kinda like a bonbon or whate-"

Gavin gagged loudly and Michael couldn't help but snort. He pulled his hands free and rubbed his wrist as he looked around.

Now they were free which was great, but they still had to get out of here.

"Any ideas?"

"I got the knife, my part is done," Gavin said simply and also got up. He looked stupid with the handprint.

"I bring the jokes," Ray said wisely, and Michael rolled his eyes.

"Then check on the boxes," he ordered but grasped Ray's arm when he tried to move past him.

The younger looked a bit surprised but didn't squirm when Michael checked him over, not even when he leaned ahead to press his forehead against his.

Fuck, Ray really did have a fever.

"Take it slow," he told him before letting him go.

Ray nodded and then sat down next to Gavin and watched as he tried to tear the lid of the box away.

What if there was nothing in there? Or at least nothing they could use?

Well, they had to think of something new then.

He went around the hut, feeling the walls. Rough wood, old wood, probably dark and grey from rain and the forest around.

How cool would it be if he could just kick right through this?

He took a step back to wind up but didn't really know what he expected. When his boot actually went right through the wood, he spluttered in surprise and had to hold onto the wall to not stumble and twist his leg.

"Holy shit," Gavin mumbled in awe, and okay, maybe that had been worth it. Only that now he was fucking stuck.

"Fuck," he mumbled and try to pull his leg from the hole he'd created, but it was hard while trying to keep his balance.

"Be careful," Ray told him as if he didn't know that, but he still needed Gavin's help to get his leg free again.

All three of them dropped to their knees to peek through the hole and nearly bumped heads, but yeah, sure enough they could look outside.

"That's so cool," Ray mumbled, and his hair brushed against Michael's chin. It was sleek with sweat and the boy was trembling a little.

"Step back," Michael ordered them and then went to work on the hole, tearing it open and kicking new ones in the old wood. It was working surprisingly good and he just hoped that whole thing wouldn't collapse on their heads.

When he was done, he crouched down again to look out and he could make out the forest a couple feet away. It was dark but not as dark outside and he could squeeze through the hole no problem. If he could, the other two could as well.

He was out of breath when he turned around and Gavin was looking straight at him in worry.

Ray had curled into his side, his eyes half closed while Gavin rubbed his arm.

"Come on," Michael told them and kicked some pieces of wood out of the shed. "Let's get out of here."

He crawled outside first and then helped Ray along, all while looking around. Nobody was screaming at them which probably meant they hadn’t been spotted yet.

Gavin also squeezed through and stood.

"Come on, bud," Michael mumbled as he pulled Ray up. The boy was shaky on his feet and it would help no one to let him walk on his own. The fact that Ray didn't even protest as Michael pulled him onto his back spoke volumes. The other really had to feel bad, and now that they were closer, Michael could hear his panting even louder.

They had to get him home!

"What now?" he asked as he looked around. Just as he figured, they were in the middle of fuck all, a forest stretching dark around the shed and the only light was flickering down the road. Probably a house where the kidnappers were hiding right now, planning to do whatever.

There was a dirt path leading there and maybe they could snatch the car and drive away... if they could drive that was. Fuck, Michael could barely reach the pedals.

So that was not a solution and sure, they could follow the path that would hopefully lead to some street, but that was what they'd expect, right?

"You think we could walk next to the path and stay hidden?"

"Don't know. But it felt like we were driving in circles up here. If we can just cut straight through the forest we will be faster."

"We'll get lost in five seconds when we enter..." Michael trailed off because he had turned around and found Gavin staring upwards in concentration. He also tilted his head and watched the stars above. Out here, away from the city there were a million and some more, brilliant against the black sky. Fuck, Michael was pretty sure he could see the milky way!

But that was good, they could use this to orientate themselves. People had done that for centuries, right? He just had no idea how to do it but then Gavin already pointed to their left.

"Pleiades," he said, and Michael had no idea what he meant with that, but that was Gavin's expertise and not his. "It should point us north or north east at least."

"And how do you know we have to go north?"

"I don't but we can at least make sure we're going in a straight line."

"Fine," Michael nodded. "Let's get away from here."

They jogged until they reached the edge of the forest and then stopped unsure. They could maybe see the first three rows of trees but everything after that was pitch black as if no light whatsoever could pierce it.

Going in there made everything in Michael hesitate and Ray also made a distressed noise. He shushed him down and knew he would have to make the first step, otherwise Gavin wouldn't follow and he quickly swallowed down his fear.

"Let's do this," he mumbled and stepped between the trees. Gavin shuffled next to him and if Michael didn't have his hands hooked beneath Ray's knees he would have gladly reached out to the other. At least Gavin thought the same because seconds later his hand curled around Michael's upper arm and squeezed.

The darkness swallowed them five steps later and Michael heard his own breath catch in his throat.

It was eerie, no, even worse, it was terrifying.

He couldn't hear anything besides Gavin's unsure steps and Ray's labored breath, his own pounding heart. It felt as if they were all alone in this world besides the creatures lurking in the shadows all around.

And fuck, he wouldn't even know they were there until it was too late because he couldn't see or hear them. It was as if they stepped right out of their world and into another.

They moved at a snail's pace. Gavin lead them, tugging him this direction and that. In the little light they got, he could see him look up here and there, searching for their waypoint.

Fuck, maybe they should have tried their luck in the shed! It couldn't take that much longer until one of their guardians showed up, right?

Something moved through his right, an animal hurrying through the undergrowth and Ray's arms tightened around his throat as if he wanted to choke him. Gavin's fingers dug into his arm, sure to leave marks and Michael just stared into the darkness, waiting for eyes to stare right back.

They didn't, of course not!

"Just a squirrel," he whispered and even that seemed to loud in the forest around. Ray buried his face in the crook of his neck, a feverish warm point of contact and that reminded Michael that they had to hurry.

"I don't think squirrels are acti-"

"Squirrel," Michael interrupted Gavin and nodded ahead. "Let's go before it steals your nuts."

"Michael!" At least there was some amusement now even if it was shaking.

The wind picked up soon after and only made it worse. The leaves above danced and twirled, making sounds as if the ocean was close, like distant waves. Or like huge fingers, brushing through the canopy above.

The one further down brushed against their arms and neck, and Michael could feel Ray jump more than once.

Licking his lips, he pushed on and briefly wondered if he should start talking. Just running his mouth because he could do that, he was fantastic at that, and surely he could make the other two laugh, but he didn't dare. Raising his voice against the darkness might just make it mad, might just alert whoever was out there of their position.

There was some splashing of water somewhere, most likely a tiny stream and not a bottomless pond. Not something they could slip in and never find out of, and Ray couldn't even swim, less of all in his condition!

No, surely just a puddle of some kind, barely enough to get their socks wet.

Still, when Gavin vanished from his side he wanted to scream. It got stuck in his throat and he froze solid, scared that he would drop into a pond or down a steep hill, cracking his and Ray's skulls. Scared that whatever was out there would also snatch him up and pull him into an even deeper darkness before he even knew it.

He just stood there and felt the scratches on his arm where Gavin had tried to hold onto and heard his own heart pound. Fuck, he could feel Ray's heart pound against his back and neither of them made a sound, tried to stay hidden right where they were as if whatever was out there to hunt during this time would have any problem seeing them.

Then he heard a little groan, not all too far away and he turned there.

"Gav?" Ray asked and Michael nearly had a heart attack by how sudden his voice was. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah..." came it back but Gavin's voice was shaking. There was some shuffling and Michael figured the other was picking himself up. "I just slipped. I think I found the path again."

Michael reached out with his foot, carefully testing the ground and sure enough there was a slope down. When Gavin's hand brushed against his side, he jumped and nearly tumbled down.

"Let me help you," Gavin offered and Michael took a deep breath before taking his offered hand. He had to let go of Ray but Ray just clung tighter to him, not budging in the slightest while Michael slowly climbed down.

Gavin was plastered to his side a second later and that was pretty fine with him. The leaves swooshed above them but there were no trees close to them and the ground was pretty even. Maybe this really was the path they had taken in the car, and Michael was ready to just follow it.

Fuck this forest, maybe he didn't know exactly which direction they should follow and not end back by the shed, but it was better than the stupid forest again!

"Michael," Ray whispered into his ear and he turned around just in time to see light coming through the trees. Could be the headlights of a car or flashlights or whatever but surely someone looking for them.

Shit, didn't take them long.

He took a tighter hold on Ray and ran. Gavin was desperately holding on to him at least until Ray grasped his hand and pulled him along like that. That was good, they were cutting straight through the forest now and they couldn't lose each other.

He wasn't even sure if they were running into the right direction anymore or not and the water got louder, somewhere to his left. It was one of the few things he could hear besides their pounding steps and harsh breaths. He wanted to turn around, check if someone was following them, but he didn't dare, too scared of what he might see.

A sudden light appeared in front of them, blinding him and in the next second he hit the ground. Ray held onto him for dear life and Gavin stumble but stayed on his feet, blinking against the brightness.

At first Michael couldn't see a thing, just shielded his eyes against the light and tried to catch his breath. Then there was Gavin, his nice clothes dirty with mud and two leaves sticking in his hair.

When he saw the skull in between the trees he was sure his heart was going to stop right then and there.

He would have nightmares for years about that, he was sure of it, and Ray also buried his face into his shoulder to hide away.

Gavin just made a happy noise and ran at the figure, arms outstretched.

Ryan.

Oh God, it was Ryan, and Michael had never hated that fucking mask more than in that moment. Still he got to his feet and crashed into the other, wrapping his arms around him.

Ryan made a noise of surprise and nearly fell backwards from the force of it because now Ray also clung to him and Gavin hung from his neck like a baby monkey, but neither of them dared to let go.

"I found them."

[whifferdills]

I'd love to read a pre-s10 fic in which Twelve is really struggling with having to stay put and Nardole attempts to offer comfort (while also having to be the enforcer).

i love these weird soft resentful boys

~1.4k words, gen mostly, angsty cuddlecore

Nardole’s got a limp now. A screw loose in there somewhere, or a whatsit on the fritz. Just a minor inconvenience, not like anything hurts, only his left leg doesn’t always work 100% correctly. And if he tries, he can almost half-believe it’s a regular injury, a sprain or a tear or a worn-down joint. Which is helpful, on those evenings where he sits perfectly still so as not to have to listen to the motors whirring, due to running away in fear of himself not being a viable option.

The Doctor doesn’t notice it, Nardole’s new limp. Partially because the Doctor rarely notices anything they haven’t already decided to care about, partially because Nardole does his best to hide it. Since if the Doctor did notice and did decide to care, they’d be determined to fix whatever had gone wrong, and for a variety of reasons Nardole isn’t particularly inclined to grant that level of intimacy. So: a limp. (And with the use of a brace lifted from Boots and several feet of heavy-duty duct tape, the effects can be mostly minimized.)

Makes the staircase down to the vault a bit tricky, but that’s fine, since the Doctor only joins the nightly check when something’s gone wrong. Thanks to Nardole, things hardly ever go wrong. Well, mostly don’t. Or - anyway. When it does rarely - semi-rarely, hardly at all - go wrong, like tonight, Nardole just stays behind the Doctor. He’s always been slow-moving, anyway. He eases his way down the steps and watches the soft blue glow of the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver snuff out around the bend of the hallway.

“It’s alright,” the Doctor yells. “One of the locks wasn’t set right. All good now.”

Nardole rounds the corner and then stands very still. “I always triple-check,” he says.

The Doctor tries frowning, and then smiling, then runs their hand through their hair, the light from the sonic bouncing around them. Kind of a jittery halo effect. “I don’t. I mean to - I don’t, always.”

“The lock would have been set correctly,” Nardole says, feeling what might be another screw coming close, something off inside him. “From when I’d triple-checked it was still set correctly. Unless it was unlocked, and then reset.”

Which means, which means. Oh. Obviously.

“I’d tell you off but we both know it’d be pointless. So. Just. Be more careful next time,” Nardole says.

“Can’t be a next time of something that didn’t happen in the first place. If I’m following your line of attack properly.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know,” Nardole says. He clenches his fists and listens to the motors whirring.

The torchlight of the sonic clicks off, just the faint ambient light of the vault door to illuminate the Doctor’s face screwing up, and then blanking, and then the greater whole of the Doctor flouncing past Nardole.

Left alone in the dark, not a huge change of pace.

Objectively speaking, hanging around guarding a monster is better than running around fighting monsters. Less stressful, for sure. The danger is known and quantifiable. There is a routine, and a softer sort of existence, exploring the details of a single mode of being rather than jumping on and on and on to the next one. A familiarity. Dusting the knick-nacks and sorting the papers and making the tea. It’s a fair copy of domesticity, and Nardole appreciates the domestic life.

But the Doctor is antsy now. Tapping toes, clicking click-top pens, tearing pieces of paper into small squares. Standing on the stage in the lecture hall saying we explore because we have to, because it’s in our nature. Sometimes this means landing on the moon, sometimes this means colonialism and genocide. Flip a coin. A sad, combative look in his eyes. Time is the enemy, and time moves slowly. Inexorably.

Nardole makes the tea and organizes the logistics of a professor’s professional life and triple-checks the locks. The Doctor comes home late and disheveled and does not meet his eyes. It works, technically.

“There’s plenty of adventure to be had right here,” Nardole says on one of those nights the Doctor can’t stop staring at the TARDIS.

“Obviously.” Their foot tapping rhythmically on the floor.

“Beyond just going for a walk or whatever it is that you actually do when you say you’re going for a walk.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Nardole.” The look on their face says that the conversation is over, and doesn’t betray much else.

Things don’t usually go wrong; sometimes they do. The Doctor comes home from their nightly walk, or whatever it is they really do, and proceeds to aggressively putter around the office. Nardole sits up in bed, in his now somewhat-more-than-a-closet, and listens to the muffled bangs and knocking around, the heavy pacing, the muttered invectives. The Doctor does this, sometimes.

After a crash that’s a touch too dramatic and a silence that goes on a minute too long, Nardole scrapes himself out of his blanket cocoon and shuffles hesitantly out. Wonky leg going almost full-useless under him. Things in the office are in a standard disarray; light’s on in the kitchenette, though. He pushes through the dread and drags himself forward, the clunky mechanical whine of whatever malfunction loud in the quiet.

The Doctor’s standing by the sink, staring blankly down at the bits of at least three broken mugs on the floor, absentmindedly cradling their right hand, which is leaking a decent amount of blood.

“Just wanted a cuppa,” they say, matter-of-fact.

The light’s too bright and it’s far too late at night/too early in the morning, and the sight of blood makes him woozy, and everything’s gone tilted. Everything’s been gone tilted. This is exhausting.

“Let’s get you fixed up,” he says, and slings an arm over the Doctor’s shoulder.

“It’s nothing,” the Doctor says. But 3 AM after having been injured in the pursuit of a creature comfort is one of those liminal spaces, apparently, where the Doctor’s grip on their Doctor-ness slips and the petulant sarcasm is ditched in favor of a decent impression of fear. Little boy lost, clenching a fist around the gash in their palm.

Nardole sets them down at the tiny table and searches through the cupboards for antiseptic and plasters, or, failing that, vodka and some paper towels. He comes back with an individually-wrapped lemon-scented freshen-up wipette and an old t-shirt that’d been, for whatever reason, next to the Weetabix.

“Sorry, uh,” he says.

The Doctor is flexing their hand, skin visibly knitting back together under the blood.

Nardole can’t fit into the table-nook, so just stands awkwardly behind the Doctor, wringing the t-shirt and moist towelette in his hands. Then he throws them on the table with a well-defined and deliberate sigh, and turns to leave.

“Please,” the Doctor says. There’s a crack in their voice that stops Nardole in his tracks. “I can’t - I can’t do this.”

“I know,” Nardole says. “But you have to anyway.”

“Dunno how.”

Against his better judgment, Nardole squeezes the Doctor’s shoulder. He’d meant to be cool and aloof here, is the thing. He’s not prepared for how the Doctor leans into the touch.

It’s a mistake, but Nardole lets his hand linger, lets the gesture veer dangerously close to a caress, and says “C'mon.”

Also mistakes: stripping the outer few layers off a suddenly very pliant Doctor, pouring them into his own custom-built blanket pile on his personal and private bed in his formerly-a-closet, noticing how this all sort of works for him in the part of his head he’s usually busy reminding to be silent. Even if, in his daydreams, the Doctor isn’t generally having something comparable to a panic attack. And Nardole isn’t surreptitiously shaking a stray screw out from his pajama trousers, and he’s not awkwardly climbing into bed next to a barrier of blankets and pillows, only the topmost edge of the Doctor’s hair visible.

“Okay?” he asks quietly, grabbing the nearest soft thing - a kind of cartoon-cat furry pillow thing - and clutching it to his chest.

“No,” the Doctor says.

Bit a conversation-ender, that. Nardole rests his back against the blanket wall and screws his eyes shut. The Doctor will inevitably snore intensely for 30 minutes and then leave, and Nardole will wake up alone. It’s better than nothing, though, surely. A little kindness goes a long way. Nardole reaches over and pats the Doctor on the head, or hair, and digs his way into a new sleep-nest, carefully putting his subroutines on standby one by one.