#Sooner or later he's gonna cut you down: Death

[stomach-bugg09]

summary: three avatars dead, one injured big sister, and two angry parents waiting at home. what could go wrong?

lo’ak x oldersister!reader

a/n: this is a part two of his protector as requested by both @perfectprofessorloverapricot + @lololo392. hopefully i did it justice! it ended up being a longer fic than i originally meant (2.4k), but i’m pretty happy with it. if there are any mistakes, let me know—this is a product of stress and unhappiness inbetween finishing each midterm exam.

reblogs, comments, and requests are always appreciated !!

tags: @pinkhotdogsfr @eywas-heir

warnings: mentions of blood, injury, bullet wound, mentions of death + killing

reckless ( but helpful )

“are you hurt?” lo’ak asked softly, his ear pressed right against her chest. from where she held his head, he could hear her wince every other breath that she took, causing his worry to fluctuate.

it didn’t help his panic when she hesitated. “uh,” she rasped, sniffling thanks to her tears from earlier. “it’s just a little wound. nothing to worry about.”

“[y/n]!” he scolded, immediately pushing his big sister’s arms off of him. his eyes scanned her body, trying to locate where exactly she might be in pain, but as soon as he saw the small pool of blood underneath her thigh, he inhaled sharply. “let me see.”

when she adjusted her weight, freeing her leg from where it formerly sat underneath her body, lo’ak ran a hand over his face. “okay,” he sighed, inspecting the injury carefully. “it could have been worse, but it’s still a bullet wound.”

“well, aren’t you smart,” she teased, reaching up and pushing his head away.

“[y/n]!” he hissed, swiping her hands away. “this is not the time to be joking. we need to get back—sooner rather than later. it’s nearly eclipse.”

she nodded solemnly, dreading the moment in which they saw their parents again. thanks to her injury, it was impossible for the two of them to cover up their dangerous adventure. “go take off that dream-walker’s shirt, brother. i can use it as a bandage.”

lo’ak rolled his eyes at the request. “of course, making your baby brother undress a dead stranger.”

“don’t make it weird, you perv.”

but, of course, lo’ak obliged. he took his knife, sticking it under the dirty t-shirt and angling it upwards. as he ran the knife downwards, the shirt split into two pieces, eventually allowing for lo’ak to grab it off of the avatar’s corpse.

when [y/n] finally had it, she grabbed both the knife and the shirt from her brother’s hand. “let me see this,” she sighed, continuing to cut the shirt down into a long strip of thin fabric.

“here, sister,” lo’ak offered, dropping to his knees beside her. “let me wrap it. it would be easier for me anyway.”

silently, [y/n] nodded, inhaling slowly as she watched her brother grab the bandage. in preparation, [y/n]’s fingers curled inwards towards her palm, looping through pieces of grass. she helped the process by bending her knee ever-so-slightly, allowing for lo’ak to wrap her thigh easier.

“stay still,” lo’ak scolded when she winced as soon as he touched her skin. “it will be done quicker if you keep it together. i promise you.”

as he wrapped her thigh, her ears pressed back against her head, a hiss of pain leaving her throat as lo’ak tightened the pressure. “just keep going,” [y/n] exhaled, eyes closed as she tried to regain her breath.

“almost done,” lo’ak commented, his eyes drifting back and forth between the progress he was making and the pained expression on his big sister’s face. both parties felt immense relief as soon as he tucked in that last tail of the fabric.

[y/n] flexed her knee back and forth, watching as the bandage remained secure, although she immediately regretted her choice when she felt the pain shoot through her leg. at the feeling, her stomach shifted, skin going the slightest shade paler.

“hey, hey,” lo’ak called for her attention softly. “look at me, okay? you’re good, safe for now. our next step is getting home, alright? so, we’re going to call out ikrans, i’m gonna help you get on, and then i’m going to board both of our rides with some souvenirs.” he eyed the barrels full of guns and ammo behind them.

[y/n] dragged a hand down her face, eventually trailing down her neck. “alright,” she sighed. something deep inside of her felt so much immense guilt at their situation. not only did she almost kill both of them, but now she, the big sister, was under the care of her baby brother. oh, how backwards it all seemed.

both siblings put their fingers to their lips, blowing out their own unique whistles to catch the attentions of their ikrans. as soon as the melody rang out, lo’ak’s ears perked up to listen, spinning around to try and locate the direction in which they would come from.

at the familiar sound of flapping winds, lo’ak held his hands up as a signal of where exactly they were, and as a result the two beautiful creatures landed in front of him. their feet were heavy, a shake rumbling beneath them once they stopped flying.

[y/n] immediately tensed nearly every muscle in her body, straining to get up on her own. in exasperation, lo’ak ran over to her, her arms slipping underneath her arm pits to help her balance. “you lack patience, sister,” he commented with a breathy chuckle.

“i’m just independent, baby brother.”

“something like that,” he grunted, eventually pulling her up and adjusting his position so he stood next to her, allowing for the older girl to use him as a crutch of sorts. the two stumbled over to her ikran, the creature kneeling on the ground at the sight of her sister’s injury.

thanks to the lowered height, [y/n] could get on much easier, pulling her leg overtop so she straddled the saddle. tears pricked her eyes, her stomach turning. just stay strong, she told herself.

from where she perched atop her ikran, her eyes gazed upon lo’ak. he moved back and forth across the small campsite, loading the saddle-pockets with guns and ammo. he huffed and puffed, the weight a lot more than he was expecting. she swallowed a laugh as he paused at one point, wiping sweat off of his forehead.

by the time the pockets were completely full, the sky was much darker. although still not quite eclipse, there was absolutely no way that they would return home in time. but, what’s another rule broken at this point? they were already going to be dead.

lo’ak now sat atop his own ikran, breathless and tired. both siblings were more than exhausted, although for different reasons. [y/n] was fighting the urge to close her eyes. she needed to get home first.

“hey,” lo’ak called, catching the fading attention of his sister. “let’s go, yeah?”

“'bout time,” she mumbled, straightening her shoulders and rubbing her eyes. [y/n] looked back over at her brother, and as soon as he gave her the nod, she was in the air.

the flight itself was long, but based on both [y/n]’s inability to understand time and the fact that she kept spacing out, it felt extremely short. the only thing that kept her somewhat awake was the chill of the wind against her skin, her skin that was noticeably burning up.

by the time they neared home, the sky was pitch black and full of twinkling stars. a beacon of bright light shone up into the sky from the nightly campfire in the center of camp. as they got closer and closer, [y/n] could finally make out the image of jake and neytiri standing ready with their ikrans, about to fly off into the night. most likely to find us, she thought, cringing at the scolding they were about to get.

she could tell lo’ak was thinking the same thing when she heard him mumble, “shit.”

the two of them circled downwards, watching as neytiri pointed out their silhouettes to jake. by the time they landed, the pair was looking absolutely furious.

around the parents stood their other children, all three staring with an insurmountable amount of worry. they just knew their parents were about to murder the two of them based on how worried they had been for the past hour or so.

“where have you been?” neytiri hissed, eyes narrowed at her eldest daughter and youngest son. “the first time we entrust you to scout alone, you stay out past eclipse.”

lo’ak was quick to get off his ikran, face cast downwards in shame. but, instead of stopping on the ground like jake and neytiri expected, the boy moved over to his sister, helping her get off her ikran. the parents did not miss how she winced in pain.

immediately, tuk ran over to them, her small hands checking to make sure that lo’ak was safe. behind him neteyam was taking the saddles and whatnot off of their ikrans, eyes widening as he felt the weight to them.

“[y/n]?” jake questioned, his once disappointed eyes now fading into concern. his jaw dropped the slightest when he saw the make-shift bandage wrapped around her leg, the thin material absolutely soaked in blood. at the sight, kiri jumped to run over to her sister.

“look,” their daughter sighed. “i understand, you’re disappointed. whoops, our bad. we can explain later, and you are more than welcome to yell at us then, but until then, i really want to not die, so can i please see grandmother?”

“you two are very stupid,” kiri said, tone flat as she unwrapped the bandage. lo’ak and [y/n] now sat in the tsahik hut, surrounded by about a thousand medical tools and salves. kiri was quick to attend to her sister, knowing that it would take a bit until neteyam could help mo’at wander from the campfire back to the hut.

[y/n] hissed in pain, her thigh tensing involuntarily. “yes, yes, thank you kiri. your words are oh-so helpful.” she barked a curse at her sister when she poked the wound a bit too hard.

beside her sat lo’ak. he was fine, but tuk was forcing to stay until mo’at could clear him. she just didn’t want her big brother wandering around if he was hurt!

kiri inhaled deeply when she finally got a look at the wound. “that’s not very fun, is it?” she muttered, swallowing her anxiety. she didn’t need to freak out her patient—that always led to disaster.

the tension only increased when neteyam, their parents, and their grandmother entered the hut. “[y/n]!” mo’at scolded before even looking at the injury. “always hurt, always making me work.”

“sorry, grandmother,” [y/n] offered with a small smile, a layer of slick sweat surfacing on her forehead. she felt her own stomach growing nauseous at the sight of the bullet wound, the area soaked in her blood.

jake cleared his throat, catching the immediate attention of all five of his kids. “while your grandmother surveys that—” he gestured towards her leg—”why don’t you fill us in on your afternoon?”

lo’ak scratched the back of his neck, his eyes meeting the pained expression of his older sister. “well,” he started slowly, a sheepish smile on his face. “we were scouting. like we were supposed to!’

[y/n] nodded in agreement. “yes, doing just as you told us.”

“and then we found this new sky-people camp. it was completely empty, too! so, we did as you would, sir. we went and took notes, counting the supplies and surveying the area.” lo’ak barely met the eyes of his father.

as to distract herself from the poking and prodding of mo’at, [y/n]’s hand gripped lo’ak’s wrist. “but, it turned out that the only reason it was empty was because they heard our arrival as we were scouting. they shot at us, and, well…”

jake took a deep breath, pushing down the urge to yell at the two of them. “how many are there?”

[y/n]’s eyebrows furrowed, a gift given to her by her father’s dna. “‘are there?��” she questioned. “father, there are none left. i killed all three.”

lo’ak found himself beaming with pride. his older sister was the coolest. “yeah, and she even shot the last one right between the eyes as he was holding me. she didn’t even harm me!”

“what can i say, baby brother. i’m a good shot.” she swallowed a cry as her grandmother’s long tool reached into her wound, trying to locate the bullet. poor lo’ak was suffering her iron-grip on his wrist.

immediately noticing her discomfort, the siblings gathered around her. none of them seemed to notice the look exchanged between their parents. they were impressed. and proud!

“it is okay, sister. it’s almost over,” neteyam told her, holding her head up so, if she did pass out, it wouldn’t slam against the table. eywa forbid she got any dumber than she already was. tuk’s eyes were teary as she rested a small hand on her big sister’s shoulder, kiri holding her other hand.

once mo’at got a firm grip on the small metal capsule, she mumbled words of warning before she tugged. a bedraggled scream left [y/n]’s throat, tears trailing down her cheeks. the faces of lo’ak and kiri were priceless as they felt their hands lose feeling for a split second.

“you did it!” tuk cheered, rubbing up and down [y/n]’s hand as a sense of comfort. “you are done!”

[y/n] sniffled, a smile appearing on her lips. “yes, yes. thank you, tuktuk,” she said with a slight chuckle.

“hold still,” mo’at scolded, immediately causing [y/n] to roll her eyes.

the gesture of annoyance had everyone laughing. “don’t worry guys, she’s still herself!” lo’ak teased.

from where [y/n] laid back, her forearms now resting overtop her eyes, she gasped. everyone looked over, still on edge from moments before. “the.. the—whatever! the things, lo’ak!” she recalled, her brain going too fast to locate the exact words.

“wha—oh!”

everyone watched in utter confusion as the younger boy practically sprinted out of the hut.

“you will see,” [y/n] promised, taking a deep breath of relief as she felt the cool salve against her wound, her grandmother’s fingers soft as she applied it.

it was even more confusing as lo’ak sprinted back in, two guns in hand.

“woah!” neytiri warned, immediately grabbing the weapons from her reckless son. “explain.”

lo’ak grinned. “they were at the camp. we grabbed a bunch before we left—there’s more of those in the saddle.”

neytiri and jake blinked. “you’re telling me you killed three sky-people and stole their weapons?”

“and ammo!” lo'ak exclaimed time as his sister corrected them, “they were avatars.”

a grin sat itself on mo’at’s lips. “ah, so much like your parents. reckless, but helpful.”

“that’s us,” [y/n] agreed, sharing a look with her baby brother. “reckless, but helpful.”

[cecythemaybe]

⚠️⚠️Call of duty MW III spoiler⚠️⚠️

I saw people complain about how Ghost reacted when Soap died. But personally, I love it so much that it hurts.

Do you see how tired Ghost is? Like his eyes after he scattered Soap’s ashes ???? That's a whole story there. Simon Riley is a lieutenant, right? During the time climbed into this rank; he already lost lots of people around him, and slowly he learned that sooner or later it would be him or anyone working along. He has a hard time learning and preparing for it, Simon is already broke to feel broken again. Just empty in those eyes.

Not to mention, I've read somewhere that Ghost and Soap knew each other before MW 2019. And that even fucked up. Simon would sometimes blame himself for getting attached (as friend) to Soap. It’s would take a long time. A long time for Ghost to actually shed tears about Soap’s death. Not because he is heartless but again, the breakdown gonna keep building up and till its unable to hide, it's going to be a mess. Simon breaks down into pieces, and later back to his feet with the same broken mind.

GOSH thats what i looking for

And about Soap? I think it would take me a day or two to actually accept that Soap- yea. Everything happened too fast, too quickly that I'm agape. I have love-hate with this twist. Why?

First, its showing that this is war. Everything comes faster than we thought. A perfect example of why we should despite war. Soap got shot right when everything was on fire while Gaz and Price were trying to defend, while Ghost was on the ground… The rush is a perfect way to give us a shiver feeling of how ruthless is it. Yet again, is Soap!!? The scene Price, Gaz, and Ghost around Soap’s disappointed me. They could make it longer, give us time to understand that Soap Mactavish is just death. A 141 member KIA. AND HOW THEY JUST SCATTERED HIS ASHES INTO NOWHERE ????!!? DO YOU KNOW WHAT IS MEANS??? ITS FUCKING MEAN THAT SOAP DOESNT HAVE ANYONE. NO ONE ASIDE 141??!!??

I already knew Soap going to die, but this is so messed up-

Edit: I only saying that I like how they portrayed Ghost with pain, not about the campaign. Its feel too rush to cut Soap off and continue to the next chapter. Too rush that I feel like he still alive and his whole death is a cover

[lottesreads]

Why Me? - Part 5

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)

Warnings: Cursing, insecurities, pining, mommy/daddy issues, dirty jokes, mentions of death, mentions of being drunk/drinking, angst, forbidden relationship, Rooster (he's gonna be his own warning from now on)

Word Count: 5141

Summary: You can't get enough of Bob, and it seems he can't get enough of you either. You finally get to meet Phoenix's girlfriend, all while trying to sort out your own complicated feelings for each other.

A/N: I am loving all the reblogs and likes, and I apologize this took me so long! Things are starting to get a little more angsty, but I am SO excited for the next part so please stay tuned! I should have that one out a lot sooner than it took me to get this one out.

Masterlist

You scrunch your eyebrows, taking a look around the parking lot and back to Bob’s heaving form. “Brunch?”

“Yeah”, he breathes, “Phoenix was thinking of getting together so I thought-”

“Ok.” You cut him off. He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Really?”

“Yeah”, you smile. “Just as long as Phoenix is ok with me coming.” Bob continues to rest his hands in the window of your car as you grip your steering wheel tighter so as to not reach out and touch him like you so desperately want to. This man should really cover his hands in public, it’s indecent.

“Of course.” He takes a second just to look at you and that small smile on your face. It was much better than the look you had when Penny stopped by your table. Realizing he’d been staring for too long he clears his throat. “Yeah, so I’ll- I’ll text you later and then- then see you tomorrow.”

“Sounds great”, you smile. Throwing caution to the wind you pat his hand, “Thanks Bobby.” You say it with sincerity, hoping he’ll notice just how thankful you are for him.

Bob’s resolve immediately melts at your name for him as he feels the tension leave his shoulders, “No problem”, he barely makes out. And then you’re finally out on the road, driving home. Watching you leave, he makes a call to Phoenix. He’s smiling as he does so, the last time you called him Bobby was last night when he was falling asleep next to you, your hand resting on his chest-

“Bob, what’s up?” Phoenix's voice breaks him out of his memory.

“Hey, is it alright if Mantis comes to brunch with us tomorrow?”

“Really?” “Yeah”, he begins fiddling with the side mirror of his truck hoping she’ll say ‘yes’. “I mean I kind of already invited her, and she’s all alone this weekend.”

“I mean, I was gonna introduce her to Rachel anyway, but when I made these plans you couldn’t even look her in the eye. Let alone have a conversation with her.” Even though Phoenix can’t see him, she knows he’s feeling embarrassed. “But I guess after sharing a bed together-”

“Is that a yes?” He cuts her off.

“Yes, Floyd. Now I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See ya’.” Well perfect, now he can see you again tomorrow. And then everyday at work after that. Where he promised to not ghost you. How could he possibly stop talking to you now? It was like you turned on a faucet, you got him started and he can’t stop. But now he had to text you, not right now obviously. He didn’t want to seem too eager, he’ll just have to drive home, wait the appropriate amount of time to make it seem like he was calling Phoenix, and then text you.

It was about an hour after you got home that Bob texted you to let you know everything was good for tomorrow. You couldn’t help but feel a little giddy that he wanted to spend more time with you so soon. And you very quickly attempted to tamp that feeling down. This was a nice budding friendship, best not to ruin it with your feelings about him and how hot he looks in jeans and a t-shirt (or anything really). Or how his eyes sparkle up close, or how you want to map out each and every freckle on his face- no, you weren’t going to think about that.

That was until you were getting ready to go to sleep and you found the sweatpants you had lent him. Still neatly folded and clean, just the way he gave them back to you. You run your hand over the soft material, as if he were still in them. Drawing your hand back, you take them off the pillow and bring them to your nose. Thank goodness, they still smelled like him. Staring down to the pillow they were just sitting on, you lean forward and take a sniff of that as well. Oh dear lord that smells like him, too.

Ok maybe that’s a problem. Shaking your head, sweatpants in hand, you take them to your dresser and put them away. You climb under the sheets and face his pillow. It didn’t matter what you did now to try and make his scent go away, it was always going to be his pillow. The one he slept on after you begged him to stay. After he made sure you were home safe. You slide your hand out from under your comforter and lay it on the pillow. Taking in a deep breath, you close your eyes as your mind wanders. Whether you want it to or not.

The next morning you spend a little extra time getting ready. You pin it all on the fact that you haven’t been out a lot lately, and any excuse to wear a sundress is a good one. You and Bob decide to meet Phoenix at the restaurant, you still feel bad he was practically your chauffeur the past two days. You swipe on some mascara before you run out the door, making your way to the restaurant. Phoenix had told you a little bit about the girl she was seeing, not wanting to make a big deal out of it before it was something serious. You could tell by the way she talked about her that she was down bad. When she was vulnerable, Phoenix liked to hide behind a facade, but there was no way she could hide how much she liked Rachel. 

It’s a busy Sunday as you find a place to park and make your way to the building. Bob texted to let you know he was waiting outside for you, and even through the line of people it’s not hard to spot him from behind. He’s wearing a pair of light khaki pants, with a blue button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Oh god those forearms. That’s going to be a problem. You shake your head, walking up to him and tapping his broad shoulder. He turns and smiles, his eyes widening once he glances up and down your form, fitted underneath the floral dress you chose. The blue flowers almost a perfect match for the color of his shirt. His mouth remains slightly open as he gazes at your attire, “Wow.”

“Is it too much?” You ask. Concerned, you stare down at the outfit you chose today. Maybe you had overdressed for the occasion.

“No”, he responds immediately, “not at all. It’s perfect- you look amazing.” You avoid his gaze again, hoping he doesn’t see the flush you feel dusting your cheeks.

“Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself. I’m glad you got the memo about wearing blue today.” He looks down at his shirt, smiling to himself.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to feel left out.” He looks back up with a crooked smile as you mirror his expression. “Anyway, Phoenix and Rachel should be here soon, I’ve already got us a table reserved, they just needed more than one person to seat us.”

“Lead the way.” Bob ushers you inside, opening the door like the true gentleman he is. And when the waitress leads you to your table his hand hovers behind your lower back, never touching. He even goes so far as to pull out your chair for you, tucking you back into the table once you’re sat. You begin to look over the menus together as Bob’s hand sits on the back of your chair. You’re not sure if he’s fully aware of what he’s doing, but you aren’t going to mention it, afraid that if you do he’ll pull away. “So how’s Sylvia doing?”, you ask, taking a sip from your water. Bob looks up and smiles at the fact you remembered the name of his precious baby, despite having learned it almost a week ago in a fleeting conversation.

“She’s doing good, still a little skittish around new people, but we’re working on that.”

“Sounds like her dad”, you respond. He lets out a small laugh and scratches the back of his neck with the hand that was previously on your chair.

“What can I say? It must be genetic.” You laugh through your nose as his hand returns right behind your back.

“Well, if she’s anything like you, once you get through the initial shyness, there is no turning back.”

“Really, no turning back?”

“Nope.” You respond, popping the ‘p’.

Just looking at you in the morning light makes Bob want to tell you how much the last couple days have meant to him. The fact that you set time aside especially for him on Friday, and then continued to want to get to know him makes him feel special. You make him feel special, and he hopes he does the same for you. It’s not even the first time now as you tell him you’re not going anywhere, that he’s wanted to confess. Since being assigned to the initial mission, every time that you’ve gone out of your way to try and talk to him he thought it was out of pity, or obligation. But he’s now realizing you did it because you’re a nice person, a good person who wanted to get to know him. Bob hasn’t come across that kind of pure intention a lot in his lifetime. Learning to put up walls to keep himself safe. But you make him feel safe, like he could tell you anything. Well, almost anything.

You’ve since looked back down at the menu, but his eyes have stayed on you. He’s trying to be discreet about it, but it’s hard when you look absolutely stunning. It’s the first time he’s seen you in a dress, but he’s certainly hoping it’s not the last. Bob never went to a high-school dance, and now as you sit before him he can’t help but imagine taking you to one. You’d probably been to all of them, with a handsome date hanging on your arm. He wishes he could have met you when he was younger, saved him from being ditched by Mandy Harrison. But he doesn’t like to think about her. He’s with you, and as he looks up at the door behind your head he realizes he’s also with Phoenix and Rachel. He waves them over as you look up from your menu to greet them.

Rachel is just as gorgeous as Phoenix described, only a couple inches shorter, with flowing ginger hair. The two of them donne sundresses as well, making you smile even wider at their arrival. You stand to greet the two, hugging Phoenix while trying to discreetly whisper in her ear, “Well done.” She laughs as you move on to Rachel who already has her arms open to greet you as if you were already friends.

“You must be Mantis, it’s so nice to meet you!”

“You as well!” you say as you break apart, “I’d say you’re even more beautiful than Phoenix described, but you live up to the expectations of ‘the most gorgeous woman to ever walk the earth’” Rachel blushes as Phoenix gives you a playful glare.

“And you of course must be Bob”

“Must be”, Bob lets out as he accepts his own hug. He seemed surprised to say the least, but not unwelcome. As you sit back down, Bob tucks your chair back in for you as you look back and give him a small thank you. “Any time”, he says just loud enough for you to hear.

You look back to the menu, trying with all your might to not notice that Bob’s hand is still on the back of your chair.

“So how long have you two worked with Nat, or Phoenix as I should say?” Rachel asks.

“Well, Nat and I actually went to the Academy together. She was a year ahead of me, but she made my time there a lot more interesting.” You respond with a small laugh.

“Hey, I’m not the one who got absolutely wasted on her 21st birthday and had to sneak back into her bunk.” Phoenix retaliates with a playful glare.

“And who’s idea was it to go out in the first place? Huh?” She surrenders as her arms go up, giving you a small smile. You remember Your 21st birthday quite well. Once again your dad was deployed, still believing you were attending UVA rather than the Naval Academy. He had always promised to take you out for your first drink, so when Nat found you in your dorm wiping away tears, she vowed to make your birthday one you would never forget. Turns out you did forget a lot of it, blacking out about halfway through the night, waking up the next morning not sure how you got back in your room. Still, she made you feel important on a day you were expecting to wallow in your room alone.

“I wasn’t about to let you spend the night of your 21st alone in your room, crying.” Bob furrows his brow as you send an indignant smile over to Phoenix.

“Why were you crying?” Bob asks as you turn back to him.

“Oh, it was nothing. Just- my dad always said he would take me out for my first drink, but he was in the middle of the Pacific at the time.”

“I’m sorry” Bob gives you. And even though it was something he had no control over, and he didn’t even know you at the time, his apology is so genuine. As if he was the one who made you cry. 

“I’m fine, it was like a million years ago, and Nat made my night better.” As Bob smiles and nods, you give him one final look before glancing back at the couple.

Rachel gives you a smile before kissing her cheek, “I’m not surprised she would do that. She’s always making my day better, too.” You can’t help but notice the small blush that creeps up her cheeks at the sentiment. It’s nice to see her a little less serious, more comfortable being a little vulnerable. “Anyway, Bob, how long have you known Nat?”

“I met her when this detachment started, a few months now. I didn’t know anybody in our squad actually”

“But we got to know each other real quick”, Phoenix chimes in, “You have to place a lot of trust in each other when you’re operating the same plane.” The waitress makes her way back over as she grabs your orders and menus from you, leaving once more.

“So you two hadn’t met each other before this detachment?” Rachel asks as she points between you and Bob.

“No”, you laugh as you look at Bob, “And I feel like I’m just barely getting to know him.”

“Yeah, this weekend definitely served as a bonding experience” Bob smiles right alongside you. 

“Oh yeah”, Phoenix smirks, “I heard about your little ‘sleep-over’”. Your eyes snap from Bob’s to hers, as she eyes you from over the rim of her glass. He moves to take a large sip of his water to avoid tripping over his own words. But as you’re opening your mouth to say something Rachel pipes up from beside Phoenix.

“Oh! Are you two dating?”, she asks excitedly.

“What?”  Your eyes widen at her as Bob chokes on his water, immediately garnering all your attention. He begins to cough as you pat at his back, Bob waves you off, once he catches his breath. Realizing you’re still rubbing at his back you immediately withdraw your hand and look back to Rachel. “No, no. We are not dating”, you reiterate. “Bob drove me home because I was drunk, and stayed the night to make sure I was ok because otherwise I would have been alone.” You know you’re explaining this to Rachel as she nods at your explanation, but you can’t help but try to understand your own words in the back of your head. Bob only stayed because he’s a good person and your friend. That is it. And that’s all he’s ever going to be.

“I was just joking around”, Phoenix tells her girlfriend, “Mantis’ dad happens to be our Captain and I was giving Bob a hard time about it yesterday.” In all the commotion Bob’s hand left your chair, and now both sit in his lap as he stares down at them. Right in the nick of time, the waitress brings out everyone’s food diverging the previous conversation. It isn’t until everyone has had time to eat a couple bites that Phoenix starts talking again. “Besides, dating or ‘fraternization’ as the Navy loves to call it, is strictly frowned upon. If anyone in our squad broke that rule, they’d be out in a second flat.” You force yourself to swallow the bite of french toast in your mouth, pushing it down into the pit that had become your stomach. You nervously glance out of the corner of your eye to see Bob’s fork full of food that he has not yet brought to his mouth. He sits there for a good few seconds before finally deciding to take a drink of water instead. 

The rest of your meal isn’t as chaotic as you talk to Rachel about how she and Phoenix met (Rachel nearly ran her over while roller blading at Mission Beach). Bob speaks when necessary, but the two of you don’t say much. Especially not to each other. There was a definitive shift in the energy, one that you’re not sure if you’re responsible for. Phoenix doesn’t mention it if she notices, you’re hoping she doesn’t as she focuses her attention back to Rachel and smiles.

It’s only when your half of the bill comes that Bob picks it up immediately. There’s not even enough time to find your purse before he places his card inside and hands it back to the waitress.

“Hey-” You start

“I told you I’d get the next one.” Your brows are furrowed as he looks at your expression. He knows you want to be mad at him, but he can’t help but smile at the look of determination on your face.

“Fine” you relent. The previous conversation doesn’t loom so large over your heads now. It’s just you and Bob. Best friends apparently. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that! You’re glad to call Bob your friend. He’s smart, funny, kind, insightful, cute, quite possibly the most handsome man you have ever met- You shut your eyes, hard. Trying to visibly shake the thoughts from your mind.

Your thoughts are broken by the sound of chairs scraping the floor. You get up and follow the rest of your party to the entrance, Bob following shortly behind you, hands still at his sides. You bid the couple goodbye, letting Rachel know how wonderful it was to meet her. They walk back to their car, leaving you and Bob at the front of the restaurant.

“Thanks for the meal, and the invite”, you tell Bob. Feeling a little uncomfortable in your own skin at the moment.

“You’re welcome, I’m glad you could come”, he gives you a shy smile as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah, see ya tomorrow” You both turn to walk your separate ways, only making it a few more feet before you turn around and yell.

“Hey Floyd?” He turns around at your call, “Don’t ghost me tomorrow.” He gives you a slight smile and nods before you move to walk to your car.

“Hey Mitchell?” You stop at the sound of his voice, “I already promised I wouldn’t. And I don’t break my promises.” Both of you give each other one last smile before you’re off.

True to his word, when you arrive on base the next day Bob greets you with a smile as you take a seat behind him. He turns toward you, asking how your weekend was as if he wasn’t with you the entire time. It’s only when Rooster walks in that you decide to take the conversation in a separate direction. Whether it be the fact that him and your dad went out yet again without inviting you, or just the fact that you can’t stand to look at him, you were going to ruffle his feathers. “My weekend was pretty good, beat this chump in pool.” You’re speaking a little louder now, hoping that he’ll hear you. And by the fact that he turns his head in your direction once he sits down you know he has. “It’s alright though, he learned his lesson.”

You can hear Rooster huff as he shakes his head. “At least I can hold my liquor.” You turn completely in his direction as he glares at you.

“Oh yeah? Is that why you lost?” He shakes his head again as he starts flipping through his papers.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” More of the squad who had yet to arrive begin filtering through the door as your conversation gains an audience.

“Haven’t quit yet, might explain why I also haven’t lost yet either.” There’s a glint of something in his eyes, as if he knows what he’s about to say next will push you over the edge. Hopefully rendering you speechless for once. He knows it’s going to hurt, and that’s exactly why he’s going to say it.

“Is that why you didn’t fly on our last mission?” It hits you exactly where he intended it to. You square your jaw as the ghost of a smirk takes over his face. His eyes are still set on yours as if he’s daring you to say something else. You can hear the snickers of others as Hangman lets out a low whistle.

“Maybe if I did, everyone would have made it back to the carrier the first time around.” You grit the statement out as you watch Rooster’s nostrils flare. He sets down whatever reports he was about to start working on and stands, heading to your seat. You stand as he gets closer, not allowing him to look down at you anymore than he already has. ��If it wasn’t for me your dad would be rotting in enemy territory.”

“If it wasn’t for you and your shitty flying he wouldn’t have been shot down in the first place.” The silence in the room is palpable, you could almost hear everyone’s eyes flick between you and Rooster. Waiting to see what would happen next. Any sense of messing around is lost on your faces as you square off. This was getting personal, and it was getting personal fast. “I’m surprised you didn’t just leave him behind again.” You move to sit down, noticing Bob has been standing behind you the entire time. “That’s the one thing you’re good at.” You look to the folder of your upcoming flight maneuvers in your hands, not even giving Rooster the decency of giving him your full attention as he scoffs. Before he’s even able to give you a comeback, your dad waltzes up to his podium with a smile on his face until he notices the energy in the room. He stops and takes a look around, noticing Rooster with a stormy look on his face, one that he is all but used to.

“Everything alright?”, he asks, completely oblivious once again.

“Just peachy”, you respond, not looking up from your papers. Rooster and the rest of the team make their way back to their seats as Bob turns around.

“Hey, are you ok?” You take in a deep breath and look up at his concerned face.

“I’m great, ready to kick some ass.”

“Seems like you already did.” He mutters with a small smile, turning to face your father. You let a breath out of your nose as you try to hold back your own small smile.

It’s hard not to be happy when he looks at you. Wide blue eyes and his own crooked smile. It’s dangerous, you think, how often you’ve been close to getting lost in them. And now they’re staring back at you a lot more. As you’re lost in your own thoughts of the blue-eyed beauty in front of you, you can’t feel the pair of brown eyes watching you from under a furrowed brow.

“Alright aviators”, your dad begins, “We are going to be trying out some new maneuvers this week if the weather permits. A supposed hurricane should be blowing in the next few weeks, that means we’re going to start them and execute as soon as we can. Am I understood?”

A chorus of “Yes, sir” is heard as he moves on. 

The rest of the week goes off without a hitch. You’ve been flying at your best with the new maneuvers Mav assigned, and you’ve spoken to Bob every single day. He’s stayed when you sat down with Phoenix during lunch. He might be talking to Fanboy, but you catch each other's eyes every single time. He’s even started saving a seat for you right next to him, but you didn’t need to know that.

“Hey can I sit here”, Fanboy asks him as he kicks the seat next to him. Bob looks up with a slight grimace.

“Actually, I’m saving that for Mantis. You can pull up a chair though.”

“Are you serious?” Fanboy huffs out a laugh.

“What?”

“You could barely even talk to her two weeks ago. And now you’re saving her a seat?” Bob rubs the back of his neck as he looks around to find an empty seat for Mickey.

“Here, I’ll go grab one for you.” Fanboy simply nudges him to sit back down.

“Nah, it’s fine. If you wanted to get on Mav’s good side you could've just told me.” He laughs. As he walks away Bob’s brain starts running a mile a minute. Is that what everyone thought? That he was only your friend because he wanted to get on Mav’s good side? That’s not the reason at all. The reason he wanted to be your friend is because you are someone he likes to be around. In fact, he doesn’t even think about your dad anymore, he tries his darndest not to. Especially when he’s thinking about how he wants to kiss you and-

“Hey”, you say as you take the seat next to him. “Everything alright?” Without unfurrowing his brow he stares at you and lets his thoughts bubble out.

“I don’t want you to think that I’m your friend because I want to be on your dad’s good side.” Your sandwich stops halfway to your mouth as you stare at him. “Apparently that’s what some people think, but I want you to know that’s not the case.” You set your food down, reaching out to rest your hand on top of his.

“I believe you.” Bob lets out a breath of relief at your admission. He blinks a couple of times as he looks at you with a soft smile. It wasn’t just the fact that you seemed to have a sort of blind faith in him, but he felt he had one toward you as well. It felt good to be able to share that sort of trust with someone. He obviously shares some with Phoenix, as they have to rely on each other to fly a jet, but with you it felt more… intimate. He didn’t even know you completely as a person, and yet he would trust you with his entire life and more. He instinctively squeezes the hand you laid on top of his, and looks down at it. It feels right. That is until Phoenix and Rooster plop their trays of food down at the table. Your hand immediately leaves his as you go back to poking your sandwich. You don’t even look up as they drag their own chairs over to sit at your table.

Bob gladly smiles at Phoenix, while begrudgingly doing the same to Rooster. He never had anything against the man until this weekend. Now he couldn’t stand to look at him, but he still had manners. He notices you stop attempting to eat your food, now just picking at the bread at this point. As if Rooster’s appearance made you lose your appetite.

“Hey”, he quietly asks, trying to get your attention, “Are you doing anything later?”

“No”, you whisper back, “Why?”

“Well, Sylvia’s been asking to meet you.” This causes you to crack a smile as you nod in serious consideration.

“Have you been telling her about me?” Even though Bob knows you’re joking, you don’t know that there is some truth behind your question.

“Maybe. I had to tell her why I didn’t come home last Friday night and now you’re all she can talk about.” You try to hide your smile by staring down at your feet, but Bob can see right through it.

“She’s been thinking about me a lot then?” You glance a peak at Bob as he holds your gaze.

“Yeah”, he breathes out, “In fact, you’re all she’s been able to think about.” Bob can feel his heart speed up as you lift your head to give him your full attention, even if you’re still trying to hide your beautiful smile.

“I’ve been thinking about her a lot, too.” And even though he knows he’s not talking about his dog, he only wishes you weren’t either.

“You wanna come over today and meet her then?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” You’re resting your face in your chin as you bite your cheek in an attempt to stifle your smile. Bob wishes you’d allow yourself to smile fully, but he still thinks you’re just as cute like this.

“Hey Bob”, he flicks his gaze over to Phoenix as Rooster watches the two of you with an indifferent gaze. “You been on any dates lately?”, she asks, taking him completely by surprise as he lets out a small snort.

“Uh, no. No I have not.”

“Listen, I’m throwing a little get-together-

“Party”, Rooster coughs out.

“Get-together”, she emphasizes, “next weekend, and Rachel has a friend that she thinks would be perfect for you.”

“For me?”, Bob asks with wide eyes.

“Yeah you.” Bob can’t help but look over as you begin to pick at your nails, not too interested in the conversation at the table before you.“I don’t know Phoenix-” “Listen, she’ll be at the party. Nothing has to happen, but I just thought it would be a good opportunity for you to meet her.” He looks between Phoenix and Rooster, watching as Rooster leans back in his seat, eyes still glued to you. “Just think about it.”

Taglist:

@lemmons1998

@itsmytimetoodream

[ichigoromi]

𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧

there will be no part two for this~ it's gonna be a long one!

mostly written in reader's pov and prepare some tissues!

Pairing: Miya Osamu (timeskip) x fem reader! (she/her)

Genre(s): angst, tragedy

Warning(s): reader's! death, mention of hospice, mention of terminal illness, brief mention of car accident, lots of sad stuff.

Please proceed with caution

Miya Osamu 宮 治

Miya Osamu was my whole life, and my world revolved around him. All I could see in my future was standing beside him, opening up his third franchise and maybe a child or two. Now, my future was just empty, hopeless and lost. From my youth to adulthood, I dedicated my life to this man I still love very much, Miya Osamu. 

How did I end up here? I have to take you back to three years ago. 

It was my birthday and I was waiting back at home for him to come back to surprise him with a gift. The dark clouds loomed over the bright skies and I felt a chill go down my spine when the thunder roared loudly. 

Then, on my 25th birthday, I received the call that will change my whole life. 

My boyfriend of three years was in a car accident on his way home and may never have the chance to wake up, or even if he wakes up, he might not recover 100 percent. 

But I trust Samu, he would never leave me alone. 

I was the one who visited him everyday and ran Onigiri Miya, and when he woke up…he asked for my best friend’s name. 

Even when I tried to explain that I was his girlfriend but he refused to talk to me. 

I was lost and his family was confused. They knew that my best friend came to help take care of Samu but…this was all too sudden. He refused to talk to anyone unless it was her. 

So…I left. 

And three years went by, I saw him on the news, joining the same team as Atsumu. I moved back to my hometown with our twins, a girl and boy. My parents could only comfort me when I arrived back from Hyogo and my swollen belly with the twins back then. 

After I left, Atsumu tried to contact me but I cut off contact with all of them. 

I knew, sooner or later, Osamu will know about his kids but just not now. He was having so much fun playing along with his brother and…having a loving relationship with his new girlfriend. This was all too heartbreaking. 

My twins, Rei and Reki, were like the exact replica of Osamu and I. Rei is just like Osamu while Reki resembles me more. Her mannerism often reminds me of Osamu but we are just strangers now. 

I would just tell him about the twins when they are older. 

Just not now, when his life is going so well. 

[Two years later...]

I am going to leave this world soon. Not on my own free will but the cruel fate I was destined for. 

Even with treatment, I would at least be given a good two months, but I do not want to traumatize my children with sickly appearance.

After a long and tearful discussion with my parents, I decided to place myself in hospice. My children were confused but I had to let them meet their uncle at least. So, for the first time in nine years, I called Atsumu. 

He was still a crybaby and drove to my house the minute he was off from practice. 

“Tsumu, what are you standing there for? Come and give me a hug.” I spread my arms towards him and he ran into my embrace, nearly knocking me off my feet and bawled his eyes out. Then he noticed the twins staring curiously at him and it clicked in his head. 

He pulled me up to my feet and I knew what he was going to do. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Tsumu. I want you to help me with a favour.” I tug on the tail end of his jacket, just like back in high school. 

“What is it bunbun? What do you need?” He wiped off his tears and mustered up a determined expression. 

“To take care of my children when I’m gone. I know it’s a huge responsibility but you can reject me if you want. I’m sorry for contacting you out of the blue and even pulled-” Atsumu suddenly pulls me into his arms, and I could feel my shirt dampen with his tears. 

“Are you for real? What do you mean you’re going to be gone? Where are you going? Can you please not go?” Now, the twins are also bawling their eyes out. 

You have explained to them that you might not be able to stay with them for a long time but you will always be in their hearts forever. 

“I’m going to hospice, Tsumu.” I could see the lost and broken expression on his face. 

My parents took the twins back to the room while I calmed down Atsumu. He broke down in my arms and I cried along with him. If I could, I would have avoided the Miyas forever but forever doesn’t exist for me. 

I was just starting my life and my kids, and Samu. I still didn’t get the chance to tell him about our children and all that he missed. How I miss waking up early to open the restaurant with him or just waking up next to him. I wanted to spend the rest of my life together with him. 

I wanted to stay with Samu forever. 

“Tsumu, I miss Samu so much. I still love him so much but I can’t bear to ruin his life by showing up suddenly. I really miss him, and I don’t want to leave this world this early. I didn’t even get to apologize for not staying by his side. I’m so sorry…” 

That night, we just stayed in each other's arms crying. 

Atsumu sent me to the hospice and promised that he would visit when he was free and hopefully bring Osamu along. 

All I could do was hope. 

My days at the hospice consist of preparing my will and other necessary preparations after I leave. My kids would visit every single day with my parents, and my best friend and brother from another womb would visit me no matter how packed his schedules were. 

Not a single day has Samu come. 

Each day, I was getting weaker and the pain meds were less helping with the current pain that I have to go through. 

The hospice director allowed my kids to sleep over in my room and I hugged them to sleep everyday. They remind me of Samu constantly and it just made it harder for me to leave this world. My precious babies, I’m so sorry that I have to leave this early.

I heard from Atsumu the other day that Osamu proposed. 

Since I am dying, I do not give my blessings at all. 

“Tsumu. You don’t have to tell Samu about Rei and Reki. He is going to have his own family and…” I trailed off, as my vision began spinning and I could not hear anything before falling into a pool of darkness. 

All I remembered was Atsumu’s panic expression. Silly Tsumu, why was he so worried? I still have a few more days left. 

When I woke up, Atsumu was snoring softly beside me, holding my hand tightly as if I would just disappear if he didn't hold it tight enough. 

“Tsumu, wake up. I wanna go see the stars by the sea.” I lightly shook his shoulders and he was about to reject me but I just smiled at him. 

He helped me put on Samu’s high school varsity jacket and helped me to his car. The night was silent and cooling, perfect weather for a drive and a short trip to the beach to see the stars. 

I rolled down the window and enjoyed the cool autumn breeze as we drove to the beach. 

When we reached the beach, Atsumu set up the picnic mat on the floor and helped me to sit and bundled me up in another blanket. We both sat in silence and just stared at the night skies filled with bright stars. 

“Tsumu, I will be up there soon~. If you miss me, you can just look at the stars and I will be looking at you from above.” He was sobbing quietly and nodding his head. 

I suddenly recall the summer night that the five of us forced Kita-san to drive us to the beach at night to do stargazing and that was when Osamu got together officially as a couple. 

“I’m suddenly feeling really sleepy, Tsumu. Should I sleep? I feel like if I sleep this time, I might never wake up…” You leaned against Atsumu’s broad shoulder. 

Through the silent autumn night, you heard the heavy yet quick footsteps running towards your direction. 

You opened your eyes and it was Samu.

Before you could say anything, he pulled you into a hug. 

“I was the one in the wrong this whole time. I’m sorry that I came so late…” He was really here, my Samu finally came. 

Atsumu left to give us some privacy, and even after we had been separated for so long, he was still the Samu that I love and miss. 

“It’s okay. I’m glad that you came to watch the stars with me.” You smiled at him and he gently caressed my face as if he was trying to remember my face by touch. I decided to tell him about what I did after our separation and even our children. 

At the mention of our children, he could not help but burst into tears and apologized to me over and over again. 

What a crybaby, what’s he going to do when I’m not around anymore?

We talked for the whole time until we saw the sun slowly rising. 

“Samu, I love you.” 

“I love you too, my forever moon.”He leans down to kiss my lips, and I softly kiss back. 

And I close my eyes forever. 

Osamu’s P.O.V

My forever moon just left me. 

During those weeks that Tsumu was telling me that I was making a mistake by not following him to visit the hospice, I regretted it deeply. When I realised Tsumu was telling the truth and the person that I trusted so much was the one who betrayed me and her best friend, I drove all the way to the location my brother sent me. 

We have twins, the older twin named Rei and the younger twin named Reki. 

I promised her that I would take care of them and tell them how brave their mother was and all the beautiful memories that we have made. She told me that she prepared presents for them till their 20th birthday and got their coming-of-age ceremony kimonos prepared. And my presents too. 

I don’t need any presents. 

I…just need my moon back.

Well, isn't it a long one? I was going through something and yeahhhh...it turned out like this. Hope y'all lovelies enjoyed this!

Stay safe and healthy:)

With lots of love,

Roro🍓

©️ ICHIGOROMI — Please do not plagiarise my work or re-edit and repost as your own.

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and The Witch: Dean Winchester x Fem! reader

Description: A small town where dark secrets unfold isn’t anything new to these seasoned hunters, except when it has something to do with urban legends…apparently.

Warnings: cannon violence, mentions/talk of suicide, mentions of gruesome death, eye bleeding, Blood Mary (idk if this would be a warning but like 🤷🏼‍♀️), mentions of murder, witchy stuff

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra ,@fablesrose

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long to get out again my AP class is really AP-ing and has taken up literally all my time. I spent four days working on a 20 pages packet that took forever meaning I had zero time for this. Again so so sorry.

Word count: 7,719

Bloody Mary

(Masterlist, Previous Chapter, Next Chapter)

“Sam, wake up.” Dean nudges the man in question, the car in park.

Sam wakes, confused, he sits up and looks around. “I take it I was having a nightmare.”

“Yeah, another one.” Dean confirms, and I nod too a frown on my face.

“Hey, at least I got some sleep.” Sam offers

“Sam” I stretch out his name, “that cannot be your positive to this.”

“You know, sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this.” Dean adds.

But Sam ignores us, avoids the whole conversation, “Are we here?”

Dean lets him avoid the whole ordeal and I have to wonder how long he will let his brother lie. Though I guess I'm no better. “Yup. Welcome to Toledo, Ohio.”

Sam picks up a newspaper that sat on the console of the car, the obituary of Steven Shoemaker circled.

‘The Shoemaker family is sad to announce the sudden death of their beloved husband and father Steven Shoemarker. Steven was 46. A short service will be held on Wednesday, [...] 31 at 2:00 p.m. at the Toledo [...] and cherish you [...] Your [...]’ The article read.

“So what do you think really happened to this guy?” Sam asks us.

“That's what we're gonna find out.” Dean answers, turning off the car. “Let's go.”

We exit the car, entering the large hospital building that stood in front of us walking up to the two desks that lie in the room. One of them is empty with a name tag that reads, ‘Dr. D. Feiklowicz.’ The other one however was occupied by a Morgue technician in blue scrubs, “Hey” the man greets us as we approach.

“Hey.” Dean answers back.

“Can I help you?” The technician asks, looking between the three of us.

“Yeah. We're the, uh...med students.” Dean lies.

“Sorry?” The man asks back.

“Oh, Doctor—“ Dean stammers over the name, “—Figlavitch didn't tell you? We talked to him on the phone. He, uh, we're from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemarker corpse. It's for our paper.”

“Well, I'm sorry, he's at lunch.” The tech informs us.

“Oh well he said, uh—“ Dean sighs, “—oh, well, you know, it doesn't matter. You don't mind just showing us the body, do you?”

“Sorry, I can't. Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want.” He tells us, gesturing to the seats on the side of the room.

“An hour? Ooh. We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then.” Dean looks at me and Sam as if queuing us to lie with him.

“Yeah.” Sam and I say at the same time, “Jinx” I mumble underneath my breath just loud enough for Sam to hear me who in return gives me a scrunched face.

“Uh, look, man, this paper's like half our grade, so if you don't mind helping us out—“ Dena explains getting cut off by the man in scrubs, “Uh, look, man...no.”

Dean laughs a little. He turns around to face us, mumbling, “I'm gonna hit him in his face I swear.”

But I mean we can’t really blame the guy he’s just doing his job.

Sam hits his brother on the arm, taking a step in front of him he opens his wallet and pulls out some twenties. He lays a few of them, at least five, down on the desk. The Morgue Tech picks up the money, “Follow me.”

The technician gets up and leaves. I go to follow, seeing in the corner of my eye Dean grabbing Sam when he too tries to follow, forcing me to stop and go back a step to see what they are on about.

“Dude, I earned that money.” Dean complains.

“You won it in a poker game.” Sam clarifies.

“Yeah.” Dean answers.

Sam rolls his eyes, pulling away from his brother to follow the technician.

“You’ll make it back” I say, patting Dean on the back shortly to go follow the morgue man.

Dean stays back a half a second before following after us.

“Now the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding.” Sam said as the Morgue Tech pulled back the sheet over Steven’s face. Revealing a pale, long faced man with dark hair, blood stained on his cheeks below his eyes as if he had cried them.

“More than that. They practically liquefied.” The tech scuffs.

“Any sign of a struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?” Dean asks him.

“Nope. Besides the daughter, he was all alone.” He answers.

“What's the official cause of death?” Sam questioned.

“Ah, Doc's not sure. He's thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that's for sure.” He replied.

“You mean like cerebral bleeding?” I ask, wanting to clarify.

“Yeah. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen.” He responded.

“The eyes & mash;what would cause something like that?” Sam asked.

“Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims.” The technician explains.

“Yeah? You ever see exploding eyeballs?” Dean scuffs.

“That's a first for me, but hey, I'm not the doctor.” The tech shrugs.

“Hey, think we could take a look at that police report? You know for, uh...our paper.” Dean requests.

“I'm not really supposed to show you that.” He answers, stretching out ‘that.’

Sam sighs clearly annoyed, as he pulls out his wallet.

Now leaving the hospital, walking down the stairs Sam suggests, “Might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing.”

“How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?” Dean points out.

“Uh, almost never.” Sam answers.

“Exactly.”

“Well then, let's go talk to the daughter.” I announce”

We walk into Steven’s funeral, a picture of him on the desk.

All the men in the room are wearing black suits and the women adorned in black dresses, everyone except us. Dean points this very fact out, “Feel like we're underdressed.” I nod in agreement, my lips in a tight line, the guilt of interrupting these people’s mourning with not only us being undressed but also for not having a reasonable explanation of us being here.

But no one stops us as we keep walking through the house, all the way towards the back and outside to the backyard.

A man points us towards Donna and Lily Shoemarker, the daughters of the man we had seen on a metal table only moments before, who are standing near two people whom I can only assume is a friend or family member.

“You must be Donna, right?” Dean greets the eldest daughter as we approach the group of people.

“Yeah.” She answers sadly brushing her short brunette hair out of her face.

“Hi, uh—we're really sorry.” Sam says.

“Thank you.” She replies, and I know she must have heard that same phrase of ‘i’m sorry’ and must have answered the same ‘thank you’ over and over to each person here. As if the death of her father hadn’t broken what’s inside her enough.

“I'm Sam, this is Dean, and that’s Y/N. We worked with your dad.” He explains.

She looks at one of the adults near her and then back at us, “You did?” And I feel bad for lying to her about this to give her a connection to her father that had never existed.

“Yeah. This whole thing. I mean, a stroke.” Dean goes on.

“I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now” One of the men with her say, stepping in.

“It's okay. I'm okay.” Donna says, with a sharp nod.

“Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?” Dean asks, listing out various options.

“No.” She says simply.

Lily, the youngest daughter, turns around, “That's because it wasn't a stroke.”

“Lily, don’t say that.” Donna snaps.

“What?” Sam asks.

“I'm sorry, she's just upset.” Donna explains.

“No, it happened because of me.” Lily speaks up.

“Sweetie, it didn't.” Donna tries to convince.

“Oh Lily”, I say sadly crouching down to be closer to her eye level, “What makes you think that?” I knew what it felt like to blame yourself for someone else’s death, especially your parents, especially when it happens twice and you're too young to understand why this would happen to you. I feel the eyes of the people around me bore into me, especially from the brothers behind me.

“Right before he died, I said it.” Lily answers.

“Said what?” I ask her.

“Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror.” She explains, pausing, “She took his eyes, that's what she does.” My eyes go wide, not exactly expecting that answer.

“That's not why Dad died. This isn't your fault.” Donna reasons.

“I think your sister's right, Lily. There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?” Dean offers, giving the kid some logic to combat what she believes.

“No, I don't think so.” Lily answers. But I know it will take her years to really believe it wasn’t her fault, if ever.

Saying ‘bye’ to the grief rickened family we head back inside the house, but instead of truly leaving we sneak upstairs, approaching the bathroom.

Sam pushes the door open, dried blood stained to the white tiled floor, “The Bloody Mary legend...Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?”

“Not that I know of.” Dean answers, him and I trailing in after Sam who stoops to the floor touching the dried blood, “I mean, everywhere else all over the country, kids will play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, nobody dies from it.”

I grimace, why would he touch the blood?

“Yeah, well, maybe everywhere it's just a story, but here it's actually happening.” Dean offers.

“The place where the legend began?” Sam asks and we both shrug, Dean opening the medicine cabinet.

“But according to the legend, the person who says B—“ Sam looks at the medicine cabinet mirror, it now facing him, he closes it before continuing, “The person who says you know what gets it. But here—“

“Mr.Shoemaker gets it instead” I finish his sentence.

“Right.”

“Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right. The way the legend goes, you know who scratches your eyes out.” Dean adds.

“It's worth checking in to.” Sam concludes, as we leave the bathroom.

“What are you doing up here?” A blonde woman stops us, the same woman who was comforting the daughters outside.

“We—we, had to go to the bathroom.” Dean lies, poorly, because it makes perfect sense for three people to be using a private bathroom all at once.

“Who are you?” She asks us, naturally not accepting the poorly down lie.

“Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad.” Dean confirms.

“He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself.” She counters, and we should really start researching these people before we make up lies of how we know them.

Dean tries to cover, “No, I know, I meant—“

“And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that? So you tell me what's going on, or I start screaming.” She tells us, leaving no more room for any nonsense.

“All right, all right. We think something happened to Donna's dad.” Sam begins.

“Yeah, a stroke.” She answers.

“But it isn’t a typical sign of stroke, it might be something else.” I say softly, ashamed for suggesting such a thing to someone who has no knowledge of our world. These people are going through so much the last thing they need is some random people questioning what they know, I wouldn’t blame her if she did scream.

“Like what?” She scoffs, crossing her arms in front of her.

Sam explains this time probably sensing my unease with all this, “Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth.”

Dean tilts his head, “So, if you're gonna scream, go right ahead.” My eyes widened, snapping to look at him, and suddenly that unease I felt vanished, replaced by a burning hot feeling that rushed through my veins and brought a flush to my face. I gulped, trying to push down the feeling a simple sentence that wasn’t even directed towards me made me feel. The cockiness it held as well as the allowance in his voice…it shouldn’t have affected me, and really shouldn’t have created a burning-longing in my gut.

“Who are you, cops?” The woman questions us, but my eyes haven’t left Dean as if he was light and I a moth.

I catch Sam and Dean looking at each other, speaking without words, in my peripheral vision. “Something like that” Dean answers.

It’s then that Dean must have felt my gaze on him, my lips slightly agape as I looked at him through my lashes. His attention turned to me as Sam continued the conversation that I had long blanked out of. Dean looked me over, eyes trailing over my very being, only worsening the burning I had felt within. His eyes met mine again giving me that devilish smirk of his, I swallowed again my eyes falling to his lips.

Sam clears his throat, nudging his brothers hard enough that he knocks into me slightly. Effectively catching our attention.

“Let’s go” He tells us, the woman still in front of us this time her attention to a small piece of white paper that I assume has some sort of contact information on it.

“All right, say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town. There's gonna be some sort of proof—Like a local woman who died nasty.” Dean begins as we walk into the oddly dark library, the stale smell of cleaning products surrounding us.

“Yeah but Blood Mary is a widespread legend with tons of versions of who she actually is, with no clear answer. There’s the mutilated bride, a spirit conjured to tell the future, a witch, and a whole lot more” I answer.

“All right so what are we supposed to be looking for?” Dean asks.

“Well in every version's got a few things in common. It's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror. So we've gotta search local newspapers—public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a Mary who fits the bill.” Sam adds, answering.

“Well that sounds annoying” Dean admits.

“No it won't be so bad, as long as we…” Sam trails off looking over to the table lined with computers all that say ‘Out of Order’, he chuckles “I take it back. This will be very annoying.”

We quickly turned around, heading back to the motel we were staying at to do our research there. Dean sat leaning with his head on his hand on the small table in the room on his brother's laptop. The younger brother in question had fallen asleep on one of the beds, the rustling of the sheets giving away the fact he was tossing and turning. I however sat crisscrossed on the other bed Deans to be specific, not like he cared anyways, researching on my laptop trying to find any relevant info on a Mary in this town or deaths relating to mirrors.

“Why'd you let me fall asleep?” Sam suddenly speaks up, voice evident with sleep.

“Cause I'm an awesome brother” Dean scoffs, he’d never admit it was really because Sam hadn’t been able to sleep or at least sleep long for the last couple of weeks.

“And what’s your excuse Y/N?” Sam questions me, leaning on his side with one arm propped up.

“You were sleepy!” I admit simply, smiling at him. He rolls his eyes, huffing a laugh.

“So what did you dream about?” Dean asks him, though what he was really asking was ‘did you have another nightmare?’

“Lollipops and candy canes.” He answers sarcastically. So sassy and for what?

“Yum” I reply, my eyes going back to my laptop.

“Did you find anything?” Sam asks us.

“Oh besides a whole new level of frustration?” Dean huffs, making Sam sit up, “No. We’ve looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but uh, no Mary.”

Sam falls back on the bed, the crisp sheets making a ‘whoosh’ noise beneath him, “Maybe we just haven't found it yet.”

“Thing is, there’s also been no strange deaths in the area, no other eyeball bleeding. Nothing. Which you know is good in hindsight but not quite helpful for us.” I explain.

Dean adds on, “Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary.”

Almost as if on cue Sam’s phone rings, he answers, still laying down. “Hello?”

Charlie, the blonde woman who questioned us before, sat on the park bench slightly hunched. I sat next to her to offer some comfort, while Dean sat on the back on the bench, his leg nearly brushing my back.

“And they found her on the bathroom floor. And her—her eyes. They were gone.” Charlie nearly sobbed, having explained everything that happened with her friend Jill.

Jill, who had wanted to tease the blonde women about believing in such a legend, saying the name in the mirror and winding up dead. Her death being in the same manner as Mr. Shoemaker.

“I'm sorry.” Sam answered, eyebrows scrunched together.

“And she said it. I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?” She whimpered, using the back of her hands to clear the wetness from her cheeks.

“You aren’t insane” I tell her clearly.

“Oh God, that makes me feel so much worse.” She whines and I try to not let it hurt me, because she's griefing, even though it does.

“Look. We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained” Sam explains. Dean adding, “And we're gonna stop it but we could use your help.”

Dean lifts me up again, this time to reach an elevated first floor window rather than a fence. His hands sliding from tight around my hips, to brushing down my thighs as he lifts me in reach of the window sill. The window wasn’t that high to reach in the first place but with my height, amidtely being shorter than both the boys, it wasn’t exactly comfortable or super easy to reach the window and pull myself up and in.

My hands grasp the cold white window sill, my rings clinking against the surface as I pull my body up. I swiftly slide my hips sideways making my butt land on the sill, in the same sort of movements you would use when you lift yourself out of a pool.

I move my legs inside the carpeted room, ducking slightly as to not hit my head on the open window. The room belonged to Jill, and as my feet hit the soft gray carpet I officially feel the disgust of intrusion creep up on me.

I slide off the windowsill moving into the room more, Sam quickly taking my place near the window to pick up the duffle Dean threw up at him. He catches it, putting it on the bed and immediately digging through it.

“So what did you tell Jill’s mom?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, the uncomfortability of being in someone’s bedroom let alone a dead girls bedroom crawling up my skin and in my bones.

“Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things.” Charlie answers looking between us and the door nervously. Dean climbs through the window shutting the curtain behind and Sam pulls something out of the bag. “I hate lying to her” Charlie adds.

“Trust us, this is for the greater good. Hit the lights” Dean orders.

She goes over to the lights, “”What are you guys looking for?

“We'll let you know as soon as we find it.” Dean hums.

Sam hands him a camcorder on and ready, the object he got from the duffel, “Hey, night vision.” He recalls prompting the older brother to do so, his face scrunched with focus as he finds the button.

“Perfect.” Sam smiles.

The little screen of the camcorder is facing Dean, in a ‘selfie’ like mode, “Do I look like Paris Hilton?” He smiles.

I laugh, slapping a hand to his upper arm on instinct, “Sure you do, baby” I joke, the pet name not something I ever use slipping from my tongue before I could realize. His head turns to give me an amused and smug smirk. In his distractment Sam takes the camera back, going over to the closet door filming around the mirror.

“So I don't get it. I mean...the first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?” Sam asks out loud.

“Beats me.” Dean answers, focusing back on the situation at hand. “I want to know why Jill said it in the first place.”

“It was just a joke.” Charlie reasons.

“Yeah well somebody's gonna say it again, it's just a matter of time.” Dean replies.

Sam wandered into the bathroom now, looking at the mirror there. “Hey!” He calls out, getting us to turn and look at him. “There's a black light in the trunk, right?”

Dean immediately went off to go get it coming back rather swiftly, just as Sam placed the mirror on Jill’s bed laying it upside down after having carried it from the bathroom. With the black light now in hand, he peels off the brown paper that’s on the back of the mirror, shining the purple light on its back revealing a handprint and the name ‘Gary Bryman.’

“Gary Bryman?” Charlie reads out loud both as an acknowledgment and also a question.

“Do you know who that is?” I ask her.

“No.” She answers simply.

Back on the bench, in nearly the same positions, Sam recalls his findings. “So, Gary Bryman was an 8-year-old boy. Two years ago he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camry. But nobody got the plates or saw the driver.”

“Oh my God.” Charlie gasps, horror in her eyes as she covers her mouth.

“What?” I ask the question we’re all thinking.

“Jill drove that car” She answers. Without looking for confirmation I know the boy's eyes are wide too, but there’s no room for the talking that comes after shock.

“We need to get back to your friend Donna’s house.

Somehow, with the help of Charlie, we convinced our way into Donna’s house back up to the bathroom we were in only hours before.

Hunched over the mirror with the black light, our suspicions were correct. There’s a handprint, one I have to say looks like the one in Jill’s bathroom, but I'm no criminologist. This time the name ‘Linda Shoemaker’ is written on it.

We all look at each other, knowing it’s likely that Steven killed his wife hence why Bloody Mary went for him and not the young girl who chanted her name. But the only way to have any idea of this theory is correct is to ask the brunette teenager downstairs.

“Why are you asking me this?” Donna asks us.

“I’m really sorry, Donna, but this is important.” I try to explain, but I know it won’t make sense to her. I mean we are total strangers asking her uncomfortable questions about her dead mother.

“Yeah. Linda's my mom okay? She overdosed on sleeping pills, it was an accident, and that's it.” She fumes, eyebrows scrunched together in fury, “I think you should leave.”

“Now Donna, just listen.” Dean reaches a hand up, as if to motion ‘calm down.’ But it doesn't work. Teary eyed and a little red in the face she yells, “Get out of my house!” Swiftly she runs up the stairs, not giving us another option.

“Oh my God. Do you really think her dad could've killed her mom?” Charlie asks, finally picking up on our theory.

“Maybe.” Sam shrugs.

“I think I should stick around” Charlie announces, referring to staying with Donna, which is probably a good idea.

“All right. Whatever you do, don't—“ Dean tries to warn getting cut off, “Believe me, I won't say it.”

The crisp smell of old books and, oddly, cinnamon fill my nose as I take a deep breath, flexing my hand as I work out the cramping from writing a little too intensely in my small journal.

Dean sits next to me on the cold metal chairs in the library we decided to research in (different to the original one we were at), he’s typing away on the clunky computer the library has. Sam’s staring off at a bulletin board behind us with all sorts of things on it.

“Wait, wait, wait, you're doing a nationwide search?” He asks Dean, alerting us of him coming back to his seat on the other side of his brother.

“Yep. The NCIC, the FBI database—at this point any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me.” Dean answers.

“But if she's haunting the town, she should have died in the town.” Sam points out.

“I'm telling you there's nothing local, I've checked. So unless you got a better idea—“ Dean explains and as much as I love him I cut him off.

“Well, Mary’s victims have a pattern, which I know you guys already know so I'll just cut to the good part. Both victims had secrets relating to where people died and, here’s the good part, there’s a lot of folklore on mirrors, specifically that mirrors are a reflection of your soul. And with that your secrets and lies are revealed to the mirror.

Fun Fact! It was the Romans who believed that the soul would regenerate every seven years, so if you broke a mirror then you’d have to wait seven years until your soul was cleansed of the bad luck and misfortune.

And while I have more fun facts about mirrors I will end it there.” I smiled, satisfied with my information vomit as well as my fun fact because fun facts are wonderful.

Both boys look at me strangely, a mix of confusion and what I think is amazement (they should be amazed cause that was a really great fun fact). Dean seems to shake it off, “Right. So if you've got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it, and punishes you for it.”

Sam adding, “Whether you're the one that summoned her or not.”

“Correcto!” I answer, and by correct I mean that’s what I was thinking for our working theory.

“Then take a look at this.” Dean announces, clicking a few buttons on the computer before leaning over to the nearby printer, pulling out and handing us the paper. It’s a picture of a woman lying by a mirror in a puddle of blood. He prints out another picture, this time of a handprint and the letters “Tre.”

“Looks like the same handprint.” Sam points out and I nod in agreement.

“Her name was Mary Worthington—an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana.”

“I was on the job for 35 years-detective for most of that. Now everybody packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder—that one still gets me.” The detective states, unfortunately I immediately forgot his name. It's not the nicest thing to happen but I was also really focused on his country accent that’s just a little too funny.

“What exactly happened?” Dean asked, leaning forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees.

“You boys and girl said you were reporters?” Mr. Detective questioned.

“We know Mary was 19, lived by herself. We know she won a few local beauty contests, dreamt of getting out of Indiana, being an actress. And we know the night of March 29th someone broke into her apartment and murdered her, cut out her eyes with a knife.” Sam recalls the gruesome story.

“That's right.” He confirms.

“See sir, when we asked you what happened, we wanted to know what you think happened.” Sam clarifies for him, somewhere between a curious and condescending tone.

Mr. Detective eyes us over as if he’s contemplating something. He spins his wheely chair around swiftly getting up and going to a large file cabinet. “Technically I'm not supposed to have a copy of this” He huffs, pulling out a file and then a picture, the same picture Dean had already found on the computer. “Now see that there? T-R-E?” Detective reads out, even though unbeknownst to him it’s old news to us.

“Yeah” Dean answers.

“I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer.” He theorizes.

“Do you know who it was, or any theories?” I ask, trying to get any sort of new answers.

“Not for sure. But there was a local man, a surgeon-Trevor Sampson.” He pulls out another photo, this time of this Trevor guy, he has an oval face with curly short hair definitely on the darker side but I can’t say exactly what color due to the black and white photo. He’s also wearing some sunglasses.

“And I think he cut her up good.” He finishes, his accent thick.

“Why do you think it’s him?” I question further.

“Her diary mentioned a man that she was seeing. She called him by his initial, ‘T’. Well, her last entry, she was gonna tell ‘T’'s wife about their affair.” He answers, and for a detective that truly means nothing.

“No offense but how does that directly correlate to Sampson… I mean there’s other people with the initial ‘T’ right?” I question him again, hoping it doesn't offend the man.

“It's hard to say, but the way her eyes were cut out...it was almost professional.” He explains.

“But you could never prove it?” Dean asks, chiming in.

“No. No prints, no witnesses. He was meticulous.” Mr. Detective nods.

“Is he still alive?” Dean follows up.

“Nope.” He sighs, sitting down. “If you ask me, Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy's secret. But she never could.”

“Where's she buried?” Sam asks this time.

“She wasn't. She was cremated” He answers. No digging up bodies for us today.

“What about that mirror”, Dean nods towards the one in the photo, “It's not in some evidence lockup somewhere is it?”

“Ah, no. It was returned to Mary's family a long time ago.” He explains, leaning back in his chair.

“You have the names of her family by any chance?”

We drive down the roads, the sun setting behind us. Sam’s call dictates where we go, either to whatever location he gives us or back to the motel.

“Oh really? Ah that's too bad Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror. Okay, well maybe next time. All right, thanks.” Sam hangs up, pocketing his phone.

“So?” Dean asks.

“So that was Mary's brother. The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo.” Sam stated.

“So wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?” Dean raises.

“Her spirit's definitely tied up with it somehow.” Sam simply puts it.

“Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?” Dean asks.

“Yeah! People would cover up the mirror when someone died so that their spirit/ soul wouldn’t get trapped.” I explain, happy to spew some more of my fun facts.

“So Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit” Dean works through the facts.

“Yes! But I don’t know how she’s working through various mirrors” I admit.

“I don't know either, but if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it.” Dean proposes.

“Yeah, I don't know, maybe.” Sam gets cut off by his own phone, “ Hello.” A look of concern washes over his face, becoming pale “Charlie?”

The motel room is colder, the rain outside causing that meek fact. Charlie’s sitting on Sam’s bed, her head on her knees, after we picked her up from school all terrified. All the curtains are drawn shut, all the mirrors and reflective surfaces are covered with sheets or turned aquas towards a wall or the floor there will be no bloody mary getting in here.

Sam sits next to Charlie, “Hey, hey it's ok. Hey, you can open up your eyes Charlie. It's okay, all right?” She looks up reluctantly and slowly, “Now listen. You're gonna stay right here on this bed, and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? And as long as you do that, she cannot get you.”

“But I can't keep that up forever. I'm gonna die, aren't I?” Her voice wobbled, fresh tears running down her cheeks.

“No. No. Not anytime soon.” Sam comforts, but I don’t think it helps.

Dean sits on the bed too, “All right Charlie. We need to know what happened.”

“We were in the bathroom. Donna said it.” She answers simply, rocking herself slightly.

“That's not what we're talking about. Something happened, didn't it? In your life...a secret...where someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?” Dean pushes.

She looks around uncomfortably, swallowing she begins, “I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know?” She looks over at me for confirmation knowing without any previous conversation about it that I would understand. And she was right. It was as if bad boyfriends were sewed into the fabrics of being a woman, it would be a little strange if you hadn’t had one.

I nod and she continues, “And one night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me, and he said "Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself." And you know what I said? I said "Go ahead." And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just...I didn't believe him, you know? I should have.” She cries harder, going back to her previous position.

I move towards her, Sam getting up to allow me to sit close to her. I hug her, holding her close despite her awkward position. “That’s not your fault” I told her simply, and I meant it too. She uncurls herself, quickly wrapping her arms around me and stuffing her face into my neck. I hold her tighter. “You did the right thing, leaving him” I mutter.

Dean huffs, gripping the steering wheel slightly tighter, “You were right back there Y/N, her boyfriend killing himself, that's not really Charlie's fault.”

“You guys should know as well as I do that spirits don't exactly see shades of gray. Charlie had a secret, someone died, that's good enough for Mary.” Sam reasons.

“I guess” Dean sighs.

“You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror.” Sam suggests.

“Oh, what do you mean?” I ask with a tilt of my head.

“Well Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror so who's to say that she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it.” Sam explains.

“Well how do you know that's going to work?” Dean questions.

“I don't, not for sure.” Sam shrugs.

“Well who's gonna summon her?” Dean follows up.

“I will. She'll come after me.” Sam states as if it’s the most obvious answer and with no care for himself.

“You know what, that's it.” Dean nearly shouts, pulling the car over quickly and roughly making my body shift nearly knocking into the door.

“This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night—it's gonna kill you.” Dean fumes, not quite yelling but also not quite talking.

“Now listen to me—It wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place.”

“I don't blame you.” Sam answers plainly, almost in defeat

“Well you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done.” Dean adds.

“I could've warned her.” Sam sighs, and the pain in his voice makes me want to cry.

“Sam…you couldn’t have known that would happen.” I chime in, though it doesn't quite feel like my place.

“And besides, all of this isn't a secret, I mean we know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway.” Dean exclaims.

“No you don't.” Sam states, no further explanation given.

“I don't what?” Dean asks.

“You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything.” Sam shrugs.

“What are you talking about?” Dean questions, face full of confusion.

“Well it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?” He replied sassily.

Dean looks surprised, “No. I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it.”

“Dean, that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it. And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this.” But Sam doesn't get any answers, with a roll of his eyes Dean drives off. Conversation over.

Sam is trying to pick the lock on the shop's door, somehow without any word he became the designated lock picker. The dark oak door opens and all around the store are mirrors, mirrors of all shapes and sizes and varieties. Truly the worst place to be in this situation.

“Well...that's just great, '' Dean sighs, pulling out the photo of Mary’s corpse to look at the mirror, the one we’re looking for being a wooden frame. Not very helpful considering our location where there are countless mirrors that look exactly the same. “All right let's start looking.”

I nod in agreement handing both boys their crowbars. I shifted my baseball bat in my hand, there wasn’t a third crowbar and there was no reason for it anyways, a baseball bat is just as good at smashing.

We enter the dark store, flashlights on, splitting up we look for our specific mirror.

“Maybe they've already sold it.” Dean suggests, from some part of the store.

“I don't think so.” Sam says, stopping in his tracks. Dean and I walk over on either side of the taller man, Dean pulls out the picture again comparing the two. It’s our mirror.

“That's it.” Dean sighs, “You sure about this?”

Sam hands over his flashlight and sighs, “Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary.” He looks between the both of us, “Bloody Mary.”

A light shines through the store windows, illuminating the room.

“I'll go check that out. You guys stay here, be careful. Smash anything that moves.” Dean shuffles away.

I grip my bat tighter as a breath that isn’t mine nor Sam’s surrounds us. He turns around quickly but I keep my back towards him, “Nothing?” I ask and he hums in confirmation.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Mary in one of the mirrors, I step forward swinging my bat back and then forward hard. The glass shatters falling to the floor around my feet. Then Sam hits a mirror behind me, before swiftly turning back to her mirror.

“Come on. Come into this one.” He mutters underneath his breath.

He tilts his head watching his regeneration weirdly when suddenly he starts breathing heavily grabbing at his chest.

“Sam!” I shout, grabbing his arm. His eyes begin to bleed, blood trickling down his cheeks. He drops his crowbar, the metal clinking against the floor loudly.

“It's your fault. You killed her. You killed Jessica.” A voice rings out, one that sounds like Sam’s though I know it’s not him speaking. I help him to the floor carefully as he grabs his chest harder.

“You never told her the truth—who you really were. But it's more than that, isn't it?” The voice fumes.

I get up leaving Sam to the floor, “That’s enough of you” I mutter, gripping my baseball bat tight. I hit her mirror, the glass shatters around me.

I hear Sam take a deep breath in, when I look down at him he’s no longer holding his chest. He holds a thumb up to me, weakly.

But for some reason the voice didn’t stop, Mary was no longer hurting Sam but her accusations wouldn’t stop.

“Those nightmares you've been having of Jessica dying, screaming, burning—You had them for days before she died. Didn't you!?! You were so desperate to ignore them, to believe they were just dreams. How could you ignore them like that? How could you leave her alone to die!?! You dreamt it would happen!!!”

I smash three more mirrors, anything to get it to stop by it doesn't.

“SAM, SAMMY!” Dean shouts, rushing into the room and crouching down to his brother.

“It's Sam” He answers meekly.

Dean holds onto his brother's face gently, eyeing his face and the blood on it, “God, are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam replies, a little unsure though considering the circumstances I get it.

“Come on, come on.” He pulls Sam up, bringing his arm around his neck with a nod of his head towards the door. I follow the boys towards the exit.

A sudden crunching noise forces us to turn around. Mary crawls out of the frame of her mirror, her long black hair covering her face, she walks over the broken glass with no care, her head tilting to the side as she crawls towards us. Her dark nearly black eyes bore into us, somehow she forces us to the floor.

My chest feels tight as if someone was squeezing my heart, I try to crawl backwards on my hands like a crab walk when a sharp pain surges through my hand followed by my eyes. I bring my hand in front of me, a large slash runs through my palm, a piece of glass sticking out of it. The ache in my eyes I know is not caused by glass but by Mary, I reach my gold hand up to my cheek blood trickling down my face. I suck in a breath, the pain not helping the already pain I was feeling. I look over to the boys on the left of me nearly on top of each other as blood runs down both their cheeks.

Mary stands approaching us with a head tilt and a limp. I grumble holding up a shaky hand, waving my hand once, slowly, making long mirrors form in a line in front of Mary acting as a wall between us.

“You killed them! All those people! You killed them!” A female voice cried out, Mary’s voice.

She looks at her reflections scared, when she begins to choke. She grabs on to her throat and her chest, crumbling down to the ground she shrieks, turning to a puddle of blood

With another wave of my hand the wall of mirrors shatters, glass falling to the floor loudly.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yeah?” I hum feeling a little defeated.

“This has got to be like...what? 600 years of bad luck?” He asks me and I can’t help the big smile that falls on my face.

“Mmm I can’t wait” I laugh, the sarcastic comment coming to me with ease.

The sun rises in front of us, gleaming on the Impala. Our faves are cleaned up, ridden of blood and the event that unfolded. The only proof of it happening being my hand that’s carefully wrapped in white gauze, the glass now out and the cut cleaned.

Charlie sits next to me in the back seat as we pull up to her house, it's odd having someone else back here with me.

“So this is really over?” She asks us, her eyes puffy from her night of crying.

Dean looks at her through the rearview mirror, nodding, “Yeah, it's over.”

“Thank you.” She says, Dean reaching back to shake her hand. She turns to me next, arms open in a hug. I close the gap between us and give her a good squeeze.

She smiles a little sadly at me, getting out of the car.

“Charlie?” Sam calls out, stopping the woman in her tracks. She turns around, “Your boyfriend's death...you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen.”

She smiles faintly, turning back around to go into her house.

Dean hits his brother's arm gently, “That's good advice.”

We drive off the car falling silent for a beat before Dean talks again, “Hey Sam?”

“Yeah?” He answers.

“Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret is.” Dean tells him, looking between him and the road.

“Look...you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself.” He admits with a sigh, looking out the window.

The car falls silent again.

Healing isn’t easy. It's not something you can put a bandaid on and expect to be fine, and maybe all that Sam shared will be enough for now but that’s not something we can gauge.

That is times doing, and time isn’t something we can control.

God knows i’ve tried.

[layce2015]

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Yellow Fever

Masterlist

"Agent Tyler, Agent Perry, Agent Kramer, meet Frank O'Brien." the coroner said to me and the boys as he opens up a body bag. "He died of a heart attack, right?" Sam asked. "Three days ago." the coroner said, nodding. "But O'Brien was 44 years old and, according to this, a marathon runner." I said as I look through the man's file.

"Everybody drops dead sooner or later. It's why I got job security." The Coroner said. "Yeah, but Frank kicked it here. Now, just yesterday, two perfectly healthy men bit it in Maumee. All heart attacks, you don't think that's strange?" Dean asked the coroner. "Sounds like Maumee's problem to me." the coroner said then he looks between us.

"Why's the FBI give a damn, anyway?" He asked us. "We just want to see the results of Frank's autopsy." I said. "What autopsy?" the Coroner said and the boys and I share a look. "The one you're gonna do." Dean said.

Moments later, the coroner cuts open the dead body but then he looks between the three of us. "First dead body?" he asked us. "Far from it." Dean said as Sam and I shake our head. "Oh, good. Because these suckers can get pretty ripe." The coroner said then he looks over at Dean.

"Hey, hand me those rib cutters, would you?" he asked. Sam and I take a fortifying breath while Dean picks up the cutters and hands it to the Coroner. The Coroner cuts the ribs open while Sam keeps himself from squirming and I bite my lips when I noticed some sort've marking on Frank's finger.

"Is that from a wedding ring? I didn't think Frank was married." I said. "Ain't my department." the coroner said as he cuts the ribs open. "Any idea how he got these?" Sam asked as he picks up Frank’s arm, which is full of scratches.

"You know what? When you drop dead, you actually tend to drop. Body probably got scraped up when it hit the ground." The coroner said, sounding a bit annoyed of our questioning, then he looks into the body. "Huh!" the coroner said, confused.

"What?" Sam asked. "I-I can't find any blockages in any of the major arteries." The coroner said then he breaks off the heart while Dean tries not to vomit. "Heart looks pretty damn healthy." he said then he hands the heart to Dean. "Hold that a second, would you?" He asked me and I see Sam smirking. Dean glares at him and holds the heart as the Coroner cuts something else in the body.

Then some blood hit me and Sam in the face. "Oh, sorry. Spleen juice." The coroner said, apologetically, and Dean smirks at us.

After that mess, Sam, Dean and I were sitting down in front of Deputy’s desk, waiting. The Deputy smiles at me and Dean just as the Sheriff opens his office door. "Hell's bells, Linus, have you seen my...." He said then he noticed us. "Who are they?" the Sheriff said as the boys and I stand up.

"Federal agents. I, uh...." Linus said but then the Sheriff speaks up. "And you kept them waiting?" he asked him and Linus looks taken aback. "You, you said not to disturb." Linus said then the Sheriff turns to me and the boys. "Come on back, fellas." he said and we walk over to Sheriff’s office but Sheriff stops us.

"Shoes off." He said and the boys and I share a look before we take our shoes off and walk into the office. "Al Britton. Good to meet you." he said as he shakes our hands. "You too." Sam said and the Sheriff gestures for us to sit down. "Thank you." I said as we sit down. Then Britton takes out alcohol gel and start slathering his hands. Dean looks at me and Sam with a weird look on his face.

"Okay. So, what can I do for Uncle Sam?" Britton asked us. "Well, we're looking into the death of Frank O'Brien. We understand some of your men found his body." I said to him. "They did. Me and Frank, we were friends. Hell, we were Gamecocks." Britton said and Dean snickers and I elbow him in the side. Britton gives him a stern look and Dean looks abashed.

"That's our softball team's name." Britton said and Dean nods. "They're majestic animals. I knew Frank since high school. To be honest, I just this morning got up the strength to go see him. Frank was...He was a good man." Britton said. "Yeah. Big heart." I said, a bit of sarcasm in my voice.

"Before he died, did you notice Frank acting strange? Maybe scared of something?" Sam asked Britton. "Oh hell, yeah. Real jumpy." Britton replied. "You know what scared him?" Sam asked him. "No. Wouldn't answer his phone. Finally, I sent some of my boys over to check on him, and well, you know the rest." Britton said then he starts and pours alcohol gel on his hands again. Dean looks over at me and Sam with a look of bewilderment.

"So, why the Feds give a crap? You don't really think there's a case here?" Britton asked us as he slathers the gel on his hands. "No, no. It's probably nothing. Just a heart attack." Dean said as he looks at me and Sam.

Later, we walk out of the office and head to the Impala. "No way that was a heart attack." Dean said. "Definitely no way." I said as Sam nods. "Three victims, all with those same red scratches. All went from jittery to terrified to dead within 48 hours." Sam said. "Something scared them to death." I said and Sam nods.

"All right, so what can do that?" Sam asked. "What can't? Ghosts, vampires, chupacabra? It could be a hundred things." Dean lists off. "Yeah. So, we make a list and start crossing things off." I said. "Alright, who's the last person to see Frank O'Brien alive?" Dean asked. "Uh, his neighbour, Mark Hutchins." Sam said then Dean stops.

"Hang on, hang on." he said, making us stop. "What?" Sam and I asked him then Dean turns to face us. "I don't like the looks of those teenagers down there." he said and Sam and I look around and see some teenagers talking near the Impala. "Let's walk this way." Dean said and he crosses street while Sam and I stand there then we share a perplexed look.

"Tyler, Perry and Kramer. Just like Aerosmith." Mark Hutchins said as we enter his home, which had many animals inside and a snake was around Mark. "Yeah, small world. So, the last time you saw Frank O'Brien?" I said as I notice Dean seeing a big lizard and suddenly faces forward, swallowing.

"Monday, he was watching me from his window. I waved at him, but he just closed the curtains." Mark replied. "Hmm. Did you speak to him recently? Did he seem different? Uh, scared?" Sam asked Mark. "Oh, totally. He was freaking out." Mark said and I watch Dean and notice he looks freaked out.

"Do you know, uh..do you know what scared him?" Dean asked. "Well, yeah, witches." Mark replied. "Witches?" Sam said then he, Dean and I look at each other. "Like...?" I asked. "Well, Wizard of Oz was on tv the other night, right? And he said that green bitch was totally out to get him." Mark said and I raise an eyebrow at this.

"Anything else scare him?" I asked him. "Everything else scared him. Al-Qaeda, ferrets, artificial sweetener. Those pez dispensers with their dead little eyes. Lots of stuff." Mark said as I notice Dean looking around again at the animals inside the aquariums.

"So, tell me. What was Frank like?" Sam asked Mark. "I mean, he's dead, you know? I-I don't want to hammer him but, he got better." Mark said. "He got better?" I asked, confused. "Well, in high school he was, he was a dick." Mark said. "A dick?" Sam and I asked. "Like a bully. I mean, he probably taped half the town's butt cheeks together..." Mark said and Dean snickers. "Mine included." Mark added and Dean's smile disappears.

"So he pissed a lot of people off. You think anyone would have wanted to get revenge?" Dean asked and Mark looks at him, confused. "Well, I don't...Frank had a heart attack, right?" Mark said. "Just answer the question, sir." Sam said and Mark thinks for a moment.

"No, I don't think so. Like I said, he got better. And after what happened to his wife." he said and this peaks my interest. "His wife? So he was married." I said and Mark nods. "She died about 20 years ago. Frank was really broken up about it." he said and Mark looks over at Dean.

"Don't be scared of Donny. He's a sweetheart." Mark said to Dean as he pets the snake around him. "It's Marie you got to look out for." Mark said as he nods to couch. "She smells fear." He said and Dean and I look between us and see an Albino snake creeping up from behind the couch. Dean gasps and stays very still while it crawls down his lap while I bit back a scream.

Dean and I were sitting in the Impala, after looking up about Frank's wife, when I notice him scratching his left arm. "You okay?" I asked him and he looks over at me. "Yeah...I'm fine." He said, but his voice was a bit shaky like he was nervous. "Dean, you sure you're okay? You've been acting strange lately." I said but before Dean could respond, Sam climbs into the backseat of the car.

"Hey. Any luck at the county clerk's office?" he asked us. "I'm not sure I'd call it luck. Frank's wife, Jessie, was a manic-depressive. She went off her meds back in '88 and vanished. They found her two weeks later, three towns over. Strung up in her motel room, suicide." Dean explains.

"Any chance Frank helped her along to the other side?" Sam asked. "No, Frank was working the swing shift when she disappeared. Airtight alibi." I tell him as Dean turns on car.

"How was Frank's pad?" Dean asked Sam. "Clean. Searched it top to bottom. No EMF, no hex bags, no sulfur." Sam replied. "So probably no ghosts, no witches, no demons." I said and Sam scoffs at this. "3 down and 97 to go." Dean said. "Yeah." Sam said and I noticed how slow Dean was driving.

"Dean, you're going 20." I said and he turns to me. "And?" he asked. "That's the speed limit." I pointed out. "What? Safety's a crime now?" Dean asked and he drives through intersection, past our hotel.

"Dude, where are you going? That was our hotel." Sam said to him. "Sam, I'm not gonna make a left-hand turn into oncoming traffic. I'm not suicidal." Dean said and I look over at Sam then both of us look over at Dean, confused.

"Did I just say that? That was kind of weird." Dean said as he shakes his head then we hear a noise. "Do you hear something?" I asked and I look over and see Sam taking out the EMF meter, moves it from and to Dean where it makes a sound. "Am I haunted? Am I haunted?!" Dean asked, panicked, as Sam and I exchange a look.

Later, I was standing outside of the Impala, leaning against it, while Sam was on the phone, talking to Bobby. Dean had music blasting from the Impala speakers and I look over and see Dean lying on the front seat doing air drums to Eye of the Tiger.

Sam comes up to us then watches Dean for a moment before he looks over at me. I shrug at this and then Sam bangs on the roof of the car, scaring Dean as he sits up. "Dude." Dean shouts at him and Sam chuckles as Dean gets out of the car.

"Look at this." Dean said and he shows scratches on his arm. "I just talked to Bobby." Sam said as he hands a box of donuts to Dean. "And?" Dean asked as he smells the box of donuts and throws into car. I give Dean a perplexed look as normally he would be tearing into those donuts, acting like he hadn't eating in years.

"Um, well, you're not gonna like it." Sam said. "What?" Dean and I asked. "It's ghost sickness." Sam said. "Ghost sickness?" Dean asked. "What the hell is ghost sickness?" I asked, confused but also curious.

"Okay. Some cultures believe that certain spirits can infect the living with a disease, which is why they stopped displaying bodies in houses and started taking them off to funeral homes." Sam explains. "Okay, get to the good stuff." Dean said.

"Symptoms are you get anxious...Then scared, then really scared, then your heart gives out." Sam explained and I could see Dean's face of shock but a bit of confusion. "Sound familiar?" Sam asked him. "Yeah, but Sam, we haven't seen a ghost in weeks." I said.

"Well, I doubt Dean caught it from a ghost. Look, once a spirit infects that first person, Ghost sickness can spread like any sickness through a cough, a handshake, whatever. It's like the flu. Now, Frank O'Brien was the first to die, which means he was probably the first infected. Patient zero." Sam said. "Our very own outbreak monkey." Dean grumbles, sarcastically.

"Right. Get this, Frank was in Maumee over the weekend. Softball tournament. Which is where he must have infected the other two victims." Sam said. "Were they gamecocks?" I asked. "Cornjerkers." said Sam.

"So, ghosts infected Frank. He passed it on to the other guys and I got it from his corpse?" Dean asked. "Right." Sam said. "So now what, I have 48 hours before I go insane and my heart stops?" Dean asked, a bit panicked. "More like 24." Sam corrected. "Super." Dean grumbles but I furrow my brow.

"But, why him? Why not you or me? I mean, we got hit with the spleen juice." I said to Sam. "Yeah, um, you see Bobby and I have a theory about that too. Turns out all three victims shared a certain, uh, personality type. Frank was a bully. The other two victims, one was a vice principal, the other was a bouncer." Sam said. "Okay." Dean and I said.

"Basically, they were all dicks." Sam said and Dean gives him a look. "So you're saying I'm a dick?" He asked Sam. "No, no, no. It's not just that. All three victims used fear as a weapon, and now this disease is just returning the favor." Sam said. "I don't scare people." Dean said, a bit offended.

"Dean, all we do is scare people." I said, exasperated. "Okay, well then, you and Sam are dicks too." Dean said. "Apparently, I'm not." Sam said. "Whatchu' talking about? I'm an absolute angel." I said and Dean snorts at this. "Yeah, you're something." He mutters and I stick my tongue out at him.

"Whatever. How do we stop it?" Dean asked Sam. "We gank the ghost that started all this. We do that, the disease should clear up." Sam said. "You thinking Frank's wife?" I asked Sam and he shrugs. "Who knows why she killed herself, you know?" he said then he looks over at Dean.

"Hey, what are you doing waiting out here, anyway?" he asked and I sighed. "He's now scared of heights. I've tried to get him to come inside and he argued." I said. "Hey, our rooms on the fourth floor. That's really high!" Dean said, defensively, and I gesture towards Dean to Sam as if to say See what I mean?

"I'll see if I can move us down to the first." Sam said and Dean sighs with relief. "Thanks." he said. "Sure." Sam said as he goes to the front desk of the hotel and Dean climbs into the Impala and looks at donuts.

"Hey..." I said as I look through the window of the car. He turns to look at me and I give a sympathetic look to him. "We'll figure this out." I said and he gives a small nod. "Yeah, we will." He said then he turns his head and looks down. "I've missed this." He said.

"What?" I asked and he looks back at me. "Us. Having a decent conversation. We didn't really talk much since that shapeshifter vampire wannabe fiasco." Dean said and I nod back. "Well...we've been so busy lately, we just haven't had really anytime alone." I said as he looks around a bit. "I'm really good at this apology thing, but I do feel bad about our argument. I couldn't imagine it being one of our last conversations when I found out you were taken and were about to be killed." Dean said. "Awww, you do care." I said in a fake cheery voice and he scoffs.

Dean kept looking around, like he was afraid someone would come up. "Oh, don't worry, honey. I'll protect you." I said then I lean in and kiss the side of his head. "Shut up." He grumbles and I giggle. "Oh, you love me." I said, smiling. “I’m starting to have second thoughts now.” he said and I laugh. “Nope, can’t get rid of me that easily, Winchester.” I said as Sam comes back over to us.

"Well...that was a bust." I tell Sam as we make our way back to the hotel, later that day. "Yeah..." Sam said. "So...what now?" I asked him as we enter the room and see a broken clock on floor. I look around and see Dean on the sofa, drinking beer.

"Everything all right?" I asked him. "Oh, yeah. Just peachy." he said, sarcastically. "Find anything?" he asked us. "Yeah, Jessie O'Brien's body was cremated, so I'm pretty sure she is not our ghost." Sam said and I notice Dean picking at the scratches on his arm. "Hey, quit picking at that." I said and slap his hand and he looks up at me, like a child that had been caught.

"How you feeling?" I asked him. "Awesome. It's nice to have my head on the chopping block again. I almost forgot what that feels like." he said, sarcastically. "Yeah." Sam said. "It's freaking delightful." grumbles Dean.

"We'll keep looking." I assure and Dean starts to cough. "You okay?" Sam asked him and then Dean starts to choke. "Hey!" Sam said, worried, as Dean goes over to the sink. "Dean." I said, worried and fearfully, as I run up to his left side and place my left hand on his shoulder and my right hand runs up and down his back.

Dean begins gagging over the sink where he spits out a wood chip. Sam and I stare at this in shock as Dean recovers. "We've been completely ignoring the biggest clue we have, you." Sam tells him. "I don't want to be a clue." Dean groans.

"The abrasions, this, the disease, it's trying to tell us something." Sam said and I look over at him. "Tell us what, wood chips?" I asked, confused. "Exactly." Sam said and Dean and I stare at him.

Later, Sam takes us to a lumber mill and I could see Dean looking at the mill, apprehensively. "I'm not going in there." he said, fearfully. "Dean, c'mon. You'll be fine." I said and he takes a drink of whiskey. "Let's do this." he said and we get out of the car.

"It is a little spooky, isn't it?" Dean notes as Sam hands him a gun. "Oh, I'm not carrying that. It could go off. I'll man the flashlight." Dean said and Sam sighs at this. "You do that." I said as I hand Dean the flashlight.

We walk around the mill when the EMF goes off. "EMF's not gonna work with me around, is it?" Dean asked. "You don't say." Sam mutters and I shake my head. "Come on." I said as we walk deeper into the mill.

"Wait..." Sam said, which startles Dean, and he picks up an envelope. "To Frank. Love, Jessie." He reads then opens it and see something inside of it. "Frank O'Brien's ring." He said.

"What the hell was Frank doing here?" I asked him. "No idea." Sam said and we walk into a room full of lockers where we hear rustling. We cautiously walk up to the locker we hear the rustling. Sam and I share a look then i look over at Dean, who looked scared. Sam opens a locker and Dean screams after being startled by a cat.

Sam and I stare at him until Dean stops screaming and catches his breath. "That was scary!" he said and Sam shakes his head before he walks away. I walk up to Dean and pat his shoulder as I walk off. "C'mon, Jamie Lee Curtis." I teased as we walk to a different part of the room.

I go to another locker and found an ID card inside of it. I puck it up and read it. "Luther Garland." I said as I turn to the boys and show it while Dean saw something. "Hey, this is uh...this is Frank's wife." He said as he gestures for us to come of and Sam and I stand next to him to see a drawing on the table.

"Plot thickens." Sam mutters. "Yeah, but into what?" Dean said before he tears off the drawing and a machine turn on. Looking around, Dean sees something in the corner. Sam and I look at Dean and see him looking behind us, Sam and I turn around and see the same thing.

"Hey!" Sam and I shout and we turn around and see Dean running out the mill. We shoot the apparition and then go after Dean, who ends up  hiding behind the Impala taking another drink. "Guess we got the right place." I said.

"This is the Garland file." Linus tells me and Sam as he hands a folder to us. Then he looks over out shoulder. "Is he...drunk?" He asked as he nods behind us and I turn and see Dean swaying back and forth. "No." I replied as Sam reads the file.

"Deputy, according to this, Luther Garland's cause of death was physical trauma. What does that mean?" Sam asked him. "The guy died 20 years ago, before my time. Sorry." Linus said. "Then can we talk to the sheriff?" I asked him. "Um, he's out sick today." Linus replied. "Well, if you see him, will you have him call us? We're staying at the Bluebird." Sam said then he holds up the file.

"Mind if I take this?" He asked and Linus shakes his head. "Know what? You're awesome." Dean said to Linus, who looked confused. "Thanks. Um, y-you too, I guess." he said and we leave.

We walk inside an assistant living building when Dean begins to speak. "This isn't gonna work. Come on, these badges are fake. What if we get busted? We could go to jail." he said, panicked, and then a resident walks past us and startles Dean, I turn to him.

"Dean, shh! Calm down. Deep breath, okay?" I said to him, calmly, and Dean takes a deep breath. "There. You feel better?" I asked him and Dean shakes his head no. "Just come on." I said to him and he begins to scratch his arm again. "Don't scratch." I said, sounding like a parent disciplining their child.

Eventually, we come up to an older man and Sam walks up to him and introduces us. "Mr. Garland." Sam said and the man looks over at us. "Hi uh, I'm Agent Tyler. This is Agent Perry and Agent Kramer, FBI. We'd like to ask you a few questions about your brother Luther." He said as he gestures to me and Dean.

"Let me see some I.D." Mr Garland said. "Certainly." Sam said and we show Mr Garland our badges. "Those are real, obviously. I mean, who would pretend to be an FBI agent, huh? That's just nutty." Dean said and I elbow him. "Sorry, he's new." I assured Mr Garland as he looked over at Dean, suspiciously.

After a moment, Mr Garland looks at the badges then hands them back. "What do you want to know?" he asked us. "Uh, well...according to this, your brother Luther died of physical trauma." I said and Mr. Garland scoffs. "You don't agree." Sam stated. "No, I don't." Mr Garland said, firmly.

"Well, then, what would you call it?" I asked him. "Don't matter what an old man thinks." Mr Garland said. "Mr. Garland. We're just trying to get the truth on your brother. Please." Sam pleads and Mr Garland considers this then begins to explain.

"Everybody was scared of Luther. They called him a monster. He was too big, too mean-looking. Just too different. Didn't matter he was the kindest man I ever knew. Didn't matter he'd never hurt no one. A lot of people failed Luther. I was one of them. I was a widower with three young 'uns. And I told myself there was nothing I could do." Mr Garland said.

"Mr. Garland, um...do you recognize this woman?" I asked him as I hold up the drawing of Jessie. "It's Jessie O'Brien. Her man, Frank, killed Luther." Mr Garland said.

"How do you know that?" Sam asked him.  Everybody knows. They just don't talk about it. Jessie was a receptionist at the mill. She was always real nice to Luther, and he had a crush on her. But Frank didn't like it. And when Jessie went missing, Frank was sure that Luther had done something to her. Turns out the old gal killed herself, but Frank didn't know that. They found Luther with a chain wrapped around his neck. He was dragged up and down the stretch outside that plant till he was past dead." Mr Garland explained as the boys and I listen, I frown a bit at this.

"And O'Brien was never arrested?" Dean asked him. "I screamed to every cop in town. They didn't want to look into Frank. He was a pillar of the community. My brother was just the town freak." Mr Garland replied. "You must have hated Frank O'Brien." said Sam and Mr Garland shakes a bit. "I did for a long time, but life's too short for hate, son. And frank wasn't thinking straight. His wife had vanished, he was terrified. A damn shame he had to put Luther through the same, but...that's fear. It spreads and spreads." he said and the boys and I exchange a look.

"Now we know what these are, road rash." Dean said as he holds up his arm and we head to the Impala. "And I'm guessing Luther swallowed some wood chips when he was being dragged down that road." I added. "Makes sense. You're experiencing his death in slow motion." Sam said to Dean. "Yeah well, not slow enough, huh? Say we burn some bones and get me healthy." said Dean.

"Dean, it won't be that easy." I said. "No, no, it'll be that easy. Why wouldn't it be that easy?" Dean asked. "Luther was road-hauled. His body was ripped to pieces. He was probably scattered all over that road. There's no way we're gonna find all the remains." Sam explained. "You're kidding me." Dean said, disbelieving, and he looked angry about this.

"Look, we'll just have to figure something else out." I try to assure him. "You know what? Screw this." Dean said and he starts to walk away. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Dean." Sam and I said as he go over to him.

"Come on. No, I mean, come on, guys. What are we doing?!" Dean asked us, in a shaking scared voice. "We're hunting a ghost." Sam said. "A ghost, exactly! Who does that?" Dean asked, panicked. "Us." I said. "Us? Right. And that guys, that is exactly why our lives suck. I mean, come on, we hunt monsters! What the hell?!" Dean exclaims and Sam and I share worried look. 

"I mean, normal people, they see a monster, and they run. But not us, no, no, no, we -- we search out things that want to kill us. Yeah? Huh? Or eat us! You know who does that? Crazy people! We...are insane! You know, and then there's the bad diner food and then the skeevy motel rooms and then the truck-stop waitress with the bizarre rash. I mean, who wants this life, guys? Huh? Seriously? Do you two actually like being stuck in a car with me eight hours a day, every single day? I don't think so! I mean, I drive too fast. And I listen to the same five albums over and over and over again, a-and I sing along. I'm annoying, I know that. And you, Sam --you're gassy! You eat half a burrito, and you get toxic!" Dean said and I look over at Sam.

"He's got you there, Sam." I said. "I mean, you know what?" Dean said and he tosses Sam the keys. "You can forget it." he said and he starts to walk away. "Whoa, Dean. where are you going?" I asked him then he turns to us and points at us.

"Stay away from me guys, okay? Cause I am done with it. I'm done with the monsters and -- and -- and the hellhounds and the ghost sickness and the damn apocalypse. I'm out. I'm done. Quit." he said and he walks away.

I turn to Sam, beyond worried. "Sam...we gotta do something." I said and he nods as he pulls out his phone. "I'm calling Bobby." He said as he dials a number then puts it to his ear while I place my hand over my face, holding back my tears.

*3rd Person POV*

Dean was sitting in the hotel room, anxiously, when the door opens and (y/n) walks in. "We looked everywhere for you, Dean. How the hell did you get here?" she asked him. "Ran." Dean said, like it was the most obvious thing. (y/n) sighs and goes to sit next to him.

"What do we do now? I got less than four hours on the clock. I'm gonna die, (y/n)." He said, his voice full of tears, as (y/n) looks ahead of herself. "Yeah, you are." she said and Dean looks puzzled. "You're going back." she said. "Back?" Dean asked, his eyebrow raised.

"Downstairs Dean, hell. It's about damn time, too. Truth is..." (y/n) said then she turns to Dean with yellow-eyes. "...You've been a real pain in my ass." She said and Dean stares at her beyond, terrified, then she throws Dean against wall with a hand gesture.

"No! You get out of my girlfriend, you evil son of a bitch!" Dean yells. "No one's possessing me, Dean. This is what I'm going to become. This is what Sam's going to become. This is what we want to become. There's nothing you can do about it." (Y/n) growled and she starts to choke Dean.

But a second later, the hallucination disappeared and (y/n) was still standing in front of him but she wasn't choking him. She had a look of concern on her face as she had a hand on his chest.

"Hey, hey, hey, Dean." she said, worried, just as Sam comes in. "Hey, Dean. Dean. Dean." (y/n) said again as Dean coughs and regains his breathing.

*(y/n)'s POV*

Bout an hour or two later, Sam and I were sitting on the Impala, at the Lumber Mill, as a car drives up. The car shuts off and Bobby gets out of the car. "Howdy, kids." Bobby said. "Hey, Bobby. Thanks for coming so quick." Sam said as he shakes Bobby's hand and I go and hug him.

"Where's Dean?" Bobby asked us. "Uh, home sick." I replied and give Bobby a knowing look then he nods. "So, have his hallucinations started yet?" Bobby asked. "Yeah, a few hours ago." Sam replied.

"How we doing on time?" Bobby asked us. "We saw the coroner about 8:00 a.m. Monday morning, so, uh...just under two hours." I said and Bobby shakes his head. "What about you? You find anything?" Sam asked Bobby. "This uh, enencyclopedia of spirits dates to the Edo period." Bobby said as he gives me a book. I look it over and see it was written in Japanese.

"You can read Japanese?" I asked Bobby and he answers in Japanese. "Guess so, show-off." I retort and Sam laughs. "Anyway, this book lists a kind of ghost that could be our guy. It uh, infects people with fear. It's called a Buru Buru." Bobby replied.

"It say how to kill it?" Sam asked. "Same as usual. Burn the remains." Bobby replied and I sighed. "Wonderful. Uh...is there a Plan B?" Sam asked. "Well, the Buru Buru is born of fear. Hell, it is fear. And the lore says we can kill it with fear." Bobby said and I raise an eyebrow at this.

"So we have to scare a ghost to death?" I asked him. "Pretty much." Bobby replied, nodding. "How the hell we gonna do that?" Sam asked and I think then I get an idea. "Aw, crap." I said and they look over at me. "What?" They asked me. "I think I know what we gotta do...and you boys aren't gonna like it." I said as they give me a look

Minutes later, I call up Dean's phone and it rang only a couple of times before Dean answers. "Hey." He said. "Hey! So, uh, just ride out the trip, okay? You're -- you're gonna be fine. We got a plan." I assure him. "What is it?" Dean asked me. "Uh, just a good plan, all right? Hang in there." I tell him and I hang up.

"This is a terrible plan." Bobby said. "Yeah, tell me about it." Sam said. "I know I said, scare the ghost to death but this?" Bobby said and I turn to him. "Hey, you got a better idea, I'm listening." I said but Bobby doesn't answer.

3rd Person POV*

Meanwhile, back at the hotel, Dean starts to hear barking then the door rattles, breaking off its hinges. Dean turns and sees Britton had entered the room.

"Sheriff?" he asked then he notices the gun in Britton’s hand. "What are you doing?" Dean asked him, confused. "Why are you looking into Luther Garland's death?" Britton asked, angrily and panicked. Then Dean sees blood on the Sheriff’s right arm. "Hey, hey, you're -- you're sick. You're sick. You're sick, all right? Just -- just like me, okay? You got to relax." Dean tried to explain but Britton hits him.

"Frank O'Brien was my friend. So he made a mistake. So I didn't bust him. So what? And you're gonna bring me down over that?! No, sir." Britton exclaims and he points gun at Dean but Dean swats it away and they began to fight.

They punch and throw each other around until Britton starts to hyperventilate. "Get away from me!" he shouts to Dean as he falls on his back to the ground and Dean steps away from him.

"Al, you got to calm down!" Dean tries to assure but then Britton clutches his chest, he's having a heart attack. "Step back!" Britton shouts as he clutches his chest and screams out in pain until he goes limp, leaving Dean staring at him in utter fear.

*(y/n)'s POV*

Later, Sam and I enter the mill and look around for a few moments but there was no sign of Luther. "Any luck?" Bobby asked us through the walkie-talkie. "I don't know what's wrong, Bobby. Last time he came right at us." I said and Sam nods. "Yeah...It's almost like he's, uh...like he's scared." he said then we exchange a look then Sam puts down shotgun.

"So now what?" Bobby asked. "I guess we got to make him angry." I said then Sam steps up. "Hey, Luther!" he shouts as we start to tear up the drawings, that were still hanging up, until the machines turn on. "Come on, Luther! Where the hell are you? What are you waiting for?" Sam shouts then we turn around and see Luther.

He charges at us and we began to fight him. We lure him to the spot we need him in until he backhand me, making me fly across the room. Dazed, I shake my head and see Luther attacking Sam.

I raise my hand, making the chain rise up on its own and gesture to make the chain wrap around Luther’s neck. "Bobby, punch it!" I shout into the walkie-talkie and I hear the roar of the engine and Luther was pulled backwards. Sam and I run out and see his spirit being dragged across the road by the Impala until Luther completely disappears.

I sighed with relief then hug Sam as I see Bobby stop the car and look out of the window at us.

*3rd Person POV 

Meanwhile, Dean was sitting at the hotel, trying to stay calm, until he hears barking. He looks down at his watch, wondering how long this plan (y/n) told him would take when he sees something on the floor. He picks it up and sees it’s the Bible.

"Hi, Dean." A little girl voice greets and he turns and sees a small blonde girl in a white dress, Lilith. "Huh, no! No!" he said, panicked, as he stands up. "Yes! It's me, Lilith." the girl said, excitedly, then she embraces Dean.

"Oh, I missed you so much. It's time to go back now." she said and Dean moves away from her. "You – you are not real!" He said. "What's the matter, Dean? Don't you remember all the fun you had down there? You do remember. 4 months is like 40 years in hell. Like doggy years. And you remember every second." she said as Dean continues to backwards from her until he falls to the floor.

"You are not real." he said as he clutches his chest. "It doesn't matter. You're still gonna die. You're still gonna burn." She said, smiling. "Why me? Why'd I get infected?" Dean asked. "Silly goose. You know why, Dean. Listen to your heart." she said.

"Whu...?" he asked. "Baboom, baboom, baboom, baboom." Lilith taunts as she hits her fists against her leg. Everytime she said baboom, Dean's heart would start to beat harder and he didn't know which heartbeat would be his last. He tries to stay calm but hearing Lilith's taunts and his heart beating against his chest and ears, he didn't know how much longer he had until, suddenly, it all stopped.

He gasped then looked around to see no Lilith and his heartbeat was back to normal. And that's when he realized whatever (y/n) and Sam did, it worked.

*(y/n)'s POV*

"So you guys road-hauled a ghost with a chain?" Dean asked us as we stood somewhere outside of the town with Bobby. "Iron chain etched with spell work." Sam said. "Hmm, that's a new one." Dean said, impressed. "It was what he was most afraid of. It was pretty brutal, though." I said and Dean shrugs a bit.

"On the upside, I'm still alive, so uh, go team!" He said as he holds up his bottle of beer. "Yeah." Sam said, chuckling a bit. "How you feeling, by the way?" I asked Dean. "Fine." Dean replied.

"You sure, Dean? 'Cause this line of work can get awful scary." Bobby said. "I'm fine. You want to go hunting? I'll hunt. I'll kill anything." said Dean and Bobby smiles. "Awwww, he's adorable." he teases and we laugh.

"I got to get out of here. You kids drive safe." Bobby said as he goes to his car. "You too, Bobby." Sam said. "Hey, thanks." I shout after him as Bobby gets into his car and drives off.

"So uh...so, what did you see? Near the end, I mean." Sam asked Dean after a moment of silence. "Oh, besides a cop beating my ass?" Dean asked and I roll my eyes. "Seriously." I said and Dean looks between us for a moment, he had this look of he wanted to say something but was afraid to.

Before I could ask him, he said.  "Howler monkeys. Whole roomful of them. Those things creep the hell out of me." Sam rolls his eyes and I shake my head. "Right." I said. "No, just the usual stuff, guys. Nothing I can’t handle." he said and he takes a sip of his beer but I still had a feeling Dean was hiding something from us.

But I know how he is with revealing his feelings and thoughts so I don't push it...for now at least.

Outtake

(y/n) was leaning against the front driver side wheel of the Impala, her arms across her chest as Eye of the Tiger begins to play. Everytime the drum beat comes on, Dean's hands would come up to do air drums with the beat. The drums stop as the music continues.

Rising up, back on the street

Dean rises up in his seat as he lipsyncs this line and (y/n) face-palms at this as he continues.

Did my time, took my chances

He pulls his upper body through the window then sits on the windowsill of the car door, still lip-syncing.

Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet

Just a man and his will to survive

He bobs his head and does a bit of a dance while (y/n) runs her hand down to cover her mouth then looks up at Dean as he points outwards and moves his arm across the air, like he was pointing at everyone in sight.

Then he goes and scratches his left arm, making (y/n), Sam, the Author and many readers laugh, as he continues with his lip-syncing.

So many times it happens too fast

You change your passion for glory

He taps at his chest and at the word glory he points upwards then he gets up on the roof of the Impala and sits on top of it. Then (y/n) removes her hand off of her face then goes to sit on the hood of the car.

Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past

You must fight just to keep them alive

Dean pops the collar of his outter shirt as he bobs his head to the beat and lipsyncs along. (Y/n) then pulls her legs up and pull them close to her chest as she watches him.

It's the eye of the tiger

It's the thrill of the fight

Dean made his game face, or glare or whatever you call it, as he stares at (y/n) then points to his eyes with his left hand pointer and middle finger then points at her as he lipsyncs those lines. All the while, Sam, the Author and the readers continue their laugh and (y/n) sticks her tongue out at Dean.

Rising up to the challenge of our rival

Dean lipsyncs as he raises both his arms up and points to the sky. Then he brings his right leg up and started to act like it was a guitar.

And the last known survivor

Stalks his prey in the night

Then he lowers his leg and that's when (y/n) stands up on the hood, leans over and grabs his right hand. He smiles and slowly starts to stand up as the two began to lipsync the last lyric together.

And he's watching us all with the eye of the tiger

The duo raised their joined hand as they act like they were holding the note then when they were done, Sam, the Author and the readers cheer. Dean and (y/n) smile then he jumps off of the roof then turns around to her and holds his arms out to her.

She places her hands on his shoulders and he helps her down but only set her feet on the ground for a split second before he starts to carry her bridal style. (Y/n) let's out a surprised squeal as he walks off with her in his arms as everyone cheers and laughs.

(I know that last part is an outtake on the show but I couldn't help myself. I forgot how funny it was and I was like, I gotta add this. So I hope you guys enjoyed!)

@rach5ive @kitsun369 @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @ellie-andthemachine

[katyawriteswhump]

Bed of Roses (steddie love month, day 17)

For @steddielovemonth, Day 17 prompt: Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost (@yournowheregirl ) Thank you <3

Rating: M. CW: prostitution, unwanted kink/abuse/pet-names (NOT between Steddie) alcoholism, substance abuse. Tags: rockstar Eddie, rent-boy Steve, make-up fic, angst, shameless perversion of Bon Jovi lyrics. WC: 2,000.

...

“'Cause a bottle of vodka's still lodged in my head…”

In his dressing room, pre-show, Eddie grasped his second bottle of vodka in an unsteady hand.

“…and some blonde gave me nightmares; I think that she’s still in my bed.”

This was NOT GOOD. Eddie had gotten sap-fest Bon Jovi lyrics slithering around his brain. He couldn’t for the life of him remember his own lyrics.

“Hey, Amigo,” he announced to the vodka. “I got a venue of ten thousand to entertain, and you’re literally my Obi-Wan—my only hope.” He caressed the bottle’s label. “80% proof, huh, Baby?” 

I’m serious, Eddie, you’ve had enough. You WANT to follow Kurt Cobain into the 27-Club?

Riiiight. That was not a Bon Jovi lyric. That sounded more like Steve Harrington, in sensible-parent mode, hands planted on his slender hips.

The tears struck fast. Eddie clonked the bottle onto the dressing table then followed it, pressing his heavy head to the glass.

He seriously didn’t want to die. However, he was so through with this life. Of any life, without Steve. The cavity where his heart once lay veered between grating emptiness and an unbearable pain. 

His fingers twitched toward the bottle. Screw it, the show must go on, and he’d lost his only light in the darkness…

“… as I dream about movies, they won't make of me when I'm dead.” 

That still wasn’t one of his own darn lyrics. In fact, he couldn’t remember a single goddamn word of any of Corroded Coffin’s songs.

A sharp knock on the dressing-room door had him squealing like a little piggy. An old guy poked his head in.

“Who the hell are you?”

“You hired me, Mr Munson. Dirk Gordon—Private Dick?” 

“Ah… Yeah, so I did.” Eddie’s rotten heart hammered way too fast. “Have you..?"

“Yes, Mr Munson. I believe I’ve found him.”

…

“What do you mean, you're not gonna pay me?” Steve wrapped his arms tight around himself. The only heating in his boss’s rundown office came from the guy’s endless chain of cigarettes. “I spent the whole evening simpering at that old dragon. You told me she liked music—I talked music endlessly.”

“You yammered on about some death-metal garbage. She likes Wagner.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “What’s Wagner? That crusty old film-star?”

“Oh, Steve, Steve, Steve. What am I gonna do with you?” His boss sauntered around the desk and hooked an arm around him.

Jesus, you stink.

“You’re good-looking, kid, you’re charming, but you simply can’t cut it with that kind of high-end client.”

“She seemed happy.” Steve shrugged his shoulders, failing to shake the guy off him. “She paid you, right?”

“Not the full whack, and you got a fancy meal out of the bitch. Look, I’ll give you your cut, if you do better tonight.”

He squeezed the back of Steve’s neck. Steve tried not to shudder. When his boss produced a piece of paper and wedged it down the back of Steve’s skin-tight jeans, he stopped trying to hide his revulsion.

“Details are all there. He’s a banking exec, early forties—no more dinners and dances with Doris, you’re spending the night at his house.”

A dry lump clogged Steve’s throat. “Is he gonna want..?”

“Sex? Christ on a bike, what trade do you think you’re in?” He squeezed Steve’s butt.

“Jesus fu—” Steve bit his lip, fixed on his damp sneakers. 

“Believe me, Steve, your hair ain’t your best asset. You’re gonna have to sell that plump lil’ ass for real, sooner or later.”

Steve flinched, then schooled his features as blankly as he could. 

“This guy’s got a few kinks, but as Johns go, he’s a pussycat.” He lifted Steve’s drooping chin with his knuckles. “Show him what ya got, Sport.”

Steve couldn’t get out into the drab morning fast enough. He retrieved the paper from his underwear, shoved it in a pocket unread, then stumbled, zombie-like, into a diner. “Black coffee, please? It’s an emergency.” 

The waitress smiled. “You want breakfast, Steve?”

He shook his head, though his stomach grumbled.

He ended up slumped on the table, his face pillowed in his arms. Christ, ‘male escort’ had never seemed like a great idea, but he’d figured the pay would beat waiting tables. So how come he was still behind on his rent, and that he still couldn’t afford to eat some days, let alone buy his pain meds?

He muffled a miserable laugh in his elbow. He genuinely wished he could afford to get smashed, get high, because nothing could fill that gaping black hole of pain. Even worse, one of his fave Bon Jovi songs was playing on the radio, and SO not helping:

“Tonight I won't be alone, but you know that don't mean I'm not lonely.” Shit! He was fighting back dumbass tears already. “I got nothing to prove, for it’s you I’d die to defend.”

Why the hell did he run away? He can’t recall any reason that mattered anymore. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” he mumbled. “I miss you so much.”

Somebody touched his elbow, and he jolted up. “Sorry, hon,’” said the waitress, “we need this table for dine-in customers.”

“Right.” Steve swiped any tell-tale moisture from his cheekbones.  “I’ll clear outta your way.”

...

“Ready for playtime, Bunny Rabbit?”

Steve’s skin crawled, and his face burned. He’d gotten his head in the client’s lap, and the guy was playing with his hair. It would be tolerable, he guessed, if he’d not so often laid in Eddie’s lap like this, and… Christ, Eddie! Steve shut out the unwanted touching and began to drift. He was so beyond tired. And that song from the diner crept back:

“Now as you close your eyes, know I'll be thinking about you. While my mistress—she calls me to stand in her spotlight again…”

The pinch on his cheek startled Steve back to the present. “You kipping there, Bunny Rabbit?”

“Uh… er, sorry, Daddy.” Uuuuuuurgh! “Whatever you want, Daddy.” He dared sit up. “I’ll grab a condom and, uh… stuff.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” When Steve went to rise, his arm was grabbed, and he was held in place. “I don’t like rubbers, Cutie.”

“You heard of this thing called AIDS?” Dipshit!

Steve wrenched his arm free. The guy raised his hand and slapped him. Which wasn’t exactly out-of-the-blue, because face-slapping had been listed among this repellent son-of-a-bitch’s kinks.

“I’m paying top whack for you.” He leaned over Steve, suddenly kinda huge and scary, not least because Steve now saw double. “Your pimp said you were clean, so I’m gonna have you any way I like.”

“I… uh…” Steve kicked the bastard’s shin and shoved him hard. “Go to hell, asshole.” 

He fled out into the night, still dizzy from the blow. He pulled his mesh vest back on over his head. The icy wind bit, and he realised he’d left his only jacket behind.

“Jesus Christ! JESUS CHRIST!” He kicked a lamppost, holding back on venting the true force of his feelings. Still hurt.

He limped off up the street, fast as he could. The ache in his toes at least distracted him from the ringing in his ears. An hour later, he stumbled around the corner of his block, thinking only of throwing himself into his bed, while he still had one.

He was so close, when the hairs on the back of his neck stood suddenly on end. Through the haze of his exhaustion, he realised a car crawled up the gutter behind him.

Had Mr Happy-Slappy-Sleazebag come after him? Then again, Steve’s pursuer could be anybody. After all, he was walking through a red-light district, shivering his ass off.  Dressed like the whore I am. Hahaha!

The car pulled up right beside him. A blacked-out window rolled down.

Steve ran, turning sharp up a dark alley, then… Shit, shit, SHIT AGAIN! He was only a hundred yards from his digs, and yet he was so messed-up that he’d sprinted up a dead-end.

He nearly kicked the bricks. Instead, he punched them, as if that would blast through the solid wall. He turned about, bit his grazed fist, and sank slowly onto his haunches. 

Two figures approached up the alley, silhouetted against the lights of the street behind. Get up, Harrington! GET UP! His legs wouldn’t obey, and his breaths came only as rapid gasps. Nothing felt real anymore. Am I gonna die..? I’m gonna die!

A hand stretched out of the gloom.

Steve stared at it—at the familiar chunky silver rings, which couldn’t be real. He glanced up, and… wtf? It was Eddie, apart from it wasn’t Eddie. This dude looked more like Eddie’s ghost. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed.

Maybe I scored some Benzos after all, and totally ODd.

“Stevie?”

No mistaking that voice. If this was a trip, it was a good one. Steve pried an eye open, and Eddie’s hand was still there. Steve took it, let it help him to his feet, because… Why not? Suddenly, they were in each other’s arms, clasping each other tightly. This is real. You’re real!  Eddie reeked of booze, and also of something devastatingly comforting and familiar. Somebody’s wretched sobs shook through them both.

“I’m s-sorry.” Steve sounded broken. “I-I honestly don't know why I left anymore. I was such an idiot.”

“No. I was the idiot. I’m sorry, too. So very fucking sorry.” Eddie sniffed hard, lifted his tear stained cheek from Steve’s shoulder. “I’ve not been doing so good without you.”

Steve blinked the moisture from his vision. He wondered if he looked as wrecked as Eddie—red-eyed and waxy pale, under the distant glimmer of the streetlamps. Probably. If he hadn't leaned against Eddie, his legs would’ve given out again.

He laughed, without knowing why. Eddie laughed too, and it warmed Steve’s soul. “Gonna be honest, Eddie—not been doing so good without you, either.”

…

When Eddie got out of rehab, Steve waited on the steps of the clinic, hand stretched out to take his. He pulled Eddie close, and then into a sweet, lingering kiss that renewed Eddie more thoroughly than even a lengthy booze-free sleep.

“I’m never going through that again,” said Eddie, his lips still brushing against Steve’s.

Not least because I never ever want to be parted from you again, even for a fortnight.

“Yeah, but you’re dry, Eddie, and you’re alive. I’d say that’s goddamn metal of you.”

They started back to the car, hands still clasped tightly. “Not gonna take credit, Stevie. You’re what got me through.”

“You might’ve got me out of a fix, so we’re even.” Steve’s sigh rode on a wistful sadness. “I mean, I was so lost. Thinking of you was all that kept me… I dunno, alive, I guess. You know, I kept on thinking about that Bon Jovi song.”

“Uh, you know how I feel about Bon J—"

Too late. Steve burst into song: “Well, I'm so far away, each step that I take is on my way home. A king's ransom in dimes I'd give each night to see through this pay-phone—”

Eddie pressed fingers to his boyfriend’s parted lips. “As much as I hate cutting you off in your prime—two teensy-weensy issues. Firstly, I had no idea where you were, and you never called! Second, what’s wrong with my blood-and-death drenched lyrics?”

Steve took Eddie’s fingers and kissed them: “Hurt too much to think about them.”

“You know what, Sweetheart? Hurt too much to sing them, without you around. Even though none of them are actually love songs.” Eddie raised his gaze to the heavens, and looped his arms around Steve. “Go figure.”

“You sure they’re not love songs? C’mon—they’re all secretly about me, right? Only coded or something. I’ll crack it one day.”

Steve’s gently mocking smile destroyed him, in the best possible way. They tumbled into a French kiss, and he resigned himself willingly to the only thing that mattered: 

“And the truth is… Baby, you’re all that I need.”

...

Thanks for reading <3 Likes, comments and reblogs always much appreciated :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on ao3).

[carionto]

Something was supposed to be there

Part 1 2 3 4

"Explorer's log, the Radiant Dusk at Everest, Day 1. Me, the impeccable Trisha, alongside with my irritating companion Haespar, (Haespar: Hey now, no need to be rude) (Trisha: and my point stands proven. Hush now, this is my documentary!)

and the lovely Silent Engineer Emily, (Trisha: Emily silently blushes, hehe) (Haespar: ignore her listeners, she's making things up) (Trisha: stop being irritating, you're just giving me more stuff to edit out later)

are making our way towards our first objective - the teleporter-warp engine hybrid thing. (Haespar: very documentary-like choice of words) (Trisha: see what I have to deal with viewers? No respect for the arts) (Haespar: I thought this was a documentary.) (Trisha: Gah, that's it, your character is gonna meet a tragic end at the start of this and I'll make you into a ghost in editing or something)

A-hem! Emily and I, after making our way through the desolate crash landed Dusk, mourned the death of our associate, Mr Kraus, who fell victim to faulty electrical cabling dangling from the dark ceiling. Tragic. (Haespar: I don't even get a eulogy? That hurts my feelings. *grins*) (Emily: *light chuckle*) (Trish: *gasp* Emily, I thought you were on my side! And you, wipe that smile off your face, you're dead now)

However, the two of us, accompanied by a SILENT ghostly visage of the fallen person, continued on with our critical mission to assess the condition of this deadly ruin of a ship, and figure out if we have what we need to make our way back home. (Haespar: Just to be on the record, the ship is perfectly fine, structurally, the lights work and life support systems are all green and we are walking along a nice, flat and wide hallway with no obstacles or hazards) (Trisha: buzzkill)

After hours of grueling work (Haespar: not even 20 minutes since we started) AFTER HOURS OF GRUELING WORK, we have finally made it to the first checkpoint. Emily, using her superior skills and knowledge of technology, has taken upon herself the mighty task of reverse engineering the broken down doorway (Haespar: aka - showing her ID to the terminal) to grant us access to the abandoned chamber (Haespar: pretty sure I went here two days ago) that holds the first key information we need.

The door creaks open under the weight of history to reveal...

uhh, okay. What are we actually looking at?" Trisha is forced to return to a normal way of talking as reality is now proving to be less boring than she expected.

Haespar, also quite stunned by what they see: "That's a big hole where the room with the telerporter-warp hybrid engine was supposed to be."

"There's scorch marks." Emily chimes in, "It looks like a perfect sphere. Maybe 30 meter diameter."

Indeed, a massive empty space where not only the hybrid engine was housed, but a few other less relevant rooms across five different floors were as well.

"It's like someone took a laser cutter to all of this, like in that movie, Terminator, where that guy comes back from the future and there's this cool effect and the ground where he lands is all like cut off and stuff."

"I'll take your word for it, Trisha." Haespar gets on the comms back to the bridge, "Ira, we've reached where the hybrid engine was. It didn't come with us and disintegrated a large section around it, Emily will send you precise details shortly."

On the other end, Chief Engineer Ira Tameki silently absorbed the new information. After a long pause and a deep breathe, she collected herself: "Understood. Leave that area alone, but continue with the task. We still need to know the status of everything else on this ship. I need to talk to the Captain."

"I don't know if telling him will do any good in the state he's in right now." Haespar suggested, but Ira shook her head, even if he can't see her.

"Probably not, but he needs to know we're stuck with no way of getting back currently. The sooner he begins digesting reality, the better."

"Alright, I hope you're right."

"Me too."

Continue->

[dazuya]

Don't smile at me like that

Knights of Favonious! reader trying to keep calm when everyone's been saved. Everyone will be alive, right?

tw: //blood, injuries and death.

_________________________________________

Mondstadt had mostly been a quite town with people living freely. Or just as they say. It's the city of freedom! Everyone doing their own thing. But gathering together as one nation.

It had also seen it's fair share of crimes. Mostly petty thefts or some brute force here and there. But what it hadn't been subjected to was an attack. A brutal violent attack ordered by the abyss. After taking control of Divalian had failed. They struck the heart of Mondstadt. It's city. Everyone had been instructed to stay in their homes. While the Knights fought endlessly for their freedom.

After days of going on, After days of madness, After days of shedding blood. It seemed to stop. Thank the lord barbatos. He seemed to listened to his people and helped them.

Everyone sighed a breath of relief. In the headquarters right after the war. The soliders were tended to. Most of them had small cuts and maybe a broken rib or two. The Captains along with mondstadt's dark Knight, Diluc gathered in the Acting grand master Jean's room.

Everyone sighed a breath of gratefulness. Finally, The city was okay. None of the citizens were harmed. None of the Knights actually lost their life. Right?

One captain sat there awfully quite. Y/n known for taking jabs at Kaeya. Known for outwardly expressing what must've been going was quite. Everyone was lost in thought as to how to proceed with the meeting.

Jean finally broke the silence. "I'm really glad to have to you captains well and alive. I should've been more sharp. I will assure this won't happen again. Not now. Not ever." The Captains nodded. Feeling hopeful.

"Y/n and Kaeya. Please stay back later so that we can discuss further strategies as to how to protect the city." Said Jean looking at the two. One nodded and the other didn't seem to catch it. Kaeya looks to his side and to his horror, He sees you gripping your torso.

"Y/n? Hey. Look at me." He said while trying to pry your hands away to check what was wrong. A gaint hole. A deep one. Just enough for them to bleed through your uniform. Just enough for you to lose your life if not treated in time.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?! God, you're so fucking dumb. Why?" He yelled. The other captains rushing to your side. Jean was frantically trying to heal you Lisa and Kaeya held on to the hope to see you well and cheery again.

while you could only look at them and smile as you tasted iron in your mouth. Ah the bitter taste. "Please take care of my Dogs. And take care of yourselves too." Maybe today my whole facade of having my life together would shatter.

"Don't you dare smile at me like that. Don't you smile like it's your last day here. Don't look at us like that!" Lisa was starting to cry. Just when everything was going alright. They were gonna lose their morale. Their moodmaker in the knights' family.

"Did you get hurt when protecting me from that one abyss mage? I told you I could've taken care of him?! Archons, if only you could've listened to me!" Kaeya's yelling was loud and frantic. What was he supposed to do? Another person who was important just walking away from his life.

"I can't let someone i love die, Kaeya. I must say, having you all here with me when I'm gonna go is quite endearing no?" you chuckled. Of course, Trying to lighten the mood. But it didn't worked. Not right now.

"Please tell me you love me when you're all well. Please tell us you love us when you're back again. Don't say it right now. Just rest." Kaeya sighed. His hands clasped with yours.

"Jean, Please. Anything. I'll assist you. Just hurry up. I can't bear to watch that smile on their face." Lisa sits down next to Jean trying to look up spells which would be useful right now. By the looks of it, There's a hole in their torso. One which looks like it's been shot by an from an abyss mage icicle.

"Y/n. You should've said something earlier. We would've assisted you way longer. The thought of not having you and venti fighting in my Tavern does make my heart shatter." Diluc spoke with having doubts in his mind. Was this another hard goodbye he'd have to say? He practically grew up with you. You were like another sibling to him. After Crepus's death, He saw how Kaeya would open up to you. His eyes softening whenever you're around.

You'd only have positive effects with the people around you. Now you were coughing blood in agony while brushing off the pain.

"My my. I never expected Luc to say such touching words. How has he changed from that little boy huh?" The pain was getting to you now. It was hard to focus your sights on one thing. It was hard to just look at Kaeya. Somehow your heart felt more pain. It was like being torn apart.

"Luc. I think you'd love my very own pen collection. It's yours. Maybe write me cute letters. Haha. Jean. You can have, well you can have my clothes. I don't have use for those outfits anyways. They'd look pretty cute on you, don't you think? Lisa. I'd like to give you my books. Yes. The ones you begged for me to give you. They're yours. And Kaeya You can have my necklace. Open it when I'm not around. I'm sure you'll find it lovely? i don't know. I feel like you guys would like my things. Of course you can throw them out. It's up to you guys." After finishing what you had to say. It seems like you were in the middle of a group hug. Everyone there was clinging on the hope of you. Sobbing. But it was you crying. Hot tears rushed down and somehow everything felt real right now. Everything was about to be gone.

"H-hey Kaeya. Did I ever tell you I- I loved you so much? I think I'm a fool to not tell you that enough. I love you with all my heart and soul. I wish I could've been around longer to get married to you. I love you Kaeya. So much. I love you guys too. Luc, Jean and Lisa. You guys were very colourful. I couldn't thank you more." Their faces were blurry now. You couldn't seem to hear them at all. Not when Kaeya was crying and cupping your face. Not when Diluc was trying to calm everyone. You couldnt hear them.

"I can't hear anyone but i hope you're not taking jabs at me yeah? Let a dying person die with praises no?" A laugh escaped your lips. That seemed to be the last of it.

"Wake up, dear! Come on. You promised a future with me only to leave me here? That's cruel of you. Wake up, Please?" Kaeya muffled sobs against their body proved useless. He couldn't hear a heartbeat. Seems as if they had actually passed.

"That's enough Kaeya. Don't.. I- I don't know what to say I'm sorry." Diluc was staring at the ceiling trying to contain his tears. He mustn't let the others know. He should stay strong.

"Jean. Why isn't Y/n talking? Please. Say Anything. Something. Talk about how annoying i am as a librarian. Just anything goddamn it?!" Lisa doesn't seem to be accept it either.

"I'm sorry. I could only watch your glory. I wish I could've done more for you." Jean held their hand.

Everyone was alright except for the fact that they had to let go of something so important that it almost made them lose sight of the gathering. It was almost a silent agreement to hunt down the mages which did this to you and later kill it with their bare hands.

Even after years, Everyone seemed to honour Y/n's wish for them to keep their things.

Diluc kept a ridiculously large collection of pens in his room and in the Tavern. He wouldn't walk out of his house without a pen in his coat. Always carrying a part of his sibling from another family. He'd also right cute letters with the assistance of venti and send them to your address. Although no one read them. Or so he thought.

Lisa read the books they left over and over again. Looking the cute doodles. Smiling to herself. The first thing she saw was "To Lisa." She knew you were gonna gift her these regardless. Every year, she'd go to their grave and read a chapter from the book. Like a bonding time of sorts. Something that won't happen anymore.

Jean couldn't bring herself to wear their clothes. The only thing she tried on was a scarf. A scarf they knit for her. The only one she thought she was worthy of wearing. Ah it looks cute. Just like they said. Only if they were around to make her more clothes.

Kaeya opened the necklace after a year of getting it. He broke down that day. It had a picture of kaeya and his beloved. Smiling. Kissing. Being in love. Something he wouldn't ever have. Something he'll never have again. After cleaning their home, He found a letter. A letter addressed to him. It was simply filled with sweet nothing's. Just saying how much they loved him. He infact found a whole box of it. He could sit and hug the box hoping for some comfort but instead got his heart broken.

The letters Diluc sent were also read by him. He could only read so much until he stopped. He just stopped reading them. He just put them in the back of his memories. Occasionally remembering about them and going to your grave to profess his love for the hundredth time in a month.

"I wish you didn't smile at me like that when you said i love you." He said while looking down at their grave. His first love would be his last.

[anxieteeeaa]

ＡＮＩＭＡＬＳ Pt. 2

WARNINGS: psychopathic tendencies, yandere!harry, psycho!harry, stockholm!syndrome, knife play, adrenaline rush, blood, condescension, degradation, sexual content, drug abuse, forced sex, orgasms, etc. ****IF YOU ARE NOT COMFY WITH THIS PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS!!!******

It was all going so well. At least, that’s what Harry made her believe. He would bathe, her feed her, clothe her, make her cum, and whisper sweet nothings in her ear as he promised to take care of her the rest of his life.

At least until she pushed him to the verge of murder. Which would be soon, he knew it was coming soon.

That’s how all the other girls acted when things were going well.

She wasn’t his first, but she definitely wasn’t going to be his last.

“It’s alright doll.” He sighed as he positioned her into a chokehold. “I got you. I’m always gonna be here to take care of you.” He pressed several kisses to her head and smiled at the tears that streamed down her face. “You know, crying looks ugly on you. You used to do it so much before you realized how much you need me.” He pointed out.

“Before you realized how much you love me.” Self defense classes would definitely be helpful right now. But of course her uptight family didn’t think such “rambunctious activities were necessary.”

“Let me go. I hate you.” She choked out through a sob as she tried to kick and scream. She mustered all the strength that she had left in her, but she knew she wouldn’t win.

“Shhhhh. It’s okay doll. It’s all gonna be okay. I’ll get you home. And we’ll get all nice and clean.” He whispered in a soothing voice as he reached into his coat pocket with his free hand and grabbed the syringe before removing the cap and slowly injecting it into her neck.

Hush little baby don’t say a word,

Harry’s gonna make sure your

screams aren’t heard

Her body fell limp in his arms and he continued his version of the lullaby.

And if the baby starts to cry

Harry’s just gonna make sure that she dies.

He scooped her body up and carried her back to a bench, pulling out his phone he made a quick call while he sat her limp body down.

“Hey it’s me. Need you to come pick me up.” He called in a favor from a friend, knowing they’d have to listen or they’d be fucked.

Everyone knows not to mess with Harry or get on his bad side.

Everyone.

A few moments later a car arrived, Harry dumped her body in the backseat and hopped in before shutting the door.

“Take us home. I don’t have time for any fucking games either. So make it quick or I’ll blow your brain out and shove you in a suitcase.” He spat.

Moments later Harry was in the comfort of his own home. The living room reeked of blood and tobacco.

Carrying her limp body to her “bedroom” he laid her body on the mattress, covered her with the thin blanket and locked her wrists and ankles to each end of of the bed post. “ You’re gonna be the death of me.” He whispered as he stroked her soft cheek. “Just wait until i’m done with you.” Covering her mouth with tape, he glanced at her appearance one last time before going to the living room to clean up his mess.

He sat on the couch and bandaged his cuts and bruises he had made to show what would he would do to himself if she left him. He wanted her to know that she belonged here. Only he could take care of her and make her feel good.

Harry spent a good two hours scrubbing, mopping and wiping down the living room and hallway. The house smelled like fresh pine sol with a small hint of the fresh tobacco he burned.

Harry decided to freshen up and take a shower, he knew he would feel better once his sacrifice of blood was washed away. He knew his doll wasn’t as appreciative and grateful of him as she should be. But she’ll understand sooner or later, she needs him.

Standing in the boiling hot water, he turned it up even more to make sure he could feel his skin burning. It was the only way he could really feel something.

Washing away his blood, sweat and anger. He cleansed his body and scrubbed at his skin until his entire body turned a dark shade of pink.

He wanted to be squeaky clean when she woke up. He wanted to be prepared.

Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped himself in a towel and headed into his room to change.

Everything in his room was of Y/n. The sheets, the ones that she gave away once she graduated. The curtains, donated by her mother, the dresser, built by her father’s company, the lamps, gift of her grandmother’s.

Everything had to remind him of her. Let alone be a piece of her.

His clothes were neatly organized alphabetically and by color. He could have it no other way. One mistake and he’d rip the drawer apart and smash his fists into it until his fingers were soaked with blood.

He changed into a black t-shirt and shorts with black socks of course to match before heading into Y/n’s room.

He knew she would be sedated for a while, but he didn’t mind. He liked watching her sleep.

And that’s what he intended to do.

He made himself comfortable in the rocking chair as he began to sing

Hush little baby don’t say a word

Harry’s gonna make sure your

screams aren’t heard

Her body ached.

Her throat was sore, her head was spinning and she just wanted to take a minute to breathe.

“Glad to see you’re up doll.” Harry spoke from his seated position in the rocking chair. “ You’ve been out for 15 hours, 36 minutes and…” he checked his watch “22 seconds” He grinned. “ But it’s okay, i’ve kept you company this whole time.”

He slowly walked over to her and admire her stiff yet limp figure. “ You’re gorgeous when you aren’t putting up a fight or screaming at me.” He beamed as he moved a strand of hair away from her face. She flinched but it didn’t feel like her body was moving at all.

She tried to move her limbs and torso yet failed.

“S’alright love. No need to panic. Doped you up so good only those pretty little lips of yours can move when they’re wrapped around my cock.” He grinned.

“Let me go.” She spit as she tried to break free, but of course she ultimately failed. After several attempts of huffing and puffing she gave up.

“I wanna go home.” She pleased. “Please I’ll do anything.”

“Silly girl.” He cooed with a smirk. “You are home. This is Harry’s house. But now it’s your home too.” She sighed and gave up momentarily.

That’s not the answer she wanted to hear.

“I love when you submit to me.” He whispered in her ear as he stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. “You should know by now that you’re fine, and only mine. I promised I would take care of you and I can guarantee you as long as you obey me i’ll keep that promise.”

“I don’t care what your promises are, I just want to go home.”

His hand reached for her throat before he could even think, the air knocked out of her lungs within seconds.

“You know i’m getting real fucking tired of this attitude you have all of a sudden. I cook for you, I clean, I give you a free place to stay. And I sure as hell can make that pussy cum quicker than you or anybody else can.” He spit on her face and rubbed it in, causing her to whimper.

“I could’ve killed you like the others. But no, I’ve been nothing but nice to you. Talk back to me like that again and I’ll have you butchered and shipped to your parents doorstep.”

He shook her body with force, not knowing how strong he really is when he gets like this. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head due to lack of oxygen but he let her go before she could fully pass out.

“You’re pathetic. You should be used to be choking you by now.” He sighed as he began to pace. His back turned to her as he started mumbling hysterics.

“I just don’t understand it. You went from being scared, to being a cock-hungry whore that loved me. To being a bitch and trying to break my heart and leave.”

He turned and looked at her “Why’d you do it? Why’d you try and run from me? Do you want different snacks? Clothes? Soap?”

She didn’t know how to respond.

“I’ve given you everything! Everything you need, yet you still try and run away from my love.”

Her head was spinning. She’s seen this side of Harry so many times. He goes through so many episodes a day she can’t keep count. But this time, she felt some remorse.

“I thought you loved me.” He whispered softly, his eyes began to sadden at the thought of finally finding someone who might give him a chance.

But he was wrong.

But Harry doesn’t take no for an answer.

“I would sing you to sleep.” He laid beside her and started to stroke her hair. “ We’d talk about our future together, make love, and cuddle whenever i was home.”

Tears fell from his eyes as he continued. “I just don’t understand why you would want to leave me.”

Muffled sobs left his body as he covered his hands with his face, ashamed of himself for showing any type of emotion.

“But it’s okay.” He sniffled.

“If you try to pull that shit again, I’ll just kill you.”

He smiled brightly and continue playing with her hair, as if he didn’t just have a breakdown two seconds ago. “ I love you.” He pressed a small kiss to her cheek. “I hope you know that. Harry loves you.” He continued mumbling to himself as he played with her fingers.

“Miss the way you used to beg for m’cock. You’d kneel at the door when it was locked until I came home. Just waiting for me to touch you.”

His words were music to her ears. She knew he meant well, he just wanted someone to love. Someone to cherish in the best way possible.

He was scary at times, referred to himself in third person and could be a bit vicious when things didn’t necessarily go his way. But she knew deep down he was a good person who just wanted someone to rely on.

Someone who wouldn’t leave him.

“You love me right?” He looked at her with pleading eyes. “Tell me you love me.” He begged. “Tell me how much you love me.”

She didn’t know how to respond. Did she really love him? Or was this all apart of his sick and twisted game.

“Tell me!” He shouted as his fists balled together. “Say how much you love Harry.” His hand reached up and grabbed her throat with force. “Tell Harry you love him.”

“Y-yes. I love Harry.” She choked out, his grip on her neck was a bit tight, but she was slightly used to it. If you didn’t answer harry quickly things would end badly.

“Good. You’re never gonna leave Harry right?” He needed her to stay. He wanted this to last.

“I promise I’ll never leave Harry.” She sobbed. She just wanted to go home, to be in the comfort of her parents and friends. But obviously that wasn’t going to happen. She questioned if anyone tried to look for her, but with how busy her parents are she doubt they even noticed. They barely noticed her presence when she was home.

“I love you. I’m always gonna love you. Harry promises to take care of you.” He whispered in her ear as he placed kisses on her neck. “You belong to Harry.”

“l belong to Harry.” she repeated. She knew her only option was to give in or he would go bat shit crazy.

“Good girl.” He pressed his lips to hers in a soft manner, she was reluctant at first but gave in when he opened his eyes and saw that her were still open.

“You don’t love me, do you?” He huffed. “You promised. You fucking promised you love me. You promised Harry you would never leave.” He was getting angrier by the second.

“I’m sorry, I promise i love you. I just can’t move, remember?” She just wanted to make this as easy as possible.

“Oh yeah, silly Harry.” He chuckled before resuming his little make out session he started. Cupping her face, he lifted it a bit and traced his tongue on her lips before forcefully pushing it in and taking dominance.

“Harry loves you.” He whispered against her lips before trailing his hands down her body. “All of you.”

A small whimper escaped her lips causing him to grin.

“You like it when i touch you right? Like it when Harry gives you what you need. Practically almost fell off m’cock the last time you were riding it. Felt so good, wish I could give you Harry’s babies.” He moaned as he removed her shorts and panties.

“Let’s fix this. Harry doesn’t like when you’re not wet. Makes Harry sad.” He situated himself beneath her cunt. “I love how I can control your body.” He deeply inhaled her scent before indulging himself in her core, feasting as if this was his last meal.

“You taste so sweet. Harry loves how you taste.” He moaned as he teased her sensitive clit. She shouldn’t be enjoying this.

But she was.

“You’re such a good girl for Harry. Just melting on his tongue.” She couldn’t help the moans that escaped her lips. She knew Harry would have another fit if she didn’t, but it just felt so good she couldn’t control herself.

“That’s a good girl. Harry likes hearing you moan.” His tongue made sure to leave nothing untouched, diving into her melting core and licking up every substance that dripped from her cunt.

“You make Harry’s cock hard.” He muffled as he continued to gather her sweet nectar. His chin was dripping but he didn’t mind, he would lap that up later.

“Fuck” he grunted before sitting himself up and removing his shorts. “Harry needs you right now.” He wiped his hands on his face and licked her nectar off his fingers before slapping his cock on her clit a few times. “You feel so good” He slid the head of his cock between her lips, throwing his head back in ecstasy as he collected her wetness. “Harry loves how you feel. And you’re all his.” He captured his lips in her as he slid into her entrance with ease, moans escaping their lips.

“You feel so good, so tight. Harry loves that.” He let himself enjoy the feeling before thrusting deeper. He wanted her to enjoy this.

“Y’like that? Like how good Harry’s cock makes you feel?” He pressed several kisses on her neck. “Tell Harry how good he makes you feel.” The tip of his cock grazed her g-spot sending shivers down her spine, tears brimmed her eyes as her stomach began to bubble.

“Harry makes me feel so good. So so good. Thank you Harry.”

“That’s it. Cum for Harry, you know you want to.” He held her throat a bit tight to cut off her flow as she quickened his thrusts, his cock grazing her sweet spot every time. He reached down with his other hand and thumbed at her clit, quickening his pace as he was getting closer to his orgasm.

Before she knew it, her eyes were rolling in the back of her head and even though her body was numbed she was slightly shaking. Harry always knew how to make her cum hard.

A scream left her throat as Harry milked her orgasm before shooting his load into her, thrusting a bit harder to make sure it was deep inside her cervix. That’s where he wanted it to be.

“I made you cum that hard and you don’t even know how to say thank you? Ungrateful bitch!” He sent a harsh smack to her face, releasing a sob out of her.

“Thank you Harry. Thank you for making me feel good.” She sobbed. She just wanted this all to be a dream, but sadly it wasn’t.

“That’s more like it. I’ve taught you manners, you need to respect Harry. Especially when he takes care of you.” He huffed as he pulled out of her.

Some of his cum started to leak out so he fingered it back into her, causing a squeal to erupt in her throat.

“Hush up, Harry’s making sure that it stays in there.” Grabbing the side towel and water bowl, he dampened it and cleaned her up. “There we go.” He whispered to himself. “All nice and clean.” He threw the damp towel in the hamper before laying down in the bed. He made himself comfortable and snuggled into her side, pressing small kisses on her body.

“Harry loves you.”He whispered in a soft voice.

“Let’s get some rest for a few minutes, then I’ll make us some lunch. Your body will feel better when you wake up.”

He tucked her in with the blanket before starting to sing.

“Hush little baby don’t say a word

Harry’s gonna make sure your

screams aren’t heard.”

this took so long to finish bc the second part didn’t save 😭😭😭. but thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!! for reading this!!!

If you would like to be tagged in the future just comment below!

I’m tagging these people because they replied to wanting to see more of this!

TAGLIST :

@gurugirl

@tpwksarahhhh

@lukeswhinyvocals

@rebellbelle

@nellylayhoohoo

Thank you again for reading! I hope you enjoyed this piece. I might make the story of how psycho!harry originated and the kidnapping as well as the good and bad days with harry. lmk what you think!!

[tiredatiny]

Beautiful Flower

Pairing : Mark Lee x male reader

Genre : angst, college au

Warnings : a quick mention of MarkHyuck, death, swearing, throwing up, arguing

Summary : Mark has been avoiding falling in love because of the Hanahaki disease. Little does he know that the fear of his will be the reason for someone’s death.

To say that Mark was afraid of the oh so infamous Hanahaki disease, would be an understatement. He was terrified of it, to the point where falling in love was like a death penalty to the boy. So every time Mark started crushing on someone he tried avoiding the person like they were carrying the deadliest disease known to man. And the technique has been working so far…

“Hellooo?? Mark you still here?” You waved your hand in front of Mark’s face to get his attention back to whatever you were talking about. “Huh?”

“We were taking about you and Haechan. Like are you coughing up flower petals yet or what?” A chuckle could be heard from you. “Nah, I think my feelings went away pretty quickly” Mark replied back. You sighed in relief “well that’s awesome because to be honest, he had some major red flags-“

“Who are we talking about?” Johnny jumped into the conversation out of nowhere, cutting you off mid-sentence. You hated how easily he could sneak up to you and you wouldn’t notice a thing before it was too late. That man will give you a heart attack someday..

“Dude where the hell have you been? Me and y/n have been looking for you” Mark tried changing the subject. “Outer space” Johnny laughed and sat down. When no one was laughing at his ‘joke’ he obviously felt a bit embarrassed. “..I was in physics class. I would’ve been here sooner if Mr. Kim learned how to end lessons on time.” “Anyways who were you guys talking about earlier? I swear if you’re shit-talking without me..” even with the older’s jokey tone, you could feel Mark tense up a little bit. Clearly the current subject was not something he wanted to really talk about. “No one” you and Mark said in unison. Not suspicious at all.

-

You were woken up by an uncomfortable feeling in your throat. You climbed out of bed and went to get a glass of water to help your itchy sensation but it ended up making things even worse. You couldn’t empty the glass, when you suddenly started coughing like something was stuck in your windpipes. When you felt like you could breath normally again, you saw something on the floor.

It was a single rose petal.

-

The next days you spent in your own thoughts. You had Hanahaki disease? That’s impossible. You didn’t have a crush on anyone.. right? Like yeah there were attractive people on campus and you wouldn’t mind dating some of them but falling in love..

“What’s with the look y/n? Something wrong?” Johnny’s cheerful yet worried question startled you from your pondering. “No I’m just..” you were thinking about telling your friend the truth but then again you didn’t want him to start worrying. “I think I’m gonna catch a cold. This sore throat hurts so bad.” God you’re such a good liar. “Yeah well that’s what you get for playing football in the rain” Johnny chuckled when remembering the event. You were soaked from head to toe and yet you still stayed on the field. And the funniest part was that your team didn’t even win that day.

You let out a laugh seeing Mark in the distance waving to both of you. Oh gosh how stupid he looked.. but he looked stupid in a cute way. “Guess what Mark?” Johnny asked the younger as soon as he sat down to the table. Mark didn’t have time to react when Johnny continued “Y/n is finally getting that “playing football in the rain” cold!” Mark’s expression went from laughing to concerned quickly. “Are you feeling okay? Do you want me to make you tea later when classes end? Or maybe I can get you some medicine from the store-“ His voice became distant as you felt a warm feeling in your heart. You were happy about the fact that he was so worried about you “getting a cold”. You smiled, a slightly pinkish blush making its way to your cheeks.

Then the realisation hit you like a truck. You were in love with Mark.

-

You spent the next two weeks in your dorm room faking a cold, not only because of Mark but also because of your health. Your condition was getting worse day by day, at the beginning you were coughing up single petals maybe twice a day but it quickly ended up with you throwing up whole flowers. You had been thinking about confessing but quickly realised Mark’s relationship with Hanahaki was.. well. He didn’t have crushes at least for long and he hadn’t been together with anyone ever.

But you couldn’t avoid your friends forever so when you did start attending classes again, you had a lot of explaining to do.

“I mean who’s sick for two weeks straight?? You just skipped lessons because you had the chance right?” Johnny tried reasoning “and poor Mark thought you died.. you didn’t even answer the door when he tried checking on you!” Yeah it was a shitty thing to do, but you didn’t want him- No anyone to see you in such a bad shape. “I just wasn’t feeling.. uumm well” your answer technically wasn’t a lie. “You should tell Mark that- Oh there he is” Johnny spotted the latter looking for you both “Mark over here!!”

You saw how Mark began smiling after seeing you with Johnny. “Y/n! Dude I seriously thought the cold had gotten you!” He rushed to the table and sat down next to you. It was getting difficult to breath as you felt something in your throat. “I-I’m sorry but I have to..” you muttered before dashing out of the cafeteria, leaving Mark and Johnny with confused expressions. The older quickly sat up, ready to run after you “wait here okay? I’ll talk to him and figure out what’s going on.”

You barely managed to make it to the bathroom before you started throwing up petals and blood. It hurt so much. It wasn’t long before you heard the door open “y/n, you in here?” Why couldn’t he leave you alone? You were already having a hard time hiding everything and they had to just make it more difficult. “Just leave me.. leave me alone pleas-“ you couldn’t finish the sentence when you felt more petals in your mouth. “I wanna know what’s going on with you? First you ignore us for two weeks and.. I’m worried okay?” Johnny tried opening the door but quickly stopped when he heard you throwing up. After a moment of silence, you opened the stall door without looking at your friend. “I’m fine Johnny.”

“No you’re not. Y/n don’t shut me out, talk to me!”

“I’m not shutting you out!” You replied, ready to leave but Johnny grabbed your hand, making it very difficult for you to do so. “Let go of me!” You were now yelling, not caring if someone heard. “Not before you tell me the truth! I need to know-“

“You don’t need to know anything!” You cut him off immediately realising how mean that sounded. “You’re a piece of shit y/n, you know that?” Johnny’s grip on you was getting tighter “you.. you expect me to be fine with how you’re treating this friend group huh?? You think I’m fine.. Mark’s fine with you ignoring us?!” You stayed quiet as he yelled insults left and right. “Okay you don’t have to tell us what’s going on, but don’t expect either of us to take you back with a warm welcome! We’ll be sure to give you the same treatment as you did-“

“Johnny I’m fucking dying!”

“What?”

“I have hanahaki okay? You feeling better now??” You bit your lip to not start full on crying. Johnny let go of your hand and pulled you to a hug. No one said anything for a moment maybe because there wasn’t anything to say. Maybe you were too afraid to say anything.

“So uumm.. who’s the you know? Your crush?” Johnny started feeling bad about the fact that he had been yelling at you “like you could try confessing to her or him.. or them?” You let out a dry chuckle “No way in hell. I’ll save him from having to blame himself for my death. Besides he won’t love me back, trust me.”

Johnny couldn’t believe what he was hearing. You just accepted your faith? “Cmon we have to try please. I can’t lose you” he was now desperate “or you can get that surgery if you won’t confess right?” You shook your head in defeat, there really was nothing you could do even if you did get the surgery, the procedure was always risky. 

“At least tell me who it is?”

“I guess there isn’t any harm in telling.. It’s M-“

At that moment the restroom door swung open and there stood a panting Mark. “I-I know you said to wait and all but it took you guys so long that I just.. I couldn’t just sit there.”

Johnny obviously waited for you to finish your sentence but you just silently went past Mark and left the two of them alone again without an explanation.

-

You had later texted Johnny to not tell anyone about your condition and if anyone were to ask about where you were, he would act like he didn’t know either. A shitty thing to do to a friend, you knew.

You stopped attending classes and just stayed in your room waiting for it all to end. Mark and Johnny came knocking on your door everyday, trying to just talk to you. And everyday you wanted to get out of bed and open the door, let them know that you’re still breathing.

“Y/n, it’s me again” Mark knocked on your door one evening, not expecting an answer. He sat down leaning on the door with a sigh “I know something’s like super wrong with you.. your health I mean” he quickly corrected. You listened to him talking about his day and slowly you made your way to the door. Just as you were about open the door you felt this immense pain in your lungs that made your knees buckle. Mark heard you falling to the floor with a loud thud, followed by a sob.

“Y/n?? Is everything okay?” Mark tried opening the door but as expected, it didn’t magically unlock. “Y-yeah..” you got up weakly and leaned on the wooden door that was separating you two. There was a brief moment of silence before you continued: “I’m.. so sorry Mark.. I really am.”

Mark was visibly confused about what were you apologising for. Maybe the way you ignored both him and Johnny?

“It’s okay really. I mean yeah it wasn’t nice to get ghosted like that but you probably had a good reason for-“

“I’m not apologising for that.” You quickly cut him off before any misunderstandings could happen.

“Then what??”

You couldn’t give him the answer. Maybe because ‘I love you’ was not the answer.

[cutelittleleftoverghosts]

duvet chap. 2~ Joel Miller x fem!reader

masterlist~

prev. chap.~

word count~ 4.8k+ i got a little carried away...

warnings~ smut, mdni, 18+, blood, death, please lmk if i missed any!

and the smut's a bit much, sorry if it feels like it came out of nowhere!

And you know what they say might hurt you And you know that it means so much...

You could feel a sense of numbness overcoming your arm as you continue on, shaking it away you came to a stop in front of an empty truck, blood spattered on the ground in front of the open door. Frowning you slowly crept to the other side, seeing the empty seats, but more blood.

Your hand lingered on the door before looking over your shoulder to look at the others, "So," you trail off as you wipe the blood from your fingertips on your jeans.

Sighing Tess walks to the doors and throws them open, "I mean there's gotta be a fuckin' radio or something here, right?" she says as she tears into the cases laying on the tables.

"Who killed them, FEDRA?" Ellie asks as Joel kicks over a body.

"No, one of them got bit. The healthy ones fought the sick ones. Everyone lost."

You grasp your arm as the pain intensifies, Ellie giving you a concerned look as she sits down next to you, "You okay?"

She asks as she nods to your shoulder, you give her a tight smile, "Fine, I think I got cut by that glass though."

She reaches out to your sleeve, but you pull away, as Tess continues searching through the empty boxes.

"Tess, what are you doin'?"

"Where did Marlene say she was takin' you?" Tess asks as she stops in front of Ellie.

"Uh, I don't know. Just west," Ellie stutters as she stands.

"Just west, fuck okay," Tess says under her breath as she paces, "Well, I mean, one of them's gotta have a map on them, right?"

Standing, you grip the box with a shaking hand as you hobble over to the others. You can already feel the stitches of your wound pulling apart, and warm blood cascading down your abdomen.

"Joel, can ya help me?"

"No! Tess, it's over. We are going home," Joel says as he approaches her.

"That's not my fucking home!" she screams at him as she sighs and stands.

"I'm stayin'. I mean, our luck had to run out sooner or later," she says as Ellie exclaims, "Fuck."

You feel a sense of dread as the realization hits you, Tess was infected. Like you are.

Joel's head snaps to Ellie as she whispers, "She's infected."

He looks back to Tess as her eyes land on the floor, "Show me."

"Joel," she says, her voice low as she takes a step towards him, but he flinches and takes a step back.

Shaking her head she pulls her jacket and shirt back to reveal the bite mark on her neck, it's color red and you can already see the Cordyceps beginning to spread.

"Oops right?" she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm as you put pressure on your arm.

"Take your bandage off," she says as she nods to Ellie.

Pulling up her sleeve she yanks it off, "Look, Joel," she says walking over and grasping her arm, "This is real. Joel, she's fucking real. I need you to get her to Bill and Frank's."

"No," he repeats, his voice shaky as he shakes his head.

"They'll take her off your hands," Tess pleads.

"No, no, no, I can't. They won't take her, they're not gonna take her!"

Her voice is stern as she speaks, "Yes they will. They will because you'll convince them."

Shaking her head she continues, "I never ask you for anything, not to feel the way I felt," he keeps murmuring no as she whisper shouts at him, "Shut the fuck up because I don't have time. This is your chance. You get her there. You keep her alive. And you set everything right. All the shit we did. Please say yes Joel, please," she pleads as he continues to shake his head no.

"Oh fuck!" Ellie shouts as you hear grumbling behind you.

Turning you see the infected laying on the floor, starting to crawl toward you. But before it can sink its teeth into your ankle Joel raises his pistol and shoots it.

And that's when you hear it, the sound of the others beginning to move. You feel your heart race at the sound of them running to the building as Joel runs to the door to look outside.

"How many?" Tess asks.

"All of them. Maybe a minute."

Tess grabs her gun and starts knocking over the gas containers in the room, and then looks to Joel, "Save who you can save," her voice is soft as he grabs both Ellie and your arms and starts to drag you away.

"No! We're not leaving her! Get off me you fucker!" Ellie protests as you can feel your vision start to blur.

"I'm not going with you!" she screams, and that's the last thing you hear as you fall forward.

Joel's hands shook as he lifted your small frame into his arms. He could feel the weight of your body and the heat emanating from your feverish skin.

It felt as if an eternity had passed when you were finally far away enough from Boston to stop for a moment. Gently laying your body down Joel grabbed your wrist, searching for a pulse, but his hands were shaking too much to find much of one before Ellie pushed him away.

Joel's heart was pounding in his chest as he watched Ellie kneel down beside you. He knew that he had to stay calm and collected for both of your sakes, but seeing you so weak and helpless made him feel utterly helpless.

But he quickly pushed the thoughts away and lifted your shirt, the wound open again, blood pooling on your waist and spilling to the ground staining it. Ellie grabbed the tattered first aid kit and started cleaning your wound, looking to Joel, "Hand me that bottle-"

He cut her off by standing and grabbing her arm, "We need to go, we can't stay here."

She looked up at Joel, her face betraying her worry and confusion.

"But what about her? We can't just leave her here like this," she protested.

Joel's jaw clenched as he looked down at you, his heart aching at the sight of your pale, fragile body. He knew that Ellie was right, they couldn't just abandon you, but they also couldn't afford to stay for too long. He needed to get her to Bill and Frank's, and then figure out what to do after that.

"We can't bring her-"

Wrenching her hand out of his she glared at him, "So you're just going to leave her like you left Tess?"

His breath caught at the mention of her name and he could feel his anger rising, "Don't you dare bring Tess into this," he growled, his grip on Ellie's arm tightening, "We can't risk staying here any longer. It's not safe."

Ellie shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "We can't just leave her, Joel. She needs help."

Joel could feel his resolve weakening as he looked between Ellie and you. He knew that she was right, but he couldn't let his emotions cloud his judgment.

He shook his head, "No, we're not taking her."

Ellie's face contorted with anger and frustration. "Then what are we going to do? Just leave her to die?"

Ellie's face fell, and she pulled her arm away from Joel's grip. "Fine, I'll stay with her. I'm not going to let her die like you did Tess!" she screams.

"No, I'm not leaving you here," his voice was stern as he reached to grab her arm again but she whipped out her knife and held it tightly in front of her.

"Stay back, Joel. I'm serious," Ellie's voice was low and menacing, her eyes flashing with anger.

Joel held up his hands in surrender, taking a step back. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he said, his voice calm and even.

"Let's just take a moment to think this through. We can't stay here, but we also can't leave her. There has to be another way."

Ellie lowered her knife slightly, but she still looked wary. "What are you thinking then?"

Joel's mind was racing, trying to come up with a plan. He knew they couldn't risk staying in one place for too long, but leaving you behind wasn't an option either. You'd be dead in a second.

"I'll carry her then," he says his voice strained, "We'll have to move quickly and find a safe place to rest. Once we get to Bill and Frank's, we'll figure out our next move from there."

Ellie nodded, still looking unsure, but she knew they didn't have any other options. Together, they carefully lifted you up, and Joel began to carry you, his arms trembling with the effort. Ellie walked beside him, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings.

The first thing you see when you wake is a white ceiling, and you sit up, your head still spinning as you throw a blanket off. Standing you grab onto the bed frame, trying to steady yourself as you take in your surroundings. You're in a small room with a window overlooking a green yard, a metal fence surrounding the other buildings in the distance. The wallpaper is old and a bit faded, but not like the places in the QZ, or back home. They aren't peeling off in strips or dripping with water.

Feeling someone's eyes on you, you turn and see Ellie standing in the door her eyes concerned as she steps in and closes the door behind her, taking a deep breath.

"I know," is all she says as you feel your blood run cold.

Shaking your head you collapse back on the bed, and raise your sleeve, a bandage now wrapped tightly around it. Your hand drops to your side as your eyes meet.

"Does-"

She cuts you off, "No. But take off the bandage," her voice is distant as you slowly unravel it and look in confusion.

The skin once red and blood stained, with Cordyceps spreading down your shoulder is now completely clear and free of any blemish. Unlike how Ellie's bite left her with a scar.

"How," you ask and then pause, biting your lip and clearing your throat.

She shrugs and tosses you something, looking down you find an apple, and thank her, and set it down on the nightstand beside you, "Where are we?"

"Bill and Frank's, but, they're, you know," she says as she stands and opens the door, motioning for you to join her.

You carefully walk to the door, not wanting to rip your stitches when you hear her whisper, "It healed too by the way," as she crept down the stairs.

The stairs creak under your feet as your hand grasps the banister tightly. Hearing someone clear their throat you feel yours tighten when you see Joel standing by the door, three packed bags tossed in front of him.

You wave weakly and look around, noticing the piano in the other room, smiling you walk over and sit down, running your fingers over the keys as you feel a presence behind you. Ignoring it you start to play, humming along as the music fills the room.

Joel watches you for a moment, his expression softening as he listens to the melody. "You know, you're not bad," he comments, causing you to falter.

"Thanks," you reply, continuing to play. The music is soothing, and for a moment, you forget about the chaos of the world outside.

Picking up one of the bags you walk with them to the garage, and toss it in the back seat.

As you get into the car, you turn to Joel, "So how long was I out for?"

Joel starts the engine and backs out of the garage, "Three days. Ellie's been taking care of you."

You nod, feeling a bit disoriented at the thought of losing three days. "Thanks for waiting for me," you say, and he nods, silent as you head through the town and stop at the metal gate.

It doesn't take long before you're stopped at an abandoned gas station, the yellow and red paint faded, and the door creaks as you open it and head straight to the restroom.

A hole in the ceiling illuminates the otherwise dark room as you look into the mirror, and pull back your shirt sleeve. Running your hand over the now smooth and bite free skin you hear the click of a gun.

"Where did you get that?" you ask quietly when you the gun in Ellie's hand.

"Before we left," she responds before tucking it back into her bag and looking at you, her eyes pinned on the floor, "I won't tell, you know."

Glancing over at her you push your hair out of your face, "Tell?"

Nodding to the door, you frown, "But, I think you should talk to Marlene when we get to wherever the lab is. You could be like me, maybe," she says before leaving.

You shake your head, you'd be long gone before you ever got to Marlene, you think to yourself as you walk outside, the sun blinding as you stop next to Joel.

"We have to do this every hour?" Ellie asks as Joel starts to siphon gas from a rusty moss covered red car.

"Gas breaks down over time, this stuff's almost water," he says as he ties a cloth around the siphon.

"Back in the day, we'd drive ten, twelve hours on one tank. You could go anywhere."

"So where'd you go?" Ellie asks as you shift nervously on your feet.

"Pretty much nowhere," he responds as he starts siphoning the gas from the car.

"Nice how does that work?" Ellie asks as she leans forward.

"It's a siphon. It's when liquid travels against gravity, because pressure-"

"You don't know," she cuts him off.

"I know it works," he snaps as she laughs.

You bite back a smile before you speak, "You were right," you say as you cross your arms over your chest and lean against the car.

Joel looks from you to Ellie, and says a quick, "No wandering!" as she stops before looking back to the siphon.

"About?"

You shrug your shoulders and feel a frown forming on your face, "The siphon. I would know," you pause before walking back to the truck.

Ellie looks back at you before reaching into her bag, "It doesn't matter how much you push the envelope, it'll still be stationary," she laughs.

You can hear Ellie laughing from the truck, but instead try to focus on the piece of crumpled up paper in your palm, mocking you. You unfold it carefully as if it'll disintegrate in your hands, revealing the address to the lab where Ellie needs to go. You almost feel sick as your fingers run over the familiar handwriting, and you tuck it back into your pocket as you hear their voices approaching.

"What did the mermaid were to her math class?"

There's a pause before Ellie answers the joke, "An algae bra!"

Wiping a stray tear from your face you open the back door of the truck and slide in, careful not to make eye contact as you stare out at the road, covered with rusty and abandoned cars.

"Must've been some truck," Ellie says as she leans back to look in the back window of the truck.

You tune out of the conversation as Joel drives forward, and Ellie suddenly fishes a cassette from under the seats, "This make you nostalgic?"

He shakes his head as the music starts to play, "No this is actually before my time. It's a winner though."

You feel your eyes close as the music fills the truck, the gentle rhythm lulling you into a sense of calm when Ellie reaches over you and digs an old magazine from under the seat in front of you.

"Got something else," your eyes snap open and you shoot her a dazed look as she starts to flip through the pages.

"What is that?" you ask as she flips through it and Joel starts to shake his head.

"It's uh, light on the reading, but it has some interesting pictures," she says as you catch a glimpse.

"No, no, no, put that back," Joel says his voice firm as he looks in the rearview at Ellie.

You sigh and rest your head back on the door, "I'm going to bed," and shut your eyes as Joel pleads with her to put it back.

A hand shakes your shoulder and you jump, raising your knife you go to stab at the arm grabbing you, but a hand grips your wrist.

"It's me," Ellie says, her voice low and urgent. "Put the knife away, it's just me."

You relax your grip on the knife and let it drop to your side. "What's going on?" you ask, your heart still pounding in your chest.

"We need to talk," she says, her expression serious.

You nod, still feeling a little nervous. You step out of the truck and follow her to some sleeping bags on the ground, when a hand grips your shoulder, spinning you around.

"Shoe me your wound," he says his voice gruff and insistent.

"Let her go Joel," Ellie says as she tries to step in between the two of you, but fails as he grabs you by your collar.

You feel a surge of panic rising in your chest as Joel tightens his grip on your collar. You can feel his breath on your face, hot and heavy.

"No, I-" you start but he slaps her hand away and reaches for the hem of your shirt before you push him back.

"Joel," Ellie pleads, meeting his gaze.

But he ignores her and yanks the fabric upward, his face twisting into a scowl, as he drops it and reaches for his gun, "It shouldn't have healed that fast, there isn't even a scar."

He drops your shoulder, hearing a click from behind, "Let her go," Ellie says, her voice quiet as he steps back.

You breathe a sigh of relief and collapse onto one of the sleeping bags, sweat trickling down your brow as Joel sits across from you, and Ellie puts her gun back in her bag.

"What's going on?" you ask, wiping the sweat from your forehead.

Joel looks at you, his eyes are still intense. "We need to know how you healed so quickly," he says.

"It's not normal."

Ellie shifts on her feet before sitting next to you on her own sleeping bag. Joel picks up on the tension and turns to her, "You knew," his voice is accusatory.

Ellie meets his gaze steadily. "I didn't say anything," she says, "Because I knew how you were going to act."

Joel grunts, his gaze flickering back to you. "You need to tell me everything," he says, his tone permitting no argument.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. "I don't know what to tell you," you say. "This has never happened before."

Joel snorts. "You're lying," he says.

You shrug, feeling helpless. "I'm not I," you trail off, remembering Marlene's words before you left.

But the only word that leaves your mouth is her name, "Marlene."

"You know Marlene?" Ellie asks as she sits up, her eyes confused.

"Yeah, kind of."

You take a deep breath before speaking, "She said something about me being immune," you say, still unsure of what it all means. "But I left before I could find out anything else."

Joel leans forward, his eyes narrowing. "No," he says, shaking his head.

"You're lying again. You knew this whole time and you didn't say anything?"

You shake your head, feeling overwhelmed by the accusations. "I swear, I didn't know until after-"

"After what?" Joel demands.

"After I got bit at the museum," you say, feeling like you're walking on thin ice.

His face contorts in anger, "You were bit?"

You nod, feeling the weight of his disappointment and anger, "And you knew," he looks to Ellie.

She shrugs before speaking, "I found out when I saw her wound, back at Bill and Frank's," she crosses her arms as your hands clench into fists at your sides, "and hey, she hasn't turned... yet."

Joel's eyes flicker back to you, his expression unreadable as he curses under his breath.

You feel a knot forming in your stomach as you wait for Joel's next move. The tension in the air is palpable and you can feel Ellie's eyes on you.

"So, she'll come with me when we get to the lab," she says, breaking the silence.

Joel nods slowly, his gaze still fixed on you. "Fine," he says, his voice low as he walks off, the trees swaying in the wind behind him.

Ellie watches him go before turning to you, "I'm sorry," she says, her voice soft.

You shake your head, "It's not your fault," you say, "I just didn't want him to know."

Ellie nods, "I get it," she says, "But we kinda have to figure out what's going on with you."

You nod, feeling a sense of determination settle over you. "Yeah," you say, "I guess so."

The guilt gnaws at you, knowing exactly what's awaiting you at the lab, and what you left behind.

Your attempts at sleep are interrupted by the constant chatter of your thoughts, replaying the events of the past week over and over again. You feel a sense of unease, and sorrow when you picture the eyes of-

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear a twig snap, causing you to jolt upright. You reach for your knife, heart pounding in your chest, as you try to determine the source of the noise.

Sighing in relief you watch as a squirrel tilts its head at you and scurries off into the brush, and then you remember how Joel had stormed off earlier and glance over at his still empty sleeping bag. Standing you make your way through the trees in search of him.

Your hands gripped the bark of a tree as you leaned forward, spotting Joel's silhouette in the distance. You hesitate for a moment before walking towards him, the leaves crunching beneath your feet.

As you approach, you notice the way his shoulders are tense, his back facing you. You take a deep breath before speaking, "Joel?"

He doesn't turn around, but you can feel his eyes on you. "What do you want?" he asks, his voice cold.

"I wanted to talk," you say carefully, taking a step closer.

"There's nothing to talk about," he says, his tone final.

You clench your jaw, feeling the frustration and anger bubble up inside of you. "Don't you think I'm scared too?" you say, your voice rising.

Joel finally turns around, his eyes meeting yours. "I know you're scared," he says, "But that doesn't excuse keeping this from me."

"I didn't want you to treat me differently," you say, "Or, leave me behind."

Joel shakes his head, "I wouldn't leave you behind," he says, "But you should have told me."

"I know," you say, your voice small.

There's a long pause before Joel speaks again, his voice softer this time. "I'm sorry I blew up at you," he says, "I just... I don't want to lose you."

You feel a lump form in your throat at his words, "I don't want to lose you either," you say, stepping closer to him.

Joel hesitates for a moment before pulling you into a hug, the warmth of his body enveloping you. You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of your fears start to lift.

As Joel holds you, you feel his hands start to roam across your body. At first, it's just a gentle touch, a reassuring caress. But then his hands start to move with more purpose, exploring every inch of you.

Your heart starts to race as you realize what's happening, but you don't push him away. Instead, you let him take control, submitting to his touch. Joel's hands find their way to your breasts, his fingers squeezing them gently.

You let out a small moan, feeling a rush of desire wash over you. You reach up and pull him into a deep kiss, your tongues dancing together. Joel's hands move down to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you closer to him.

Without breaking the kiss, Joel starts to push you toward the ground. You land on your back, the leaves crunching beneath you. Joel hovers over you, his eyes dark with desire as he starts to kiss his way down your neck, his teeth gently nipping at your skin. You arch your back, wanting more of him, wanting him to take you. He reaches down and starts to undo your pants, sliding them down your legs. You're completely exposed now, and you feel a rush of vulnerability wash over you. But Joel is there, kissing you all over, reminding you that you're safe with him.

He spreads your legs and starts to kiss his way down your body, his tongue tracing patterns on your skin. You let out a gasp as he reaches your clit, his tongue licking and sucking at it. The pleasure is almost too much to bear, and you writhe beneath him, your fingers tangled in his hair. Joel's hands roam up your body, his fingers finding their way to your nipples. He squeezes them gently, sending waves of pleasure through you. You're on the edge now, your body trembling with need. Joel senses it and moves his mouth to your pussy, his tongue thrusting into you. You cry out, the sound muffled by the ground. His tongue is relentless, thrusting and licking until you can't take it anymore.

You fall apart in his arms, your body shaking and shivering as you come. Joel's hands are gentle on your body, stroking your hair and whispering how much he loves you. He pulls you into a deep kiss, letting you taste yourself on his lips. As you kiss him, you feel his cock against your thigh, hard and throbbing.

Joel breaks the kiss, his eyes never leaving yours as he positions himself above you. You nod, giving him the go ahead. He thrusts into you, filling you up and making you his. You gasp as he starts to move, his hips thrusting and his cock stroking every inch of you. You move your hips with him, letting out cries of pleasure. He's moving faster now, his cock pounding into you. The feeling is intense, but you're so close it doesn't matter. Your body tenses, your toes curling as you come. Joel lets out a groan as you tighten around his cock, his thrusts becoming erratic as he follows you over the edge.

When it's all over, you lie in Joel's arms, listening to the thunder in the distance. You're covered in a thin sheen of sweat now, but you feel warm and safe in his arms.

hello! thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed, please comment below if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

requests open!

just leave a comment, dm or ask! currently writing for the last of us hbo.

taglist~

@boofy1998

[some-pers0n]

Euthanasia

Fandom: TF2

Characters: Medic, Engineer

CW: Major character death

Summary: Ludwig didn't need to worry about death. It was so far away that he couldn't care about feeling the cold embrace of finality. Which was why Dell telling him that he was dying threw him so off guard.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: I'm sad now.

Right off the bat, this oneshot is inspired by one of @archiarthur's comics (this one) and it has rotted my mind entirely. I saw that they were okay with fanfic being made of their art (or that they'd be flattered about it) and I just...yeah. I'm very awkward and I'm sorry if I did something wrong I– uh... Here!! Old man yaoi!!

Death was a concept that Ludwig didn't care to think about. Despite being surrounded by death from his time as both a doctor and mercenary, the concept was too abstract for his liking. The idea that a being full of memories, thoughts, and general life could be wiped out in an instant was...uncanny to sum up in a single word. He grew used to the concept but never did that underlying sense of dread and existential horror truly disappear. 

He never gave too much credence to the thought of himself dying, at least permanently. He flirted with hell enough. If any of his organs were to start shutting down he'd merely replace them. He was a healthy enough man and had grafted enough souls in him to live more lifetimes than anybody needed to.

Ludwig didn't need to worry about death. It was so far away that he couldn't care about feeling the cold embrace of finality.

Which was why Dell telling him that he was dying threw him so off guard.

"You don't..." he lightly chuckled. "No, no. You're joking again, aren't you? Pulling my leg?"

Dell snickered. "Wish I was. But, I can feel it. Somethin's up. Don't know what. I just know my body's...breaking down. It's time."

"That can't be right. No, I– we did everything right. Got married, settled, been together for decades now... You can't go. Not after everything we've done."

"Life works that way, I guess. Everything's right and nice for a good couple of years before it all starts falling apart." Dell gave a lighthearted shrug.

"You're only in your eighties."

"Ain't that when most people start dying off though?" Dell cracked a smile. "It's sooner or later this was gonna happen."

Ludwig could only stare in disbelief. Part of him clung to the idea that this was some elaborate joke. Perhaps it was his mind slipping away and making him have vivid nightmares. Anything other than to face reality. To continue believing there would be another day he could spend with his love.

But, this was real. This old, aging man before him, his husband, was dying.

He couldn't help but look longingly at him. Only now did it settle in how much he's aged. He was seated in a wooden rocking chair, a patterned blanket covering his legs. He'd ditched the overalls a long while ago, now opting for cozy and warm cotton sweaters. His eyes were cloudy and he was wearing a pair of square glasses. His hair was little more than a couple of grey wisps. His beard was long and silvery. Despite it all, that look of kindness and passion remained within him.

Ludwig couldn't lose that. Not now, not never.

"I could fix whatever issue it is though!" he said. "It won't take too long. I haven't had a proper transplant in a while,  but I'm fairly certain that my skills–"

"That won't be necessary, doc," Dell replied. "I'm fine with dying."

Ludwig paused. "You're what?"

"I'm alright with dying. That's what I said, right?"

"But it's death. You'll be gone. I don't have access to all of my supplies and materials that are needed to revive a man-" He was cut off by Dell's wheezy laughter.

"Still don't get it?" he spoke through the snickers. "I'm good with passing. Forever. Finally being put to rest. No transplants. No resurrection. Just me going to the grave."

Ludwig furrowed his eyebrows. "No, no, no, that isn't right. You aren't supposed to go. Not now. Not ever. You're here, with me. You're always there."

"I mean, someday I'll hafta go, won't I?"

"But that's not– no!" Ludwig stood up. "You don't have to go. I– I can fix this. You aren't going to die. You won't. Don't you dare die on me. Ever." He crouched to Dell's level, resting his hands against his face. A myriad of emotions swirled within him. Denial, sadness, grief, false hope. He didn't even notice when tears began to stream down his face.

Dell sighed, his smile unwavering. "I know it's a lot. I'm sorry. But, it's what's gonna happen. You can try to swap out as many organs as you can. Replace my lungs. My heart. Hell, maybe you'd find some way to swap my brain out and keep me full here. That may delay the inevitable for a couple more years, but, we both know that my time's up."

"But I could–"

"Shh, it's okay." Dell raised his right hand, his Gunslinger, and brushed away some tears. "I'll have to die like everyone else. This machine, me, it'll fall apart and break eventually. You could try and fix it, keep it standing for as long as possible, but sooner or later it's gonna crumble."

He exhaled. "I know we were supposed to be gods together, but even gods have their time of rest." He grinned warmly.

Ludwig quivered. "...klar. If that's the way you want to go, I suppose that's how it'll go."

Dell yawned. "I know you wanna talk. There's a good chance I won't wake up tomorrow, but I can't stand to be up any longer. Sorry... I would if I could."

"Don't feel sorry! I'm happy enough you're able to tell me this now." He hugged Dell, wrapping his arms around him. "Would you like me to carry you to bed?"

"That'd be nice. Thank you, darlin'."

Ludwig scooped him up, supporting his back in one arm and holding up his legs in the other. He did it slowly and with care to not hurt Dell (although one wrong move and Ludwig very well may blow his back out doing this). His body was lighter than normal, yet still warm and comforting.

Ludwig carried him through the house, eventually ending up in their bedroom. He set him down on their king-sized bed, pulling the blankets over. He slipped his glasses off his face, placing them on the nightstand.

"Gettin' the royal treatment for dying now, aren't I?" he joked. "Though, thanks for doing this, doc. You don't need to."

"For you? I'd do anything. The least I can do is bring you to bed, mein Liebling." He took off his collared shirt and put on a plain white one. "Though, I do have one request."

"Fire away."

"May we...cuddle?"

"Is that even a question?" Dell said. "C'mon."

Ludwig slipped under the covers and rested his head against the pillow. He looked at his husband, a quiet sadness washing over him. Without hesitation, he threw his arms around him, bringing him close.

It was the nearest thing to a perfect moment. Dell was soft and snuggly. His skin was scratchy and rough, but beautifully comforting. He relaxed against him. He listened to the gentle thump of his heart. Life. Something that told him that he was still alive. He clung to that heartbeat, never wanting to lift his head.

Quietly, those tears returned once more. Slipped out of his eyes and raced down his face. His breath shook with anxiety and sadness.

Through it all, he felt Dell pat him on the back. "It's okay, darlin'. It's gonna be okay," he said. "I'm here with you."

"I love you..." Ludwig struggled to say. "I love you so, so much."

"I love you too. More than anything else. Don't forget that, alright?"

Ludwig sighed as he nestled himself closer to Dell. He didn't care if he seemed weak. He loved Dell. More than anybody else. Nowhere had he seen another man who cared about him– who understood him like Dell did. He found the only other man who was like him, and he didn't want to let go. Not yet. Not now.

But, the end has to come at some time, doesn't it? Sooner or later the story has to end. Gods move on and retire. Rest. They've worked hard and long for many years. They deserve to lie down and sleep, even if it was hard to say goodbye.

Ludwig didn't know when he finally dozed off, but it was a dreamless sleep. One moment he was silently sobbing into Dell. The next, the sun was peering through the blinds and his birds were chirping away.

He smacked his lips and rubbed his eyes. He turned over to Dell, seeing him laying on his back. He looked peaceful there. His face was relaxed, with the faint remnants of a smile on it. Deep in sleep.

Or, that's what he thought until he noticed that Dell's chest wasn't moving. It was still. In fact, he wasn't breathing at all.

Ludwig's heart dropped. He knew what happened. He didn't want to believe it.

"No, no..." he muttered. He inched closer, grabbing Dell's hand and holding his head. He was cold. Colder than any other body he'd felt before.

"Wake up," he pleaded, "aufwachen, bitte. Please, Dell... Don't leave me."

No response.

He was gone. There was no denying it. Ludwig couldn't begin to think of some excuse to deny this situation any further. No breathing. No sign that he was still kicking around.

He was dead. His true love passed away while he slept.

The tears returned once more with a vengeance. His breath was jagged and strained. Grief consumed him, sinking into his very soul. He couldn't think of anything else. All he could comprehend was one harrowing truth: his husband was dead.

He rested his head against Dell's chest. The absent heartbeat brought no comfort. Dell was dead. He would never see him alive again.

Death is natural, but that doesn't make the loss of the only one you ever loved any better, does it?

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Ain’t Gonna End Well

Blood circled the drain.

This time, it wasn’t someone else’s blood. Pinching her nose only proved that it came from her own nostrils.

Though Chloe Grant wanted to chalk this up to dry air, stress, or a whole host of other common things, she wondered if it wasn’t related to her experiencing reality itself warping around her. Changing around her with every alteration of the timeline.

There had to be side effects. Right?

Enshrouded in the heat and steam of her shower, she watched in stunned silence as the drips of blood mixed with water like a cloudy red mist on their way down the drain.

The doorbell rang. She cursed.

With a swipe of her hand, the water’s flow cut out and she pawed at a towel outside the spacious shower cabin.

The doorbell rang soon again, well before she had any realistic chance at getting dressed. Watery footprints marked her way out of the bathroom, and her wet hair would soon soak the back of her shirt.

Her pulse began to race. Not out of frustration or fury, but something else. Something that didn’t fit. A strange anxiousness, or even a creeping sense of dread—the same heart-pounding anticipation that had accompanied her upon her last crossing of time, the same uncertainty over what lay beyond an Anomaly. Like something else had wanted to cross over. Like it had always wanted to cross over and enter the past, or present, or future. And change whatever was supposed to come.

After a long and patient wait, the doorbell rang a third time.

Like destiny itself was knocking at her door.

By the time she had slipped into pants and a shirt, the doorbell hadn’t been rung again. As if the visitor had left already.

She paused in the hallway to the entrance. The floor was cold.

A shadow awaited outside the front door.

Her heart pounded.

When the doorbell rang a fourth time, she shuddered. Neared the door. Opened it.

A familiar motorcycle was parked in the driveway. A familiar, handsome face awaited outside—and her pulse began to calm at the sight of Valentín Ruiz and his symmetrical visage. He pulled the black beanie off his head to reveal a crop of short dark hair, and nodded in greeting.

“Grant,” he said. His big brown eyes scanned her down and up, registering the absence of socks or shoes, and the pearls of water on her flushed skin. He thrust a thumb back over his shoulder and asked, “Should I come back later?”

She shook her head and ushered him inside.

On the way into the kitchen, she spotted a note from Danielle on the counter:

JOB INTERVIEW @ TI, BACK FOR LUNCH W/ SURPRISE!!!

Dan had drawn a smiley face underneath the note.

Chloe Grant suppressed a grin and resisted the urge to crumple it up before Ruiz might read it, too.

“Can I get you anything?” asked Grant, flicking on the stove to heat up a kettle of water.

Ruiz grimaced and shook his head.

“Nah, I’m good. Just came to talk. Got some stuff to talk about, need to get it off my chest.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

He scratched the back of his head. Rolling his jaw, he looked like he was chewing on the words before he uttered a single syllable. Then his admissions flooded out without further warning.

“Shit, I don’t even know where to start, but I guess I’ll start at the top. You might wanna sit down for this.”

He gestured to an empty corner, looked around, and almost looked exasperated at the absence of chairs in her roomy kitchen.

It only now dawned on Grant that this was the roomiest house she had ever lived in. It had somehow gotten bigger in the last time shift. She wondered if Future Proof’s paychecks hadn’t also gotten bigger in this timeline.

“I know it ain’t my fault that Carter’s… dead, but I can’t help but feel like I should have done something, or more, or sooner. You know?”

She needed to marry the events of conflicting timelines. In a previous one, Ruiz’s actions and affiliation with Celava as a spy harbored a very clear connection to Carter’s death. In the current reality, however, she struggled to see the connection between Carter’s death and Ruiz.

Then again… had the Apex Predator and its biomechanical implant anything to do with Celava and Ruiz’s industrial espionage for them?

Her nostrils flared and she pinched them again.

No blood on her fingers.

The conflicting timelines were messing with her head.

What even were memories anymore? Just more confusion to wrestle with in therapy?

“I know what you’re thinking, but I came to you ‘cause I got a good feelin’ about you, Grant. I’m gonna to tell you something, confide in you, and I can only hope you hear me out to the end, and don’t jump to any conclusions. Please?”

His husky voice cracked on the last word.

She tilted her head. Her lips curled into a weary smile. The mere thought of having to repeat conversations because of temporal anomalies somehow exhausted her on a level she had never even considered before.

The tea kettle on the stove began whistling.

She talked over it.

“You leak Future Proof’s information and data to a red-haired woman named Loretta Corsino, whom you sometimes meet at a café downtown. I know.”

His chin dropped, leaving a mouth wide agape.

“You… know? How?” He snapped his mouth shut, upon which his otherwise trademark confident grin took shape. “Shoulda known. That is what Spencer hired you for, huh? Counter-intelligence? So, have you been keepin’ tabs on me since day one?”

“No, man. I spied on your spying in a different timeline—without Spencer telling me to—and you came clean when I confronted you about it. Hell, I might know more than you do at this point.”

Staring at her, he squinted. The grin faded.

The kettle’s whistling reached a fever pitch. She switched off the stove and removed the kettle. Pouring herself a cup of tea, she looked up at him. Pink color from the tea bag swirled like mist in the hot water, reminding her of her own blood circling down the shower’s drain.

“Though I don’t know what all has changed. Maybe your motivation’s different in this timeline, maybe you’re playing me, or angling for something. Wouldn’t that be a doozy?”

“God damn it, Grant. Were you going to tell me, or what?”

“Hey, I confronted you last time. The time you don’t remember because… well, it… never happened, because, well, hell, I don’t know why the hell not.” She stopped rambling into mumbling and then punctuated it all with a sigh.

She softly lifted and dunked the tea bag in her mug. The reddish mist still swirled, with all the water turned pink.

“Okay, well, what do you know that I don’t?”

She shrugged.

“Actually, not that much. Corsino plays at working for the feds, but she is actually in the private sector. Works for a UK-based company named Celava—Celava Semi-Conductors. Energy, reactors, particle accelerators, real high-tech. The works.”

“Shit. That’s more than I could figure out.”

“I can’t really take all the credit for it. Dan did the legwork. I just tailed you and Corsino a lot, didn’t learn half as much in twice the time as she did.”

“Is she… Bennett, is she still digging on us? On all of this?”

Grant licked her lips.

Dan, in fact, wasn’t. In fact, Danielle Bennett wasn’t having any of this—any of the espionage, counter-espionage, the research and development, let alone the dangerous field work and specimen containment that Grant and Ruiz and the others were conducting for Future Proof.

She could still hear Dan in her mind, urging her to quit the job. Yesterday.

“No, man. She’s outta the game.”

And Grant had been thinking about doing the same.

Indeed, she had just been thinking about it again, under the shower. Both before and after the nosebleed.

She pinched her nostrils again. No blood.

Good.

Ruiz stared at the mug between them and scratched his head again. Shook his head again.

Clearly, it was taking a bit to wrap his head around everything. His expectations had crashed face-first into Grant’s surprise knowledge.

“Celava, huh? You think they made those things? Those… Apex Predators, from the future?”

Grant shrugged.

“Might not even be from the future, for all we know.”

She said those words out loud before ever having thought them. It sent a shiver down her spine.

It’s from 2,000 years into the future. I have no earthly idea how anything on our planet would evolve this fast.

Burch’s words echoed in her mind.

Ruiz had nothing.

“It’s not your fault,” she told him. “Even assuming Celava sicced that thing on us as a hit against FP personnel, well…”

The words died before she finished uttering the rest.

Funny how Ruiz hadn’t been there when disaster struck.

His eyes glistened, glittering with sadness. Yet a hint of suspicion flashed within her mind.

Sending another shiver down her spine.

Enough with the paranoia.

She shook her head, silently arguing against herself.

“You’re dubious of Spencer, I get it,” she added. “So am I. Sometimes, at least.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. I hoped for the good in you, hoped I wasn’t makin’ a mistake by talking to you, telling you all this. Honestly, I’m glad you already knew. Makes things almost easier, I guess. Though… I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I have a family to support.”

Family?

He didn’t have a family to support before the time shift.

Ruiz continued, “I thought I could just walk away if push comes to shove. Corsino didn’t seem like the type to get me iced with wetwork, but after the thing with Carter? Shit, with what I heard about what happened down there, I’m surprised only he was killed. That thing on the autopsy table is no run-o’-the-mill dino, that thing is a fuckin’ monster. If someone from Celava or another corpo team was behind that, if they wanted people dead, shit, then I just… I just don’t know anymore.”

Grant bobbed the tea bag in her mug. Squeezed it out with a spoon, then put it aside.

She didn’t know what to say.

She didn’t think he was wrong about anything he was saying.

His waterfall of words continued. “Shit, Grant, I don’t care, but I feel like I could have at least done something. Or done somethin’ sooner. That kid didn’t deserve to clock out like he did. I don’t know—it feels like I have his blood on my hands.”

In some ways, Ruiz did. In another time, in another world.

But if she understood the changes in reality correctly, then those times and worlds had ceased to exist. Recursive changes that rippled forward through time, evolving into a new and singular reality.

In other ways: Ruiz was innocent, as far as she was concerned.

“Tea?” she asked, extending the mug to him like a peace offering.

Ruiz graciously took it. The pink liquid’s surface shimmered as it shook, as the mug shook in his hand.

He had the shakes in this timeline, too. Seemed like some things were inescapable.

She said, “Fuck it. Just quit. Dan’s right—we can’t keep doing this kinda work forever. Job’ll kill us, one way or another. If you opt out now, they’re not gonna have a lot to lord over you.”

He gripped the mug in both hands, suppressing the tremors.

She turned and prepped herself another mug of tea.

“And, no, before you ask—you can’t smoke in here.”

“How’d you—never mind.” He sipped his tea. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the steam from his mug. “I can’t just up and leave.”

He turned his back on her, to stare out into the backyard lawn of her new home.

The grass outside was perfectly trimmed, the tall fence obscured any features of the neighboring houses in this patch of suburbia, and it now looked and felt all so deeply artificial to Grant.

“I can’t,” he repeated. “I can’t. I take responsibility for my actions. We can only stop this machine from the inside. Whether it’s these Celava kooks, or Spencer and his own legion of mad scientists, I think this time Anomaly shit and messing with it is going to doom us all. Real apocalypse shit. You know that lady on the board—”

“One of the corpo horsemen of the apocalypse? Yeah, I know who.”

He scoffed with the hint of a chuckle.

“Yeah, that one. You know her cronies are engineering some kinda new bio-weapon for us to use on the specimens in the field? You know as much as I do, that ain’t gonna end well.”

Ever so slightly, the world darkened around her at the thought.

“Mhm.”

“Are we the bad guys? I think we’re the bad guys if we don’t do anything about all this shit.”

He turned. Locked stares with Grant.

His eyes glistened still, wet with a sheen to suggest tears being held back.

“I just don’t know anymore,” he said. “On good days, I’m thinking Spencer might be the good guy in all this. You know he might be from the future, right?”

A feather dropped. It shattered the mirror of reality in Grant’s mind, and she fell through it—

Something she had never considered, yet—

Ruiz added, “Corsino told me some stuff about him. I looked into it myself, and some things are pretty fuckin’ odd. Guy appears outta nowhere in the business world, all his history is so vague that nobody can really confirm it, and he ends up building an international corporation, with an HQ literally built around an Anomaly that connects the present to the future. Oh, and, uh, if you look at how he made a killing on the stock market, you’d think he knows shit before it even happens. Motherfucker invested in all sorts o’ tech companies before they got big, like some motherfucker who knew the numbers to win the lottery multiple times over.”

Another sip.

She hadn’t looked into this, but with what she knew, it checked out. For now, it made sense.

In her mind’s eye, she sat across from Spencer at the CEO’s desk, in the clinically cold corner office he occupied atop the towering skyscraper.

The man shaped like a knife shook her hand and welcomed her on board.

Malachi Spencer had always had a strange air about him. More than a sense of superiority. It was like he knew everything.

Grant jolted as if she had been shocked—the doorbell rang again. Like she had sensed it before it happened. The hairs on her neck stood on end.

An overwhelming sense of dread filled every fiber of her being.

Ruiz squinted again. He sniffed, took another sip of tea, and washed away any deeper emotions before they could fully surface. Saved by the bell.

“You expecting someone?” he asked.

“No…”

Grant wandered back down the hall, heading towards the door.

The sense of dread grew as she sensed an overwhelming presence, and spotted three shadows through the milky glass of the front entrance.

Her feet were ice cold by now.

She opened the door.

Malachi Spencer stood there, dressed in a brown winter coat, looking as sharp as ever.

Two taller men in suits flanked him—sporting sunglasses and earpieces, towering hulks of bodyguards she had never seen in Spencer’s company before.

Then again, as it now dawned on her, she had never met Spencer outside of Future Proof’s skyscraper.

“Miss Grant,” said Spencer, enunciating every syllable with a sharpness to match his exterior. “We need to speak.”

With a curt wave to his hired muscle, he directed them to wait outside and invited himself in. Grant stepped out of the way without thinking, though her ears flushed with heat, with anger welling up deep down over the audacity of him just barging in like this.

She closed the door and followed him into the kitchen—

Had he known?

Upon laying eyes on Spencer, astonishment crossed Ruiz’s face.

The words spilled out of Spencer’s lips with absolute authority and precision. “Before either of you ask—I knew you were here, and we need to speak as well, Mister Ruiz.”

Spencer straightened the collar of his coat yet didn’t deign to remove it, despite the warmth indoors. He exchanged a glance with them both.

Ruiz asked, “Did you chip us or something when we signed up?”

Spencer glowered.

“No, Mister Ruiz. You’re carrying around cell phones. It’s dead simple to know where my employees are at all times. I just need to ask Singh to trace you, and you may be found without fail.”

The expression on Ruiz’s face faded from astonishment into vexation, like he had just been punched in the face.

“Sorry,” Grant said with a tremor to the word, suggesting she wasn’t sorry at all. “But what are you doing here?”

Spencer arched a brow.

“I know enough to guess what this meeting between the two of you is about. There are rogue elements in Future Proof,” Spencer said. He raised a slender hand to shush them before either Ruiz or Grant could interject. “I know about your espionage for Loretta Corsino, Mister Ruiz, and I encourage you to keep doing what you’ve been doing. I am counting on it.”

Ruiz and Grant exchanged another glance.

It really was as if he had known everything already.

“Keep it on the downlow, though,” Spencer continued. “You two are not the rogue elements I am concerned about. I trust you both to continue doing your work inside and outside the company to the best of your abilities, and to the full extent of your conscience. That extends to Bennett.”

He peered down at the pink liquid in Grant’s second mug.

“Your tea is growing cold.”

She didn’t care about her tea right now. Pinched her nose again.

Still no blood. She hoped she had seen the last of it.

Something about Spencer felt like he was about to unload more on them. Before he could, Grant cleared her throat to get some words in.

“Well, if you’re going to play with an open hand today, how about you go all-in? The more we know, the better we can operate. At this point, I think we all know a bit too much to the point of being a liability, but not enough to really sniff out these rogue elements. I’m guessing that’s what you want us to do, right?”

“Correct. Like you, Miss Grant, I remember other timelines. Mister Sears—yes, I remember him—was one such rogue element. I wiped him from existence,” said Spencer with a clarity, honesty, and brutality that pummeled Grant in the gut like an avalanche of stones. “I discovered his trail and connection to Celava, and all the skeletons in his closet that he put in there to undermine us. I made sure he would never exist.”

She could feel the blood draining from her own face.

“Woah, woah, hold up. You’re saying you killed Sears? You—you what, you scrubbed him from the timeline? Are you insane?”

Ruiz said nothing. Sipped his tea. His hand no longer shook.

He answered instead of Spencer, saying, “No. He’s just cold as ice, and reminding us of what he’s willing to do if we mess with his well-laid plans. Ain’t that the truth, Mister Spencer?”

Spencer’s absence of a reply weighed heavier than any verbal threats he could possibly utter.

His silent, deathly stare drilled into Ruiz, then swept back to Grant.

“The important part is that we are on the same page. I am from the future, and there is a disaster that I am trying to prevent, but have not yet found out how to. Celava and its lackeys are the engineers of humanity’s destruction, and you just had a taste of that with the Apex Predator ending Carter’s life in Containment.”

Grant’s nostrils flared again, as she held back her sigh, hot air escaping through her nose.

She jutted her chin out, feeling defiant, and shook her head.

“You gotta give us more than that. I am about one push away from walkin’ away from this job.”

A lie.

More than ever before, Chloe Grant felt a sense of responsibility. A deep-rooted sense of duty. She wasn’t even sure towards what, or whom, but she felt responsible for everything that would follow from here on out.

Despite everything she had just told Ruiz about not feeling guilty over Carter’s death, she wondered how many deaths she would cause if she simply walked away from everything now.

How many lives were hanging in the balance.

But she wanted the truth. She wanted to hear it from Spencer’s mouth.

“Very well. Everything eventually points to Malcolm Wright, owner and CEO of Celava, building a colony out of time, deep in the past. He wants to control Earth’s timeline by altering events, natural resources, and even the genetic makeup of biological organisms. Worse, he is using tech that he steals from governments and organizations like our own, hoping to master the Anomalies. He is inviting disaster, more than I could ever threaten by wiping out a single rat in our organization. I’ve seen all the evidence I need, and the underhanded attack of the Apex Predator in our headquarters was the final piece of the puzzle.”

The mug was still lukewarm.

Grant chucked the teabag into the sink and took a long sip of tea.

Needed to gulp it down. Needed more time to process.

Time. Oh, what a joke.

Of course, there would be no way she could easily digest everything Spencer was dropping on them now. She’d have to slowly piece it together… and hope he was telling the truth. The whole truth.

“There’s more I will share, but for now, I want you to prepare for my next task for you. The two of you will be flying to Rome, using false identities. I need you to invade Celava’s offices there, and dig up any dirt you can. Your plane is leaving tonight. Expect a generous raise for your efforts, and all expenses are paid for.”

Ruiz squinted again. The sharpshooter’s eyes sought out contact with Grant’s again, like he was looking for someone to tell him what to do next.

Then he just grinned, like he had been told a really stupid joke.

Grant chewed on her lip.

Not because she was unsure, but because she knew exactly what she was going to do.

She was going to fly to Rome.

[rottenprincessshura100]

Trick to Life/ Time Key

Sample paragraph (I won't put all of it here, it gets a bit too lemony, follow the link for the rest.)

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

Shura's agony was absolute. The pain from numerous burns was so intense that she could barely understand what was happening. Through the fog of unconsciousness, she caught bright flashes of her surroundings, like sudden edits of a cut film. As her body was rushed through the halls on a stretcher, she expected the drab green rooms of True Cross  Hospital. But something wasn't right; Shura was strapped down like a prisoner and was somewhere in the bowels of Mephisto's mansion. It wasn't nurses or orderlies tending to her, but faceless men dressed in black cowls. 

"Where are we going?" She croaked.

"Shhhhh." It was Mephisto's voice. "Conserve your strength."

At the end of the corridor was a service elevator, that consisted of nothing more than a wooden platform with a folding slat door.  With a lurch, she felt herself sink lower and lower into the damp recesses of some unknown place, Mephisto was sending her to either the morgue or a dungeon.

Attempting to move her legs, Shura realized she was helpless, there was a heavy and oppressive weight covering her entire body, and nothing was responding. She soon realized that death was near.

"Mephisto...help me."

"I will darling," His voice echoed around her. "Do not worry."

When the platform ground to an abrupt halt, Shura was pushed into a long stone room with modern laboratory equipment. A doctor approached, and Shura recognized him immediately. It was Igor Neuhaus. He hooked her up to a heart monitor and surveyed the damage.

"These wounds are not survivable."

"I know." Mephisto pushed back his hood. He had been one of the men in black. Strangely, once the disguise was removed, all the rest of his helpers disappeared like a hoard of faceless doppelgangers.

"Shura, can you still hear me?" His voice soothed. "The only way to survive these injuries will require paranormal intervention."

Her eyes fluttered in response, but she could no longer speak.

"I will use my blood to heal you." He continued. "Say, yes, and all of this pain will go away."

Yet, Shiro's words echoed in her mind. Don't agree to anything!

Shura, of course, needn't worry, she was already slipping away, down a long dark tunnel to oblivion.

Her eyes closed with exhaustion and her breath slowed to a raspy, gurgling sound.

"Did she consent?" Neuhaus urged. "We haven't much time."

"She asked me to help her."

"Did she say, Sir Pheles, give me your blood and take my soul?" Neuhaus crossed his arms in frustration. "She did not."

"Of course, she didn't."

"Well, we wouldn't be in this mess," Neuhaus ran an IV line through her charred flesh. "If you had simply saved her 30 seconds sooner."

"I have my reasons." Mephisto's eyes narrowed. "I'd suggest not questioning my motives."

"Fine, are you doing this or not?" Neuhaus growled. "Pretty soon we'll have a corpse on our hands."

"Yes," Mephisto sighed. "I will work out the specifics later."

"Are we using the elixir that worked for Fujimoto?"

"No." Mephisto rolled up his sleeve. "It will be pure."

Neuhaus's expression creased with concern.

"You realize all of what this entails."

"I do." Mephisto's voice was deadly serious. "She will survive, I'm sure of it."

"This will not be easy for you."  Neuhaus backed toward the door. "Exposing yourself in Assiah is incredibly risky."

"It's none of your concern, I have ensured my safety." Mephisto peered over his shoulder. "Don't you have other preparations to make?"

"Yes, master." He nodded. "I will get things arranged for her aftercare."

"She will spend the night in my room." The demon whispered, his voice deadly serious. "That is the way of it. I hope that she is willing."

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

Mephisto took a deep breath centering himself for the unsavory and bestial task.

So, how's this gonna work?  His dark passenger inquired.

"I will transform partially into my true self," The demon explained. "And feed her my blood."

Will it hurt her?

"No more than she's already suffered, but it makes us weak afterward. I must leave our body." Mephisto sighed. "It is your job to keep us alive. Are you okay with that?"

Of course, don't be stupid.

"Fair enough, let's get started."

Mephisto took a scalpel from a metal tray.  He sliced his arm from wrist to elbow, revealing a long expanse of black, putrid muscle. The mass slithered from his body, landing on the floor with a moist and sickening thud. It writhed for a minute or two, before transforming into a thin, tall, humanoid shape. 

How can you even do this in Assiah? The passenger was incredulous.

"Gehenna and Assiah are already becoming one, the barriers have broken open. I can exist in both forms now."

Mephisto shivered and groaned as his black skin turned the color of oil in water. With a gasp and monstrous growl, his arms and legs morphed from the mass, along with an emaciated head with enormous green eyes. As he stood with a snap of bones, his fangs elongated from his mouth like a saber-tooth cat. He turned to regard his human body, which had returned to its original host.

"Been a while, since you've been in the driver's seat." He demon joked. 'Are you alright?"

"Just hurry up and fix her." The passenger's voice urged. "She's turning yellow."

"As you wish." Mephisto's face broke into an enormous and vicious grin. 

"How do you even eat with those things?" The passenger was perplexed. "It's hardly practical."

"They are more useful for decapitation," Mephisto explained matter-of-factly. "A well-placed bite above the collarbone, I can sheer a head clean off. But my goodness, I've moved passed my feral nature."

"Jesus, that's totally metal."The dark passenger was impressed. "I think I want to see that."

"I'm glad you are taking my ugliness in stride," Mephisto answered, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice. "I hate this form. Miss Kirigakure should consider herself lucky to be comatose."

"Whatever, nothing scares that woman, not even this."

"Sadly, I'm not finished yet."

 The demon's hair curl then expanded, becoming thicker and thicker, eventually forming into a massive coiled ram's horn. With one final anguished gasp and a flash of leathery black, Mephisto conjured massive wings. They slapped into the corners of the room, absorbing all goodness and light, like an omnipresent and evil shroud.

"OUCH!" Mephisto whimpered, "I forgot the lab was so narrow."

"Fuck." The passenger griped. "It's like a giant tent., I can't see a thing!"

Walking on unsure cloven feet, Mephisto approached the dying woman with a metallic clomping.

"It's like watching a newborn fawn trying to walk." The dark passenger remarked dryly."Except the fawn is a giant man-eating bat."

"I haven't used this form in hundreds of years." Mephisto tripped and cursed like a pirate,  "These hooves are like 12-inch hooker boots."

"We had a pair, we could have practiced."

"Indeed, but this timeline hasn't happened before. At least, not quite like this." Mephisto leaned over the dying woman and placed an enormous claw behind her neck. He gently pulled her toward him, tilting back her head. Just as he did so, Shura's heart monitor flatlined. The woman began to convulse.

"Oh my goodness!" Mephisto winced. "This will be close!" 

Slicing his wrist with the other claw,  Mephisto sprayed thick brackish blood into Shura's mouth and coated her burnt skin. Blood sprayed everywhere from the enormous vein, staining the room in purplish red.

"Whoopsie! That's quite the mess!"

"Neuhaus will be thrilled, I'm sure." The dark passenger mocked. "By the way. What happens if your champion is dead?"

"The newly dead might suffer from vampirism," Mephisto whispered distractedly, still in deep concentration.  "The long dead will become zombies. But I think our timing was fine, Shura was only beginning clinical death, not actual death."

"Heartwarming to hear."

Seconds passed and nothing happened, the dark passenger became uneasy.

"My god, did it work Mephisto? What if we're too late?"

"Relax, I can never be too late."

 Suddenly with a loud electronic beep, that caused the passenger to jump, the heart monitor came back online. Mephisto smiled with relief and intense pleasure as Shura's heartbeat became strong and steady. Her linen-white face warmed to a rosy hue, and the numerous fire-scorched blisters mended into smooth and perfect flesh.

"Mmmm..." Shura groaned, her eyes fluttering open. "Mephisto...where the fuck are you?"

"I'm here, Darling!" The demon stood before her in a long black robe, "Feeling better?"

She squinted blurry eyes. Shura swore she saw some sort of hideous beast, but Mephisto stood there looking perfectly human. Well, as human as a demon king could look.

"Why are you dressed like that? I've never seen you wear black."

Shura noticed Neuhaus was bandaging Mephisto's wrist with a thick piece of gauze, as she peered around the laboratory her eyes widened. Blood splattered the walls in a gruesome mess just like the Texas chainsaw massacre.

"I did not wish to stain my white clothes." He answered sheepishly. "I'm afraid saving you, required a transfusion and my aim wasn't very accurate."

"You gave me your blood..." She whispered. "But...what does that mean?"

"Nothing, darling. I understand if you're angry." His hand touched her exhausted face. "But I didn't want to lose you. I did this from an act of kindness."

"Thank you, for saving me." She smiled sleepily. "I didn't know you had it in ya."

As she sunk into another deep and dreamless sleep. Mephisto motioned to Neuhaus.

"She needs to be bathed and kept close to me." 

Neuhaus tossed a black sheet over the gurney to hide the gore covering Shura's body.

"The bath should be shocked with the elixir to help her transition."

"Yes." Mephisto nodded. "That is a good idea."

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

Shura remembered briefly intense pain followed my white gauzy nothingness. She woke in a beautiful field, surrounded by flowers and tall grasses. A white ethereal form stood in front of her with a peaceful smile and outstretched hands. She beckoned Shura forward, toward the most peaceful light. She had long raven black hair and teal-green eyes. 

"Yuri?" Shura questioned. "Are you an angel?"

"Come with me, Shura," Yuri answered. "All of your pain will disappear."

"You came here because I got no family to meet me." Shura's voice held a hint of sadness.

"We are all orphans." Yuri giggled. "We need to look out for each other."

"Heh, true enough."

As Shura walked toward Yuri, the warm and perfect sky suddenly darkened.

"Shura! You must hurry!"

The darkness intensified into an ugly black thunderhead on the distant horizon, chains of blood-red lightning ricocheted toward Shura like two giant outstretched claws. Yuri screamed and tried to reach her, but the darkness wrapped its enormous bat-like wings around Shura. The lightning coiled through her limbs and with one brilliant flash, Shura awoke on the gurney back in Neuhaus's lab. She was shaken, yet alive.

The weakness was overwhelming, and her mind once again careened into blackness. She remembered panting in distress as the demon's blood took over her body. Every ounce of her human immunity attempted to reject it, but Mephisto was too strong.

Shura groaned as another wave of excruciating contractions rippled through her muscles.

"Shhhhhh..." Mephisto kissed her forehead as he carried her shivering body into a mosaic-tiled pool. "This will ease the early symptoms."

 Dried blood stained the chlorinated water with a swath of red. Mephisto cupped water in his hand, gently rinsing her face clean. As his thumbs cleared the moisture from her eyelids, she regarded him warily.

"How bad will this hurt?" She questioned sleepily. "I read the diary of Tatsuko, she described Hachiro's possession as the worst pain imaginable."

"Hachiro is not me." Mephisto winked. "You will feel a great many things tonight. If we stay close, it'll keep the pain at bay. Now that we're together, you should start feeling more normal."

"How close, is close?"

Mephisto pulled her against him, sliding his naked flesh tightly against hers.

"This close..." 

"Oh my fucking god..."

[babybeatdowntourney]

Ladies and gentlemen and everyone else, take your seats and get ready, because its time for

That's right, we're putting together a tournament of all your favorite FICTIONAL* babies! Have you ever wanted to watch Baby Grinch murder the shit out of Baby Jesus? Do you want Boss Baby to finally get that smug look wiped off his face by Dil Pickles? Do you just simply want to see toddlers wreck eachother's shit mercilessly for your own sick amusement??? THEN LOOK NO FURTHER, THE BABY BEATDOWN IS HERE FOR YOU!

Right now we are accepting submissions of various FICTIONAL* babies for our tournament; simply send us an ask with: 1) The name of your baby, 2) where they are from, and 3) any propaganda regarding why they should be included, and we will count that as one call for that baby to be represented in the ring! Any propaganda might be used in the actual tournaments, but I'll ask you first if I can for each individual poll. Full rundown of how this will work beneath the cut.

* - Baby Beatdown Tourney LLC cannot legally condone the cool and hilarious sport of real life baby fighting because the babies cannot consent. We will also accept submissions of real-yet-long-dead babies like Baby Jesus, just no real life currently living babies please.

FAQ:

Q: So, how are you organizing tourney matchups?

A: we're using a seed system, matching highest seed levels to lowest seed levels, second highest to second lowest, etc. Seed numbers will be determined by number of submissions that particular baby recieved. So if I get a hundred submissions of Boss Baby, that's a seed of 100, but if I only get one Stewie Griffin, he's got a seed of 1.

Q: So it's gonna be another poll tournament, are there gonna be matchups of the losers?

A: Depends on how much engagement I get honestly! If people seem genuinely invested in these polls I am down to go a bit further but if this remains a bit for me and my friends to enjoy then I maybe wont do as much!

Q: How long do we have to submit?

A: Keeping this one loose, I wanna close the submission box by the end of April. Depends on how many submissions I get. If everyone is submitting a ton it may be sooner, if nobody submits any it may be later.

Q: Why no real babies, I want to submit my baby cousin/daughter/son/nibling/etc.!

A: Look it would just be extremely fucked up for little baby Jeffrey to lose an online battle to Stewie Griffin! Think about how they'd feel all grown up and they find out they were less popular than a fucking Family Guy reference? I personally would be devastated by such a realization. Plus those babies cannot consent to having their pics all over the internet, made into memes, potentially showing carnage, etc...its just fucked up and any submissions to that effect will be thrown out.

Q: So are the babies actually like, fighting to the death, or is it a popularity contest...? How should I imagine this scenario?

A: Honestly however you want! Go with whatever amuses you more. I'm viewing it as a wrestling tournament for the ages.

Q: How do we define a baby for this?

A: Basically if a character is shown as a baby, wearing a diaper and suckin on a binky, they're a baby. No specific age barrier will be present but we reserve the right to throw out any submissions. I may also accept some "joke submissions" such as Senor Pink from one piece, just because the point of this tumblr is comedy.

Q: So what, you're a sick fuck who likes watching babies get hurt?

A: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_comedy, block if you dont wanna see it