#and i managed to find my wire cutters that i thought i lost and i dusted my workspace

[callia-evergreen]

god i hate it when im mentally all set to work on something but the circumstances dont fucking align and i have to wait

[skelingtonsderek]

This idea that there is some cookie cutter perfect answer to taking care of yourself is so fucking harmful. In like a lot of ways but this is the one I've been thinking about recently on account of my recent season of sleeplessness.

Sleep! Rest! Voluntarily obtaining a state of unconsciousness in order to hallucinate vividly! 8 hours of sleep! You need! 8 hours! If you don't get! 8! You are! Failing!

But like, at best that's an average and we all know the statistical incompatibilities with accuracy and averages....

So sleepers georg needs 10 hours a day to feel rested cause he's just wired like that and I, most ardent enemy of sleep that I am, feel like shit if I get more than 6. My partner sleeps like a log the whole night through for like ninety thousand years fully unconscious immovable object. I can do about 2 hours at a time without needing to get up and move around a bit.

And that's when I'm not in a season of sleeplessness where I sometimes don't sleep at all at night or maybe only manage a 90 minute stillness.

The thing is I didn't come up with the term season of sleeplessness on my own. My whole family is like this. Or at least enough of them are that it never seemed strange to me for a household to be up at all hours. "Bed time" meant "when you need to be in your room being quiet" not "time to sleep."

But now I'm older and I thought I'd try because the doctors talk about how bad for your health it is! You! Need! Sleep! Insomnia is bad! Evil for no sleeping!

Well I tried. I did. For several years just to make sure it wasn't me. And it's been the mooost tiring and frustrating experience of my life! The more I consistently managed to do what they told me sleep-wise the more symptoms I had that are usually reserved for the insomnia list. I felt like shit. I got sick more. I started getting tired throughout the day. More headaches. Harder time concentrating. Worse time managing my social life. My work tanked. It's been fucking hell. Especially when a season of sleeplessness would hit and I'd find myself trapped in bed because if I got up I was a Bad Insomniac who didn't really want to be better and just-- I had lost all of my reserves for managing periods of severe insomnia because I had pivoted all that shit into the exhausting task of forcing myself to sleep.

It's sucked. It's sucked so fucking hard. I've never been so tired and miserable in my life. I know that doesn't sound like much but I am a chronic insomniac from a family of insomniacs. Our first name is Difficulty Falling Asleep, Our middle name is Difficulty Staying Asleep and our last name is FuckingChristWhyCan'tIGetBackToSleepIt's4AM.

There's a lot of bullshit out there about how to sleep and who's doing it right and how you're doing it wrong but like. We're all fucking weird. Strange little creatures moving about the skin of existence with just enough sense to look around us in shock and wonder. How the hell does anyone know how much sleep I or anyone else needs? How do you look at a group of little insects and say they all need the same exact things? We don't and we can't and it's GOOD that we aren't all exact little copies of each other.

Every singular one of us is different with different needs and different wants and different tastes and yeah, there are some general guidelines of things you should probably keep in mind like maybe try to make choices based on care for yourself and not obligation. Or like. Be kind to yourself. also others I guess but in my experience we are all far more unkind to ourselves than we could ever have opportunity to be to others.

[cloudsrust]

Patchwork Care (Part 7)

Whatever plans Nova had when he entered Barraca Mansion instantly flew out the window when he saw the state of Neon’s workshop. He knew the cyborg well; organized, prioritizing cleanliness, color-coding everything, and so on. This? This was akin to a warzone, not that the astrophysicist had ever been in one.

“Jun Won, what the hell?”

The veteran scoffed playfully, blissfully unaware of the hurricane mess. He didn’t look up from his project; his factory. “Well hello to you too, Nova. Give me one~ second and I’ll be right with you-”

“There are oil stains on the ceiling.”

“Hm?” Neon briefly looked at the ceiling to confirm that there were, in fact, oil stains on the ceiling. One, in particular, was fresh and drip, drip, dripping onto the floor. Immediately, he went back to the matter at hand, purposefully ignoring the mess before it could send him into a cleaning frenzy. He was just so close to completing the factory! Then he wouldn’t need to worry about his troop’s safety all the time. He just needed to keep pushing. “It’s fine, nothing that a little bit of baking soda can’t fix.”

Aster sighed, squeezing the strap of his satchel bag. The reveal of Grus the Crane could wait a little longer. He needed to put an insomniac to sleep first. “Right. When was the last time you slept and for how long?”

“Time is relative and sleep is an illusion.”

“So about five hours in a week it would seem. Great. You’re going to bed right now. I’m not going to argue with you. If you do not comply, I’ll drag you upstairs myself.”

Nova was startled when Neon J slammed his soldering iron to his workbench. The manager turned to look at him, his screen dimmed and flickering. “I am so close to finishing! I’m not stopping now, I can’t. My boys- My soldiers I mean, need to be safe. I need to keep them safe. The cloud memory isn’t enough, I can’t just replicate them if something were to happen- No, I’m not going down that line of thought… Point is, I need to get this done right now-”

“You soldered a wire cutter to your hand.”

Silence befell the cyborg as he took notice of the issue and quickly worked to fix it. From that moment, he knew the battle had been lost. “… I’m sorry. I’m a bit of a mess right now, in more ways than one.”

“Nightmares? Memories?”

“No, not exactly. Dread, what-ifs. Y'know, the usual suspects.”

“That’s why I’m following Protocol 5,” A term that meant that either Nova or Neon had not gotten any sleep, and procedures were required to make sure they didn’t fall off the deep end. It had three simple steps; don’t argue, point facts, keep a flat tone.

He chuckled, tired. “Fine, I give up. Let me just clean up-”

“No. I’ll take care of it.”

“What? But you barely clean your own workspace, pun intended-”

“Protocol 5. Also, your puns need work.”

Jun huffed, slightly offended. “I’ll come up with better material when I wake up then.”

“Please don’t.”

“You say that but I know you love them~”

Of course, Aster loved his puns, as bad and obvious as they were. How could he not? They were part of Jun and he… That’s right, he had temporarily shelved that emotion away to enjoy his day with the cyborg. However, the circumstances had changed; Neon J was put to sleep (he made sure of it), there was a mess to clean and he had new music to listen to that he could use as a background to his never-ending thoughts.

The ex-professor scrubbed away as much oil as he could, staining his own clothes in the process. He neatly organized tools in a way that would be easy for Neon to find. Papers were placed back in their folders and the folders in the file cabinets. Hours of hard labor and aching limbs. Aster would not do this for just anyone. Not for his fans, not for Tatiana, not for himself. He was going out of his way to help his dear friend, even though reminding him to sleep would have been enough. Neon would have been happy with just that. But the cyborg made the DJ act selflessly.

The workshop was in a much better condition when Nova left it in favor of resting in the kitchen. He helped himself to some coffee, as you do, before settling by the kitchen island. Seriously, why was Neon’s kitchen so unnecessarily big? Oh right, he’s blind. He needed to be able to maneuver carefully, especially with five metallic giants walking around. Speaking of which, they seemed to be out of the mansion for the time being. Meaning, he had time for himself, to think. With no hesitation, he rummaged his satchel and retrieved his old friend; the tape recorder. Nova pressed record and began his soliloquy.

“When I was younger, somewhere around the time I was completing my Master’s degree, I heard a quote: “𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑥𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑣𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑡.“ At the time, I scoffed at it- How could I not? My philosophy professor was a self-proclaimed romantic and never hesitated to bring up love in discussions of nature and nurture. I never understood him, finding his sayings to be ridiculous, though they did stick to me. As if I knew what he actually meant… I think I understand him now that I find myself in this unique situation.”

Aster mused, gazing affectionately at the plush doll that poked out of his satchel. It was both a terrifying yet wonderful experience to feel that indescribably pleasant emotion that nestled in his chest and haunted his analytical mind. Illogical, unwarranted, an intruder that decided to make his consciousness a home, and he allowed for it to stay.

“To think I would experience love in this stage of my life, it still astounds me. It shouldn’t, considering it is J who sparked this feeling within me. Always so bombastic, spontaneous, full of life. How could I not love him? I was fine without him, really. I could have gone my entire life without him, and I would have been alright. Now… He’s the Rock Revolution to my life; came out of nowhere to upheaval everything I stood for and then some. Launched me into orbit, making me crash down to the reality I was ignoring. Completely unnecessary mind you, such force should not have been required to stop me! The audacity of those Plutonians to yeet me into the atmosphere!-” Nova paused, sipping on his coffee upon realizing what he was saying. “I apologize to my future self that is going to hear this recording. Please don’t die on this hill and stop accidentally adopting Team Sayu’s vernacular, you’ll wound up embarrassing yourself in public.”

Now that he had stopped talking, he noticed a soft humming noise that had not been present before. Aster didn’t pay it any mind; he was in Jun’s home. Odd mechanical noises at odd hours were plentiful. Plus, he was doing something much more important that needed his attention at the moment. The astrophysicist wasn’t going to go out of his way to figure out what the new white noise was.

“Tangents aside, Jun means so much to me. I would gladly be his Atlas if he ever needed it. If he ever needed me. I know he doesn’t, he’s no shrinking violet. More of a baobab tree. Still, I can’t help being there for him, just as he has been there for me in the past.” The white noise got noticeable, but Nova paid it no mind. “I can say for certain that I love Jun Won. His flaws, his strengths, his being, a platinum melody. I won’t go as far as to define my love as romantic; it’s too soon to tell. What I can say is that it is a one-of-a-kind emotion that I’ll cherish until my end. Just as much as I cherish him.” Once more, he paused, deliberating what he was going to say next. Mostly because the humming had turned to whirring and it was becoming rather distracting. “I don’t plan on telling him any time soon. I’m trying to figure this out, to not ruin our friendship. Perhaps I’m being foolish, acting the way I am right now, but he doesn’t need to know that. Ah, that would be a rather embarrassing situation, wouldn’t it?..”

Aster stopped the recording and placed the device down on the kitchen island. The noise had become obvious and hard to ignore. Jarring, even. Whatever it was, it was unlike anything he had ever heard, although it certainly shared some similarities with a jammed-up fax machine and a jet engine. “What in the world is that blasted sound?..” He mumbled to himself as he stood. Hopefully, it wasn’t anything explosive or expensive to repair.

It did not take him long to figure out the origin of the sound. Right there, around the corner of the kitchen’s entrance, was Neon J. The cyborg was on the floor, back against the wall, right hand splayed on the floor for some sort of stability while the left was over his heart. The whirring noise was emerging from him, internal fans working to the max, processors overloaded. His monitor tilted upward to look at him; horizontal color lines, stuck pixels, flickering. It was unlike anything Nova had ever seen before.

His helmet cracked. The noise that left Nova was akin to someone strangling a cartoon duck. All the worst-case scenarios were running to his usually brilliant mind at once. Frozen yet traveling at unimaginable speeds until it either burned out or crashed; a comet. No matter how much he tried, no words left him. His face was burning red- no, burning blue- that’s not it either, it kept getting hotter- burning a blinding white. Mortified, embarrassed, afraid, he watched the cyborg stand, his soldier posture nowhere to be found. In fact, Neon still had a hand to the wall, balance unstable.

Underneath the loud whirring, clicking, and humming, Nova could somehow make out words. “Dǿ ŷǿʉ… Dǿ ŷǿʉ ѓêãllŷ mêãñ ĩţ? Wĥãţ ŷǿʉ şãĩd…” Maybe it was his mind overthinking, but in a way, it sounded hopeful. No, no. That couldn’t be it. The DJ was in the process of screwing up what they had by being a sap out loud, there was no hope to be had in that situation. There was no way for him to tell what Neon was feeling anyway, given that the monitor he had for a head was malfunctioning to an extreme. Aster was going to have to deal with the consequences of his words, as awful as they were.

Cracks after cracks formed on his helmet, the glass barely holding itself together. However, it wasn’t concaving like those times when he had turned into a Black Hole. No, it was bursting from the inside out. The intensity of his emotions was getting to him. Aster needed to react, to calm down, to think. This was Jun; Jun had always been patient with him. Nova needed to get his words out and everything would be clear, that’s all-

“𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙳𝙸𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙳𝙾 𝚃𝙾 𝙲𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙰𝙸𝙽 𝙹?!”

The booming voice of Zimelu, and the subsequent gasps of different pitches, startled the DJ. With an undignified yelp, a couple of octaves higher than it should have been for him, the glass helmet burst.

The glass did not get sucked in an endless void, no. It floated, orbiting where his head should have been, distorted. His arms were an Event Horizon. Sound ceased to exist, vision akin to a funhouse mirror. Dr. Aster Leavitt was an astrophysicist, his body was partly composed of dark matter. What was happening to him was truly fascinating, something only discussed in theories as a counterpart to a Black Hole; a White Hole. While one entrapped, the other expulsed. Both anomalies were similar in regards that very few things that could resist being pulled into orbit, losing their form.

……….

This was, objectively, not a good thing.

With his senses severely skewed, Nova ran. He ran and ran and ran. If someone was yelling after him, trying to stop him, there was no way for him to know. Not that he would stop. Couldn’t stop. It was strange, the sense of dread and panic had left him all at once when he became a cosmic anomaly. In a way, his mind became clearer, remembering details of his life that he had long forgotten. Like when he first tasted chocolate or when he graduated middle school. Pleasant things, fully ignoring what was currently going on around him as he ran- walked? When did he slow down? A familiar weight was on him. His satchel. When did he grab that? Well, at least it was with him now.

Next thing he knew, he was laying in bed, his bed, in his apartment. A wave of nausea crashed into him like a tidal wave. Sweaty, sore, shaking. Grabbing the nearest pillow, he pressed it against his face and screamed. Cathartic.

Nova made a mental recap:

1. He made a fool of himself by stating his love out loud to himself, then panicking when caught. 2. Neon wanted answers, most likely given his question. 3. He left the tape recorder on the kitchen island. 4. Grus was going to remain ownerless because he was too much of a procrastinating coward. 5. Overreaction was on the table. 6. He could have definitely earned a scholarship in track and field given he ran from Metro Division to Cast Tech in record time. 7. Apparently White Holes were real and he could turn into one if mortified and embarrassed enough. Great.

Solution? To avoid his problems for as long as possible. Was it going to backfire? Yes, absolutely. Did he feel like dealing with consequences and an uncertain future? No.

Wait, what was #3 again?

Nova screamed.

————————————————–

Chapters Index: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6  | You’re Here! | Part 8 | Part 9

————————————————–

Reminder to go give love to the amazing writer @inkedfeather9 -!

[crystalgirl259]

Life of a High School Vampire One-Shots 7 Planned Parenthood

WARNING! This chapter will include talks of violence, abortions, and explosives. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

****************

SUMMARY: A rabid protester outside a health clinic draws Kai into providing some clarification into what Hell's tortures might really be... ****************

Kai groaned in frustration as the hot noon sun shined brightly above him as he sulked down the street. After Lloyd and Jay found out about his little one-night stand with the Cole person, his roommates insisted that he should get checked out at a health clinic just to be certain that he hadn't caught anything, especially since Kai couldn't remember whether or not they had used protection. He knew they spoke from a place of concern, but that didn't ease Kai's anger.

It got even worse when he found out that they had booked him an appointment at a nearby health clinic behind his back when they figured out he wasn't going to do it.

Kai wanted to tell them that thanks to his power he didn't contract any human diseases. But he also knew that he had to keep the secret. He was also a little grateful that when his parents sent him to Ninjago they crafted an entire medical history for him. It was to explain away any oddities the doctors would find thanks to his vampiric genes. As the brunette was about to round the corner to the clinic, he noticed a small RV parked awkwardly on the curve.

Kai was immediately suspicious of the vehicle.

It was fairly plain with the exception of a brightly colored bumper sticker beaming up at him. The street the RV was parked on had no stores or anything that would make a driver of an RV and possibly their passengers' park and get out. Kai was curious, but he also knew he needed to get to his appointment or he wouldn't hear the end of it. As he rounded the corner, however, he saw a sight that both amused and irritated the vampire.

"Sinners! Sinner! You're a sinner!" Shouted a middle-aged man with a checkered shirt and khaki shorts was standing next to the door holding a large homemade sign damning abortions and promoting pro-life. Kai had heard about these types of people and they made him mad. He didn't understand why these people thought it was perfectly ok to harass women who were already going through a bad time. He was also livid when he realized that these pro-life people were all for pregnancy.

But then as soon as that baby was born then they didn't give a fuck what happened.

Kai might not be the most sensitive person but knew that even one had a right to choose and if they choose to abort a fetus he couldn't give a damn.

"Yeah, you're a sinner! Have fun with your abortion! I hope you're wearing sunscreen, 'cause it's hot as hell in hell!" The man shouted at a woman who was much older than him walking into the clinic. Kai seriously doubted she was able to get pregnant anymore. This clinic did offer abortions, but they also provided other services such as testing and treatment for STIs, advice about sexual health, contraception, pregnancy testing, HIV testing, hepatitis B vaccination, and help for people who have been sexually assaulted.

The brunette barely managed to suppress a growl.

This was the last thing he needed to deal with today of all days. He was thankful that he was wearing sunglasses because he was certain his eyes were glowing red with his burning rage. Kai knew that he had to get to his appointment and he wasn't about to let a hippie stop him. As the brunette was about to walk into the clinic and ignore the man, he noticed the man's slightly opened rucksack and saw something shining poking out ever so slightly.

Kai quickly realized what it was and a million thoughts ran through his head.

But they all came to a stop when he saw a sticker for the exact same music band as the bumper sticker. Kai connected the dots rather quickly and a sickening grin spread across his face. This was going to be fun...

****************

Once everything was set for his plan, Kai approached the clinic again and saw the man crouched in the car park, hiding in between the cars as he rummaged through his bag and glancing back at the building. He had to get rid of that monstrosity. He pulled out the explosion device but cursed when he saw that somehow the wires attached to the device had been cut. The tools were to fix it were back in his RV parked around the corner. The man really didn't want to risk rushing back to the RV in case anyone saw him or, more importantly, the device in his backpack.

But he couldn't stay in between the cars either.

He had already avoided a couple of people by the skin of his teeth and he knew his lucky hiding place couldn't last forever. If they did he would be shipped off to prison, never to see the light of day again. He couldn't let that happen. Not while abortions were still happening every day.

"You need at least six more ounces of kerosene for that to work right." Kai suddenly announced his presence with a cocky smirk. He could already tell this was going to be fun. The man let out a yelp as he bolted up and attempted to hide the evidence, but he knew the teen had seen the device.

"That is none of your business!" He snarled, terrified at being discovered, but he refused to back down. "Sir, I suggest that you turn around and walk away because THAT is a BABY! MURDERING! FACTORY!" He all but screamed as he gestured to the health center.

"Don't be ignorant; Romania shut down its last baby incinerator back in 87." Kai rolled his eyes and tried to walk past the man, only to have his path blocked.

"They are everywhere!" The man cried out, only for his eyes to widen in horror. "Sir, are planning on assisting in murdering an unborn child today?!" He exclaimed and Kai almost burst out laughing at the ridiculous statement, but he held it in.

"That's not on my schedule, but it is my day off." The brunette shrugged casually, catching the man off-guard. With that said, Kai tried once again to enter the health center, only for the man to block his path again. It took all of Kai's restraint not to tear this man's throat out.

"Just so you know, if you walk through those doors you are entering into the devil's playground." The man warned, trying to persuade the teen to walk away. Instead, Kai had had enough of this guy and shoved past the protester without another word. "YOU LIBERAL HEATHENS WOULDN'T KNOW SATAN'S HANDIWORK IF SMACKED THE RAINBOW STICKERS OFF YOUR UKULELE!" The man screamed and just like that, the leash on Kai's temper snapped.

This rabid protester needed some clarification into what Hell's tortures might really be like.

"I know it." The brunette hissed as he turned around and removed his sunglasses, unveiling his crimson red eyes. "Satan lived in Charles Manson; giving him the charm to form a cult of reckless murderers," Kai smirked as he began to circle the man like a hungry shark. "Satan lived in Ted Bundy; providing him the good looks to lure his targets into his trap, where he would strangle his subjects and sleep with the corpses." He added as he listened in on the man's thundering heartbeat.

The man himself was frozen in terror as his eyes followed the teen casually, yet slowly, walking around him like a predator.

"Satan lived in Jeffrey Dahmer; bidding him invite unsuspecting victims into his basement only to be dismembered and eaten." Kai finally finished and that was when the man finally found his voice again.

"H-H-He... h-... he ate... the bodies?" He managed to stammer out, his throat suddenly very dry as his skin turned cold and pale.

"If Satan really is providing me a dose of plan B, he has really lost his edge." Kai all but purred in satisfaction, knowing he had won this little fight. With that said he turned and walked to the entrance.

"Well, I hope you have fun in hell." The man shot weakly.

"I will, save me a seat." Kai grinned as he put his sunglasses back on and walked inside without even giving the man another glance. The man took a deep breath to calm his nerves before rushing back to his RV to repair the device. Kai couldn't get rid of the smile on his face as he felt the gas canister and the wire cutters poking him from his bag. Or when he heard a small explosion in the distance and the sound of a car alarm ringing. He simply sighed contently as he approached the front desk and rang the bell.

"I'm here for my appointment."...

[quickspinner]

My Heart Like a Firework Part 2

@livrever said: What about Luka drives through a puddle splashing/soaking Marinette and he stops to apologize/takes her home to change 

@justknitstuff said: Luka works in a music store and Marinette ducks into his shop to escape a downpour of rain, they start talking and while he’s showing her around to pass the time she starts getting hit with inspiration for guitar string jewelry 

Here’s part 2! Part 1 is here. Also, can I just say, mwah, I love you all. I packed as much fluff as I could in here.

Marinette was picking her sketchbook back up when there was a sudden twang and Luka yelped. She jumped, dropping her book, and turned wide eyes on him and he grinned back, clearly embarrassed. “Sorry. Popped a string,” he said. “Surprised me.”

Marinette giggled. “I didn’t know that could happen.”

“It can happen if your strings are worn out. Or if there’s something sharp on the guitar where the string’s rubbing, but mine are just old.” Luka shrugged. “I’m a bit later than usual replacing mine because I’ve been busy, so it’s not really a surprise.” He carried the guitar over to the counter, and then went to one of the displays. Thumbing through the packets hanging there, he selected one. “I guess I might as well heed the warning and replace all of them.”

Marinette slid down from her perch to come over and lean on the counter near him, watching with interest as Luka took the old strings off. He moved with confidence and efficiency, and she found herself watching his hands. He laid the old strings aside on the counter as they came free. “May I?” she asked, touching one of the old strings.

“Be my guest.” Luka smiled absently as he began putting the new strings on. Marinette watched him for a moment, feeling more able to look at him now that his rather intense gaze was focused elsewhere. The shaggy blue-tipped hairstyle suited him, kept him from being too sharp with his strong nose and cheekbones and pointed chin. The wide bracelets he wore accentuated the muscles of his forearms. She glanced at his shoulders for only a second before looking away with a blush. She’d gotten more than an eyeful of his bare back earlier, after all. His build might tend towards long and lean rather than broad and bulky but he was plenty athletic.

Luka didn’t look up from what he was doing, but Marinette caught the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and was suddenly mortifyingly certain he knew she was checking him out. Blushing, she turned her attention to the discarded guitar strings. Well, she reflected with a little smile of her own, after the way he’d looked at her when she’d finished changing, maybe she didn’t have to be too embarrassed.

Marinette picked up the strings, examining the different thicknesses. An idea began to brew in the back of her mind as she twisted a couple of the strings together thoughtfully. Marinette grabbed her sketchbook and opened it, laying the strings across it as she began to sketch different woven patterns, using different colored pencils to represent the different strands.

“Could you do an infinity knot?”

Marinette gasped and jumped so high that she nearly lost her balance. Luka reached across the counter and grabbed her upper arms to steady her.

“Woah! Sorry, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were quite that in the zone.”

“Oh,” Marinette sighed, putting a hand over her fluttering heart. “I’m sorry, I was—”

“Obviously,” Luka chuckled. “And I’m the one who’s sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted you. I just saw what you were doing and I got really interested, and—well, my mom’s Scottish, and what you were doing makes me think of some of the Celtic jewelry she wears.”

“Of course,” Marinette said, tapping her pencil thoughtfully. She turned the page and picked up her phone. “Let me find some references.”

Luka pulled out his own phone and found some pictures of his mother.

“She looks like a fun lady,” Marinette giggled as he zoomed in on one of her bracelets.

“She’s a character,” Luka grinned. “I think you’d like her. She’d definitely like you,” he added absently, laying the phone on the counter and turning it so Marinette could see.

Unexpectedly flustered by that comment, Marinette put her own phone next to his with the examples of knotwork she’d found. For a moment they were silent as Marinette sketched. She glanced up at Luka once, and he immediately straightened. “Sorry, am I bothering you? I can find something else to do if you’d rather I didn’t watch.”

“It’s fine,” Marinette said, smiling at his thoughtfulness, “But you’re blocking the light.”

“Oh, sorry,” Luka hopped over the counter and leaned beside her instead. “Is this okay?”

Marinette made an affirmative noise, already deep in thought about the length of the strings and how to use the varying thicknesses and materials. Eventually, she sat back.

“Wow, that looks great,” Luka said, lightly touching one of the sketches. “My sister would love this one, with the kind of lacey look.”

“It’s just a sketch, though,” Marinette said, blushing. “I don’t know if it would actually work. If they aren’t stiff enough it might all just collapse on itself.”

“Let’s try it,” Luka said encouragingly, straightening up. “You probably need what, pliers and wire cutters?”

“Um,” Marinette blinked. “Yeah.”

“No problem, I’ll be right back.” Luka knocked on the counter twice and went into the back room.

Marinette took a moment to breathe and smooth her hands over her hair. It was almost dry, but when she looked toward the door she could see that the rain was still falling steadily. Still, it wasn’t so bad. She’d have preferred to be stuck somewhere with coffee and cozy chairs, but this wasn’t so bad, and Luka was...really nice.

Really nice. And really nice looking. He had the softest eyes when he looked at her, a clear cerulean rather than the baby blue of her own, and there was something in his slow smiles and easy grins that made her stomach flutter.

And he’d been so kind. Being both clumsy and frequently distracted, Marinette had a lot of experience with being run into, splashed, or knocked over. Usually the most she got was a hurried apology and a hand up, but Luka had done so much more. He hadn’t yelled or blamed her, just taken quiet control of the situation and done his best to make her comfortable. Even though she’d been stuck in here with him, he hadn’t made her uncomfortable at all. Any time she got the least bit fidgety with his presence, he backed off.

Marinette put her head down on the counter and covered her head with her arms with a quiet groan. She barely knew him, she reminded herself. She wasn’t going to do this crush thing again so soon. Just because he’d been kind and sweet and fun and seemed like he kinda liked her…

No, nope, not going there. She turned her head to check on the storm. The windows rattled as a sudden gust drove the rain against them. Marinette groaned again, pouting. She could just go home, she supposed, just suck it up and make a run for it even if it meant she would get soaked. But...

She shot upright as Luka came back, with the tools and a chair, and tried to look composed. “Here, come on back, you might as well sit down while you work,” he said, setting the chair down. He opened the wooden counter for her and, though she felt a little self-conscious, Marinette slipped through. “Here, there’s a spot over here we use for repairs, it’s all yours.”

“You really don’t have to do all this,” Marinette felt compelled to say as she sat down.

“Are you kidding?” Luka grinned. “I think this is amazing. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

“It might not even work,” Marinette protested weakly.

“Hmm, we’ll see,” Luka replied in a tolerably non-committal tone, but Marinette could see from the look on his face as he turned away that he had complete faith in her. “I’ll try not to hover,” he added, when he noticed her looking at him. “Just let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“O-okay,” she said, smoothing her hair again self-consciously. He was really cute when he smiled like that, and the way he looked at her gave her butterflies. Marinette turned quickly to the table, telling herself to stop imagining things.

She picked up the tools and the strings, and soon she forgot about Luka altogether, snipping and twisting and problem-solving. She needed some jewelry fixtures though, she thought absently. She’d need clasps to make bracelets and necklaces, and she could make some nice earrings if she had the findings here, but for now...

“Luka,” she called absently, “Do you have any soldering equipment?”

He didn’t answer right away. Marinette looked up and to her surprise, he was looking right at her. He was on the other side of the counter, leaning with his chin on his hand, watching her with a soft, dreamy expression that made her face heat. “Luka?” she prompted.

“Hmm?” he blinked. “Oh, sorry, I was—you were just really into what you were doing and it was...uh, cute.” He gave her one of those warm smiles that made her stomach flutter. “You’re really cute. Sorry, what were you saying? Did you need something?”.

Marinette tried to contain her own smile. “Do you have a soldering iron or something like that?” she asked shyly.

“Sure, I’ll go get,” he said, sliding off the counter and heading for the door to the back room.

Marinette giggled softly to herself, both flattered and embarrassed by his apparent admiration. If only he wasn’t so cute himself she might be able to keep her cool, but he was simultaneously hot and adorable and she was maybe screaming a little bit on the inside, catching him giving her such a mushy look. She bit her lip and tried to focus on the two strings she was twisting together, one of the heavy gauge and one of the finer ones.

She darted a quick smile up at Luka as he brought her what she needed, but looked back to her work quickly. The safety glasses were a bit big, but she managed to get them balanced on her nose, ignoring Luka’s quiet chuckle from behind her.

Marinette paused, and bit her lip, wavering in indecision for a moment. Then she glanced up at Luka. “Can I, um, borrow your hand?” she asked, feeling her face warm at her own daring.

Luka grinned and leaned up against her workspace, holding his hand out. “As long as you need.”

Marinette took his hand and turned it over, wrapping the string around his finger to get an idea of the length she needed. “How’s that?” she asked, frowning. “Comfortable? Or too tight?”

“A little tight,” he said, and Marinette adjusted. “Better,” he agreed.

“Got it.” Marinette said, struggling to hold the strings while reaching for the sharpie in her art kit. With Luka’s help she managed to get the length marked. She smiled at him. “You can have your hand back now.”

“If you’re sure,” Luka said with a grin, and nope, she was not thinking about how warm and smooth his voice was or how he was very definitely flirting with her. He was a musician, after all, of course he had a nice voice. And just because she’d been feeling down on herself lately was no reason to go all gooey inside over the first boy who was nice to her. She definitely did not let her fingers trail over his palm as he pulled away, and she definitely did not see him swallow.

It took a little more trial and error, but finally, she had a successful finished product.

“There,” Marinette said, setting down the tools. She picked the ring up in the pliers and turned it, examining it critically. “I think that should work.” She grinned up at Luka, dropping the ring on her palm and holding it out to him. “Want to try it?”

Luka smiled at her, and he took the ring from her palm without moving his eyes from hers. He slid it on his finger and wiggled his fingers experimentally.

“Nice,” he grinned.

“Is it comfortable?” Marinette asked, leaning over and taking his hand in both of hers to look. “I might need to polish where I did the soldering so it’s not rough, but…”

“Yeah, but otherwise it feels good. A little different from the one I usually wear, but not bad.” He paused, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“What?” Marinette asked, tilting her head as she looked up at him.

“It might sound stupid,” he said slowly, meeting her eyes. “But I played a lot of songs on these strings, you know? So I feel kind of...attached in a way I didn’t expect. Does that make sense or am I just crazy?”

Marinette hmmed thoughtfully. “No, I can see that. That makes sense.”

“I was thinking that if this worked out and you wanted to make more, we could sell them here in the store,” Luka mused. “But now I’m thinking people might be willing to buy something like this on commission as well. Bring in their old strings, ones they used for a special moment or whatever, and make them a special piece of jewelry from them. That’d be awesome.”

“You really think people would want that?” Marinette suddenly realized she was still holding onto his hand and let go quickly. Luka smiled, and his blue eyes flicked to hers in a way that said he wouldn’t have minded if she had held on a little longer.

“Hell, I’d commission a couple of pieces from you right now,” Luka said, leaning on the wall to look over her workspace. “I could swap Mom’s strings out for her and she’d think I was just doing her a favor until I brought her jewelry made out of her old strings. She’ll flip and my sister will be soooooo pissed that I found the perfect gift—and then she’d demand a set for herself.” He chuckled. “How’d it go with the knot ideas?”

“Oh,” Marinette turned back to the bench, motioning him closer, though she shivered a little when he leaned over her and his breath ghosted across her neck. “I think I made it work,” she said, pointing at several strings she had laid out and woven into designs similar to the ones she’d drawn. “I need some other pieces, though, like a crimp to put here and here to hold it together—I can solder the prototype but it won’t look as clean as it would with a proper jewelry crimp—and then it would need a clasp of some sort. And I thought these would make cute earrings—” she pointed to some strings she’d laid out in a shorter, rounder knot layout. “But again, I’d need crimps and findings to make it stay.”

“That’s fantastic,” Luka said admiringly. “You’re amazing, Marinette.”

Marinette giggled. “Oh, I’m—well. Thanks.”

“I know this wasn’t how you planned to spend your day,” Luka said, smiling down at her. “But...I’m glad we met, although I’m still sorry for drenching you.” They both laughed, and both turned in surprise as the bell on the shop door rang for the first time that day.

“Hi, welcome,” Luka said, straightening up. “How’s it doing out there?”

“Wet,” the man grunted, “But not as gnarly as it was. I’m here to pick up an order.”

“Sure, let me grab that for you and—”

Marinette tuned them out, picking up the soldering gun again. She carefully finished the connection points on the bracelet and earrings, doing as clean a job as she could manage. Then she stood up and stretched.

“Oh, hey, you got a new girl working?”

Marinette started, and turned wide eyes toward the counter where Luka was standing with the customer, who was eyeing her appreciatively. Luka glanced back at her and moved between her and the customer smoothly with a smile. “Not exactly. Marinette’s been working on some new merchandise for us.” He turned toward Marinette, gesturing to the bracelet. “May I?”

“Oh, yes, it should be okay now,” Marinette said quickly.

“Your skirt’s riding up,” Luka murmured as he leaned over to pick up the bracelet. Marinette gasped and tried to tug the hem of her improvised t-shirt dress down as discreetly as she could. Of course she would forget how short it was just as someone came in. Luka took his time leaning over in front of her to pick up the bracelet, blocking her from view for a long moment so she could get adjusted.

“Marinette’s working on a line of guitar-string jewelry for us,” Luka explained, laying the bracelet across his hands as he turned back to the customer. “Might be a cool gift for your wife, huh?” Luka said, still smiling but with a slight edge to his voice. “It’s almost your anniversary, right?”

“Oh, uh, right,” the big man said, shaking his head slightly and focusing on the bracelet in Luka’s hands. “Oh, hey, that’s pretty cool, actually.”

“We were just discussing the idea of offering them as custom pieces,” Luka continued. “You bring in your old strings, maybe ones you’ve used for some special moment? And Marinette turns them into something special for your loved one.”

“That’s probably the sappiest thing I’ve ever heard,” the customer chuckled. “My wife would love it. How much?”

“We’re still working out the details,” Luka smiled coolly. “It’s kind of experimental right now, but if you’d like I can give you a call when we’ve finalized things?”

“Sure, that’d be great. You guys have my number. Thanks.” The man grinned and gave a half-wave to Marinette. “Have a good day, Miss.”

Marinette managed a smile while Luka escorted the customer out. As soon as the door was closed, Luka turned back. “You okay?” he asked seriously.

“Yeah. A little embarrassed,” she tugged at the hem of her shirt again, “But I’ll live. Of course I forget right when there’s actually someone here to see.”

Luka put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry if he made you uncomfortable. Or if I did,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No, you were trying to help,” Marinette smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he smiled back, and handed her back the bracelet. “So, what do you think? I have to talk to my mom, of course, but if she wanted to offer something like this, how would you feel about it?”

“Hmm,” Marinette frowned thoughtfully, checking the time. “They didn’t take that long to make. I don’t think I could make too many at once. If we limit the custom orders and set clear expectations for turnaround, it should be doable. For the other pieces, we could possibly agree on a minimum weekly delivery, and then—what?” Marinette narrowed her eyes suspiciously as she realized Luka was giving her That Smile again.

“Nothing, sorry. You’re just...very professional.”

Marinette glared at him. “I am a professional. And If you tell me it’s cute I will hit you.”

“I would never patronize you that way,” Luka promised, one hand over his heart. “And you are absolutely cute no matter what you’re doing.”

Marinette flushed, and smacked his arm. “Don’t you know better than to flirt while you’re trying to do business?”

“I do, I do,” Luka chuckled, raising his hands defensively. “I’m sorry. I promise, no more flirting on business time. So do you have a business card I can give my mom? In the meantime, maybe you could put us together an estimate for pricing and a proposal for that minimum number you were talking about?”

“Certainly, I can do that,” Marinette said briskly, and gave Luka a dark look when his mouth twitched.  She stepped over to her bag and dug out the small monogrammed sleeve that held her business cards. “How would you feel about me contracting out some of the actual assembly to local young people in need of employment?”

Luka coughed, and Marinette was sure he was trying not to laugh as he took the pink business card . “As long as quality still meets an acceptable minimum standard, I think we could live with that. What sort of quality control would you put in place if you went that route?”

“I’d inspect each piece prior to delivery,” Marinette replied, “If I determine any pieces to be substandard, I’ll replace them, and deduct the cost of the wasted materials from my next invoice. If you find any upon inspection that you feel aren’t up to standard, I’ll inspect it at the time of my next delivery and replace it if necessary.”

“What about the custom orders?” Luka asked. “We can’t replace the materials in that case.”

“I’ll do all of the custom orders myself, unless one of my apprentices reliably demonstrates consistent aptitude. If I think one of them is up to it, though, I’ll discuss it with you first and their first few attempts would be heavily supervised.”

Luka smiled. “Well, again, our owner Madame Couffaine will have to approve these terms, but that sounds reasonable to me. Please include it in the terms of your proposal. When should I tell her to expect it?”

“By the end of the week. If possible, I’d like Madame Couffaine to review it and set up a meeting by the end of the following week.”

“I think we can make that work.”

“Excellent. Happy to do business with you, Mr. Couffaine,” Marinette said, offering her hand.

“Likewise, Miss—” He checked her business card quickly. “Dupain-Cheng.”

They stood there for a moment, increasingly dopy smiles on their faces, and then Marinette looked out the window. “It looks like it’s let up, so...I should go.”

“Would it ruin everything if I kissed you right now?” Luka asked.

Marinette smiled slowly, trying not to show the way her heart was pounding. So much for all her resolutions. “It might. If you do it badly.”

Luka chuckled through his nose, shifting subtly closer. “So if I promise to do it well, can I kiss you?”

“Are we done talking business?” Marinette asked, tilting her head as she looked up at him, eyes twinkling with more bravado than she felt.

“I’m definitely done with business,” Luka told her seriously.

“Then you may,” she said, equally seriously, and the next thing she knew, she was pressed back against the counter and Luka was kissing her hungrily, one hand planted on the counter next to them and the other tangled in her hair. She slipped her arms up around his neck, closed her eyes, and kissed him back for all she was worth, and it definitely wasn’t bad.

Someone cleared their throat. Loudly. Luka bolted upright, staring into the smirking face of his sister.

“Juleka,” he said—nearly whined. “What the hell are you even doing here?”

“You haven’t answered your phone for the past two hours, dumbass,” Juleka told him dryly. “Mom sent me to check on you.” And of course she’d come through the back. Though he might not even have registered the bell if someone had come in through the front, honestly, so maybe it was just as well. “Who’s your friend?” Juleka asked pointedly.

“Um…” Luka glanced at Marinette, who glanced at him, and then suddenly she burst into slightly hysterical giggles, and he couldn’t help joining in. “That’s kind of a long story,” he managed, and they both giggled uncontrollably as Juleka raised her eyebrows. “Just—Just give me a minute, Jules, she was getting ready to leave anyway.”

“Hell of a goodbye kiss,” Juleka observed in her flat way, and then turned to go into the back.

“Hell yeah, it was,” Luka muttered, grinning at the floor, before turning to look at Marinette. “Sorry for my crappy timing. Maybe we could revisit this sometime when I’m not supposed to working? Maybe have dinner together first?”

“Maybe,” Marinette smiled, packing her things back in her bag. “We’ll see.”

Luka leaned on the counter and grinned. “It wasn’t bad, right?”

Marinette giggled, without looking at him. “Not bad at all. May I have my shoes and my clothes please?”

Luka went to get them, grinning like a fool. Marinette held onto his arm to steady herself as she put on her shoes, and then she took her bag and the bag containing her wet clothes.

“I really enjoyed spending time with you today,” Luka grinned. “If that wasn’t obvious.” He slipped a card out of his pocket and handed it to her, turning it so she could see the handwritten number on the back. “Here’s my number.”

Marinette paused and programmed it into her phone right then, sending him a message. “And now you have mine.” Luka bit back a shit-eating grin, staring at the floor as he opened the door for her to keep from giving himself away. As she passed, Marinette popped up on her toes to kiss him lightly, and gave him a sassy grin as she slipped out of the door.

He shut the door and turned his back to it, letting his stupid grin take over his face. Juleka must have heard the bell because she came out of the back.

“So,” Luka said conversationally, heading back to the long-abandoned pile of boxes he’d been shelving. “What’s it going to cost me for you to maybe not mention this to Mom?”

“How do you know I didn’t already tell her I found you about to ravish a girl on the store counter.”

Luka flushed. “One, I was not. Two, you’re my sister and I know you, and you know me, so you knew I was going to ask that question, so I know you haven’t told Mom before finding what you could get out of me. So. What’ll it take?”

“What are you offering?” Juleka folded her arms.

Luka grinned. “How about some new jewelry?”

[straykidsscribbles]

Little Red Robbing Hood

Summary: Best thief in your generation. Heiress to a powerful mafia family. And kind of, on and off best friend to one Seo Changbin, who knows you way too well.

Fairytale AU, based on Little Red Riding Hood; Mafia Au; Female reader; Fluff with the lightest hint of angst 

Genre: Seo Changbin x reader 

Word Count: 11,878 words

Warnings: Violence, profanity, and a bit of blood. 

Happy very belated birthday to her majesty Queen Ruby @changbeanie, I adore you to the stars and back again.

“The line’s secure. You’re free to jump, Red.” 

A small smirk crept over your lips as you took a few quick steps away from the edge of the open window. This would be the easiest heist you’d ever pulled. Pride always goes before a fall. If they wanted to keep such a pretty, pretty painting, they should have guarded it better. 

“Thought you’d never give me the all clear Black.” 

“Oh, you know me, triple checking the wire that’s holding up your whole weight. Your grandmother would murder me if I let you die Red.” 

“She has faith in my skills. You’re just the worry wart.” 

A deep breath. 

In. 

Out. 

You took off, legs pumping until you hit the edge of the window and soared out into the air, nothing between you and the ground.

Nothing that is, except for the wire attached to the climbing harness you wore. 

The wire jerked as it took your weight and stabilized, over five hundred feet in the air. You swung around and grabbed hold of it with your right hand. Tapping the goggles protecting your eyes, you scanned the wall in front of you. 

The goggles immediately flashed, and a number popped up in the corner. 

43. Perfect. 

“Black, I’m good to go. You can get the engine running for me.” 

“Copy Red. Driver’s seat for you?” 

“Well, you do have good taste in wheels. Why not? Now shut up and let me concentrate.” A plate of inch thick glass stood between you and the security system protecting your target. It was the first obstacle in your route to the final piece of Van Gogh’s Wheat Field with Cypresses left in private collections. 

The other two would be easy to steal; museum security was nothing to a professional thief. This one required a little more finesse, which is why you were tasked with the job. 

“I didn’t know master thieves needed to concentrate. You were born into the mafia; weren’t you stealing your dad’s gold cufflinks off his suits for fun at four?” 

Who had even told him that story? You gritted your teeth as a gust of wind buffeted you. This was not the time for distractions; the glass cutter in your hand was sharp enough to cut off a finger if you weren’t careful, and you weren’t in the mood to be bleeding all over whichever fancy car your partner picked out for you. 

“If I lose a finger because of you I will make you pamper me for my entire convalescence,” you hissed, the sensitive microphone on your earpiece catching your words over the rushing of the wind. He really just does not know when to shut up does he? 

Your partner simply hummed in response, clearly abiding by your request for silence. You bit your lip as the glass cutter made its way back around and completed cutting out a circle from the window. 

Slipping the glass cutter into a pocket on your belt, you pushed off from either side of the little circle. Your body swung out into the air, suspended only by the wire disappearing into the open window a few floors above. Like a pendulum you swung back, legs out and braced to hit the glass. 

A surprisingly soft tinkle of glass shards filled your ears as you fell into the room. Taking a few steps forward to maintain your balance, you pivoted in the center of the room. No one in here with me, both sides clear. Looks like our intel was right. 

“I’m in. Give me three minutes to make the switch and drop it down to you.” 

“Yes Red.” 

You padded over to the wall looming at your right, dim lighting making the painting hanging on it glow softly. “You are one elusive little picture aren’t you.” You whispered as you unclipped the large frame that hung from your hip. 

Small metal discs imbedded in the wall where the bottom two corners of the painting were resting acted as pressure sensors. Once the painting was removed, you’d only have five seconds to press the other one in place at exactly the same pressure. Even the slightest millipascal of extra pressure and alarms would fill the entire building. 

Still, you were the best thief in your generation for a reason. Some of it was genetics and family talent, yes, but the rest of it? Pure skill and practice.

Light fingers swept over the beautiful canvas, tracing the edge of the frame as you took one quick breath. Then, in the space of a heartbeat you pushed the edge of the Van Gogh away from the wall and onto the ground, cushioning its fall with your left toe. With your right hand you slipped the replacement frame, carefully measured to be the exact same weight and size, into place. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. 

Your heartbeat was racing in your ears, but you still heard the slight click of the pressure plates locking back into place, as though absolutely nothing had happened. 

A slow smirk spread over your lips, one sharp canine digging into your lip as you bent down to pick up the painting and slide it into a carrying case. You’d be gone before they even realized anything was missing. 

You sauntered back over to the open window, shoes making only the slightest crunch as you stepped on the shattered remains of the windowpane. Reclipping the harness, you tapped a button on the winch and let it yank you upwards. 

This is the best feeling in the world. The thought came to your mind unbidden, but the more you considered it the more you realized it was true. The wind rushing through your hair, the exhilaration of a successful mission, the adrenaline of an escape waiting for you–this was the life you were meant for. 

“Black, target acquired. My car better be ready.” 

“I knew you’d get it. And please Red, when have I ever let you down. Your car is waiting downstairs, the valet has the key. And I’m up on the roof to get rid of anyone who might try to follow you.” 

You slipped into the open window of your own suite and began untangling yourself from the harness, pushing everything back into a small black suitcase. “Thanks Black.” 

“Only the best for you Red. Can’t wait for our next date.” 

“Me neither. Always a pleasure working with you. Red out.”

You pulled out the earpiece and squished it between two fingers before burying it inside a tiny house plant resting on the desk. The tech would degrade and disappear within a few hours, leaving no trace of your whereabouts, and nothing the police could gain any evidence from. 

Suitcase in one hand, painting in the other, you swept out of the suite and down to the bottom floor, where the car your partner had promised you was waiting. The sleek black Audi shone in the light from the lobby’s chandelier and you suppressed a little sigh. 

He really does have good taste in cars. 

Taking the keys from the valet, you slipped into the driver’s seat and sped off towards the airport. 

Mission accomplished. 

---

Four hours later, the unfortunate owner of Wheat Field with Cypresses reentered his suite only to find glass on the floor and an entirely different painting sitting in the middle of the wall. 

Four stark red letters on a plain black background stood out as the man stared in horror. 

L R R H

Little Red Robbing Hood. 

He’d been robbed. 

---

“Mother, it’s too early for this!” you grumbled as you picked up the phone lying next to your bed. “I just gave you the painting yesterday!”  

“Yes, well, this can’t wait. I have another assignment for you.”

You sat up and rubbed your eyes tiredly. The planning for the painting heist had taken ages, and you were completely ready to just sleep for the whole day. 

Unfortunately, your mother had other ideas. 

“Lately, NCT has been gathering far too much power. They’ve set up different accounts all over the world to split up their finances and make sure that no matter what happens they have something to fall back on.” 

“What does that matter to us? We’re way stronger than they are.” 

“____, what have I always told you? Overconfidence is why so many mafia families fall. We know better than that–it’s why we’re so powerful years after our contemporaries died off.” 

Your family had started their network almost three hundred years ago, and every other mafia family from that time had slowly lost their power or been absorbed into a new family that rose up and took them over. Yours had survived because of their adaptability and attention to minutiae–no detail was unimportant enough to overlook. 

When most of the other mafia families had been patriarchal, yours had become matriarchal when your great-grandfather only had a daughter. Rather than bringing someone in from outside, he trained his daughter to keep the traditions of the family alive. 

Others had scoffed, saying there was no way a woman could handle the day to day running of the mess of madness, backstabbing, and treachery that was the underground crime network. But your grandmother had thrived in it, and your mother after her. 

And now here you were, best thief of your generation and heir apparent. 

Adaptability and meticulousness. That was what kept your family alive and in power. 

That and a few carefully placed assassinations, take overs, and thefts when necessary. All for the greater good of course. 

“Alright fine Mother, what do you need me to do?” 

“Well, after your little painting heist this should be easy enough for you. There’s going to be a tradeoff with information regarding the accounts and plans of NCT in Singapore. I want you to be there for that tradeoff.” 

“And I take the information, which I’m assuming is on some sort of flash drive?” 

“Yes. If you somehow manage to cause a little dissent within their ranks and make it seem like they betrayed each other, well, so much the better. From Singapore, you have a flight straight to Rome, and then from Rome to London where you will deliver the information to your grandmother. She’s expecting you in five days.” 

“When is the tradeoff?” 

“At nine pm, near the Elgin Bridge. You’ll see them.” 

“Alright Mother. I’ll check in once I have the drive.” 

---

The flight to Singapore had been short, and the use of your family’s private jet certainly had made things easier. You were completely prepped and ready to go; touristy outfit to blend with the crowd, tiny stun gun hidden in your pocket, and a set of earrings that could be pinched together to act as a miniature explosive. 

Gadgets were a bit of a weakness for you. But they had saved your life on numerous occasions, so could you really be blamed? 

You scanned the crowd, looking around for anyone who might seem out of place. No one yet, maybe I’m early. 

You dug through your bag, pulling out a large camera with a zoom lens; naturally, it would look as though you were just taking pictures when in fact you were watching the area under the bridge for suspicious activity. 

Ten minutes passed without anything happening, and you were beginning to feel a little nervous. Had your mother’s intel been wrong? Had someone set you up? The rushed timing had ensured you came without backup; what if this was an ambush?

And then, you saw two men standing at the edge of the bridge, hands held protectively over their waists where presumably they had guns hidden away. 

You rolled your eyes. This is almost too easy. 

One of the men began walking towards the middle of the bridge, where a third man in a black suit stood, a briefcase leaning against the railing of the bridge. You watched carefully through the zoom lens as the third man shook hands with the first, slipping him the small flash drive. 

Target acquired. Now for a little pickpocketing. 

The first man walked back towards his companion, slipping the flash drive into a pocket without pausing. You put away your camera and began walking towards them as well, hands swinging carelessly as though you were simply enjoying the fresh air and light breeze after a humid day of sightseeing. 

Three. 

Two.

One. 

You brushed against your target, slipping your fingers gently into his pocket and slowly withdrawing them, the flash drive tucked into the palm of your hand. You kept walking naturally, hands swinging still, before you passed through a crowd of tourists which blocked you from view. 

Time to disappear. You slipped the tiny yet extremely valuable piece of metal into a side pocket and twisted your jacket inside out so that the red lining was now on the outside. If anyone was looking for a thief in a black and white jacket, they’d never think it was you. 

However, you didn’t see the third man watching from his side of the bridge. The flash of red from your jacket caught his eye and he stared as you made your way over to the nearest bus stop and clambered onto the first bus that passed. 

He couldn’t be sure, but there was something very familiar about you. 

Familiar, and suspicious. 

---

“Hi mom, I picked up a nice new silver mirror for you! I’m on my way to the airport now actually, so I should be on the flight home really soon.” You started speaking before your mother could, making sure that it was obvious you were out in public. 

“Alright ____, thank you. What time is your flight leaving again?” Or rather, do you know what flight you’re taking?

“No, actually, can you check? I think the flight number is CP753.” 

“Oh, you’re leaving at 9:43. If you need anything just call me okay?” 

“I will Mother. See you soon!” You tapped your phone and ended the call. Your mother had set up a flight whose number ended in 943. The time of departure would be easy enough to find out when you arrived at the airport. All you had to do was pick up your things from the airport storage you’d left your suitcase in. 

The familiar routine of heading to the airport, getting your things, and finding your flight on the large tv screens mounted on the wall slowly lulled you into a false sense of security. Everything appeared to be completely normal. The crowded airport was no more empty than usual; there were at least two families and three business executives headed towards the same terminal as you–you couldn’t see anything wrong.

But you couldn’t ignore the chill heading up your spine as you waited for your sandwich at one of the airport bistros. Something inside you, some sixth sense, some weird feeling made you feel like there was someone watching you. 

A malevolent presence, hovering at the edge of your awareness. 

Maybe we shouldn’t have rushed, even if it was important. Maybe we should have waited for a better opportunity, or better backup. 

Paying for your sandwich you grabbed the handle of your suitcase and pulled it after you, continuing the trek to your gate. 

There was no point in worrying now. If someone was following you, they knew where you were headed by now. The only thing you could do was wait and try and lose them in Rome. 

I hope I’m wrong. 

---

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going through a little bit of turbulence here. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.” The voice of one of the air hostesses rang out over the speakers. 

You wiped your hands with a paper towel and pushed open the door to the tiny bathroom, making your way slowly down the narrow aisle back to your seat. A loud popping noise broke the silence as the little seatbelt light came on, and it woke up a small baby in the middle row. 

Great. Now I have to deal with a noisy crying baby on top of everything. 

As you brushed past a seat, the man sitting there looked up and his eyes met yours.

A shiver ran up your spine. The look in his eyes was malevolent, cruel, utterly heartless. The man had dead eyes, and the little smile curling the edge of his lips could only mean trouble for you.

Why else would someone like that show up on your flight? A million thoughts racing through your mind, you settled back into your seat and pulled the blanket they’d given you closer to you. 

35,000 feet in the air, what else could you do besides wait. Wait and wait and wait and wait for something to happen. 

Behind you, the baby hiccupped and sobbed loudly. Nausea rose in your throat as the plane rolled, sending your stomach through a whirlwind. 

And now I’m ready to throw up. Wonderful. How the fuck do I live with this? You rubbed the inside of your wrist, trying to force the awful feeling to recede. 

Only partially successful, you settled further into your seat. Right now, you just wanted to get off this plane before someone stuck a knife between your ribs. 

---

The second you stepped off the plane in Rome you knew your earlier feeling had been right. There was someone following you, and it was the terrifying man who’s smile had so unnerved you earlier. 

Oh crap why did this have to happen to me? What do I do how the fuck do I get out of this I have no back up and literally no supplies except for what’s on me. ____, good luck getting out of this you’re in really deep trouble this time. 

You saw a small sign for a restroom up ahead and you immediately took a deep breath and ducked inside. Fingers slightly shaky after the long flight, you pulled out your phone and immediately dialed your mother’s number. 

Four rings later, she picked up, voice clipped with irritation. “Yes ____, what’s wrong? I’m extremely busy right now, things have gotten crazy all over east Asia.” 

“Some of that might be my fault. Because I didn’t have backup or more time to prepare, I wasn’t able to make sure things were secure. 

The silence on the phone was deafening. You cringed a little as you waited for your mother’s response. While you were one of the most dangerous individuals in the criminal underworld, your mother was still more dangerous, and you hated disappointing her. 

“Well. This can’t be helped. Are you in Rome now ____?”

“Yes.” You tapped your foot on the tiled floor, waiting for her response. 

“Alright, one of our best wolves is in Athens right now. He’ll meet you at the Trevi Fountain tonight. You need to make sure you are staying in public spaces and being as unobtrusive as possible. Join a tour group and stay with them, blend in with the thousands of other tourists and appear as normal as you can.” 

“Don’t worry Mother, I’m not hopeless.” Already you felt a little better now that you knew you had backup coming and no one blamed you for your little mistake. The weight on your shoulders felt a great deal lighter, less overwhelming now that you had a plan. 

“I know you aren’t. But a mother worries no matter how capable and smart her daughter is.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. Your mother cared about you, yes, but the mafia life wasn’t really the best place for touchy-feely displays of affection. Things must be really bad; that’s why she’s being so uncharacteristically soft. 

“You’ll recognize the wolf on sight, you worked with him on your last mission. He is the only one you can trust at this point alright?” 

Wolves were the secondary leaders in the mafia, right underneath the hereditary leaders like you and your family. They were given the title of wolf once they had proven themselves as loyal protectors and skilled fighters, much like actual wolves. They led in every situation not important enough to require the attention of one of the family, and they were the ones responsible for making sure your family was always safe. 

They were the most loyal operatives, their clan ties to yours stretching back to when your family was first making a name for themselves. 

And this particular wolf was the person you trusted most outside of your immediate family. Having him as a partner again would make everything easier, and you wouldn’t even have to worry about dealing with an unknown player. 

He’s trustworthy and… safe. Always safe. 

“Yes Mother. It’ll be nice to see Black again.” 

“At this point, no codenames as well. Use your real names; someone might have overheard your codenames and your real names are safer. You’re simply ____ to him, and he’s Changbin to you.”

Well. This would be interesting. No more Red jokes. He’s been calling me that for years, it’ll be weird not to hear it. 

“Understood. I’ll check in once we meet.” 

“Only by text ____. You cannot afford to call me again, even now you don’t know who could be listening. Changbin will have access to some supplies for you to restock, and you will have to make your own way to your grandmother, is that understood?”

“Yes Mother. As you wish.” 

“Good luck ____. Stay safe.” 

The phone clicked off before you had a chance to say anything else. 

You shoved the phone inside your bag. As things stood now, you couldn’t afford to get rid of it; you didn’t have the resources to replace it, even if it was a security risk. 

Placing your palms on the cool stone sink you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Dark circles rimmed your eyes, the result of the long sleepless flight and the constant fear that someone was watching you. Even now, inside the bathroom, your shoulders were tense with anxiety. 

What if I don’t last until Black– Changbin– comes? You had to remind yourself that your old color codenames were not to be used. Years ago, you’d decided on those nicknames as a group with a few of your fellow younger agents, each of you picking a color for a heist in Switzerland. The names had stuck long after that mission, and not using them would definitely take a little effort. 

Still, you liked the sound of Changbin’s real name. Using it felt somewhat more intimate than using his codename; many of your friends knew his codename but only those closest to him knew his real name. 

“Come on ____, you got this. You’re the best thief of your generation you can damn well make it to a rendezvous.” Splashing some cold water on your face, you tightened your hands into fists. 

Someone might be after you, but if they expected to get you easily, they were just about to be proven grievously wrong. 

---

Soft sounds of someone strumming a guitar filled the night air as you sat on the cool marble of the Trevi Fountain. Despite your fears the day had passed relatively painlessly; the bus ride into the city and ambling around the cobblestone streets soaking up the history behind a tour group had been almost fun, if you let yourself forget about the reason you were there. 

Unfortunately, the malevolent presence you’d sensed in Singapore was still hovering somewhere nearby, even if you couldn’t see anyone tailing you. 

Where is Changbin and why isn’t he here yet? Is he planning on having me die all dramatically in his arms? 

No, Mama would never forgive him, and he idolizes her too much to do that. Honestly, sometimes it’s like she’s his grandmother, not mine. 

You shook the errant thoughts out of your head, choosing instead to focus on scanning the crowd for Changbin. The sun had set almost an hour previously and the fountain was glowing with lights from within, highlighting both the carved marble and the people admiring it. 

Where was he even? 

The pasta you’d had for lunch seemed like a meal from years ago. You’d been waiting long enough; you needed food at this point. You dug through your bag, searching for the savory pastry you’d bought earlier for a snack. The little packet of dough, herbs, and vegetables was bright on your tongue, giving you a little energy and brightening your mood. 

But the fear that he’d been discovered too, and people were lying in wait to capture you and take the pretty silver drive tucked in your inner pocket kept you from enjoying your food. 

If NCT didn’t capture and kill you, the anxiety would instead. 

---

Changbin stared out from the shadow of a building, cap pulled low over his eyes. His gaze skimmed the crowd, looking for your familiar figure. 

He’d been hiding for a while, having already taken out one of the operatives tailing you. He had spotted you earlier as you were eating, illuminated by the glow of the fountain that seemed to light you up with a glow that made Changbin’s heart stutter a little when he looked at you. 

His eyes, while drawn to you like magnets, still noticed the dark figure in all black that was watching you from the gelato shop opposite. 

Changbin’s wolf training kicked in almost immediately. Someone was threatening one of his teammates, his friends– he wasn’t about to let the man anywhere near you. 

He crept up behind the man and tapped his shoulder to get his attention, smiling benignly before yanking him backwards into an alley and taking him out with two quick punches to the temple and jaw. Surveillance now taken care of; he could focus on making sure the area was secure before approaching you. 

And now, after another half an hour of searching, Changbin was certain no one else was watching you aside from him. He pushed up his cap and let a smirk play across his lips. 

Sure will be nice seeing _____ again. She always looks cute when she’s startled. 

He sauntered up to you from behind, hands jammed into his pockets and headphones swinging around his neck. 

“Hey Princess, made a wish yet?” 

A tiny gasp escaped you as you whirled around and almost fell against Changbin. His arms came up almost reflexively and held you tightly against him, making sure you weren’t about to fall over into the fountain. 

“Fucking finally Bin, you took forever. I thought you were going to stand me up.” Your words were carefree and blasé, but Changbin heard the faint quiver in your voice. 

The hours of stress, of waiting for someone to come, of fear that in the next second a bullet would somehow end up in your skull, of one of the most turbulent flights you’d experienced in a while all swept over you as you stood there tucked against Changbin. His arms cradled you gently, spreading warmth throughout your body, swaying with you as he hugged you like you were the most important person in the entire universe.

“As if I’d ever stand you up. Now come on, we’re staying pretty nearby.” He lowered his head slightly so that his lips were just brushing your ear. “The man who was watching you earlier will have a pretty bad headache when he wakes up, not to mention that he’ll be getting severely punished for losing you.”

Already a grin crept across your face as you reached down to grab your suitcase, still holding Changbin’s arm with your other hand. “Thanks Bin.” 

“Always ____. Always.” 

---

The walk back to the little apartment was quiet; exhaustion poured over you in waves as you tried to stay upright. Changbin clutched your suitcase in one hand, the other clasped around yours to give you some sort of support as you made your way between the brightly colored houses. 

He stopped soon after in front of a door with an ornate bronze knocker. Digging through his pocket, Changbin pulled out a small key and slipped it into the lock, pushing the door open. 

“We’re on the top floor, with roof access in case we need to get out in a hurry. We shouldn’t need to though, this safehouse was set up by my dad.” 

Grumbling under your breath, you climbed up the two narrow flights of stairs that led up to the loft apartment. Changbin pressed his thumb against the doorknob and waited for the fingerprint recognition to work. He then tapped in a quick code on the keypad revealed in a panel in the door and it finally swung open. 

“There’s a shower in there, and I brought some stuff for you if you need clothes to change into.” Changbin went over to another suitcase waiting inside the little apartment and pulled out a plain black t-shirt and gray sweats. 

Taking the proffered clothes, you slipped inside the bathroom. The heat and pounding of the hot water washed away some of the tension still coiled inside your muscles, leaving you limp with exhaustion. You let the water wash over you, losing all sense of time, enjoying the relief of focusing on one sensation without having to worry about who might come after you while your guard was down. 

Changbin was outside, and you trusted him to keep you safe. 

Finally, you turned off the water; sleeping in an actual bed would probably result in a lower risk of drowning that falling asleep in the shower, which you were certainly close to. Drying off quickly, you threw on the clothes Changbin had given you and tumbled out into the main room of the little studio apartment. 

“You look slightly more human.” One corner of Changbin’s lips quirked up as he looked up from the gun in his hand. A small bottle of liquid sat on the table next to him, and a stack of cotton scraps which he was using to clean and oil the metal. 

The smell was familiar in a way; Changbin always cleaned off his twin pistols before he slept, and you’d spent enough time with him to know his routine almost as well as your own. 

“I feel a hell of a lot more human. So, how are we getting to London?” You set down on the bed and leaned back against the pillows behind you, taking a deep breath as you sank into the plush warmth. 

Changbin tucked one gun next to his shoes and put the other on the nightstand on the other side of the bed. He sat down, the bed sinking slightly on his side as he turned to look at you. 

“Well, air travel is going to be a lot harder to manage because it’s a lot more regulated, and even if we call the jet, we’ll still have to file a flight plan. Boat would work but it would also take a long time, so we’ll go by train. We shouldn’t have any reason to get our passports checked as long as we’re within the EU, and then once we get to Calais, we can easily just take a boat over to England. It’ll be a lot more subtle, and we should be able to make it within the deadline.”

“Train? Really? Will it be fast enough?” 

“_____, Europe is tiny. If we take a train tomorrow morning, we’ll be in Paris by evening. From there it’s easy enough to get to Calais.” 

“If you’ve put so much thought into this, then how are we supposed to make sure no one follows us onto the train.” You crossed your arms over your chest, frowning thoughtfully. 

“It’s a risk we’ll have to take. The only thing is, there’ll be less regulation and so hopefully if things go sour, we’ll have an easier time escaping. That and, if we’re on a train we can get off in the middle, and that’s a hell of a lot easier than jumping out of a plane.” 

You nodded slowly, considering his plan. He did have a very good point; it would be easier to escape off a train. 

What choice do we have? At least this way we have a chance. 

“Fine. You’re right. Now come on, if we have to take a train I’m assuming we’ll have to be out of here early in the morning.” 

“Departure’s around 5 am Princess. You can finish up your beauty sleep on the train, I’ll even let you use my shoulder as a pillow.” He pulled one of the armchairs next to the bed and settled into it, eyes already beginning to close. 

“Good night.” 

You let the soft sound of Changbin’s steady breathing lull you to sleep.

---

Dark woods all around you.

Shadowy trees looming every direction you turned.

One path forward.

A break in the tree line, only to reveal clouds obscuring part of the glowing yellow full moon. 

A howl cutting through the air, making the back of your neck prickle with fear. 

A flash of mangy brown, and claws swiping through the red cloak you had wrapped around you. 

The basket in your hand falling, falling, falling.

Red splattering through the air.

Blood red. 

Painpainpainpainpain

Menacing shadows all around you.

Black warmth enveloping you, calling out your name.

“_____! _____! Wake up for fuck’s sake! _____!” Changbin’s voice broke through the dense fog of the nightmare that had captured every one of your senses. Heart racing, you opened your eyes only to make out his face close to yours, close enough for you to see the fear in his eyes. His hands clutched your arms, shaking you to try and rouse you from whatever horror you were seeing. 

The moonlight streaming through the window calmed you as your eyes adjusted and you realized where you were. Changbin was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard and holding you tightly against his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart under your ear, a little fast but still helping ground you. 

Breathing fast, you simply lay there for a moment. His arms wrapped around you, his cheek resting against the crown of your head.

Every time you closed your eyes you could still feel the sharp claws of the monster that had attacked you. 

Slowly, steadily, your breathing began to even out and you settled further into Changbin’s embrace. You slipped your arms around his torso, not ready to let him go just yet. 

“_____?” His voice was softer now, a gentle whisper rather than the sharp order it had been. “What happened Princess?”

“Bad dream.” You mumbled, embarrassed now that you were more awake. You were a professional thief and the heir to a mafia family; you were not supposed to get so freaked out by a nightmare of all things. 

“It must have been pretty bad, if you were screaming like that. Do you want to talk about it?” The gentle rasp of his voice was calming.

You sighed. He wouldn’t let this go without you telling him– Changbin was stubborn like that. “It’s probably because of the whole Little Red Robbing Hood thing people have been calling me lately. I don’t even know, it was weird. I was trapped in this forest and all the trees were like monsters. There was this mangy-looking, kind of flea-bitten brown wolf or dog or something that jumped at me and clawed me, and then a bunch more shadows were surrounding me or something and it was like this explosion of pain, I don’t even know.” 

“So, a wolf attacked you? In a dark forest? ____, that does sound like a fairytale. Maybe you need a break from all this. You’ve been going on so many heists and missions lately, no wonder you’re stressed.” 

“I guess.” You trailed off, not sure if you wanted to finish your tale. That somehow there had been a black wolf that had protected you, made you feel safe and warm and comforted and kept whatever pain you felt at bay. 

Changbin tapped the lamp next to you and a soft yellow glow filled the room. He looked down at you, dark eyes meeting yours unflinchingly, without the slightest hesitation. 

“You know, any monster, real or imaginary, would never be able to come near you if I was there. You have a wolf for protection after all.” 

At any other time, you would have felt shy at his direct statement. You might have laughed at his dramatic, even slightly romantic streak. Who used their ridiculous title as an actual declaration of protection? 

However, the way Changbin’s eyes were drilling into you made that all but impossible. 

If anything ever happened, he means it. He really would protect me with his life. 

Unable to muster up the words to respond to him, you simply nodded and curled your fingers into the fabric of his shirt. The little clock on the nightstand read 2:26 am and you could probably squeeze in another hour and a half of sleep before you had to leave. 

With the solid warmth of Changbin curled around you, you actually did have a chance of getting some proper rest this time. 

---

Changbin sighed as your breathing finally evened out, signaling that you were asleep. He traced a finger over your cheek, drawing a little heart on your skin as you slept. 

“What am I to do with you?” He whispered into the darkness. “You’re going to be the death of me.” 

He sighed softly, the puff of air escaping from his lips pushing a lock of hair away from your face. “I–”

I love you. But he didn’t have the courage to utter his thoughts aloud and make them real. 

The night would keep his secret for him; never telling you how much you meant to him. 

He was just a friend to you. Nothing more. He couldn’t aspire to be more with someone of your prestige and rank and skill. 

And if all he could do was give you a safe space to break down in and protect you to the best of his ability? That’s what he would do. 

You were too important to him; he wouldn’t risk the bond between you for anything. 

---

“Rise and shine Princess, you don’t want to miss the train, do you?” 

“I hate you.”

“Yeah I hate you too and look where we are now. If you don’t get up then we’re going to be stuck here for another twelve hours, and that’s twelve whole hours for NCT to get their shit together and find us.” 

“Are you ready?” You mumbled from underneath one of the pillows 

Changbin rolled his eyes. “For your information, I actually am. Unless you want me to show up at your grandmother’s house without you saying ‘Oh, ____ just wanted to sleep and that’s why I had to leave her behind’ I suggest you get going.” 

You grumbled but pushed yourself up, sitting on the bed. “Did you already pack all of my stuff?” 

“Yes, because I’m the best partner you’ll ever have.” 

“Questionable. Orange did a pretty great job last time.” 

“Jisung is talented but he’s got nothing on me.” Changbin threw a sleazy wink at you and laughed when you threw the pillow next to you at his head. 

You splashed water on your face and huffed at Changbin’s grin in the mirror. “His ego isn’t as ginormous as yours either.” 

“You love me even with my ginormous ego, so I think I win.” 

He meant it as a joke. Changbin always says stupid shit like that, it’s nothing new. 

“Keep telling yourself that Bin.” 

Somehow though, his words kept reverberating through your head. Now that the idea had been planted your head, you couldn’t help wondering. 

Would it be that hard to fall in love with him? 

You weren’t sure if the answer scared or excited you.

---

The train station was crowded despite the early hour; no doubt commuters and locals and jetlagged tourists were taking advantage of the cooler weather. You and Changbin stuck close together, hands brushing as you made your way to the platform. 

As you approached the train, you couldn’t help feeling like there was something watching you, something you could sense and feel but not actually see. 

A malevolent presence. 

You tugged on Changbin’s sleeve to get his attention. “Bin, I think our friends from last night might be somewhere around here.” 

“Fuck.” The curse escaped his lips as he glanced around. “Hopefully they don’t spot us, and the train gets away alright.” 

He reached over and pulled the hood of your yellow hoodie up over your head. Your heart gave a little thump as his fingers brushed the side of your cheek. “Come on, let’s go. We’re leaving in ten minutes anyways.” 

Changbin quickly busied himself with putting your suitcases in the storage rack, while you got your tickets out and kept things ready for the conductor to check. The sooner you left Rome, the better. 

Within a few minutes, you felt the train begin moving under you, the acceleration pushing you against the back of the seat. Changbin reached over and patted your hand, twining your fingers together and squeezing slightly. 

“You okay? We seem to be alright so far.” 

A sigh escaped your lips as you looked out of the window, the grand architecture of the city you’d gotten to spend far too little time in looming in the distance. 

“It’s just… I kind of wanted to have more time here. Maybe see the sights, go on more than just the one short day tour while constantly stressing about someone following me. It feels like I got cheated, you know? I came to Rome, of all places, and I barely got to see any of the history and architecture and art.”

One corner of Changbin’s lips quirked up. “Well, who knew Little Red Robbing Hood had such an interest in art beyond what’s easy to steal?” 

“Hey!” You hit his arm, hard. He didn’t have to tease all the time, did he? And mentioning that name in a public place was dangerous!

“How’s this Princess? If we get out of this alive, and your grandmother doesn’t kill me for displeasing her, I’ll take you to Rome for fun. No work, no missions, no targets. Just you, me, and whatever else you want.” 

You gulped at the look in his eyes. 

Warm. Soft. Heartfelt. A little cheeky. 

Loving?

He’s serious.

A chuckle escaped him as he leaned back against the seat. “Like I said though, that depends on us getting out of this alive. And for that, you’d probably want a bit of a nap. I promised you my shoulder, didn’t I?” 

He patted his right shoulder and you shook yourself out of the reverie that had overcome you. He was just messing around. I’m imagining things. It’s just being with someone who’s sort of cute and hot and knows me well. It’s the proximity is all. He doesn’t actually like me. 

Does he?

You scowled even as you settled into place, head resting against Changbin’s shoulder. He was warm and smelled of pine needles and something else, something you couldn’t place. 

Slowly, your eyes drooped shut and you fell asleep curled up against him, barely noticing the arm he wrapped around you as he pulled you closer to him. 

---

Not even two hours later, you were jolted awake by Changbin shaking your shoulder roughly. “_____, wake up. They found us. We have to move.” 

Your eyes flew open and you stifled a groan as you realized what he was talking about. Behind you, through the glass door connecting the compartments, you could make out two dark suited figures coming towards you. 

One of them looked all too familiar. The man from the plane, who had a bandage on his forehead where Changbin must have knocked him out earlier. He wasn’t smiling now; rather his face was twisted in a snarl. 

All too aware of the flash drive hidden inside your pocket, you reached down and grabbed Changbin’s hand, squeezing it tightly. While you had been asleep the compartment had emptied, and now its only occupants were the two of you. 

And of course, the two men from NCT. 

They approached you slowly, each one making his way down one aisle towards you. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a small knife–a gun’s noise would attract far too much attention.

“Finally caught up with us hmmm? Took you long enough,” you quipped, rolling your eyes. 

“Give us the drive.” 

Changbin smirked at the man coming towards him. “Come and get it, if you can.” 

All at once, the tension in the compartment snapped. The man coming towards you leaped over the last row of seats and bore down on you, stabbing downwards at your hips. You twisted, avoiding the small blade and scoring a long shallow cut along the man’s sleeve, which protected his arm. 

He threw two quick punches at your head and you skipped out of reach, moving around him so that his back was against a window. As you slashed and feinted and blocked his blade, the wheels in your mind turned constantly. 

How do I get rid of this guy?

The red latch on the window caught the edge of your vision, and a little smirk slipped over your lips. Bingo.

You swung out with your left hand, hoping to distract your opponent, and with your right hand you grabbed the red handle and pulled. The window flew open, the glass falling out exactly as expected of an emergency exit. 

Hands flat against the man’s chest you shoved him once, hard, and he toppled out of the window as the idyllic countryside streaked by. 

He was gone in a moment. 

Panting, you turned back to Changbin, expecting to see him standing over the body of his opponent. 

Instead, his opponent had him in a headlock, arm tightening around Changbin’s neck and cutting off his air supply. The man brought his other hand closer and closer to Changbin’s neck, a small knife in his hand. 

He stopped with the cool metal cutting slightly into Changbin’s skin, holding him in place carefully. His eyes though, were fixed on you. 

“Well well well. Little Red Robbing Hood, caught at last.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say ‘caught’, but whatever asshole.”

The man shook his head ruefully. “Tsk tsk. You should be a little more polite. After all, I do have your wolf right here with a knife to his neck. I think I hold all the cards in this situation.” 

The knife in his hand cut into Changbin’s skin a little more, and a thin rivulet of red seeped out of the wound, staining the collar of Changbin’s shirt. Changbin’s eyes were panicked as he met yours, and his lips moved in the same way over and over, as though he was mouthing something to you. 

Leave me ____! Run! Leave me!

“Well, I can’t have you hurting him. So how about you let him go, and then we can talk about this in a more… civilized manner.” Despite your panting, you managed to keep an even tone. 

The man chuckled hollowly. “What’s there to talk about? You have three seconds to pass the drive to me, otherwise I will kill your little mangy runt. Fine job he did protecting you. You should join NCT, perhaps there we can outfit you with talent more suited to you.”

The knife moved closer and closer to the veins in Changbin’s neck, until you simply couldn’t bear it anymore. 

If he got hurt because of you, you’d never forgive yourself. 

“Stop! I’ll give you the drive. Just don’t hurt him.” 

You dug the little metal rectangle out of your pocket and slid it across the floor. The man smiled almost to himself, and then–

Changbin collapse sideways, falling onto a row of seats with a limp thud. The man reached down and grabbed the drive, shoving it into a pocket and immediately slipping out of your compartment.

It galled you that you couldn’t chase after him. 

But as you came level with Changbin’s limp figure on the seats, your heart jumped into your throat. 

The seat was covered in red. 

Blood red. 

Your signature color. 

Quick as a flash you were kneeling beside him, one hand cradling his face even as you tilted it upwards to trace over his neck. The cuts there were shallow, hesitant, only a threat. 

Where’s the blood coming from? 

“_____,” Changbin coughed. “My arm.” 

You unbuttoned the first three buttons of his shirt and slid the soft fabric off his shoulder, only to gasp. The man had stabbed Changbin’s arm and then yanked out the knife at a different angle, leaving blood dripping. 

“Fuck, this is bad.” You ran back to the seat where you’d been only a few minutes previously, digging through your suitcase and pulling out the first aid kit. 

You were not going to lose Changbin. Not to something as dumb as blood loss. Not to anything ever.

“Okay, Bin, I need you to try and sit up, if you can.” You reached around him and grasped his other arm, pulling him upright even as he swung his legs off the seat. “Now hold this against the cuts on your neck, I need to work on your arm first.” 

You quickly swabbed the whole wound with alcohol wipes and began wrapping it with gauze and tape, keeping it as tight as you could around Changbin’s bicep to restrict the blood flow. 

Changbin winced even as you finished up, his eyes soft despite the pain no doubt filling his senses. 

“You shouldn’t have done that _____. I’m not worth that drive, we all know the information on it is incredibly valuable.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I’m serious ______. You can’t tell me my life is worth more than that drive.” 

You tightened your hands, your bloodstained, shaking hands, into fists.

“Seo Changbin how fucking DARE you. Do NOT tell me what your life is worth. You have absolutely no idea how important you are and how much you’re worth to me. So shut the fuck up you idiot.” 

“I—”

“Did you not just hear me tell you to shut up.” Kneeling in front of him, you grasped his chin in one hand, fingers gentle despite the anger still coursing through your veins. You tilted his head up, wiping off the cuts on his neck and placing bandages on each of them as well. 

Changbin winced as you finished, turning back to look at you.

“You know they’ll be long gone with that thing. We need to get it back.” 

“I know we need to get it back. Do you really think I’m that stupid?” 

Changbin chuckled, then immediately raised a hand to his neck as the movement pulled at the tape. “Well, you did just give them the drive.” 

He was infuriating. You were just about to smack his arm when you caught yourself. A pout stole over your lips even as you spoke. “You’re lucky you’re injured; you get a free pass.” You changed the movement to a light brush of your fingers against his skin, tracing the line of his muscles and the edge of the gauze.

The moment hung in the air, tense and yet comfortable at the same time. The banter between you was normal, but the concern for each other that was normally buried under five layers of sarcasm and six of wit was now well out in the open. 

There was no way he could mistake the look in your eyes.

There was no way you could mistake the look in his. 

“Well, I guess I am lucky.” Changbin broke the silence between you. “I mean, I do have a pretty girl basically sitting in my lap, holding my arm, and stroking my neck.” 

You almost choked, scrambling off his lap in an instant. “I was making sure the gauze was in place! And you still have blood on your neck you dumb-dumb. Planning on getting that off yourself?” 

The moment was broken, but you still felt heat suffusing your cheeks. Only Changbin could get you so riled up with such ease. 

“I did say I was lucky, didn’t I? Maybe if I’m luckier you’ll kiss them all better.” 

“I hate you.” 

“Clearly not, you did just save my life and trade an extremely valuable object for my safety.”

“Shut up and put this on.” You dug around in his bag and pulled out a hoodie, throwing it at his head. “You have until we arrive in Paris to start feeling better.” 

“Awwww Princess, you do care. You know what would make me feel better almost instantly?” 

Ignore him. You have work to do.

“A kiss. One right here—” he pointed to his arm like a petulant toddler, complete with pout and all. “—and one here, and one right here.” 

“Your lips aren’t injured Bin.” 

“Damn. Maybe I should have gotten that guy to punch me too.”

“You are so lucky I have to figure out this tracker and I can’t pay attention to you.”

---

Changbin lay back against the pillows in your little hotel room in Paris, finally clean and freshly bandaged after the harrowing train ride into the city. You were still seated at the desk, fingers clacking on the keyboard much as they had been for the past four hours, aside from regular breaks to check on Changbin’s injuries. 

“What are you even working on?” he mumbled sleepily, eyes half closed as he cuddled into the pillows. 

You waved a hand in his direction, trying to get him to shut up before he broke your concentration. A few more clicks and… perfect. 

The laptop hummed as you turned back to Changbin and padded over to the bed, sitting down on a corner. “If you didn’t keep interrupting me, I’d have gotten done a hell of a lot sooner. But anyways, you don’t think I would have given them the drive without some way to get it back.” 

Understanding dawned on Changbin, even in his sleepy, pain medication-induced daze. “You put a tracker on the drive.” 

“Exactly. And, I was also working on this.” You reached into your bag and pulled out a small hard disk. “There’s no guarantee that they won’t have placed a tracker on the drive as well. So, what we do, once we get it back, is move the information on that drive to this one. It’s set up to be automatic. All we have to do is plug the other one in.” 

“Well aren’t you clever?” The dopey smile on Changbin’s face as he looked at you made your stomach do flips.

“People have said that before.” A shy, almost coy smile worked its way across your face in response. You got up from the bed and went over to the chair, pulling it so that it sat next to the bed. 

“You should sleep, we both should really. The computer will finish its search for the tracker in an hour, and we need to be at our best before we try and take on NCT again. 

Changbin patted the pillows next to him. “Come here then. I’m cold.” 

“You have blankets.” 

“Yeah but I—”

“Fine.” You lifted a corner of the blankets and got in next to him. “I guess I owe you after my nightmare.” 

“Thank you.” The soft reply in the dimly lit room made your heart skip a beat. Changbin reached out under the covers and grasped your hand, pulling you closer to him. 

Five minutes later, you were out cold, one hand resting against Changbin’s chest right over his heart, the steady thumping reassuring you that he was alive and safe and here with you. 

---

“How’s your arm?” You asked, searching through the items in your bag for pepper spray and throwing weights. 

Changbin stretched it carefully, moving it in small circles to test its range of motion. “I think we’re good. It’s sore, but I can work with this.” 

“Now remember, I’m doing most of this. The drive is being taken to a music festival in the Latin Quarter. That means they’re probably going to have a handoff there, in the crowd. I’ll be in the mess of people, and I’ll nab the drive and then come to you.” 

“I’ll have the transfer disk waiting, and once we’re done, we simply toss the drive out the window and leave as fast as we can.” 

“Exactly. If we have to run, you make sure they don’t catch you again.” 

“Princess, you do care.” 

“Well of course I care about you idiot!” The words burst out of your mouth. The constant worry about Changbin and his needling had worn you down to the point where you were ready to throw something. “You’re my closest friend. I’d trust you with my life. And I care about you more than you know, so can you please not get hurt again? I don’t think I could handle it.” 

The quaver in your voice was unmistakable. 

Changbin reached over and cupped your cheek, turning your face to look him directly in the eye. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat, if it meant you were safe.” 

Slowly, giving you every chance to back away, Changbin leaned closer and closer and closer until his lips brushed against yours, soft and warm and just the slightest hint of teasing as he traced a heart on your back with his finger. 

You melted into him, one hand curling into his hair and the other holding him against you, solid and steady and unwavering. You weren’t sure why you’d never done this before, why you’d waited so long for something that felt so right. 

Beep beep beep. The computer interrupted you and you fell apart, hands still reaching for each other. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder, arms going around him in a hug. “Be safe. And if you think you can kiss me and then die to get out of doing it again, I’ll drag you back to life myself.” 

“_____? Wake up,” Changbin patted your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open and immediately you felt yourself deflating. 

It had just been a dream. 

He didn’t actually love you. 

He hadn’t kissed you. 

“Yeah. I’m up. We should suit up.” You stumbled out of bed with a groan and padded over to the bathroom, splashing water on your red face. 

“Come on, we should be at the festival before it starts, so we can scope out our getaway.” Changbin tucked his favorite pistol into his ankle holster and slipped a knife into his sleeve. 

He paused as you brushed past him, going to your suitcase. “Are you okay ____? You feel off somehow.”

“I’m fine. I’m more worried about you really, you’re the one who got hurt earlier.” 

“Don’t worry, it’s healed enough that as long as I don’t do anything dumb, we’ll be fine. Thanks for patching me up so well.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“Are you sure you’re—”

“Changbin, we need to go before it’s too late. Come on.” 

The two of you slipped out of the little hotel silently, not a word of conversation between you. Changbin seemed to sense your mood, staying quiet rather than initiating his usual banter. 

But the silence only seemed to cement the fact that, while you might care about Changbin, he’d never said anything about loving you back. 

Even in your dream. 

---

Music filled the air, the crowd moving with energy that easily obscured you and Changbin as you made your way closer and closer to the blinking red dot on the screen. The dot had been stationary for almost five minutes, suggesting that it was about to change hands soon and you wanted to get to it before that happened. 

“I think I see him.” Changbin whispered, the mic in his ear catching his every word. “Look near the stage, left side, three feet away from the big speaker.” 

You followed his directions with your eyes and took in the man standing there in dark wash jeans and a black hoodie. A beanie was pulled low over his head, obscuring some of his face. 

Somehow though, you could tell. He was the same man who had almost cut Changbin’s throat. 

Anger rose up in you, and you fought to keep yourself calm. Losing control would do nothing, and you needed to get to him and pickpocket him without anyone realizing. 

“Okay, I’m going in. Be ready to run.” You wiggled your fingers, ready and waiting for the exchange. Slowly, carefully, you neared the man, head down so that he couldn’t see your face under the cap you wore. 

You brushed up against him, making it appear as though the crowd had shoved you and you had simply stumbled. “Pardon, monsieur,” you muttered, hand slipping into the man’s pocket and out again.

One glance down was all it took to check if you had the drive. 

The little silvery piece of metal in your hand blinked up at you in the brightly colored lights of the festival, and you let yourself take a breath of relief. You had it back. 

“I have the box. Initiating transfer now. Let’s run.” You plugged the drive into the box in your pocket and pushed your way through the crowd, finding Changbin once more. He reached down and grabbed your hand the second you were in reach, tangling your fingers together and pulling you along behind him. 

“Come on Princess, let’s go.” The brisk walk through the crowd became a jog as the throng of people decreased, and before you knew it you were running, running as fast as you could, even as the mechanism in your pocket slowly transferred the files. 

---

Fifty feet away, a man checked inside his pocket, only to pull out a rectangular prism made of simple red glass. 

Gold letters spelled out LRRH on top. 

You weren’t about to let him think just anyone had pickpocketed him. A thief of your caliber deserved recognition. 

The man snarled in anger, pulling out his phone and dialing a number. 

“She’s taken it again. Use the tracker.” 

And sooner than you realized it, you and Changbin were being tailed once more.

--- 

The device had just beeped out eighty percent completion when you felt the first bullet whizz past your head, only missing you by inches. You jumped to the side, pulling Changbin with you as you entered a modern looking office building. 

“They caught up to us already! I didn’t think they’d check so soon, I even switched in a weight so he wouldn’t notice the difference.” 

“Nothing you can do now. Let’s get that thing loaded so we can ditch it.” 

The building was a maze of corridors and cubicles, and you took as circuitous a route as you could, to make things difficult for your pursuers. Still, they kept getting nearer and nearer, closer and closer. 

Your head start was dwindling.

And by now, you and Changbin were both exhausted, at the very ends of your strength. This was your last shot to get away. 

“100% complete. File transfer finished.” The automated voice spoke into both of your earpieces. You exchanged a quick look with Changbin. 

“We can’t get out from the bottom; they’re bound to have it sealed. The roof too probably.” Changbin considered for a moment, panting a little. 

You glanced around frantically, looking for a way out. 

And you saw the floor to ceiling windows opposite you, and office building next door, barely eight feet away. If you jumped, you could enter that building and get out that way. 

“The windows!” Changbin immediately realized what you were planning. 

“Drop the drive now, I’ll get the window open.” He reached down and pulled out the small pistol from his ankle holster. One point-blank shot to the window and it shattered, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. 

You unplugged the silver drive and ran back to the elevator, throwing it inside and pressing the button for the highest floor. Hopefully NCT would think you were heading up to the roof to escape. 

“Let me go first, then you,” Changbin stepped a few paces back, then with a running start he sailed into the night, crashing through the opposite window with a roll to regain his balance. 

“I made it, come on _____!” He called. The wind rushed through your ears, your heart pounding like crazy. 

“Come on! I’ll catch you; I promise _____!” 

You took a deep breath. 

In.

Out. 

Now or never. 

You ran as fast as you could, falling through the air until you weren’t any more.

You opened your eyes, a laugh escaping your lips as you realized that one, you weren’t dead, and two, Changbin had caught you just as he promised he would. 

Hysterical giggles burst out of both of you as you looked at each other, the adrenaline rush finally bubbling over. You’d made it, you were safe, and if you got out of here fast, you could be home within the next six hours. 

“Can you—”

“No way—”

“I didn’t even think we—”

“—we’d make it.” 

Your laughter quieted as you calmed down, the adrenaline seeping out of you leaving you more tired than before. 

Changbin grinned down at you, light and carefree. “You have glass in your hair you know Princess? They look like diamonds.” He reached over and picked a shard out of your hair, flicking it over his shoulder without taking his eyes away from yours. 

“You do too Bin.” You reached up and brushed the mess from his hair, tousling it gently. 

Suddenly, you realized just where you were. Standing barely a hair’s breadth away from Changbin, breath mingling as you calmed down, hand half tangled in his hair. 

It was like your dream all over again. 

You moved to back away, pulling your hands away from him but Changbin reached up and grabbed them both, pulling you flush against him. 

He stared deep into your eyes, his gaze pinning you in place to the point where you couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Changbin filled your senses, his scent the only thing you could smell, the light sound of his breathing the only thing you could hear, the soft touch of his fingers on yours the only thing you could feel, the warmth in his eyes the only thing you could see. 

And then—

The sensation of his lips, his tongue against yours the only thing you could taste. 

He cradled your jaw as gently as he possibly could, holding you against him and kissing you with every ounce of his being, as though if he let you go, he would lose a part of himself. 

You weren’t sure when you broke apart. 

Changbin was still close, close enough that your breath was intermingled with his, your noses brushing every time you moved even the slightest millimeter. 

“What was that?” you whispered. Somehow a normal volume was far too loud for this situation. 

Changbin scrunched his nose ruefully. “Something I’ve wanted to do for a while.” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“I was a bit scared I’d get slapped. That and I didn’t want to fuck this up. You’re the closest friend I have _____, you’re more important to me than anyone else. I couldn’t risk losing you.” 

“Why kiss me now then?” 

“I couldn’t wait any longer. We could have died jumping just now and I don’t want to die without having given this a shot. Why all the questions?” 

“Last one, promise.” The sparkle in your eyes made Changbin gulp. “Kiss me again?” 

And you yanked him down towards you, pressing your lips to his with a sigh. 

It felt… right. 

He was meant to be yours. And you were meant to be his. 

This time you pulled away first, resting your head on his shoulder for a moment before stepping away from him. 

He smiled shyly at you, the tips of his ears turning slightly red as you blew him another kiss. “Let’s get to our hotel. Now that we don’t have a tracker on us, we can fly to your grandmother and get it to her within the next few hours.” 

“Lead the way Princess.” 

Hand in hand, you made your way out of the building. 

---

Epilogue

The car pulled up in front of your grandmother’s manor smoothly. You hopped out of the driver’s seat and handed the keys over to her butler, who bowed respectfully. 

“Welcome home Miss _____. Your grandmother is in her favorite sitting room.” 

“Thank you.” You grasped Changbin’s hand in yours and began the familiar trek to the sunny room your grandmother ran her empire from. 

“Well _____, Changbin, what took you both so long?” 

“Sorry Mama, we had some mishaps. But here you go.” You handed her the new red disc and she immediately tucked it inside her desk. 

Her eagle eyes, still sharp and perceptive as ever, landed on yours and Changbin’s hands. 

“These mishaps wouldn’t have anything to do with you holding hands with a boy right in front of me, would they?” 

“They helped us get to this stage?” You were a little nervous as she stood up and walked over to you both. 

“It’s about time you found someone _____, you keep a good grasp on this one alright? And you, boy, you look familiar. What’s your name?” 

The little twinkle in her eye suggested she knew exactly who he was. She’d met him plenty of times before, she just enjoyed playing with you both. 

“Seo Changbin, ma’am.” 

“You treat my granddaughter well, and don’t let her get too absorbed in her work. She needs a little teasing now and then alright?” 

Of all the things you were expecting from her, that had not been one of them. 

“Mama! Leave him alone, he’s been a perfect gentleman.” 

“Well maybe he should be less of one, you could do with a little shaking up. You’re far too sure of yourself sometimes _____, let yourself live and enjoy your childhood a little more. There’s more to life than just our work.” 

At this point, both you and Changbin resembled tomatoes. 

“Now go do whatever it is young people do in their spare time, I have work to do.” 

Clearly dismissed, the two of you left the room, shyly exchanging looks as you walked out into the gardens, still holding hands. 

“I wasn’t expecting her to be so…” Changbin trailed off uncertainly. 

“Forward? Pushy? She likes you Bin, that’s all. It’s a good thing.” 

“Well, now your grandmother approved of me. You’re stuck with me _____.” 

“Maybe I like having you around.” You weren’t entirely sure where this level of flirtatiousness was coming from but Changbin’s blush was far too rewarding for you to stop. 

That is, until he pecked your nose and then ran off, taunting you into trying to catch him. 

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Abandon All Hope: Part One

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,767

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

Ever since you dealt with the last case and the Supernatural convention, you’ve hadn’t had a problem with Amara. No dreams, no vision, and no pounding headaches. Come to think of it, you haven’t really had a problem with her before that case either. It was like she wanted to give you a break until that case. But, why? Why wait until that case? Was it because you were in the presence of a prophet and he could tell you more about her? If so, why didn’t she act up when you met him before? All of this was very confusing, but since there wasn’t any guidebook on mental torture by a person who may or may not be real, all you could do was keep on living.

To do that, you made sure to put all of your focus on the piece of information that Sam gave after that last case. Apparently, Becky had told him that a demon named Crowley had the Colt when Bela stole it and said she gave it to Lilith. Now that you finally have a solid lead in what feels like years, you were able to use Castiel to find Crowley. Right now, the angel is tailing the demon while you and the brothers were chilling by a lake and taking a break from driving.

“The demon Crowley is making a deal; even as we speak, it's—going—down,” Castiel said over speakerphone.

“Going down? Right. Okay, Huggy Bear, just don't lose him,” Dean ordered.

“I won’t lose him,” the angel promised.

“Call us back when you have something,” you suggested, hanging up the phone.

“How are you doing?” Dean asked, bringing you into his arms.

Sam leaned on the trunk of the car, watching you and Dean converse.

“I’m okay, really. It’s like, ever since I got a good night’s sleep, I haven’t seen her. No visions, headaches, or anything. It’s like she disappeared.”

“That’s good, right?” Sam asked.

“I’m not so sure it is. I mean, why show up at all? Why that case? Why leave so suddenly? Is she trying to tell me something? Half of me wants to figure out where she is and release her so I can get some answers.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I mean, if she is real, she’s locked up for a reason, right?” Dean shrugged.

“Exactly. You two have Michael and Lucifer, and yeah, Lucifer was locked up, but no one really knows who Amara is. She must have been locked up for a very long time which means she must have done something really bad to get her there. I’m her vessel, which means I’m in trouble.”

“That’s unsettling,” Sam muttered just as Dean’s phone rang.

Dean picked it up, and judging by the caller ID, he put it on speakerphone before he could say anything.

“What do you got?”

“I followed him. It's not far, but—it's layered in Enochian warding magic. I can’t get in.”

“You did great, Castiel. We can take it from here,” you praised.

“We’re going to need some help,” Sam said, taking out his own phone and dialing.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you muttered to yourself as you walked up the paved driveway to Crowley’s mansion.

The short dress you were wearing was bunching up, and you pulled it down for the third time. Dresses were not part of your attire, but it needed to be done if you wanted to get inside the gate.

“We could have sent in Jo,” Dean spoke through the earpiece in your ear.

“No. I can handle myself more than she can. I trust her, but if Crowley is in here then his guard dogs will be tougher than anything she’s faced.”

“On the plus side, you look hot.”

“Keep it in your pants, Winchester,” you smirked, approaching the golden gate.

There was an intercom on the side, and you pressed it before speaking.

“Hello? Anyone there? My car broke down. I—I need some help.”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” the person on the other end said.

Taking a deep breath, you adjusted your dress once more before seeing two men approach. Everything about them screamed ‘demon’ from the evil look in their eyes to the clothes they were wearing, and oh yeah, the black glow around their bodies. They opened the gate, and they both smiled once they noticed your attire.

“Evening, pretty lady. Get yourself on in here.”

“I just need to make a call,” you smiled.

“You don't need to call anyone, baby,” the first man said, glancing at his partner. “We're the only help you're ever gonna need.”

“You know what? I think I should wait by my car,” you chuckled, turning away to leave.

One of them places their hands on your shoulder just as his eyes go pitch black.

“We said, get your ass in here.”

“On second thoughts, I might,” you grinned, looking at them from over your shoulder.

Your eyes were bright blue as magic started to swirl around your hands. Placing your glowing hand on top of the demon’s, you twisted it behind his body, and shot a ball of magic at the other demon which brought him to his knees. Sam and Dean came rushing up to the demons from behind with Ruby’s knife and guns. The guns weren’t going to do much, but it would slow them down if needed. Sam stabbed the demon you were holding in the neck before killing the other one.

“I always found it attractive when a woman fights in a dress,” Dean smirked.

“Yeah? Well, we’re not done yet,” you commented, walking towards the house.

In order to make Crowley somewhat afraid of your presence, you had to cut the power to the house which was done by the wire cutters that Dean brought. Sneaking into the house was a piece of cake, and finding Crowley was child’s play.

“It's Crowley, right?” Sam asked.

All demons had a black glow around them, but Crowley’s was more red. It had a red tint which you didn’t understand why, but you ran with it.

“So, the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew finally found me. Took you long enough,” the demon scoffed.

Sam was holding the knife, Dean a shot gun, and your hands were blue in case you needed your magic. Crowley approaches slowly, but stopped when he saw the rug he was going to step on was rumpled. He knelt down and looked underneath it only to see a devil’s trap that Jo had put there before Crowley had a chance to get home.

“Do you have any idea how much this rug cost?” he sighed.

Strong men pounced on all three of you from behind, and your eyes turned blue as you tried fighting off the demon. Sam and Dean lost their weapons, but luckily for you, your weapon couldn’t be disarmed.

“Now, now, don’t be difficult, love,” Crowley pointed at you. He reached into his coat pocket and produced the Colt, the gun you had been looking for this entire time. “This is it, right? This is what it's all about.” Crowley smirked and aimed it at Dean, and your eyes widened in fear.

“Don’t you dare! I’ll kill you!” you threatened.

The only thing the demon did was smirk and adjusted his aim to the demons behind you three. He shot and killed all three demons before lowering the weapon.

“We need to talk. Privately,” he cleared his throat, taking the lead into another room that looked like a study.

“What the hell?” you asked, taking Dean’s hand as you walked into the other room.

“Do you know how deep I could have buried this thing?” Crowley asked, waving his hand to close the doors behind you. “There's no reason you or anyone should know this even exists, except that I told you.”

“You told us?” Sam asked.

“Rumors, innuendo, sent out on the grapevine.”

“Why? Why tell us anything?” you asked.

Crowley lifted the gun and pointed it at Dean once more, and your hand tightened on his.

“I want you to take this thing to Lucifer and empty it into his face.”

“Uh-huh, okay, and why exactly would you want the devil dead?” Dean asked.

“It's called,” Crowley puts the gun down, “survival. Well, I forgot you three at best are functioning morons.”

“You're functioning... morons...” Dean frowned.

“Lucifer isn't a demon, remember? He's an angel. An angel famous for his hatred of humankind. To him, you're just filthy bags of pus. If that's the way he feels about you, what can he think about us?”

“But he created you.”

“To him, we're just servants. Cannon fodder. If Lucifer manages to exterminate humankind, we're next. So, help me, huh? Let's all go back to simpler, better times, back to when we could all follow our natures. I'm in sales, dammit! So, what do you say if I give you this thing, and you go kill the devil?” Crowley asked, holding the Colt out handle first. The three of you exchanged glances, not sure if trusting him was a good idea. However, when Crowley wiggled the gun impatiently, Sam hesitantly took it.

“Great,” Sam nodded. “You wouldn't happen to know where the devil is, by chance, would you?”

“Thursday, birdies tell me, there's an appointment in Carthage, Missouri.”

“Great,” Sam whispered.

Dean nodded only once when he looked at his brother, and Sam pointed the gun between Crowley’s eyes and pulled the trigger. However, nothing happened.

“Oh, yeah, right, you'll probably need some more ammunition,” Crowley nodded, going into his desk and producing a box of bullets.

“Oh, uh, excuse me for asking, but aren't you kind of signing your own death warrant? I mean, what happens to you if we go up against the devil and lose?” Dean asked.

“Number one, he's going to wipe us all out anyway. Two, after you leave here, I go on an extended vacation to all points nowhere. And three, how about you don't miss, okay! Morons!” Crowley yelled, throwing the box of bullets at Dean who barely caught it.

The next time you looked up at the demon, he was out of sight.

“As much as I hate what’s going on, I kind of have to say that he’s the best demon we’ve ever faced. Seems like he doesn’t take shit from anyone,” you chuckled, looking at the gun that caused you a lot of trouble.

It seems like just yesterday you were going to go get it with John.

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[tisfan]

Moving Violations

Square: G5 - Carjacking Title: Moving Violations Warning: None Rating: Teen Characters: Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes Tags: kidnapping, carjacking, car chases, car crash Summary: This evening was not going according to plan. Now he was going to have to call the god damned police and file a fucking report and then call his insurance and file another report, and then he was going to have to call Pepper and-- Link: A03 Word Count:  2,545 Posted for @winterironbingo *also include relationship if not just winteriron

The conference was over, finally. Tony dragged his suitcase out to the car garage. He would have had the concierge do it, but it was late, the bellhops were all busy, and Tony didn’t want to wait. He wanted to get in his car, stop somewhere for an extra triple large coffee, a donut the size of his head, and get the hell out of Dodge. Or New Jersey, honestly, which was worse, and there he was anyway.

He popped the trunk, pushed his suitcase into the back, and was just straightening up when someone pushed a hard, metal thing against his back. “Gimme the keys, motherfucker, and don’t try anything funny.”

God damn it. This was not what he’d had in mind, checking out of the hotel immediately after the conference instead of waiting until morning, like everyone else. Suppressing a sigh, Tony slowly lifted his hands, letting the keys dangle.

Now he was going to have to call the god damned police and file a fucking report and then call his insurance and file another report, and then he was going to have to call Pepper and--

The car thief snagged the key fob, then shoved, pushing Tony forward into the trunk. The locking mechanism scraped against his midsection, tearing his shirt and bruising his skin. “Get it--”

There was a second man, a black ski mask pulled down to hide his face. He reached into the trunk and cut the safety cable that unlocked the trunk from the inside.

“Get in,” the first guy said, prodding Tony with the -- gun, probably -- metal thing in his back, giving him a matched bruise.

There was not a lot of room in the trunk, with the spare tire, his suitcase, and it being a sports model and not some soccer mom’s SUV.

This... was even worse. And just when Tony thought it couldn’t get any worse, Ski Mask reached in and groped at Tony’s clothes, what the fuck. “Hey, fuck you, what the--” Ski Mask shoved at Tony’s face, making him crack his head on the back of the tiny space, and came up with Tony’s phone. “Damn it, give me that!” The guy tossed it onto the floor of the parking garage with a snort, and then slammed the trunk shut, narrowly missing another crack on Tony’s head.

“Come on,” the first guy said, rushing around to the driver’s side. “Three more minutes until the window closes.”

“Not getting paid enough for this job,” Ski Mask said, but he was also getting in the car. The doors slammed, the car jerked into reverse and skidded out of the parking lot. Whoever was driving was good, Tony noted, shifting gears precisely, and handling the car well. At least, he wasn’t getting slammed around inside the tiny space.

(more under the cut)

Just to make sure, he tried pulling on the release lever, but it did nothing. Tony felt around, trying to get an idea for what was available. He found a screwdriver in his jacket pocket, and a pair of wire cutters. He couldn’t reach his pants pocket, cramped as it was, but since they’d tossed his phone, he didn’t think there was anything useful in there, anyway. A bunch of business cards, some conference swag -- pens, fidget toys, a couple of novelty condoms.

He felt around in front of him. Trunk, liner carpet-- oh! The tail light. He could... he could work with that, probably. He felt around for the screws holding it in place.

It was all kinds of awkward, trying to maneuver his arm into position to work the screwdriver, but he managed to get the cover off. He felt for the wires. There should be... yes, there. They were mounted into place, but a couple of snips with the cutters took care of that.

Now, he could make the tail light do what he wanted. He listened for a moment -- wherever they were taking him, it was on some kind of highway. Good. He tapped the wires together, carefully, making the light blink. Short-short-short-long-long-long-short-short-short. Pause. Short-short-short-long-long-long-short-short-short. Not many people knew Morse code anymore, but SOS was still pretty universal. Hopefully someone would notice and call them in.

Night driving wasn’t one of Bucky’s favorite things. Drivers tended to ignore motorcyclists with almost aggressive tenacity even during the day, and night was worse. He’d just missed being hit with a car that had rolled up behind him, swerved around, and then pulled back in the lane without adequate clearance.

Crazy, early drunk, Bucky decided. He dropped his speed again, letting some room get between him and the car.

Idiot left his blinker on, too, continually flashing.

Bucky rolled his eyes, and--

Wait, what? The tail light was blinking, rhythmically, and not in the simple click-click that most turn signals did. Bucky’d seen a few kits in his day, that made the tail-lights do an almost marquee scroll, which was really distracting late at night, but this wasn’t doing that, either.

Might be a short; it wasn’t any of Bucky’s business anyway. If the guy got pulled over for a burned out taillight, so much the better.

The light went dead for a moment, then started up again. The other rear light stayed steady, the whole time.

Flick, flick, flick. Flash, flash, flash.

What? Something nagged at him for a moment, and he lost the car as it wove around a tractor trailer. Bucky opened the throttle, speeding up.

SOS? Couldn’t possibly be. He only knew Morse Code because he watched entirely too many old war movies with his buddy Steve.

He pulled in behind the car again, watching, counting.

Yeah, that was… that had to be deliberate.

Bucky considered pulling over and calling 9-11 on his phone, when the car changed lanes twice. Bucky had to speed up to keep it in sight, and then it was headed off one of the exits, one of the complicated things that had two side paths, plus a jughandle. If he didn’t keep his eye on the car, he wouldn’t know where it went. Who even knew if the cops would take the story seriously?

Bucky followed them off the interstate.

“If this is someone’s idea of a prank,” Bucky muttered, “I am never gonna try bein’ a good samaritan again.”

Not that he had a plan. He was on a motorcycle, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like he could clip them and make them stop without practically killing himself in the process.

The tail lights flickered a few more times, then stopped, as if the person -- if it was a person -- was getting tired.  

At least there were traffic lights now. The car would have to slow down. Bucky grumbled, then decided to risk it. He took the next right hand turn, then an immediate left, slipping around traffic, taking advantage of his smaller vehicle and probably making all sorts of moving violations, but he managed to get ahead of them.

“Oh, this is so stupid,” he told himself, but as he came up on the car from the side, he slowed down, aimed the bike, and jumped off, letting the motorcycle smash into the passenger side door.

Inside the car, the passenger-side airbag exploded. The car swerved sharply and went into a spin, smashing into the guardrail. When it finally came to a stop, one tire was flat, and the bumper and whole side of the car had been liberally crumpled.

The driver’s side door opened, and a man floundered out of the car. “What the fuck!” he demanded. “What the--” He spotted Bucky, and his lip curled into a snarl. “What the absolute fuck, you asshole!”

Bucky’s sharp gaze raked the man, taking in dark clothes, aggression, and-- a gun holstered under one arm. Fuck, this was such a bad idea.

He staggered, letting his body pull him at a rolling gate. Playing drunk. “Dude, where’d you--” he acted like he couldn’t find his helmet’s strap, struggling with it. “Saw th’ car in front of you, and the car behind you, but not you…” He got the helmet off, still closing the distance. “What the hell’d you do to my bike?”

Two more steps, and Bucky threw the helmet at the guy, smashing him in the face with the fiberglass, hand automatically reaching, and-- grabbed the gun. “Don’t fucking move, asshole,” he yelled, putting the barrel right over the guy’s bloody nose.

The guy’s eyes went big and round in shock. “What-- Okay, man, okay, Jesus fuck, what the fuck am I going to do now?”

“Dude, tell your friend that he cannot possibly shoot me before I shoot you,” Bucky advised, stepping to one side and keeping the first guy between himself and the passenger. “He looks a little banged up to me, he’s likely to shoot you in the back before he gets one off on me.”

“What are you, some kind of cop?” the guy demanded, but he waved at his buddy, who was still trying to get untangled from the airbag enough to turn around and draw a bead on Bucky.

“Cops wish they were as cool as I am,” Bucky said. “Have him pop the trunk.” He hoped it wasn’t too damaged to work, and that whoever was inside it was okay. He really had not thought this through at all. Provided he lived through it, though, it was going to make a great story to tell Steve and Sam.

Slowly, with much cursing and complaining, the other guy managed to find the lever to pop the trunk.

“Hey pal, you okay in there?” Bucky tried to look over the driver’s shoulder to see what was actually in the damn trunk.

“I’ve been better,” said a voice. There was some more cursing and several pained grunts, and then a man unfolded from behind the driver, climbing laboriously out of the car’s trunk.

“If you can walk, there’s a whole ton of zip ties in my cycle’s saddlebag. And then I’ll call the cops?” He shifted the gun again, aiming at the guy’s knee. “Don’t even think about it. I don’t want to kill you, but my moral code’s a little wobbly on the subject of kneecaps.”

The victim looked around and then stumbled his way over to Bucky’s bike, rummaging in the bags and then coming back with the zipties. “Should I even ask why you have-- oh shit, you’re hot.” He froze, staring at Bucky.

Bucky spluttered. That was not at all what he’d expected. “I’m an electrician,” Bucky explained. “And I had a bunch of cable-wraps to do today. Come on, Dude in Distress, let’s zip these fuckers up before someone decides to try me. This is my favorite jacket, I do not want blood on it.”

The guy shook himself back into motion. “Right, right. Sorry.” He walked around behind the driver and started zip-tying the guys’ wrists. “It’s been a long week, and I’m dealing with an adrenaline dump; my filters are pretty much gone.”

Bucky stepped away, once they were both ziptied and on the ground, swearing and cursing, but probably not going anywhere. “Jesus,” he said, then lowered the gun and flicked the safety on. “Not how I intended to spend Friday night-- oh, crap, look at my bike!” Bucky’s voice spiraled up, the victim wasn’t the only guy who was dealing with a sudden flush of hormones. He wobbled back another few steps, shaking from head to toe.

“Whoa, hey, relax, it’s going to be okay,” the victim said. He reached out a tentative hand and gingerly patted Bucky’s shoulder, then again with more confidence when Bucky didn’t immediately throw him off. “I will absolutely make sure it gets fixed. Or replaced. Whatever’s easiest.” He looked around. “What did you do, drive right into the side of the car?”

“Basically, yeah,” Bucky said. He reached for his phone, tapping the Emergency Call button. “You need an ambulance-- what’s your name? I’m Bucky.”

“Tony,” the guy said. He prodded carefully at his face and arm and one leg. “I think it’s all superficial,” he said. “Just... cops.”

“Right, okay,” Bucky said, and when the phone chirped, with the “911, what is the nature of your emergency,” Bucky gave almost no details. “There’s been a… attempted kidnapping and car accident--” he peered at the street signs and gave an address.

“Sir, can you stay on the--” Bucky hung up. They’d both get grilled at the station, or the hospital, if medics decided they needed treatment anyway.

“Tell me you’re not some sort of swag drug dealer or something in a meet up gone bad,” Bucky said. “I’d really like to be the good guy, here.”

“Uh, yeah, I think we can safely say you’re the good guy,” Tony agreed. “I haven’t done drugs since college and I’ve never dealt. I don’t know what these two were after, but it wasn’t, you know, revenge for my nefarious and criminal ways. Hey, can I borrow your phone for a sec?”

Bucky handed it over, looking at the guy. He was dressed in a suit that had probably been nice before he’d been shoved in the trunk of a car, with tousled brown hair and a perfectly shaped beard. If Bucky had to say he had a type, Tony would have checked off a lot of boxes.

Tony dialed the phone. “Pep? What, no, I’m not-- It was fine, but I-- Pep! Code ninety-nine! ...Thank you. Yes. No, I’m fine. Mostly. Well, they jumped me in the garage and stuffed me in the trunk but the hottest guy in New Jersey managed to make them crash the car and-- No, I’m serious. The police are on the way; I need you to scramble the team. Yeah. Yes, really, I’m fine. Yeah. I’ll call after the police. I know, I know, you don’t have to-- Yeah, okay, I know.” He hung up without saying goodbye and handed the phone back to Bucky. “Thanks. My assistant,” he explained. “She likes to be kept up to date on my schedule.”

Bucky snorted. “So, this is, what, like someone’s extra meeting?” He saw light flashing in the distance, the wail of sirens getting closer. Very carefully, he took the gun out of his jacket pocket and put it on the pavement. “This is gonna be a very long evening,” he told Tony. Although given that he had a code for being kidnapped that his secretary knew, he was probably used to it. “Don’t suppose I can buy you a shitty cup of coffee after it’s done, or something?”

Tony looked at Bucky again, startled. “Wait, really? No, don’t answer that, you made the offer; no takebacks. Yes. You can buy me coffee. I’ll buy the doughnuts.”

“Square deal,” Bucky said, giving Tony a wide grin. “If I get out of this with less than a dozen moving violations, shitty coffee is gonna be all I can afford. By the way-- the Morse Code? That was clever. I was following them for like ten miles.”

Tony grinned back, offering Bucky a hand. “Thanks. And... Thanks.”

“I’d say anytime, but I’d rather you not make a habit of getting carjacked.”

“I dunno,” Tony said, giving Bucky an obvious once-over. “It might have been worth it.”

[scrollingkingfisher]

Stitched Up

Sam managed to get Gabriel out of hell. Rescuing him took a little longer. 

AO3

Finally got my 13x13 Coda finished! Just in time for everyone’s sabriel dreams to come true. Hope I can measure up to that episode ;)

Sam/Gabriel, hurt-comfort, hell trauma

Rating: T

Words: 10k

Chapter 1

“We’ll be gone at least a few weeks,” Cas told him while he packed Dean’s bag into the back of the Impala.

Sam nodded. They’d been over the plan three times already, but they were all still milling around the garage in uncertainty. Sam knew the real reason Dean and Cas weren’t already on the road. Dean was reluctant to leave him alone with their… visitor.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright here? You know… with him?” Dean gave him a significant look, glancing back at the bunker entrance, and Sam tried not to be offended. After all, Dean was right; it wasn’t like his patchy history with this particular archangel was any secret.

He gave Dean what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine. Cas says his grace is repressed, right? He can’t do much to hurt me without it. And someone needs to stay here and look after him. You saw him last night, he’s not going anywhere for a while.”

Dean still looked dubious as he swung himself into the driver’s seat, and Sam had to smother a twinge of irritation. Sure, he knew he hadn’t been coping as well as he could have recently, but he could manage to hold down the fort while Dean and Cas tracked down Lucifer. It wasn’t like Sam wanted to be within a hundred miles of that archangel, anyway. Lucifer made dealing with a wounded Gabriel look like sunshine and rainbows in comparison. He suspected Dean had suggested he stay behind for that reason, but he wasn’t going to argue. He’d be fine here with Gabriel.

Probably.

He waved as the Impala peeled away in a cloud of dust, lowering his hand slowly once they were out of view. With a sigh he let his shoulders slump and turned, heading back through the door and clomping down the spiral stairs. He detoured via the kitchen, snagging more gauze on his way towards the bedrooms.

It was the first one in the corridor, the one that they had rushed Gabriel into the night before, covered in years worth of dirt and his own blood. Sam hesitated, reluctant to go in but knowing he should. Looking down, he noticed a trail of brown spatters that he hadn’t had a chance to clean up. Like a grim game of connect-the-dots, beckoning him inside.

He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and knocked.

“I’m coming in.” He slowly pulled the door open, not waiting for a reply.

Even when he knew exactly who was in the room, it was still a shock to see his face again. After that year of chasing him in mystery spot, Sam would recognise him anywhere. He thought he’d managed to bury those memories under all the bad things that had happened since then, but seeing the trickster in the flesh brought it all back in horrible detail.

Gabriel was sitting against the headboard, looking just as haggard and mutilated as when they’d brought him in. Rescuing him from hell after Ketch’s tip-off had been like one of Sam’s nightmares: all hooks and chains, nothing of Crowley’s bureaucracy left. And right in the middle of the nightmare, locked in a goddamn cage in the throne room itself, he’d found Gabriel, filthy and so battered looking that even Sam had flinched. The terrified squeak and the whimpers he'd made when Sam had pulled him out would be haunting his nightmares for a while.

The blood was gone now, as was the dirt. Sam was just relieved that Gabriel had remained unconscious while they were bathing him, because his grace might have been exhausted and restrained, but he had still nearly managed to take off a limb when Cas tried to bandage the wounds littered across his chest. The reason that they hadn’t healed was apparently because the bastards who sewed his lips shut had done it with some sort of cursed wire dipped in holy oil. Cas had looked horrified when he inspected the wounds, but Gabriel had just closed his eyes, shaking and in shock, but unfortunately aware enough to flinch every time they touched him.

He wasn’t looking as afraid now, staring Sam down across the room with defiance sparking in his gaze despite his enforced silence. Sam had a sneaking suspicion that Gabriel wasn’t going to be a model patient. It was confirmed when he held up the new bandages and Gabriel’s frown became a full-on scowl.

“Come on, we need to change them. You’re soaking through already.”

Gabriel must still have access to some tiny part of his grace, Sam thought as he peeled away the bandages soaked in red from around Gabriel’s torso, because he should have been unconscious with that much blood loss. Either that or he was keeping himself awake out of pure stubbornness.

But the brief moment of bravado from earlier was gone. Gabriel tensed and shivered as Sam touched him, cringed back no matter how gentle he was. Judging where he was kept, Sam knew that it had been a while since anyone touched him and it didn’t hurt. He was the same when he… got back. He remembered the desperate need for a friendly touch, and the overwhelming terror whenever anyone did. Sam swallowed, roughly pushing back the memories.

He wrapped the wounds again, hiding the deep gashes the demons had made in a last-ditch attempt to stop the rescue. His mind started to drift dangerously as his eyes fell on the last line of stitches. He knew exactly what weapon the demon used to make those. He knew because he’d seen those wounds before on himself, down in the cage.

His hands tugged the bandages a little too tight. Gabriel grunted in pain through the stitches.

“Sorry, sorry.”

Gabriel was even greyer by the time Sam finished, sweat beading at his temples, dripping down as little tremors wracked his frame. Sam stood quickly, grabbing the soiled bandages and retreating, leaving a mobile next to the bed. He needed to get it together, this was all coming too close to his past. He had to get out of here before he started seeing blood coming through the walls.

“I’ll be back later, call if you need me,” he managed to stutter out.

Gabriel’s head bobbed in a nod, or it could have been verging on passing out, but Sam was already hurrying out the door. He didn’t want to admit that he was running, but he was. He barrelled into the kitchen, dumped the bandages in the bin and went to wash his hands, scrubbing determinedly at the skin, trying to remove the red from every crease, ignoring the way his fingers were shaking.

It was only when he was done that he gave himself a second to breathe. He braced himself against the counter and leant back, closing his eyes. Absentmindedly, he let his thumb dig into the scar on his palm, just as a reminder.

Every time he thought of the wounds, the jagged incisions ripped through Gabriel’s lips, it brought back memories. Things he’d rather not remember.

Sam knew that he was… eroding. It had been happening for years. Every time something happened, the latest disastair, little bits of him chipped away. One day, there might be nothing left of him at all.

But he didn’t matter; what mattered was that every time he lost a little more, he felt less and less able to push the memories down and ignore them. Less able to focus on hope, on keeping everyone else hoping too. And if he was going to be of any use for healing Gabriel, that’s what he would have to do.

Sam had thought that they’d seen the last of him, that Gabriel was long gone. They hadn’t even gone back to the hotel to check for a body. Sam could remember wanting to, but he was a coward even back then. He hadn’t wanted to see those ashy wings spread across the floor, yet more evidence of his path of destruction. Another ally gone.

But if they’d gone back, they might have known that Gabriel was still alive. They might have looked for him. So in a way, it was Sam’s fault that Gabriel spent all that time down there. Sam’s fault for not pushing the issue and going to find him. Which meant that it was Sam’s job to set things right.

He was going to help Gabriel, even if it killed him.

.o0o.

Sam didn’t sleep that night. He was too alert.

He thought that he could hear muffled noises coming from Gabriel’s room a few times, but when he crept outside the door and listened more closely, there was nothing. He didn’t bother going back to bed after that. Instead he went to the library and pored over books on binding curses until his eyes stung and the palm of his hand was red and sore.

By the time morning came he was even more tired and strung out, but he had a solution. A little rummaging in the store rooms (thank Chuck for the Men of Letters and their meticulous filing systems) and he emerged triumphantly with a pair of wire cutters. He inspected the miniature runes gouged into the blade and nodded to himself. These should work. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

He grabbed more bandages and knocked on the door of Gabriel’s room, letting himself in. Gabriel looked up sharply. He looked better, Sam noted, colour already starting to return to his face.

“Morning. How did you sleep?” He waited a second with Gabriel just staring at him before he coughed awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. “Right. Anyway, I think I’ve figured out how to get rid of the wire.”

Gabriel perked up immediately at that. But then Sam held up the wire cutters.

Gabriel actually shuddered when he saw the tiny blades. He shook his head, the movement stiff and jerky, eyes not shifting from the pliers. Sam knew what that kind of reaction meant. He didn’t want to know what they’ve been doing to Gabriel down there for all those years, but he could imagine.

“Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I know you want the wires off.” Gabriel was still eyeing the wire cutters like they might leap up and bite him. Sam sighed. “Do you want to do it yourself?”

Gabriel nodded, reaching forwards. Sam held the pliers out. Gabriel took them, holding them awkwardly, poised in front of his face. Then he just stopped, staring at them.

Sam waited. He could see the pliers trembling in Gabriel’s grip. Gabriel made an aborted attempt to bring them closer to his mouth, but his hands were shaking so hard that Sam was afraid that he would do more damage than good.

Gabriel gave up with a frustrated groan and let the wire cutters drop into his lap, closing his eyes, breathing heavily.  Sam let him have a second, then reached out and took the pliers from his limp grasp. “Do you want me to try?”

Gabriel grimaced and nodded, but it looked like it was taking all his self control to stop himself from diving off the bed. Sam suppressed another sigh and pulled the chair from the desk closer so that it was facing him, the legs scraping across the floor. He sat, looking at Gabriel critically.

“Are you sure? We can wait, do this another time.”

Gabriel scowled then nodded more emphatically, along with a gesture that Sam read as ‘just get it over with!’

Sam shrugged and leant in, as slow and careful as he could, projecting his movements so Gabriel could see what he was doing. He wasn’t sure if it was working or if it was making it worse. Gabriel’s eyes were wide, too wide, the pupils dilated with fear. Sam could hear his breath coming fast and hard, rasping a little like he would be panting if he could open his mouth. Sam felt a prickle of static electricity lift the hairs on the backs of his hands, and hesitated.

Well, they would still have to do this one way or another. It would be better for both of them if Sam got on and did it. He leant forward, putting a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder to steady him. He raised the pliers.

He knew instantly that he’d made a mistake. Gabriel’s eyes went round as saucers and for a half second, his irises went from caramel brown to white.

There was a crack and a BANG and before Sam even had time to process anything he was flying across the room. He landed hard, collapsing against the dresser, groaning where it jarred his left hip. He could feel every hair on his body standing on end, his skin tingling. He felt like he’d been narrowly missed by a speeding bullet train. Awkwardly, he pushed himself back to his feet.

The entire room stank of ozone and charred fabric. Little scraps of stuffing drifted through the air like snow. There was a hole in the duvet exactly where Gabriel had been sitting, the fabric still smoking. Crackles of electricity were running up and down the walls, leaping from the metal bedframe and the door handle. The grace lingering on the air made Sam shiver, made him feel sick with dread, made him want to runrunrun out of the room as fast as he could, but he locked his knees and stood his ground.

He looked around, and found Gabriel hunkered down in the opposite corner of the room. His head was bowed, but his hands gripped his knees so tight that the tendons stood out, and Sam could see his back heaving with shuddering breaths. Sam swallowed and took a hesitant step forwards, wincing as his hip protested.

“Gabriel?”

Gabriel’s head snapped up and his still-glowing eyes fixed on Sam. Pinned him to the spot. Sam felt his blood freeze in his veins. He almost broke. He held up his hands, ignoring the way they shook. “It’s alright. I’m staying right over here. I’m not gonna touch you.”

Gabriel might not have been able to control his grace voluntarily, but it seemed to have a mind of its own when Gabriel felt threatened. What the hell had they done to him down there? Sam fought to keep his own voice steady. He needed Gabriel to calm down, or he would be in real danger. “I’m here. Just me. You’re safe now.”

Gabriel glared at him, about as friendly as a cactus, but the glow was slowly dying from his eyes. He uncurled enough that he could slump against the wall, his legs stretching out in front of him. Eventually he stopped staring at Sam and let his head loll back against the wall, letting out a long, exhausted sigh through his nose. Sam let himself relax the tiniest amount.

“So, I’m guessing we’ll have to find another way to get the wires off,” he said, not really thinking.

Gabriel rolled his head on the wall to glare at him again, and Sam could almost hear Gabriel’s voice in his head, telling him you’d better drop it bucko, or I’ll pull these threads out of my lips myself and use them to cheese wire your brain into paper thin slices, just try me .

Sam sighed shakily and made his exit. Back to square one.

[whereintheworldisaca]

Nov 1st & 2nd

The day of the flight was a holiday in Colombia, which made me a little nervous because we had to go out to print some paperwork for my flight. Most of the stores were closed but we managed to find a place that would print. I finished packing that morning and spent the day hanging out and sometimes reviewing my checklist and paperwork.

We had planned to head to the airport at 6:30pm so an hour before abuelito took me to get ensalada de fruta. It is more like a banana split with a lot more fruit. Then we picked up some eggs before heading back and took off to the airport. 

When we arrived, they would only let those who had flights enter the airport, so i said my goodbyes there. Going through security was pretty simple because there was almost nobody for international flights. Apparently my flight was an hour earlier than I thought, which was good, because that meant I didnt need to sit in the airport for three hours waiting. 

Since it was an overnight flight, I slept through the whole flight. Minus the first 20 minutes because someone behind me could not stop farting. It was so horrible it smelled like rotten eggs. LOL 

When we landed in Brazil, immigration was actually surprisingly quick and simple. I got my bag and headed out of the airport. What I did not expect was the crazy mall they attached right before the exit. Which also had the WORST layout ever becuase the exit wasnt straight ahead, but exited off to the left. Which was not intuitive because they hide the signs, and have arrows on the floor leading you to the cashier. I low key got lost for five minutes. 

Denise had picked me up with her husband Daniel and their dog Nana. I flew into the GRU airport which is actually right outside & north of the district of Sao Paulo, They also had holiday the 2nd so the streets were very empty and there was no traffic. Which they told me was very unusual, and I had yet to see the crazy traffic of SP on a regular working weekday. 

We got to the apartment and i dropped my stuff for us to head to a Padaria (panaderia; bakery) where we had a typical breakfast. A small black coffee with toasted buttered bread with some melted soft cheese (reqeijão), and jugo de maracuja. Then we went to the park for a little bit to let nana play before heading back. (We made it back to the apartment around 9:30am)

Denise had an excel spreadsheet ready for review of all the museums that were open, and what days they were free. And then we went through a list of all the food I had to eat while I was here. At noon we headed to the mall for lunch, and to get a sim card for while Im in SP. We ate at an all you can eat buffet, with LOTS of good food. I had for the first time a pear that was baked with cream cheese. It was actually VERY good I went back for seconds for that one. 

We also saw this crazy looking clock that was powered with, im not sure what but I will post those pictures after this post. very cool 

Then we headed back and CHILLED out because everyone was very tired. We also ate brigadeiro covered oreos which were AMAZING. Then later in the evening before bed we took nana out for another walk and they explained to me a bit about their neighbourhood and how the subway station was just the next street over, and it was a very fast and efficient way of getting around everywhere in SP. For dinner we ate pão de queijo with reqeijão and catupiry, ALSO very amazing and very good. I also asked denise if she could cut off my earring with wire cutters but she said no :( so she called and asked her dad if he would take a look and remove it. He said yes :) (for context: hes a doctor) For more context; the back of my earring is so oxidized it merged with my earring so i cant change it out. Nothing major, its just getting annoying. 

I crashed very hard after a very long day, but we were able to walk around a lot with such an early start to the day. 

Denise also mentioned we have a lot to see, but a lot of time so we dont have to rush to pack anything in which is also nice. She mentioned we will go to the beach the last weekend before the 22nd. Very excited!

See you somewhere!

[darknessdancing]

Whirlwind Chapter Two

Hey y’all! I am finally getting chapter two up. Sorry it has taken so long. I am v forgetful and lazy! I really hope you guys like this. I am really excited for this fic and just writing it makes me happy so i hope reading it makes you guys happy! enjoy!!

warnings: kinda angsty, warning, mentions of slutting around (im looking at you xiu) smut/mentions of smut

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry love, I really did want today to be an us day, but you and I both know this can’t be ignored baby,” You cooed apologetically to Suho. Your arms were around his waist and you were standing on your tiptoes to rest your chin on his shoulder. You nuzzled the side of his face with your nose.

“I know, I know… I just wish it wasn’t this way. I was really looking forward to a day with just the two of us. It has been so long since we have had one of those,” He sighed.

“I understand,” You said sighing as well, “I love you, Junmyeon.”

He smiled at the use of his real name and turned around pulling you into his warm, welcoming arms.

“I love you too, Y/N,” He kissed you, “So much.”

You smiled brightly at him and kissed him deeply.

“As much as I love a good kiss, since it's not me, we gotta go,” Baekhyun said. Suho glared at him and bared his teeth, something Baekhyun took as a sign to leave. You giggled and shook your head.

“Come on, Daddy, let's go,” you coaxed, smacking his ass as you walked out the door.

“One more,” he said pulling you back against him, spinning you around. He kissed you lovingly.

“Alright, alright. Now we go,” You said kissing his cheek and finally walking out. You got into the main living room of the house where all of the boys were now standing.

“Alright is everyone clear on what to do? Get in get out. Should be a pretty cut and dry “steal back our drugs” type of show,” you told them while placing a gun in it’s holster on your outer thigh, beneath the holster for throwing knives. To say you were armed and dangerous was an understatement. The boys were all armed in similar fashion, each carrying more than enough protection. A symphony of ‘yes’ filled your ears, followed by the sound of soles hitting wooden flooring as everyone quietly filed to the side door.

“It’s been ages since you’ve gone on a retaliation with us, Whirlwind,” Chen teased after matching your pace, “You’re so hidden sometimes, I forget that you’re even handy with that pistol. I’d be lying if I hadn’t lost faith for a while.”

For a moment, you smiled fondly to yourself at the familiar nickname. You let it linger for a bit, even as you stepped out into the brisk air of your large garage. With Baekhyun’s head blocking your view, you could still see the shiny rims of all ten sports cars and two vans.

“I can always blow your brains out as a reminder, if that’s really what you need,” you joked casually, “And if this is what you consider a retaliation, maybe I should be losing faith in you.”

He only rolled his eyes in a playful manner in response to the small jab.

The conversation was broken up by Sehun shouting that the back of the white van was open to whoever was sitting in the large space, and that he was driving this time. You laughed and got into the driver’s seat of the black Lamborgini. You drove off, the boys following closely behind.

Your mind began to drift as you drove to the mansion of Girl’s Generation, one of your biggest enemies in this world. You couldn’t find a speck of remorse in yourself, but the constant feuding grew so tiring after a while. Now, it felt as though you were only battling so you wouldn’t have the burden of admitting to a loss. Your team only ever made an effort to strike at them when it was warranted, such as right now.

They had apparently felt threatened enough by your drug business, they wanted to steal your product and sell it as their own. Luckily, you had contacts and ways of knowing things like these.

You parked your car a few blocks from the house and went to where the boys had parked their van. After crawling through the seemingly endless brush and trees that concealed the battered heap of metal, you got in and started to run over the plan with them one final time.

Baekhyun and Chanyeol were to monitor the security cameras, while Chen and Kai part ways to find where the drugs were being kept. Sehun and Kyungsoo agreed to eliminate any human threats on their way to their to-be-informed destination, and Xiumin was making sure the leaders were being kept busy, through other means of distraction. Earlier, you had made jokes of him being a prostitute for the time being, to which he only scowled.

Opposing teams or not, Kim Taeyeon and Jessica Jung had expressed quite the interest in the man, which he had offered to take advantage of, just this once.

“Of course,” he had said earlier, “I’d do it for the sake of the group, but leave it to me to be caught up fucking two dumb bitches while the real action plays out.”

You and Suho were the cleaners, the backup plan; the ones who---if something went wrong---entered and fixed the problem. You hadn’t been big on being so useless, but Kyungsoo and Xiumin had thought it best to keep the leaders away from harm in case something were to happen to them.

Directly after helping Chen and Kai to swipe all the heroin and cocaine, Kyungsoo and Sehun were to set the house ablaze; it was highly probable that something harmful may happen to anyone who fails to escape in time.

The house was surrounded by a large, electrified, black iron fence. From the comfort of the van, you watched as Xiumin simply walked up to it and pushed his finger down onto the intercom button. He spoke a greeting into the mic, followed by the fence pushing itself open.

Whereas everyone else wasn’t as welcome in the large mansion, you were forced to wait around ten minutes before approaching the fence. Within those ten minutes, Baekhyun and Chanyeol had worked together to disable the security cameras positioned atop it, making it far easier to break in.

Donning a pair of thick protective gloves and handling a pair of wire cutters, Chen easily disabled it and allowed everyone to hop over the structure.

With a swift hand motion, you coaxed Kyungsoo and Sehun to rid the team of the guards positioned in the lawn. While they crept behind massive statues and thick trees, the remainder of your group crouched in some bushes, hidden from the world.

After the signal was given that the guards were finished off, you all stealthily moved into the house. From the corners of your eyes, you could see the splattered blood of the two women who laid by the entrance. It was likely that they hadn’t felt a thing when the knife hit their throats; they had been knocked out prior.

Some of the men entered the building through side doors and some used windows. You and Suho moved cautiously moved into the living room, the area that would quickly give you access to all the others and their positions. With a bit of difficulty, you managed to close the door without any creaking sounds.

“Remember when you almost dated a Girls Gen girl?” You whispered to him quietly. Even in the darkness you saw him flinch in remembrance. You chuckled softly in response.

“Chen and Kai, it should be in a room on the third floor,” Baekhyun’s voice floated lowly through your earpiece, “Off to the left somewhere… maybe the fifth door along the hallway.”

“You and I can fuck right here, you know,” You suggested, disregarding the speech that didn’t involve either of you, “I think that’d surely make Yuri regret ever rejecting you.”

The most barely audible groan came, and you could just picture Suho biting his lip to keep from exposing your presence to the home’s residents.

“As hard as it is not to entertain your vengeful wishes, I'd rather not risk getting caught with my pants down and my cock out, Princess.”

“Found it,” came Kai’s preoccupied mumble in your ear. You heard clicking as they tried to open what sounded like a safe.

“The one time you find your self restraint...” You trailed off in a quiet, teasing tone.

“Okay,” Chanyeol interrupted through the earpiece, “Xiumin’s tracker is lighting up on the other side of the house, by the hedge statue things and back a few feet. It’s, uhhhh, moving rapidly right now, so you have until it comes to a stop to drop everything from the window. Baekhyun and I will handle everything else.”

“I’m sending Chen and Kai out as soon as possible, out through one of the side doors to help you out,” came Kyungsoo’s gruff reply, “Just let me know when Xiumin is safely out.”

For thirty quiet minutes that trickled past like grains of sand falling to the bottom of an hourglass, you sat with Suho and waited.

Nothing that was of concern to you popped up until three minutes after Xiumin had walked past you and out the front door. It had sounded like he was zipping up his jeans as he walked.

None of the women followed after him, as they were probably focused on washing themselves up.

After three minutes, you began to smell the thick clouds of smoke that had drifted down to the living room. For security, you did your best to spot Suho through the pitch darkness. The moment you’d gotten clarity that Kyungsoo and Sehun were out of the house, you two would be sprinting to safety.

“Discovered!” Chen yelled. You and Suho looked at each other and ran up the stairs to where they were.

You crouched at the entrance of the room where you could here the fight going on. Suho was crouched opposite of you, his gun loaded and cocked. You started counting backwards from three on your fingers. On one you both stood in the doorway and started shooting the men who were cornering two of your boys.

“I want everyone else to go back to the van right now,” You commanded into your earpiece.

“Yes ma’am,” They all said.

“Here’s our plan, take out whoever comes near and get back to the plan. No splitting up. Let’s go,” You said running out the door. Suddenly alarms started blaring throughout the whole house.You groaned and covered your ears.

“Someone triggered the security system,” you heard Baek say through the earpiece.

You started running through the house but metal doors were starting to slide into place. You cursed and lead the boys through more hallways being met with dead ends. You all finally found a doorway into a room with multiple windows, but the metal door was slowly sliding into place and the shouts of the Girl’s Gen men neared. You pushed Kai and Chen under and went to go push Suho.

“There’s only enough room left for one more person; you’re going,” He said pushing you. The shouting came nearer.

“No, Suho, I am not leav---” You were interrupted as he shoved you to the ground and under the door. The yells were on you and Suho. You screamed to tell Suho to dive under, but you knew there was no way he’d fit.

“I love you,” You heard him say as you watched the men surround him and tase him, bringing him to his knees in pain. You screamed out his name and fought against the door. Kai and Chen pulled you back from the door. Chen opened the window as Kai struggled to pick you up. You all escaped out the window and made it back to the van.

The atmosphere hung full-cloud heavy and pin-drop silent as everyone else present came to the shocking realization that Suho hadn’t made it out.

A deafening clatter broke the quiet into a million pieces within the three seconds it took your closed fist to come into contact with the vehicle’s cool metal and the sharp pain to set into your knuckles.

But you didn’t want to stop. As Sehun pushed his foot down onto the gas pedal and sped off, all you wanted to do was pulverize the van until your skin blossoms a blotchy plum color.

A cry left your lips. And another. And a third, until it was difficult to hear the shocked chatter that had begun to swarm around you.

“Baby,” Chanyeol started hesitantly. Your temper was like a hot iron---to be used with caution and to avoid direct contact with, “Junmyeon’s strong. He’ll hold his own.”

You didn’t feel like the iron. You felt like the burn. The use of Suho’s birth-given name was meant to sooth your visible pain, but all it did was turn the faucet to a steady stream of bitter tears.

“Oh, fuck off,” you dismissed him in a quiet mutter.

Truly, you wished you were more skilled in concealing such lethal feelings. Having seven---and occasionally eight, whenever Sehun worriedly glances through the rearview mirror---men watch you cry isn’t any fun. You think it makes you look weak, like a joke.

An arm wrapped around your shoulders. With your eyes squeezed shut so painfully tight, you could only guess which lover it was. You were too focused on dismissing the little outburst that you didn’t even attempt to. From the foresty cologne alone, you knew it was D.O. Everyone else wore less comforting fragrances; things that slightly assaulted your sense of smell.

He said nothing, but it didn’t feel as frightened as the silence everyone else gave. Everyone silent was breathing dreadfully slowly, cautiously even, like they were waiting for an explosion. D.O, however, kept his breathing at a calm, steady pace.

This was what you loved about him. He never participated in the nervous blocks of quiet, for he was already so peacefully. You both don’t need many words for your relationship to remain strong. He was a rock regardless of his infrequent speech.

“Try and go to sleep,” he murmured over the low whispers everyone else had faded into, “We’ll have planning to do later; you need to be rested enough.”

Though he only spoke of a meeting to plan things, you were certain it was about the best strategy to get Suho back.

You drifted off with that thought in mind, keeping close that single bit of comfort it provided.

[joescreepystories-blog]

The Hatch

I pulled up outside the dilapidated farm at 9:30pm. Waiting for me were my best friends and fellow explorers. We had agreed to meet at 9:00 but I was late, due to my second thoughts about this particular expedition.

“Where’ve you been” asked Harry, my oldest friend

“Sorry man, I got lost” I lied

“Its freezing out here dude” moaned Nicky, the baby of the group

“Well I’m here now, so lets get moving” I said, trying to hide the fear in my voice.

I had heard stories about this place. The Cold War era bunker was a hot spot for urban explorers such as us, with stories ranging from there being homeless people living down there to a forgotten about Nuclear Missile, not that I believed the latter.

We set off towards where we thought the entrance hatch would be and started looking. The field was overgrown and it was dark so that made things much harder that it would have been in the light. We should have brought a metal detector in hindsight. Eventually Harry tripped and fell to the ground

“Found it” he grumbled as he rose to his feet rubbing his knee where he fell.

Nicky swooped down and found the latch. Padlocked.

“Theres bolt cutters in the truck” He said as he turned around and started walking back to where we had parked.

“Do you think this is a good idea dude?” I asked Harry who was still rubbing at his knee

“Why man, you scared?” he replied, slight mockery in his voice

“Nah man I’m not scared, its just, you’ve heard the stories about this place right?” I shot back

“Yeah, I have, I don’t believe them though” he said

“Well I think there may be truth to some of them, I mean, if you were homeless, wouldn’t you like to find somewhere that could provide you with an escape?”

“Maybe, but not somewhere like this”

Nicky was running back with the bolt cutters in hand when he jumped in on the conversation

“Have you guys heard the rumours about the nuke?” he asked excitedly

“Yeah we have, thats what we were just discussing” said Harry

Nicky bent down and managed to cut the lock free from the latch and pulled it open with a loud clunk.

“Mark the date boys” he said with a smile “June 23rd, 1994”

The stale smell from what I could only assume was from the stagnant water that had collected at the bottom of the hatch. We pulled out our flashlights and peered into the darkness, the light didn’t reach far enough to illuminate the bottom.

“Who’s going first?” I asked “Rock, paper, scissors?”

“One, two, three”

Harry and Nicky showed rock, I showed scissors. I lowered myself onto the rusty ladder and started to make my way down, followed by Harry then Nicky

I reached the bottom first, obviously. The silence was deafening. I looked around in the pitch black for any sign of light but there was none, so I flicked on the flashlight.

We  were in a long tunnel with water up to our ankles. The three of us moved slowly shining our light on the floors and walls. The tunnel took a sharp left and let to a set of metal stairs that ran up to a door that was already open.

I pushed the door open and went in. The room we entered was big, there was an old metal detector that you would have had to walk through, similar to something you might see at an airport. We carefully passed through stepping over an old chair and what looked like a lunchbox.

There was no water up here due to it being raised off the main entrance. We continued on past the metal detector and into what looked like a lounge area. There were old sofas and some propaganda posters on the wall, all of which had turned yellow with age. Nicky wandered over to the far wall and tried the light switch, there was a sound like an engine and the lights flickered on

“Great” he said, turning off his flashlight

“Well I’ll be fucked” exclaimed Harry, “They work”

Harry and I turned off the flashlights in our hands and put them in our pockets.

With the lights now working we looked around, there was a lot of stuff in the lounge, sofas, a table and chairs, a coffee pot and an old Coca Cola fridge that was, unfortunately, empty.

We looked around and decided to go through a door on the far side of the room, the door led to a long hallway with rooms on either side that would of served as sleeping quarters for the base personnel. At the end of the corridor there was a door with a sign that read “Authorised Personnel Only”

“What do you think is back there” I asked

“No idea” said Nicky “But thats what we’re here to find out”

Pushing past me and placing his hand on the door, Nicky pushed, the door creaked open and I reached for the inside wall to see if I could find a light switch. I found it and flicked it on, the room lit up and revealed something I won’t ever be able to forget.

The room was about the same size as the lounge but this was different. There were control panels on one side facing out against a huge window while on the other side there were computers on desks. But there was also something that made my balls leap into my throat. Beds, about ten of them, well not real beds, but nests. They were made out of old newspapers and pages from books with crudely sewn together patchwork blankets.

“So there was homeless living down here” Said Harry

“Looks like it” Said Nicky walking over to the control panels.

He randomly started pressing buttons when something beeped. He reeled back as the board started lighting up and then, through the window, lights started to switch on, shining light on what looked like a rocket. But no, this was what all the stories were about, it was true.

What we could only assume was a weapon of mass destruction stood illuminated through the glass. it was huge, but, it looked like it had seen better days, it was rusted and had panels hanging off and exposed wires and water dripping off it.

“Dude, what did you do?” I asked

“No way” said Nicky with a growing smile

“We should leave” I said. As soon as the words left my mouth there was a loud bang, we spun around and saw that the door we entered in had been slammed shut, we saw what had caused it straight away.

In front of the door stood a man.

“I’m sorry” said the man

Terrified I asked

“Who are you?”

“My name is Dr John Parsons, I used to work here” he said gruffly stepping into the light, revealing his face, it was pale and covered in lesions and boils that oozed puss, he had a long grey beard but no hair on the top of his head.

“What are you sorry for?” asked Harry

“I’m sorry but I can’t let you leave”

“What?” I asked stepping forward trying to look intimidating

“Look son, I’ve been down here for as long as I can remember, back when we were working down here we had a catastrophic breach in the missile you see down there, I was fortunate enough to be far enough away when it happened, there was a leak. Something that we couldn’t identify poured into the silo, the engineers were the worst affected, some died instantly, some were scared and disfigured, like me, some changed”

“Changed? How” Asked Harry

“I wish I could tell you son” said the doctor “When the incident happened those of us who were quarantined were left down here with promises of help being sent, they never came. I was the only one who still had his wits about him, I ran and hid in the mess hall and I’ve been in there ever since, I’m almost through the decades worth of food and water that was stored there”

“We need to leave, now” said Nicky and pushed past the doctor to the door, the old mans hand was quickly clasped around Nicky’s forearm

“I implore you son, don’t go out there, they know you’re here”

“Who knows we’re here?” I asked stepping forward again

“The Changed, they know you’re here and they will be looking for you” the doctor said with terror in his eyes

“You mean you’re not alone?” asked Nicky, pulling his arm free and backing away

“As far as I know they’re still here, I hear them moving around at night, they’re fast, they don’t seem to eat or sleep, they’re smart though I know that, those are their beds” he said gesturing to the nests we saw earlier.

“What do we do?” I asked

“I don’t know son, we’re going to run to the mess hall, we can figure something out there”

The doctor gingerly opened the door and looked down the hall, he gestured to us to follow. He took off running down the hall and took a swift right into one of the side rooms. He ran to the back wall and pulled open a door

“Through here” he said

Once we were all inside he bolted the door and jammed a broom handle through the handles for safe measure.

Inside was a mess hall that he had converted into a living space. He had a bed, a small seating area with some old magazines and some books. There was what looked like a security set up, with access to cameras all across the base, totally useless though because there was no light, until he must have saw us.

“Are we the first people you’ve seen down here?” Asked Nicky, sitting in one of the steel chairs

“No” came the reply “There were others, Ive seen some leave after the lobby some leave after finding the control room. But I’ve also seen some run, screaming after going beyond the control room, and I’ve seen some come, but not leave”

“Shit” mumbled Harry “Are we the first you’ve helped?”

“Yes” replied the doctor “I wish I could’ve helped more, but I was scared, scared of the changed”

I looked around and found a chair to sit in. We all gathered around the table

“So how do we get out of here?” I asked

“Only two ways” Replied the doctor “The hatch you came down, or there is another one, on the other side of the base, but its too dangerous, I wouldn’t advise it”

“So we leave the way we came in?” said Harry, standing up as if ready to leave

“Seems its your only option” the doctor replied

We all stood up and got ready to leave

“You coming doc?” asked Harry

“No son I’m not, I’m afraid I’m dying, I’ve spent my better years down here and I want to die here”

“Are you sure? A lot has changed on the surface” Nicky said

“I’m an old man, my time is almost up, I’d just slow you down, now go”

We un-barricaded the door and swung it open. We moved slowly as to not attract any attention. After retracing our steps we descended the metal steps into the stagnant water when we saw it, lit up by the moon light it was crouched over at the bottom of the ladder, its pale, scorched skin glowing in the moonlight, it hadn’t seen us yet, we stopped and started to slowly back up the stairs when there was a loud creak.

We stopped dead in our tracks, it moved, we heard the water sloshing around its feet, then, it started to run, it was inhumanly fast

“RUN!” shouted Harry and we took off back up the stairs, through the lobby, down the corridor and past the mess hall into the control room and barred the door, there was a loud crash as it collided with the heavy steel door.

Catching our breath we contemplated our next move was. We were trapped, eventually we decided to go through the door that led past the control room.

The door was heavy and took the tree of us to push it open, the smell that we were greeted with was blinding, it caused our eyes to water and Nicky to vomit. If you have ever smelled week old roadkill, imagine that but a hundred times more potent.

Once we were accustomed to the smell we noticed that there was a large steel spiral staircase that went down into the bowels of the missile silo.

Once at the bottom we were submerged up to our knees in water at the bottom of the missile. We waded slowly through the mixture of water and what we could only hope was sewage and nothing more.

“The fuck was that!?” Nicky exclaimed

“Keep your voice down” I whisper-shouted back

“Something brushed past my leg dude” Nicky whispered

“Probably nothing, its all in your mind thats all” said Harry

“Nah dude, felt like something swimming”

“Just keep moving” I said

“Ahh fuck guys there it was again” Nicky said. I turned around to look at him only to see a pair of eyes looking out above the water

“Nicky run!” I shouted, but it was too late, one of the changed leaped out of the water and wrapped its arms and legs around Nicky, it sunk its teeth into his neck and ripped out a huge chunk of flesh, sinew and arteries, Nicky gurgled, I’ll never forget that sound. As he fell back there were more of them, standing up from the water and wading slowly over to join in the feeding frenzy.

Harry and I waded as fast as we could to the other side of the silo where we found an identical stair case. We ran up it as fast as our legs would take us. We burst into the room at the top of the stairs, it was pitch black. We tried our flashlights but they were soaked and wouldn’t turn on. We were in total blackness.

“We’re fucked aren’t we?” I asked Harry, expecting him to be the voice of reason

“It would seem that way brother” came the reply. We stood in darkness for what seemed like an eternity until the lights suddenly came on

“What the fu—“ I was cut off short by the buzzing of an intercom

“I got the old thing working!” came the doctors voice while he laughed to himself at his accomplishment “Guys listen, that side of the base is identical to this one, you just need to go the same way but this time, there is no hatch and no ladder, its a door that leads into the adjacent field”

“Doc we lost Nicky” I said bowing my head at the intercom on the wall

“I’m sorry for that son, I truly am but you need to keep going, theres nothing you can do for him now, I don’t know how many of them are on that side but I wish you luck” the intercom buzzed off

“We need to get moving man” Harry said putting a hand on my shoulder

“I know man just give me a minute” there was suddenly a loud bang at the door to the staircase, they were there against it, trying to get inside, their moans were blood curdling

“Right, lets move” I said, running to the other door.

Pulling it open, we ran down the corridor with the barracks either side, around the corner until we were met with a long corridor and a door at the end, there was light shining through a crack at the bottom, it was morning, we had been down here all night. Before we could take off running I was tackled from behind, I rolled onto my back just in time for one of the changed to jump on top of me, it roared in my face, I could smell the unmistakeable scent of death on its breath.

Harry had found a piece of rebar and swung it down, crushing the head of the beast, its black blood oozed onto my face, i gagged and pushed it off, knowing the others wouldn’t be far behind. We started running for the door when the others barrelled down the corridor behind us, as we reached the door it dawned on me that it was probably locked from the outside.

We crashed into the door and fumbled with the latch, to my surprise, the latch swung down and the door opened, I heard Harry grunt after being tackled through the open door but before the changed could do anything it started to scream and roll around in agony on the floor, covering its eyes, the others stopped at the doorway, afraid of the light, the one on the floor slowly started to burn and sizzle until the screams died. I looked at Harry and without saying a word, we walked away.

We reached the trucks about half an hour later, we had walked slowly, we were tired. Harry jumped in my truck and we took off down the dirt road.

After about an hour driving, not really knowing where we were going there was blaring siren and 4 black SUVs pulled up alongside us and boxed us in, we were forced to stop.

“Stay in the car” came a voice over a bullhorn “Keep your hands where we can see them”

Harry and I both put our hands out in front of us. After 2 minuets of waiting men in hazmat suits surrounded the car. One of them approached either side of the truck and opened the door, sticking needles into our arms.

Next thing I remember was waking up in a hospital bed. In front of me was a mirror, I soon realised it was a one way mirror. A voice over the intercom system said

“Nice of you to finally join us Mr Dalton, that is your name right? Eric Dalton?”

“Where am I?” I asked, my head still foggy from whatever they had given me

“Don’t worry about that. Do you know what you’ve done? What you stumbled across down in that hole? No I guess you don’t” He said “You discovered one of America’s best kept secrets. Do you know how many times we have had to change the lock on that damn hatch because of stupid idiots like you?”

“Who are you? Where am I? Wheres Harry?” I shouted

“Mr Williams died not long after we brought you here, lethal doses of radiation I’m afraid”

I started crying a screaming, struggling against the handcuffs attaching me to the bed.

“Now Mr Dalton, you need to understand that we can’t let you leave this place. You absorbed too much radiation down there, you’ll  be leaving us soon, so please, don’t struggle just relax, it should be relatively painless” the intercom shut off.

The next few days were hell, bleeding from the eyes, nose and mouth, vomit, diarrhoea but you get the picture, slowly I started to feel tired and then the pain subsided and a feeling of calm swept over me like a fresh blanked straight out of the dryer.

I knew I would see Harry and Nicky again and hey who knows, maybe I’ll see the Doc too.  

I hope you enjoyed this not so short, short story. This one took me a while, if you make it to the end I’d be very happy. 

Stay Creepy

J

[fanforfanatic]

Something About Salvation - Part 1/2

Read it on ao3 

(Part 2)

Relationships: Dean x Reader Rating: Mature Warnings: Mentions of torture, explicit depiction of torture (not very gruesome), aftermath of torture. A/N: This was originally a one-shot but it ran a bit long. 

~10k words

Summary: A rogue soul escapes hell and its tortures. Top side, she runs into a man wearing the same face as one of her tormentors from her first decade in the pit. The one who had piercing green eyes. 

Or, one of the souls Dean tortured in hell escapes and he’s forced to face his actions from his last month in the basement.

Magnolia hated her name. It was kind of ugly, rolled off the tongue awkwardly and just didn’t fit her. It was too sweet, too precious. Growing up, she’d spent many years trying to shake it. Call me Maggie. Call me Lia.

Here, though, she held onto it like a lifeline. So much time had passed since she’d been placed on the racks it was hard to remember anything from her old life, but she could remember her name.

By the time her first century in hell came to an end, she’d forgotten her home. The backgrounds to her memories faded, leaving precious moments in time without a backdrop. She still remembered her mom making them dinner, but couldn’t for the life of her recall what their kitchen looked like. With time, details just seemed to dim and disappear. Her mom wasn’t standing at a grimy off white counter pouring cereal and milk into a bowl she’d pulled from a splintered wooden cupboard while a six year old Magnolia sat at the patio table for two they used as a dining table. The image had just become her mom fixing her a meal. Something. Somewhere.

It took another century to forget interactions. She knew she’d kissed Simon Kester in the cluster of trees behind her high school at sixteen. It had been sloppy but fun except for the bark dinging into her back. She had disliked the smell of so much greenery but had liked the cologne Simon probably stole from his brother. She kept losing pieces of the puzzle though. Soon all she knew was that she’d kissed Simon. Somewhere. Then she just remembered Simon himself. Couldn’t recall any time they spent together but she knew she had known him. It didn’t take much time after that for her to only remember a face, his name long lost. They, her torturers, had ripped it out of her just like they’d ripped her teeth out, her nails off.

They restored her, of course, at the end of every day they put her back together only to start back up the next morning but she never got her memories back.

Realising she was forgetting names made her cling to her own.

She’d spent three hundred years in hell, when she realised she was forgetting faces too. It was a startling discovery because thinking of her life had kept her strong, here. Had helped her survive. Had given her the strength to say ‘no’ whenever they offered her to get off the rack to do to others what had been done to her. So how was she managing to forget?

She found herself trying to put together the images of people she barely knew anymore. Like ripped scraps of pictures from magazines taped together. She tried to make a collage from the fragments she could recall, but each time it resembled less and less the original. One face she rebuilt more than any other until it barely looked human anymore. The jagged edges of the shards she put together in her mind stopped lining up making the visage seem wrong. She was no longer sure who the person even was. She was a girl, that much Magnolia knew. A friend? A sister maybe? Whoever she was Magnolia figured she wasn’t honoring her by literally defacing her. So she stopped trying to recall altogether.

It felt suspiciously like giving up, like giving in to these sadistic fuckers that kept her here and that’s something she just couldn’t do. Wouldn’t. So she held onto herself. To her name.

To add insult to injury, she never forgot them, the men and women who came to her with malicious smiles carved into their faces wielding weapons meant exclusively for her torment. No, she’d learned every last one of their features. She’d engraved every last wrinkle in her mind. It was how she passed the time while they hacked away at her.

She started recognising their styles of torture too. She knew some of them wore different faces at times. They’d come one day looking like one person, leave, return looking like another. Magnolia recognised them though, they, the demons, each often had their own brand of sick and twisted. It helped tell them apart.

The show runner she’d heard be called Alastair, was a bit of a voyeur, often accompanying a green eyed demon. The latter almost always started by gouging her eyes out. After a few years both of them stopped showing up and that’s when the shit really hit the fan for Magnolia. Another demon, Bethuel, took over as ring master. He was particularly fond of using blunt blades. She hated him the most.

“Happy anniversary.” A lanky teenager greeted as he approached her.

She was suspended in the air hanging from a dozen chains. She knew it was the beginning of a new day only because she didn’t have any significant injuries at the moment, though she did have a bone deep ache and tiredness. That was perpetual, however. In fact, she doesn’t remember a time when she didn’t constantly feel that way.

“Four hundred years, today.” He said cheerfully.

Magnolia didn’t acknowledge him. She didn’t even bother lifting her head to get a look at him. She knew Bethuel’s face best. He looked boyish and charming and it was the Great Deception because he was made up only of rot and evil. She wondered briefly if the human inside the possessed body was still around. She doubted it.

“It’s rude not to answer.” He snapped his voice dangerous and nothing like the sickening sweetness it had been before.

Magnolia straightened her neck then to look him in the eyes, she smirked but only for a millisecond before pressing her lips together into a tight line. Pointedly not answering.

The demon scowled and stomped a foot reminding Magnolia of a petulant child. Had she known children? Had she had any? She might have been alive, well not alive, but around for over four centuries but she didn’t feel old enough to have had kids. To be a mother. God she hoped she hadn’t left kids behind.

“I don’t like to be ignored, Jessica, you know that.” He barked picking up a meat tenderizer .

It was one of the ways some of the demons had of toying with her. Once, when one heard her murmuring ‘My name is Magnolia’ under her breath like a mantra he’d started calling her by any other name for no reason other than to fuck with her. Other demons had joined in on the fun.

He brought the mallet of choice down heavily onto her clavicle, which she heard snap. She hissed out in pain. My name is Magnolia.

“I don’t know why you do this.” He said sort of like an exasperated teacher reprimanding a particularly difficult student.

He swung the hammer again this time busting a knee. My name is Magnolia.

“You know it only angers me. You know it’s pointless. I always get you to scream in the end. You know I never stop until you do.”

A knife was stabbed in her armpit and dragged up to the crook of her elbow. Blood fell freely from the gash and landed with a smacking sound on the ground. More dripped down the side of her body. My name is Magnolia.

The knife was then planted in her wrist and left there. My name is Magnolia.

The demon tapped the dull point of the blade sticking out from the back of her wrist. “For safe keeping.” He said then lifted wire cutters so that she could see them.

My name is Magnolia.

My name is Magnolia.

My name is Magnolia.

Magnolia. It’s all she had left. A name. She tried not to doubt it. The demons calling her Tracey, Ruth, Isabel, sometimes made it hard. She always found her way back to Magnolia though. The way it always fit wrong in her mouth felt right. She hated the name so goddamn much, it was ironic that it was all she could remember, now. Maybe she managed to remember it because she hated it. Nevertheless, it was all she had. Her name and these faces.

-

Dean thought that maybe Sam had a point. Maybe driving well over an hour and many towns over for pie was excessive but it wasn’t just pie. It was some of the best god damn pie he’d ever had.

The brothers had been operating from Rufus’ cabin, in Whitefish, Idaho whilst dealing with the leviathan fiasco. They had hit a lull though, waiting on one thing or another. Kevin to finish translating the tablet maybe. Cas to find something out. It was rough having nothing to do, knowing all the while that the country was in terrible danger. So they worked cases in the area most of the time, trying not to stray too far from the cabin, since it’s where all their research was, their home base for the time being.

Not having too much to do did have its upsides. It meant that Dean could afford to drive more than two hours, roundtrip, to Bigfork, Idaho. Unfortunately, not the home of the biggest fork. However, it was home to a hole in the wall diner that served some of the best god damn pie he’d ever had. Even Sam had liked it the first time they’d been there and had uncharacteristically opted for desert every ensuing visit. That wasn’t stopping the younger Winchester from being pissy on this day, though.

“Okay, but why do I have to be dragged along? You can order to go, you know.” Sam complained.

Dean shook his head vigorously at the absurdity. “That’d defeat the whole purpose. It’d be cold by the time I drive back to the cabin. What would be the point?”

“Whatever.” Sam mumbled.

“Quit moaning. Some people would be grateful to have an older brother treat them to a delicious lunch.” Dean mocked with a wiggle of his brows and an easy grin.

Sam sighed. “I’m just... worried, y’know. About...everything.”

“I know.” Dean replied without missing a beat because he did know. “But we can worry later,” He said reversing the car into a parking spot. “Now is the time for pie.”

Sam chuckled and rolled his eyes at Dean’s narrow focus on the here and now.

The two stepped out of the car. Hole in the wall was right. The diner, a mom and pop type shop, was nearly lost in the street’s industrial layout. It was mostly buildings that were falling apart on one side and one massive abandoned warehouse, or maybe it was a factory, on the other side. The diner itself was the first floor of an apartment complex, neighbouring a bookstore and a pawn shop.

They made their way inside and escaped the grime of the street as the restaurant itself was quite well kept. It was small, only large enough for a handful of tables and two larger booths, but it was clean.

“Sit wherever, boys, I’ll be right with you.” Min, a waitress that had served them at least half a dozen times by now, told them.

When she brought them water and menus they slipped into easy conversation with her.

“School still going good?” Sam asked. He’d found out during a previous visit that she was majoring in electrical engineering.

“One final left the day after tomorrow.” She answered excitedly. “I still have two classes that I had to drop last year to make things work with my jobs but by the time summer ends I will be a graduate.” She smiled toothily at them.

“That’s really great, Min.” Sam congratulated feeling an odd sort of pride for this girl he barely knew.

“Yeah, awesome, super, fantastic, reading is fundamental. Can we get to things that matter please?” Dean insisted callously.

“Dude.” Sam reprimanded.

“Dude.” Dean countered.

Min just laughed, though, unsurprised by the man’s behaviour and the duo’s banter. The latter convinced her they were brothers. If not siblings then at least long time friends.

“Don’t worry about it. Dean, the special today is pecan. We also have a new burger heavy on the caramelised onion. So new, in fact, it’s not even on the menu, yet.” She winked at him conspiratorially.

“Yes, yes to all that and also a beer.”

“You got it.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Sam? The usual?”

“Yes, please. And,” He hesitated, glancing at Dean briefly. “I’ll have a slice of the pecan too.”

“HA!” Dean exclaimed as though victorious but Sam always had some of the pie here so it’s not like the win was unexpected.

Sam rolled his eyes for what must have been the fifteenth time that day and Min laughed gleefully.

“Coming right up.” She assured clicking her pen and walking away towards the kitchen,

“Don’t,” Sam warned Dean.

“I wanna hear you say that I’m right and that coming here is a great idea and that we’re about to have some of the best god damn pie-”

Dean was interrupted then by the earth rumbling beneath them, a loud crash and a piercing scream, one that sounded familiar to him, coming from below.

The well-known cry shocked Dean into stillness as opposed to Sam who was up and by the counter of the diner pulling out an FBI badge from the breast pocket of his army jacket within moments. He flashes it to Min and the rest of the kitchen crew.

“I’ll check it out.” He told them. “My partner will stay with you.”

Huh, Min thought, not brothers.

Sam looked over his shoulder and was surprised to find Dean still in their booth. “Dean.” He said, jolting him into action.

The hunter shrugged an icy feeling off and jumped to his feet. “Go.” He assured moving closer to the other occupants of the diner. It was past the lunch time rush and the brothers had been the only customers so it boiled down to the employees working that afternoon.

Min pointed to the door that led to the basement of the building, where they heard the crash and the scream.

“Sam.” She said before he turned the knob. “There shouldn’t be anyone down there. Everyone who’s working is here.”

He nodded in response and then offered a small comforting smile.

As he made his way down the steps Sam heard the telltale signs of a fight. He’d thought that the quake had caused something to fall over and someone to get injured, but it was obvious now that more was going on. So he pulled his gun out and flew down the rest of the stairs.

-

Days where no one came to torture her were rare. They occurred in clusters a while back. During that time she’d heard murmurs of Lucifer’s release. She couldn’t help but laugh at that. Of course. She was in hell and demons were real why wouldn’t Lucifer be as well. She figured that’s what had kept the demons occupied. Though, Bethuel made it a point to visit her even then. Now, days off were few and far in between.

It was a few weeks, maybe a month, maybe more, after what Bethuel had fondly called her four hundred year anniversary, when Magnolia got one of those days off. Sort of. Mostly.

A demon had walked into her cell and had released her chains. She knew that never meant anything good. It meant this demon wanted to play. Wanted to see her scurry and run and try to hide in a concrete room empty save for the cart of torture tools kept by the door. A room where there was nowhere to hide.

She hated when they got this way because she didn’t want to play along, didn’t want to give them the satisfaction, but it was hard not to. Hard not to throw a punch, poke an eye, kick a groin. Hard not to retreat to a corner of the room. Hard not to try to avoid the pain that was sure to come. And it was always sure to come. Her efforts were fruitless, which she knew. They knew she knew. The game was rigged. That was the whole point. They wanted to give her hope, give her some semblance of power, only to have her realise time and time again that it wouldn’t be enough.

Magnolia braced herself for the first kick that would send her across the room and the inevitable taunting that would follow but then something that had never happened before in all her time in hell happened.

The demon was called away. A female voice came from down the hall had beckoned him to her. So the man huffed, promised Magnolia a swift return and left closing the grid door behind him. First it shut with a loud clank and then it was followed by a small click as the lock mechanism fell into place.

Not a second went by before the door opened again. The same demon reentered the room.

“No point in chaining you back up at play time. I’ll just take this outside.” He explained with a darkness in his eyes. He grabbed hold of the cart with the tools of his trade and dragged it out of the room behind him. “Not that it really makes a difference.” He laughed maliciously making Magnolia shudder.

My name is Magnolia.

The metal door shut again with a loud clank and then... That was it. Magnolia waited to hear the softer click that always, always, followed but it never came.

She laid there with a bruised knee from her fall for long torturous minutes, waiting for reality to hit. For a swarm of demons to rush into the room and cackle at how she was too weak now to fall for their traps but that it didn’t matter because they still knew how to have fun with her. But that never came either.

So Magnolia rose to unsteady feet, prayed for them not to fail her and took hesitant steps towards the door. She pressed on it and marvelled when it gave under the light pressure of her hand. She cringed when it creaked sharply and retreated quickly further back inside the room.

My name is Magnolia.

She waited for the stampede of footsteps to hustle towards her cell but was met by quiet. Well, not quiet. She could still hear the pained wailing of other captives far away but that had become white noise at this point. So Magnolia gathered all the courage she had, the few scraps she could manage anyway, and stepped outside of her prison. Another first since being brought here. In the past, when they had wanted to move her, she’d be so beaten they had to drag her body on the stone floor.

She was on her own two feet now, though. The demon she’d seen last had gone left so she was going right, but not before picking something off of the cart he’d pulled out of the room. That goddamn cart that had taunted and tormented her even when no demons were around and now it had become her salvation.

She skimmed what it had to offer quickly pocketing a knife and a revolver. She laughed softly at a time when she thought being shot was the worst thing that could happen to her. A time when she thought that had to be the worst sort of pain. These demons, if nothing else, had taught her how untrue that was.

Next, she took a dagger and a sword in each hand. She wanted something to keep as much distance between her and demons but she didn’t want to resort to the gun right away as not to alert more demons, thus the sword. She remembered distinct times when all four of her chosen weapons had been used against her. On her skin. Left lodged inside of her as demons busied themselves with another device. The irony was not lost on her.

She wasn’t deluded enough to think that anything from the cart could do any lasting damage to a demon but she figured it’d be hard for them to drag her back to her cell if they got their head, or say their feet, chopped off.

She started making her way down the silent corridor. Apparently, the demons hadn’t been working the cells in her hall yet since most of the screaming she could hear was coming from further away.

The passage didn’t remain hushed for long though as other captives started to speak up. To beg really. They plead for her to help. Cried for her to free them.

One man said, “You can’t leave us here, please.”

And he... He was right. Magnolia thought she’d regret it, she knew that if she had any hope to get out of here it’d have to be quick and quiet but she couldn’t leave them there. It’d make her a monster just like her tormentors and hadn’t she spent the last four hundred years denying that she was anything like them. Turning down their offer to become them. Leaving these lost souls here would make her a demon in every other sense of the word. And she was Magnolia not a demon. Never that.

So against her better judgement, she stopped at each cell, starting with that man’s, pushed the metal grids, that she knew only locked from the inside, open and pulled the lever that made the chains evaporate dropping bodies. She moved down the hall at a painfully slow pace, zigzagging between the walls to get to each prison. After a few captors were released she found that she was moving a lot faster, because they’d armed themselves from the carts in their own jails and helped.

So for the first time in over four hundred years Magnolia believed, not only in hope, not only in escape but in humanity. The cluster of humans moved together down the corridor, freeing each other, supporting those with injuries, wielding the same weapons that had been used against them no more than twenty four hours ago, growing in numbers.

Magnolia wasn’t too much of a religious type, she didn’t think, but there was something goddamn biblical about the scene. Something about deliverance.

They got further than she thought they would before the first demon showed up. The people she was with, they all... sort of rushed him. As some sort of unit just trudged forward, perhaps on sheer will alone, and obliterated him. They stabbed him and severed an arm and someone shot him in the head before the demon escaped its vessel in a black smoke. When more showed up, and a lot more showed up, they did the same. They freed more and more captives as they went.

She isn’t sure how, maybe it was the thrill of killing, of revenge, maybe it was mob mentality, maybe it was pure dumb luck but the crowd she found herself leading somehow collectively decided to head in the direction where they saw the most demons. Magnolia liked to think they were all smart enough to know that demons would be guarding the exit. Magnolia also liked to think that the demons were dumb enough to lead them through the maze of hell to the doorway of their escape. Which is exactly what they did.

After some time they found themselves in front of a massive iron gate. It was heavy and ugly and locked.

“More are coming.” The first man she’d freed said from the left of her. “We need to get this thing open if we plan on getting out.”

A chorus of voices chimed behind them in agreement. She turned and saw over five dozen or so faces staring back at her. Faces that were nothing like her tormentors’. Faces she didn’t have the time to learn in this moment but that she wished she could. She wished it was their features she had committed to memory instead of those of the demons that had torn her apart time and time and time again.

Her heart went out to these people. No one deserves the agony of this place, no one deserves to have their humanity tampered with. It’s an unfair battle, one they had a chance to win.

“My name is Magnolia.” She said to them, for no reason at all other than she wanted them to know it. Needed someone to know it.

The faces stared on and Magnolia could read them so easily because she saw in them exactly what she knew was reflected in her own. Fear. And hope. So much hope. Briefly, it felt like she had lead some sort of rebellion. One that wouldn’t mean anything if she didn’t come through on the home stretch. It wouldn’t mean anything if she couldn’t get the gate open.

“I know this is hell,” She said finally. “But do you guys think we can just pick the lock?”

Everyone exchanged glances and...shrugged.

A boy, he looked barely ten, too young to be here, approached Magnolia and handed her a pocket knife. She took it from his tiny shaking hand and whispered a thank you.

“Magnolia, now.” The man, to her right now that she had turned, barked.

She understood the urgency when she lifted her eyes and found more demons turning the corner at the end of the hall heading their way. The escapees turned their backs to Magnolia ready to fight, ready to protect her. It was all or nothing at this point. It was go big and go home. Maybe.

Bodies were flung into walls and into each other as the demons stalked closer and closer, but it was the man by her side that startled her into action.

“Do you know how to pick a lock?”

“Yes.” She said turning to face the gargantuan double doors. She wasn’t sure how she knew that she knew but flashes of memories were returning to her. “At least I did. A long time ago.”

“Well, get to it. It’s down to you, so no pressure.”

She looked up to him and was met with a smirk and a wild glint in his eyes.

“Someone like you, someone who’d stop to help the rest of us, you got this. I know.” He winks and then leaves her to join the fight.

Behind her she could hear gun shots and the sound of skin smacking cold concrete and cold stone but before her she could see freedom and salvation and that’s what she had to focus on.

She didn’t have to kneel, the lock was level with her chest, that’s how colossal the doors were. Seemed about right if they were The Gates Of Hell. She dropped her sword to the ground, she’d lost her dagger earlier in the fight, and pulled out the small blade she’d pocketed. She opened the switch knife gifted to her by the child, it was the kind that had other tools inside of it, and set to work on picking the lock.

Her hair fell into her face more than once, which was more than annoying. Her hair was something else she’d hated. The demons had had field days pulling on it, sometimes hard enough to tear out clumps, sometimes hard enough to tear her scalp.

Once she had tucked her strands behind her ears, it was easier to concentrate than she thought it would be. Despite the noise coming from behind her. Despite the chaos. Despite knowing exactly when the demons got close enough to get their hands on her- her what?- comrades in arms. She could hear their bones snap, their throats collapse. She could hear the sounds of their tortured screams, familiar, haunting, torturous in their own right. She heard one scream that made her heart sink because she could have sworn in was the little boy’s. It was too small to belong to anyone else.

That’s when the lock gave. The bolt unlatched and the doors swung open slowly with a grunt. The earth rumbled and an eery calm came over the mosh pit behind her. She stepped forward, slowly, afraid. Afraid of what? Freedom? Salvation? She didn’t know, but she was afraid.

She passed the threshold and when both her feet were on the other side she felt that bone deep ache finally, finally, lift if only a little. She turned slowly and saw a motionless picture of tangled limbs. Captors and captives stared back at her in a still moment.

“Shit.” One demon muttered under his breath.

Then Magnolia saw what could only be described as all hell breaking loose. A collective and powerful roar escaped from souls that had once been prisoners as they clawed their way to the gate, to their freedom.

Without much thought Magnolia tried to step back through, to help, but didn’t make it far. It was like a screen had formed keeping the two worlds apart, allowing passage only one way. At least it as the right way, she thought. At least it was the way out and not in.

A rush of people started filing out but moments after they did they were encompassed by a bright light. Magnolia saw the souls lift and rise upwards and into the ceiling where they disappeared. Tears flowed freely from her eyes as she realised that they were Heaven bound. However long they had been trapped in that pit of despair they were headed somewhere better now. They were headed somewhere they would never have to hurt again.

Magnolia was so full of awe as she watched deliverance occur right before her eyes that she barely noted that she herself wasn’t moving on. Her bare feet had remained planted firmly to the ground. That was until a demon stepped out of hell to come for her. He flicked his chin one way and up that way Magnolia’s body flew hitting large metal shelves.

The stand fell backwards from the collision and clattered loudly to the ground. The air was knocked out of her, something metallic was digging into her back. If she didn’t already know exactly what it felt like to have her spine severed she’d suspect that’s what had happened.

Her body was tossed up again, hitting the ceiling before falling back onto the metal shelf unit. A bag of flower broke part of her fall, namely her face, but she felt her knee twist in a way that just wasn’t right.

“Dumb fucking bitch, you know how much shit we’re going to be in for this?”

She hurried off of the shelves as best she could and crawled to the exit. The demon had other plans for her, though.

An invisible force raised her from the ground so she hung suspended in the air in front of the demon, not unlike how she was kept chained in her cell.

From her vantage point Magnolia could see inside of the gate. She saw the near last handful of people step through the door, nod their thank yous, and move on in white lights.

The demon was saying something, talking to her, but she didn’t care. She was caught, but so many people weren’t anymore. Only one person was left.

“Pay attention, whore.” The demon snapped irritatedly.

She saw the man she’d first freed bash in the head of the last demon standing on the other side of the gate. But she also saw more demons appearing at the end of the hall.

“Hurry!” She croaked as the demon who had her squeezed her lungs in a tight grip.

“Shut. Up.” He barked. With his free hand he willed the gates to close. The doors were so massive it was slow enough to give the man inside time.

When the demon beneath him escaped in smoke form, the man didn’t run for the exit, though. No, to her horror, Magnolia saw him step further into hell.

“HURRY!” She screeched again, her lungs restricting even more.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” The demon yelled shaking her like a rattle.

Magnolia ignored him some more, but understood why the man had backtracked. She watched him bend down and lift the small boy from earlier into his arms. He sprinted, then, out of Hell, onto earth, just as the gates sealed behind him.

Light erupted in his arms as the boy’s limp form rose upwards and disappeared from view. Magnolia cried some more.

As soon as that happened the man picked up a metal rod from the ground and swung it at the demon holding his saviour in the air. That’s what she was, his saviour.

The rod dropped to the ground before it ever hit the demon though. It fell right through the man’s hands as he began to ascend to his own afterlife.

“NO! No, wait!” He tried to bear down, to return, to help, but up was the only direction he went. “Magnolia!” Then he was gone.

Magnolia was once again alone in a dingy room with one of those faces.

The demon laughed evilly. “It’s cute that he thought he could help you.” He mocked.

“He helped many others.” She spat back, a raging fury boiling inside her.

The demon scowled. “Your whore mouth? Shut it.” He ordered flinging the fallen metal rod into and through her thigh.

Magnolia grunted through clenched teeth and then smirked. “You wanna know something about hell? It’s full of demons that are better at this than you are.” She gripped the metal pipe with a hand and in one swift tug pulled it completely through and out of her leg.

She threw the rod at him. She didn’t expect to harm him with it and wasn’t surprised when he deflected it easily.

The grasp on her lungs constricted further and Magnolia was no long sure when she had last breathed in air.

“Good thing I have you to practice on.”

The last thing she heard and saw before passing out is a giant man with luscious locks kicking down the door she had crawled to earlier. Poor guy, he had no idea what he had gotten himself into. Maybe they’d be cell neighbours when they’re brought back to hell. Maybe in another four hundred years they’d get a chance to escape together. She doubted it, but maybe. Magnolia refused to lose hope entirely. The demons might have her again but they never really had her. She never caved, she never would.

-

You wanna know something about hell? It’s full of demons that are better at this than you are.

Good thing I have you to practice on.

Sam heard two voices before he kicked the door off its hinges. He wasn’t expecting demons, but demons are what he got. Well, one demon. He shot at it only to regret it when that caused the girl to drop to the ground. He winced at the loud cracking sound. The rest went more smoothly. Sam had an angel blade buried in the demon’s throat within minutes.

When that happened, he watched large iron gates morph into what looked like doors to a simple storage room. Sam rushed to the girl and assessed the damage. Her knee was sprained if not broken, a hole was punched through her thigh and her wrist was shattered, all on the left side. But she was breathing, she was alive which was more than most could say after going toe to toe with a demon.

Sam sighed. How was he supposed to explain any of this to Min, her coworkers and the owners upstairs?

-

It took some insisting, some charming and some more badge flashing but everyone at the diner eventually relented on allowing the FBI agents to leave with the wounded girl they’d found in their basement instead of calling an ambulance.

Sam had carried her out to the car while Dean apologised for the mess he imagined Sam had left and graciously accepted the full pie Min had packed for them to go. He didn’t even grumble about how it wouldn’t be warm by the time he got to eat it.

Dean slid easily into the driver’s seat of the impala, glancing quickly at the unconscious body in the back. Her hair covered her face, a strip of fabric was tied around her thigh and Sam’s balled up jacket was placed under her left knee. He sighed turning the key in the ignition.

“What happened?” He asked as he pulled out of their parking spot.

“A demon and...”

“And?”

“A portal, I think.”

“A portal? To where?”

“My guess? Hell.”

“Another gate? Fuck, how many entrances does that place need? Since when do demons even use those to get around?”

“I don’t know.”

Dean sighed again. “What’s the damage?”

“She’ll pull through. Best case we get Cas to heal her, but she’ll be fine with time. Might have a limp from now on though.”

“Any idea what they want from her?”

“No, but I... I think she’s been there before.”

“Been where?”

“To hell. In hell. Whichever.”

“Shit. What makes you think that?”

“Something she and the demon were saying to each other.”

“They were chatting? This wasn’t a normal demon attack was it?”

“With our luck?”

“I know, why do I bother asking.” Dean sighed for the third time.

-

Magnolia woke up in some sort of lodge on an ugly red and patchy couch. The strange part was that she was waking up. Slowly, naturally rousing out of slumber like she had been used to a long time ago. She wasn’t abruptly being startled out of unconsciousness from one affliction or another. Wasn’t jolted into awareness by a sinister laugh. She was simply waking up.

Though that was strange the stranger part was the man sitting two feet away from her on an equally ugly chair. He’d been the one to bust into the room before. But if that were the case why wasn’t he dead, or worse why weren’t they back in hell. This place might need some serious dusting and maybe some redecorating but this wasn’t hell. In fact, it was nicer than where she’d grown up. Hadn’t it been a while since she remembered what that looked like?

“You’re up.” The large man intoned softly with even softer eyes.

Magnolia nodded and sat up wincing through the pain in her leg and wrist.

The man looked at her appraisingly. “That doesn’t hurt more?”

She eyed him right back, with suspicion. Did he want her to hurt more? “High threshold.” She explained.

He nodded then offered his hand. “I’m Sam.”

She moved to grasp his hand so hesitantly it reminded Sam of a fearful animal. She shook it in the end, though. “M-My name is Magnolia. What happened?”

“What do you remember?”

Her eyes narrowed then. “I don’t like games.”

Sam put up his hands in surrender. “You took a nasty fall. I just don’t want to remind you of something you might prefer left forgotten.”

“You saw me hovering, levitating, or whatever.”

“Yeah. You know what was doing that to you?”

“You’d have me committed if I answered truthfully.”

“It was a demon.” He deadpanned. “I killed it.”

Magnolia hardened even more so. “You know about demons. You know how to kill them.” She stated.

“My brother and I, we hunt them for a living, amongst other things.”

Magnolia noticed then the shower that had been running in another room. “Other things?”

“Do you want to know?”

“No.”

Sam nods. “Then let’s leave it at other things.”

Magnolia looked around noticing that it’s dark out. “Now what?”

“Do you know what it wanted with you? If more will come for you?”

“I don’t know...I don’t think I’m of value. I don’t think they’d bother. I don’t know. If you really did kill that one, maybe the rest won’t even know I survived. The others... they... they’re gone.” She looked like she was piecing together a complex puzzle. “Am I alive?”

The question startled Sam. “Why would you ask that? You’re here aren’t you?”

“The others didn’t stick around. They moved on.”

“What others? There were more demons?”

“No. I mean yes. I mean...” She sighed deeply. “The people I escaped with. When they left hell, they just... I think they went to heaven, but I’m still here.”

“There were others? Humans? You escaped Hell?” Sam asked confused. This girl was no hunter, barely aware of what goes bump in the night yet she manage to escape Hell?

“How’d you manage that?” Dean asked chuckling from a doorway, towel drying his hair.

Magnolia tensed.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. It’s the brother I told you about, Dean. He hunts them with me, you’re still safe.” Sam reassured.

She shut her eyes and let her head hang. Her hair fell forward shielding her like a curtain, a blessing for once. She thinks she might like to cut it anyway, now that she’s out.

She nodded rigidly letting Sam know that she’d heard him but that she’d need a minute. She heard the brother, Dean, move around the couch to sit on the coffee table beside her and Sam. She breathed deeply through her nose, relaxed her shoulders and her back.

My name is Magnolia. She reminded herself.

When she’d calmed sufficiently she lifted her head back up and opened her eyes ready to accept the safety they were offering her. What she was met with was a face. Not just a face, but a face. One of the faces she’d learned while she was caged.

It looked different now. Older. But it was still the same face. The same jaw, the same slightly dimpled chin. The same cheekbones with the same slightly asymmetrical nose. The same piercing green eyes surrounded by the same wrinkles. The same cupid’s bow lips framed by the same creases. Laugh lines she had thought bitterly all that time ago.

He was one of them. She hadn’t escaped. This was all part of their game. She was still in her cell, for all intents and purposes. She was still trapped. Still their prey. Magnolia wasn’t sure how they had orchestrated it all, she was mildly impressed but mostly she was petrified.

Something was wrong though, well something else. Because the face that stared back at her looked just as scared to see her as she was to see it. He looked downright traumatised.

Magnolia jumped on the couch her injuries mostly forgotten. Pain she could handle. Sam was up half a beat after her but Magnolia was quicker than him. She stumbled backwards and managed to hop ungracefully off the arm of the couch.

“No!” She yelled. “You can’t take me back. I won’t let you. You can’t.” She screeched. She reached for something, anything, a chair to hold between them knowing full well it would do nothing to protect her.

Her words startled Dean into action himself. He reeled back, nearly tripping on the table, dropping his small towel, and put as much distance between the two of them as possible pressing his back to the corner furthest from her. It was for her sake as well as his.

“Hey, hey, calm down, Magnolia, it’s okay. I told you he’s my brother.”

“I’m sorry to break it to ya, Sam,” She said with a hysteria laden voice. “But that is no longer your brother. They can... they can possess people. Unless you’re,” She shifted then to hold the chair between her and Sam. “You’re one of them too?”

Magnolia tried fighting the tears but she couldn’t help but start sobbing. She’d been so close.

“NO!” She yelled. “You’re all sick you know that. You can’t do this. I don’t deserve this.”

“Maggie, please, listen to-”

“My name is Magnolia.” She snapped at Sam.

“Magnolia. I swear we aren’t demons. I promise. I don’t know how to help you believe it.” It’s not like she knows about holy water. Even if she did, it’s not like he could confirm the water in his flask was holy. Sam did his best to look as non-threatening as possible.

Magnolia pondered that for a moment, her eyes going from Sam to Dean back to Sam because Dean was so hard to look at. “Go stand over there.” She said to Sam pointing towards a wall with a cork board with a bunch of newspaper clippings pinned to a map of the US on it.

Sam obeyed clearing her a path to the exit. Dean stayed stock still, his eyes still not leaving her, too consumed by the screams in his head to do anything more than stare at her.

“Good. I’m going to leave,” She said inching towards the front door, favouring her right leg. “And you’re going to let me. That’s how you help me believe it.”

“I can’t let you do that.” Sam countered taking a step towards her.

She lifts the chair higher in pathetic defence, ignoring her tightly bandaged wrist’s complain. Sam cursed himself.

“I don’t want to hurt you Magnolia, but more demons might be out there coming for you. We want to keep you safe.”

“I don’t believe you.” She wailed back.

To Dean, the sound felt like a whip striking his face. He remembered her. He remembered them all. Every last helpless soul he’d tortured under Allistair’s command. That decade he spent in hell doing to others what had been done to him. She’d been one of them. One of the hundreds. He remembered her making it hard too. Bottling up as much as she could for as long as she could. But that had made it worse because Dean hadn’t been allowed to stop until he made her scream. So he made her scream. Time and time again. All the while she had observed him, studied him. Learned his face until he couldn’t take her weighty gaze any longer. Until he couldn’t handle having her eyes on him.

“Sam.” Dean finally spoke making the girl jump. “She was on the rack. My last month in hell, she was on the rack.”

Realisation dawned on Sam as he put the pieces together. It made him sick to his stomach.

“Magnolia, please.” Sam spoke. “There has to be some way to reassure you. Even if demons aren’t after you, it’s the middle of the night and we’re deep in the woods. You’ll get lost out there before getting to a town.”

Magnolia hesitated. “This place... it doesn’t smell like rotten eggs. Neither do the two of you.”

“Yes! Okay good this is good. That smell, it’s sulfur, demons reek of it.”

“This can still be a trap. I... I remember him.” She argued near tears again, nodding towards Dean without looking at him.

“We can explain that, Magnolia. Besides, if we really are demons do you think you’re going to get far with that chair in the middle of nowhere?”

Magnolia laughed a dark desperate laugh that rattled the brothers. “I guess not.” She put the chair down and fell onto it, head in her hands, elbows on her knees. “Do your worst. Not that you’d need the encouragement.” She looked up at them with hatred in her eyes. “Don’t misunderstand me. Just because I see the predicament I’m in for what it is, doesn’t mean you’ve broken me. You’ll never do that.”

Sam began to move closer to her slowly, picking up the first aid kit left on the coffee table from when he’d bandaged her up earlier. When he stood a few feet away from her he kneeled and shuffled the rest of the way forward. He didn’t want his imposing height to loom over her.

“No one wants to break you. We want to help. We want to keep you safe, I promise, Magnolia.” He opened the white plastic box and retrieved more bandages and gauze. He pointed to the bloodied ones on her thigh.

She hadn’t even noticed that she’d started to bleed again. She nodded to him, scooting forward on her seat to have the bandaged part of her leg hang off the chair.

Slowly, giving her the opportunity to stop him, Sam touched the fabric and uncoiled it from around her thigh. “You’re going to need to stay off your feet. I set your knee earlier but if you want it to heal right you need to take it easy. No more vaulting off of couches. No more parkour.” He tried to kid at the end.

A glance upwards showed him that no one in the room appreciated his attempt. Magnolia was staring warily behind him at Dean who was undoubtedly staring back. Sam couldn’t imagine what the two were going through. She had to sit here and face a man who’d tortured her and his brother had to face what he’d done in hell. This was one of Dean’s nightmares brought to life. Magnolia was the embodiment of all the guilt and shame Dean had festering inside of him. It was a while since he’d gotten out of the pit, but the self-disgust Dean felt about what he’d done never went away. It was just tamped down so he could deal with the next big bad. So he could focus on the world not ending.

“Turns out your wrist is only sprained, but I’d try not to overdo it too.” Sam continued. “Hey Dean, do you know if Rufus kept crutches here?”

Dean didn’t respond, couldn’t find his voice but he scurried off to check the basement.

Sam and Magnolia stayed silent as the hunter applied a cool creme through the holes in her jeans to both spots where the metal rod had pierced her thigh. He’d sewed her up earlier while she was knocked out and only a few of the stitches had torn in her haste. So he didn’t bother with more needlework, opting to wipe the fresh blood, applying the disinfecting ointment and wrapping her leg up again.

By the time Sam was done, Dean was back. He was impossibly close, many feet away, but still too close when he set the crutches against the table. Magnolia’s nostrils flared as her breathing became more laborious. Dean took large steps back.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay. See,” Sam tapped her latest bandages lightly. “Demons don’t do this sort of stuff.”

“I’m scared to believe you.” She admitted in a rush.

“But you do, don’t you? You can tell we don’t want to harm you.”

Magnolia nodded, then, surprising herself only a little. Her time in Hell meant she knew what malicious intent looked like.

“Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

Magnolia’s brow wrinkled in concentration. “It was a while back, time there is off so I don’t know, but I was...” She thought hard until memories began to resurface. “I was working the night shift at a Gas ‘n Sip, stocking gum of all things, and then something was being crammed down my throat and I couldn’t, I couldn’t...”

“You were possessed.”

“Yes. I was still there though, still aware just not in control. The demon who took over my body he was...really bad at his job. He met with another demon, his boss I think, only a week after possessing me and this new demon... His name was like a bird or something.”

“Crowley.” Dean said gruffly making Magnolia flinch which in turn made him take another self-hating step back.

She regained her composure quickly enough and nodded. “Crowley. Like a crow. He killed the demon that had possessed me, burned him up from inside until I was all that was left again.”

“You were still alive?”

“I don’t know? I was in hell, so I just figured I’d died but I don’t remember dying. It’d explain why I didn’t move on when I walked through the gate, though. I think maybe I really was alive because the demon, Crowley, he laughed and said to store me on a rack. He said the boys had earned a live pound of flesh to play with. Then I was dragged off and strung up and then they- they-”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. We know. We know what they do there. I’m sorry you had to live through that.”

Magnolia just nodded because there was nothing to say.

“How long ago did you escape?” He asked. How long had she been running from demons?

Magnolia gave him a confused look. “When you found me.” She answered.

It was Sam’s turn to furrow his brows in confusion because something didn’t add up. If she hadn’t escaped until earlier that day, and she was there during Dean’s last month in hell, that meant she had been there for at least...

“When were you taken?” Sam asked pressingly.

Magnolia shrugged. “I don’t know. It was early fall.”

“What year?” Dean asked then, catching on to Sam’s line of thought.

Magnolia pointedly looked at only Sam when she answered. “Two thousand and eight. What year is it now?”

“It’s spring twenty twelve,” Sam whispers.

“Oh.” She answered, unbothered.

“Oh?” Sam questioned. “You were there for three and a half years and all you have to say is oh?”

“Why are you getting agitated, it’s not like you’re the one who has lost time. Honestly, I can’t believe I’m out, I can’t believe I’m alive. Losing a few years seems...insignificant.”

Sam shakes his head almost violently. “You don’t understand, a month on earth feels like a decade in the pit. You’ve been there for years that’s centuries.”

“I know. They have special tortures for every hundred years you hit.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Sam said standing abruptly and making his way to the sink in the kitchenette behind Magnolia. He cupped his hand under the faucet and drank some water not bothering with a glass.

“I don’t understand,” Magnolia said twisting in her seat towards him. “Isn’t hell supposed to be for all of eternity, why are you surprised by this?”

Sam didn’t get a chance to reply because Dean spoke. “I’m sorry.” His voice was so frail. Sam had never, in all his life, heard his brother sound so weak. So young and yet so worn.

Magnolia recoiled again at hearing the man speak. He didn’t do that often when he visited her cell in Hell. “If you’re not a demon, what were you even doing there?” She snapped harshly.

“I...The same thing as you.”

“I’m sorry but I think we were on opposite ends of the situation.” She bit and there was so much hate, so much resentment. This man had torn her apart, had bled her dry. She remembered his particular likes. Most demons had them and his was to gouge her eyes out, almost as soon as he got in the room. It hadn’t stopped her from learning his face, though. Didn’t stop her from remembering it. Because how could she forget.

“Not at first,” Dean answered.

Wheels churned in her mind. Not at first. How had she not considered this earlier?

“You took the deal.” She said more so than asked. Her voice was softer though, no longer accusatory.

He looked startled. By her knowledge. By her tone. “Yes.” He admitted shamefully. “You know about that?” Didn’t thought that deal was specific to him, to get him to break the first seal and jumpstart the apocalypse.

“They offered it to me every night.”

“You never accepted it?” Dean asked. Centuries, she had to have given in at some point. Maybe that’s how she got enough leeway to escape.

Magnolia shook her head. “No, I...I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I hated them more than I hated the pain. I couldn’t give them the satisfaction. I think I might have been a very stubborn person.”

Tears pricked at Dean’s eyes because this girl, who hadn’t even been a hunter, was tortured for centuries and she still managed to say no. That’s thousands of ‘no’s at the end of thousands of days and he barely managed a quarter of a year topside. It took them three months to break him. “I’m so sorry.” He sobbed, a full-body sob, unable to hold back any longer. He was so ashamed.

Magnolia stood and stalked towards him, the pain in her leg only at the periphery of her mind. Dean watched her approach and didn’t bother taking a defensive position, though he sensed Sam tense. He didn’t care. She could do whatever she wanted to him. He deserved it. Deserved worse.

When she got close enough, Magnolia put her weight on her right leg, reached up and hugged Dean.

The Winchesters stood still, unsure of what exactly was happening.

“I know.” She whispered holding onto him tightly. “I know, I’m sorry too. What they do to people there, it’s not right. No one can expect us to survive.” They both understood what survive meant in this case. It had nothing to do with living, everything to do with staying whole. She was crying too, now. “I know. It’s okay. I know.”

A loud shuddering weep wracked through Dean’s body because how was this girl forgiving him? How was she being sorry? How could she offer him empathy? How could she see him as anything but a monster?

“That offer, it’s hard to pass up, I know.” She clung to him so tightly as he trembled it had become more so for her benefit than his. “It’s okay, I forgive you, it’s okay, I promise.”

The more she held onto him the more she realised how much she missed humanity. Touch. She got flashes of embraces with people she had loved once. Still loved, maybe.

The harder she clutched the harder the grief hit her. She was finally mourning what happened to her. What she’d lost. What she’d endured. Who she’d been before becoming this Magnolia.

Finally, she was able to commiserate with someone. She hadn’t even known it was something she wanted. She wondered if maybe the haunting screams she’d heard through the years had consoled her. It repulsed her to find that they did. What was that, about misery and company?

There was definite comfort here, with a man who’d been through some of what she’d been through, knowing she’d been through some of what he’d been through. It made her feel less alien, knowing that he could understand her, understand the agony and the temptation to give in. Because she had been tempted, so tempted. Which is why she couldn’t hold it against him.

She could imagine it. Being on the other end of the blade inflicting the pain instead of enduring it. Inflicting it in order not to endure it. It’d cause a new sort of anguish, she knew. One that would set roots deep inside a soul. One that this man had been living with for years now. It’s a torment she couldn’t wrap her mind around, not fully. So instead she drew comfort from him and hoped he’d draw some from her.

Magnolia thought maybe Dean had read her thoughts because that’s when he lifted his arms to wrap them around her. The two clung to each other fiercely. Both apologising for the other’s misfortune silently. One apologising for his actions in ineloquent mumbles.

It took a while for Magnolia’s shushing to finally get Dean to stop. She kept insisting that he didn’t have to ask for forgiveness. She kept saying they weren’t his sins to atone for. She murmured something about a cart and irony and deliverance. She whispered something about locks and freedom and hope. Then, she hummed something about salvation.

And Dean thought maybe he’d begun to find his.

(part 2)

Read it on ao3 

[lesbrarians]

Junkrat/Roadhog:: Origins Ch. 17

This is it, everyone, the final chapter of the fic! I’m posting this on my lunch break at work bc I’m so excited to share it with you all, aha.  I hope you enjoy it! (Also, a reference image for that first paragraph: http://jabberwockyx.tumblr.com/post/153064161387/i-love-all-of-junkrats-drawings-and-his-awful)

Title: Origins

Characters: Junkrat, Roadhog

Rating: R

Summary: The origins of Junkrat and Roadhog. Junkrat finds a mysterious treasure in the nuclear wasteland of the Australian Outback and quickly finds himself a target. When a hitman is sent to kill him, he convinces the man to become his personal bodyguard in exchange for half the spoils. Their ensuing crime spree could be legendary – if they can get over the initial bad blood between them. Can also be found on AO3 if you prefer reading it there!

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Final Chapter

—

Junkrat drew a dotted line on the map Thatcher had helped him sketch several weeks ago, punctuated with a giant circle around the word “FREEDUM!” He flipped the paper towel over and wrote a message that, the occasional spelling error aside, explained the essence of the strategy. “Okay, so that’s you in the lounge,” he said, referring to the several circles that formed a crude depiction of Roadhog’s pig mask, topped with a tuft of hair. “And me by the door,” he added, in reference to the inverted triangle of his face and the three spikes that represented his hair. “Do whatcha gotta do and get the bloody hell over to me, okay?”

Roadhog’s response was a drawing of his own, a simple thumbs up. Junkrat grinned at the picture. He’d made the right choice in picking Roadhog for his bodyguard.

Junkrat pocketed the note and finished assembling the last of his bombs, hooking two electrical wires to a tube filled with flammable match head powder on one end and a D-sized battery on the other. In order to properly execute the plan, he needed to steal one last thing from Thatcher, and he waited until the last second possible to do so out of sheer self-preservation.

Once Thatcher left the cell for their recreational hour, Junkrat lunged for one of his books, a sizeable hardcover. He pulled out a razor blade that he had welded to the end of a plastic comb. Prisoners were only allowed to shave in the presence of a guard, but Roadhog had managed to slip out some blades undetected. He was endlessly grateful that he had the man on his side, because he had no personal way to acquire a razor, given his radiation-induced hair growth issues. The COs were stingy about granting razor access to maximum-security prisoners, but Roadhog was given special permission, as facial hair prevented his gas mask from sealing properly.

Junkrat hollowed out the book, using the razor to slice a hole in the pages, and planted his largest and greatest bomb in the center of it. He attached a pair of wires to the cover of the book, rigging it so that it would detonate upon opening. As much as he liked being the one to blow someone to kingdom come, there was something to be said for the power of a victim actuated device.

Satisfied with its construction, he stuffed his pockets full of the rest of his innovated weapons, clutched the book to his chest, and left the cell.

Across the room, he could see Roadhog in position in the living area, stationed by the TV. Junkrat nodded at him and made his way to his spot several feet away from the door that linked their wing to the rest of the prison.

Junkrat didn’t know how, exactly, Roadhog disturbed the peace and instigated the riot, but there was a sudden explosion of activity. A booming voice came on over the loudspeaker, ordering all the inmates to quiet down and return to their cells, but the pandemonium was in full force and no one obeyed.

A team of officers stormed into the block, clad in flak jackets and helmets. Junkrat inched closer to the door, book held tight in front of him. One of the guards slowed down and eyed him.

“What’ve you got there, Fawkes?”

Junkrat jumped at being directly addressed. “N-Nothin’!” he said, just a little too quickly to be honest. “Just a book, that’s all.” His natural twitchiness helped make his feigned nervousness more convincing. Who’s incapable of keeping up an act now? he thought, making a mental note to throw the savage comment in Roadhog’s face later.

“Oh yeah? Then you won’t mind handing it over so I can take a look at it.”

“No!”

The officer reached for his hip. “Hand it over now, Fawkes.”

Junkrat begrudgingly held out the book and glanced over to the commotion of inmates and officers. Roadhog had side-skirted the whole mess and was heading his way. The CO snatched the book away from him, and Junkrat skittered to Roadhog’s side as he opened the book.

The bomb detonated with a glorious bang, and the guard screamed, the sound lost in the din of shouting and fighting that filled the block. One second his hand was there, holding the cover of the book, and the next second it wasn’t. He stumbled back and fell flat on his ass, unable to take his eyes off the bloody stump of his hand. It filled Junkrat with a vindictive kind of glee to know that he wasn’t the only poor asshole with a missing hand in the room.

Junkrat snatched his identification card from where it was clipped to his belt. “I’ll be takin’ that! Roadhog, why dontcha… give him a hand?” He couldn’t stop himself from picking up the severed hand and waving it.

“Stop that.” Roadhog’s idea of giving the man a hand was to reach down and snap his neck before he tried to detain them from leaving, hand or no hand.

Junkrat used the identification card to buzz them out of the room before the rest of the officers who were struggling to contain the rioting prisoners noticed that they were down a man. He pulled out one of the pipes he had acquired from Belmont and filled with powdered coffee creamer.

They took off down the hall. “Hold this a sec,” he told Roadhog, passing him the pipe and plunging his hand back into his pocket in search of his matchbook.

“Oi!” came a shout as they rounded the corner, two guards coming their way. Junkrat had anticipated their presence, thanks to the map he had drawn with Thatcher’s help and marked with angry faces. He’d spent hours poring over his sketchy layout, trying to find an alternative route where their paths wouldn’t cross with stationed guards, but there was none. He decided it didn’t matter; as long as they had the appropriate weapons, they could plow their way through the defenses.

Junkrat struck a match and took the pipe back from Roadhog. He held the flame at the the pipe’s entrance and tipped it horizontally so the contents slowly trickled out. As soon as the powder touched the burning match, it ignited, and pulling the match away created a long stream of fire aimed directly at the security guards that were rushing towards them.

“If ya can’t stand the heat, stay outta my face!” he shouted over the screams of the burned. He was economical with his use of the coffee creamer, making his macgyvered flamethrower last as long as possible before dropping the spent device.

They weren’t out of the proverbial woods yet. Roadhog shanked anyone who got too close to them with the improvised weapons he’d made out of stolen razor blades and sharpened toothbrushes while Junkrat caused as much destruction as possible to slow down anyone who had the guts to come after them.

“Incoming!” He lit his last bomb and tossed it to clear a path to the main doors.

They burst outside, the doors to the prison slamming against the brick wall, and bolted for the exit. The correctional officers may not have carried guns on their person, but the guards in the watchtowers outside sure as hell did. Junkrat’s nerves got the best of him, his unhinged laughter a product of alarm as they swerved to avoid being shot. A spasmodically moving target was much harder to hit than a predictable one, and Junkrat was the master of erratic behavior. Roadhog stuck directly behind him as they ran, a living human shield in case any errant bullets got too close.

Much to their relief, Roadhog’s bike was idling outside the prison, Ava lounging in the familiar beat-up yellow sidecar. At least, Junkrat assumed it was Ava, as the woman was wearing a full face, tinted visor helmet that covered her distinguishing mass of dense curls.

She straightened up once she saw the two of them barreling straight towards her, giving Junkrat the space he needed to leap into the sidecar next to her. “Long time no see!” she said as Roadhog mounted the bike and they tore away from the prison. She raised her voice to be heard of the revving motor. “Junkrat, Roadhog, you’re looking good. I’ll admit, I had my doubts – how the bloody hell did you escape a maximum security prison?”

“Bombs and fire!”

“Ah, I see, the usual way, then.”

“We’ll explain back at your house,” Roadhog said, accelerating just a little faster. Junkrat’s eyes watered; he was suddenly jealous of Ava’s helmet and Roadhog’s mask, both of which protected their eyes from the sting of air whooshing by.

“Wait!” he shouted over the loud rush of wind. “We gotta go to the impound lot first!”

“Are you kidding me?” Ava yelled back. “After I broke in there and nicked the bike – no way!”

“Please,” Junkrat begged. He glanced over at Roadhog, eyes pleading. “Come on, Roadhog, I need my tire!”

Roadhog shifted gears. “Which way, Ava?”

Ava groaned, but she directed them to the lot and handed over a pair of bolt cutters. “I had planned on cutting through the fence, but it was easier to just scale it.”

It wasn’t quite as easy for Junkrat to climb the fence, as his peg leg poked through the holes in the chain link, so he cut his way through while Roadhog and Ava stood lookout.

There was a guard tower in the impound lot, and Junkrat hid as he tried to figure out how best to navigate to the large storage container. He was close to just giving up and making a run for it, because all the routes he saw seemed to be in clear view of the tower. Just as he was about to head back to the motorcycle to regroup and figure out another strategy, he heard the clanging of a gate on the far end of the impound loud and a very convincing barking noise.

Ava. Junkrat grinned. He waited for the guard to leave the tower to investigate the source of the disturbance before dashing towards the evidence locker. He used the bolt cutters to break the heavy duty padlock (stupid, he thought to himself, they really needed to get with the times and beef up their security – but then again, it wasn’t a particularly high crime town) and slipped inside, swinging the door shut behind him.

After a moment’s thought, he opened it again, just a crack. He needed the light to figure out what the hell belonged to him. It wasn’t that he had scruples about not stealing the belongings of other criminals; it was more a matter of being economical, and his and Roadhog’s loot was top priority.

Luckily, their stuff wasn’t exactly easy to miss. Subtlety was not their strong point. He caught sight of a familiar looking spike and the bright yellow of Roadhog’s shoulder pad, and he made a beeline for the boxes of evidence labeled “Fawkes & Rutledge,” with their case number below it.

Junkrat pulled out his RIP-tire first. He cackled and planted a smooch on the rubber, heedless of the dirt caked onto it. The joy was overwhelming, and not just because of the treasure the tire contained. It had been a staple of his arsenal of weapons for so long, and he had felt naked without it on his person. He wrapped his arms between the spikes to hug it tight to his chest. “I’ve gotcha!”

He strapped the tire to his back and grabbed everything else he could carry – Roadhog’s harness, which threatened to slip off his shoulders, it was so comically large on him; the piggy-faced duffle bag that carried Roadhog’s hogdrogen, Junkrat’s mines, and what remained of their hard-earned cash; his own harness and its grenade cans slung over his other arm. After a moment’s thought, he searched the container until he pulled out a handful of rings, the ones Roadhog had retrieved from Riptide all those months ago. He stashed them in the deepest corner of the duffle bag.

“Junkrat!” Ava’s voice, high and piercing, called out. Junkrat’s head whipped up. If Ava was yelling, there was no point in pretending to be unobtrusive. He hiked up everything he was carrying and charged out the door, slamming it open. The security guard had been dangerously close to the evidence locker and took off after him, hot on his heels and cursing him out.

Junkrat plunged his hand into the pink duffle bag and fished out one of his mines and the detonator. He jumbled things around so he could properly access the detonator and dropped the mine. He jumped and pressed the button, the force of the explosion catapulting him through the air and knocking the guard off his feet.

“‘Hog, look, I’m flying!” he shouted as he soared through the air. He landed on the ground hard, stumbling a little, and finished the mad dash to the motorcycle.

Ava grabbed his hand and swung him onboard, and they peeled off with a victory cry.

“Is there hogdrogen in there?” Roadhog asked, sparing a glance at the duffle bag.

“You know it,” Junkrat answered. “Need a can?” He pulled one out and passed it over to Roadhog, who huffed it and tossed it to the ground.

“Oh, good,” Ava said. “You can add littering to your list of crimes now too!”

—

It was dusk by the time they arrived at Ava’s house.

“You can’t stay here long,” Ava said after they covered Roadhog’s bike with a black tarp. “They’re bound to realize who your little accomplice was, the glorious me, and they’ll come knocking. But you can stay here the night at least.

Rosa fussed over all of them like a mother hen, clucking about how they had

to get out of the prison stripes before they left. There was the pressing matter of where they would acquire replacement clothes, but she promised to go into town and look for something on their behalf first thing in the morning.

“Hang on, Roadhog,” she said suddenly, standing on her tiptoes and balancing against him to inspect his arm. “You’re bleeding… is that a bullet?”

Junkrat’s blood ran cold. “Wait, wait, what? Roadhog – y-yer shot?” His mind ran a mile a minute. People died from being shot, no matter how big and tough they were, and Roadhog had gone untreated for several hours, that couldn’t possibly be good. His traitorous brain supplied him with an image of Roadhog, dead, and the panic began to set in. “No, no, that can’t be a fucking bullet–” He crossed over to Roadhog’s other side to examine for himself and – nope, nope, that was definitely a bullet wound. “Shit, why the fuck didn’t ya say something?”

He should have known. He shouldn’t have needed to been told. He should’ve seen how Roadhog was favoring his left arm, paid more attention to why he immediately reached for the hogdrogen. Guilt wasn’t an emotion he was accustomed to feeling, but it was sinking in heavily.

“Junkrat,” Roadhog said, voice gentle. “I’m fine.”

“Yer not fuckin’ fine, there’s a bloody bullet in yer arm, don’t talk to me about bein’ fine!” Junkrat’s hands twisted in his hair, upset and frustrated and utterly shaken.

“I’m still standing.”

Junkrat slowly unclenched his fists. “Well, yeah, but that’s just – adrenaline is a helluva motivator.”

“Adrenaline and sheer determination to live,” Ava amended. “I’ve seen men half Roadhog’s size get shot and still remain a threat. It’ll take more than a bullet to incapacitate our man over here.” She located a handheld x-ray and examined him while Rosa and Junkrat fretted.

“Well?” Junkrat demanded. He drummed his fingers against his thigh, taut with nervous energy. “You gonna get it out or what?” He peeked over Ava’s shoulder, trying to gauge for himself how bad it was.

“Oi, give me a minute, stickybeak, I’m assessing.” Ava pushed him away, peering at the wound through her device. “You’re lucky,” she finally said. “It didn’t hit any major arteries and is pretty firmly lodged in there. Honestly? I say leave it in.”

Junkrat did not like the sound of a bullet remaining in his bodyguard. “Whoa, whoa, doc, y’sure that’s a good idea?”

“Hey, who’s the one with a medical degree here? You might be Dr. Boom, but I’m Dr. Bones, and I know my shit. Removing a foreign object like that would just do more harm than good and could cause localized nerve damage. If it’s not going to migrate – and I don’t think it will – or impede your range of motion, then it’s not worth removing. It’s not a radioactive slug or anything. You’ll be fine,” she reassured Roadhog, but Junkrat felt like he needed the reassurance more, since Roadhog was acting remarkably unperturbed. “Just let me dress it for you and get you some antibiotics and painkillers, and you tell me if anything shifts or starts acting funky, ‘kay?”

Junkrat hovered around Roadhog and Ava as she sterilized the wound and patched him up. He only left when Ava, clearly fed up by his constant presence and incessant questioning of everything she did, sent him to get some water for Roadhog’s painkillers.

He waited until they were alone to properly address Roadhog again.

“Hey… I’m sorry,” he said, doing his best to sound as contrite as he felt. Ava and Rosa had gone to bed, having set them up with their sleeping bags on the living room floor once more. With all the blackout curtains drawn, he couldn’t see anything, and he was glad that Roadhog couldn’t see him clearly either, as he fidgeted with his fingers. That moment where he had seen a future without Roadhog in it had put his feelings for him in stark relief.

He heard the pillow sigh as Roadhog shifted his head to look at him. “For what?”

“For lettin’ ya get shot. You wouldn’t’ve if you hadn’t been bein’ my shield.”

“It’s my job.”

“Well, I don’t like this job anymore if it’s gettin’ ya hurt!” Junkrat said, voice heated. Roadhog shushed him, and he remembered that Ava and Rosa were sleeping nearby. “Y’don’t have to be my bodyguard anymore. It was a stupid idea anyway.”

“I want to be,” Roadhog answered simply. “You need the protection.”

“I can take care of meself! I did it before you came along, I can keep on doing it.”

“You weren’t as big of a target before you hired me,” Roadhog reminded him. “And I meant it: I want to.”

Junkrat sighed. “Yeah, yeah. Yer too good to me, y’know that?”

Roadhog blindly reached out in the darkness and clumsily patted his hand. “Go to sleep.”

“Ahh, okay. G’night.” Junkrat tried, but he couldn’t fall asleep, brain still far too active. He just kept thinking about who he was laying next to.

He hadn’t understood how much he’d missed sleeping next to Roadhog until he was by his side once more. He’d missed the soothing sound of his deep breathing, the way he could feel his body heat radiating off of him, the tingling sensation he felt when he held his arm a hair’s breadth away from Roadhog’s. It was comforting, natural, just plain right.

It made him realize just how much he wanted to keep on sleeping next to him for the rest of his life, or better yet, on him.

Junkrat rolled over onto his side. He could barely make out the outline of the massive form next to him. “Roadhog? Roadhog, mate, I got somethin’ to tell ya. You awake?”

Roadhog grunted. “Yeah?”

Junkrat wet his lips. He was in the thick of it now, there was no backing out. “Listen, we’ve been havin’ a good thing together, yeah? And I was just wonderin’, maybe it’s time we, ah…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Shit, I dunno how to say this without making an arse of myself.”

“Call it off,” Roadhog supplied.

Junkrat startled. “What? Why wouldya even say that?”

“People can outlive their usefulness.”

“No no no, y’ve got it all backwards, mate. I want whatever the opposite of that is! I like you, ya big lug! I mean, I’d kiss ya if you weren’t wearing that stupid mask.”

There was a long moment of silence, and Junkrat was beginning to regret voicing his thoughts at all. “Y’don’t have to say anythin’ if ya don’t feel the same, just thought I’d–”

He broke off mid-sentence when Roadhog suddenly sat up. There was a rustling sound, then he jolted as lips pressed against his own. Junkrat pulled away to look at Roadhog, surprised and overjoyed, but it was hard to make out much of anything in the pitch black room.

“Did… didya mean to just kiss me like that?” he asked, needing the clarification before he let the giddiness consume him entirely.

“No,” Roadhog deadpanned. “I accidentally pushed up my mask and accidentally punched you in the mouth with my lips. What do you think?”

“That no one’s ever just kissed me like that before! Can’t blame me for wantin’ to make sure.”

Roadhog’s thumb brushed against his cheek. “You wanted it,” he answered simply.

“Yeah, yeah I did!” He was about to steal another kiss when a thought occurred to him, and he shoved a hand in Roadhog’s face. “Wait just a tick. Y'didn’t kiss me just ‘cause I wanted it, roight? Y-ya wanted it too?”

Roadhog snorted and pushed his hand away. “I’ve wanted it for a while.”

Junkrat knew he had to look goofy with the dazzling grin plastered across his face, but he couldn’t help himself. He was happy in a way he wasn’t sure he had ever felt before. “Cheers, mate!” He leaned up and kissed Roadhog greedily, grubby hands snaking up to clutch his face.

Junkrat relished in the touch, the stubble of Roadhog’s five o’clock shadow bristling beneath his fingertips. Delicious goosebumps shot up what remained of his biological arms, and he let his hands wander further up, wanting to know what other delectable sensations Roadhog had been hiding from him. His fingers bumped against the bottom of his gas mask. With no hesitation whatsoever (because really, he rarely questioned his impulses), he slipped beneath the mask.

Roadhog tensed up and grabbed his wrist.

“What, no? Bad idea?” Junkrat mumbled against his lips. “S’dark, not like I’m gonna see anythin’ ya don’t want me to see.”

After a moment’s contemplation, Roadhog released his hand. Emboldened at the indirect permission, Junkrat slid the gas mask off of Roadhog’s head. It tumbled to the ground behind them. True to his word, he couldn’t make out anything under the cover of absolute darkness. He let his hands do the seeing for him, skimming up over his face.

He stilled when he reached the upper right side. The pads of his fingertips traced over twisted flesh, finding all the whorls and trenches of the scars left behind after a nasty burn.

Suddenly Roadhog’s violent reaction in the bottle shop made a lot more sense, as did his health reasons for wearing the mask. Smoke inhalation coupled with irradiation could do some serious lung damage.

He was going to say something about it, something stupid and senseless probably, but then Roadhog was pinning his hands to the floor and kissing him deeper, and the question flew out of his head entirely. There’d be time to prod for answers later. They had all the time in the world.

The nonverbal encouragement just made him all the more eager, and he strained against the weight of Roadhog’s hands. Unable to budge an inch, he tried to work his tongue between Roadhog’s lips and, upon gaining entry, lapped up into his mouth.

Roadhog pulled away from him. “We have to work on that.”

Junkrat laughed, high-pitched and gleeful. “If that means we get to practice until I get it down, then I’m game!” Another giggle slipped out as he positively squirmed with delight beneath Roadhog. It occurred to him that this was how they’d started their relationship, on the ground with Roadhog looming over him in the dead of night.

“Mmm.” In the inky black of nighttime, he couldn’t be sure, but he thought he could make out Roadhog’s large thumb brushing across his lips before he reached for the fallen gas mask and pulled it back on, obscuring his face once more. Shame, Junkrat thought. Burns or no burns, he thought that Roadhog’s face would be a national treasure.

Treasure. “Hey,” he said, the words coming out more breathless than intended. “Wanna see me treasure?”

A wheeze of amusement emitted from the filters of Roadhog’s gas mask. “Sure.”

Junkrat threw off the covers of his sleeping bag and retrieved his tire from where it lay a mere few feet away. “We’ll need light,” he said, hefting it in his arms and lugging it onto the kitchen table. Roadhog turned on the light above the table, the retro bulb that dangled from the ceiling swinging on its string.

He was about to dismantle the tire when something clicked in his rusty memory. “Wait. I got somethin’ else to show ya first.” He dragged the pink duffle bag over and dug around until he found the rings he had stashed inside. “Forget my treasure for a second. Thought ya might want to have yers back too.” He held the rings out to Roadhog, nestled in his palm.

Roadhog stared at them for a long moment before accepting the offered gift. “You got these back for me?”

Junkrat fidgeted, suddenly unsure about whether or not he’d done the right thing. “Well, yeah – they’re important to ya, ain’t they?”

“Yes,” Roadhog answered. He slipped the rings on his fingers. “They’re all I have left of my family.” He didn’t go into further detail.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Junkrat didn’t know what to say. “Oh–” Whatever was going to come out of his mouth came to a halt when Roadhog placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and drew him close.

“Thank you,” Roadhog said, the snout of his gas mask pressed against Junkrat’s head.

A glow of contentment flooded Junkrat, a warm and fuzzy feeling that radiated out from his heart. “Ain’t nothin’ worth thankin’,” he said, unnaturally modest at Roadhog’s approval. “It was the roight thing to do.” He didn’t want Roadhog to let him go, but when he finally did, Junkrat turned his attention back to the matter at hand. He wanted to share the knowledge of his treasure with Roadhog, after all this time.

“So. Time for my treasure.” Junkrat disassembled the tire and rummaged around until he uncovered the mine strapped inside. “Aha!” he said triumphantly, holding it above his head.

“…Your treasure is one of your homemade mines?” Roadhog said. “I’ve been protecting you all this time for this?”

“No, no! It’s what’s inside that’s the treasure, see! It’s a second hidin’ place. Double the security.”

“I don’t think you can call it 'secure’ if the first hiding place is inside a tire bomb.”

“That’s a matter of opinion. And yer opinion is wrong.” Junkrat unscrewed the mine and pulled it apart. He emptied out the packing to find the USB safe and secure in its protective bubble. “This is me treasure.” He held up the tiny USB. “Kajura.”

“Kajura,” Roadhog repeated. “The Rainbow Serpent. What about it?”

Junkrat’s face cracked into a smirk. “God program. I could put all the omnics, every last piece of mechanical junk under my control. Imagine that – me!”

Roadhog started laughing, a low chuckle that swelled into a guffaw. “You’re a god.”

Junkrat grinned and handed him the USB. “Naw, mate. We’re gods.”

[ecotone99]

[SF] ARCH

Hey, I'm kinda new to Reddit, and I wanted to share a short story I wrote a while back. It was set in the close future, when weather was getting exponentially worse and scarcity was rampant. Keep in mind I was young, so the story isn't one of my best works, and left unedited with a nasty cliffhanger. But we all gotta start somewhere right? Here we go:

​

The rain pounded against my tent, threatening to break through. I was somewhere California a few miles inland from old Los Angeles, where violent rains had manifested because of climate change. Good thing I thought to set up on the top of the hill, I thought. My tent was in a ruined house, mostly fortified from winds. Water levels at the bottom were covering the medium sized boulders, and would soon be reaching the branches of the lowest trees. I already lost my home to these freak storms, but I was able to come back after the water subsided to salvage a tent and some survival supplies. Once a week I have to make the pilgrimage to the city to buy food. At times like these, everyone needs food stamps, no matter how much money you have. This law was put in place to prevent people from losing their minds and buying massive amounts of food, leaving none for others. People earn their stamps many ways, like doing volunteer work for the rescue crews, or growing and selling food, which is always wanted. Overpopulation has caused worldwide hunger and starvation. Now the economy was so bad that very few people could even own a car, let alone pay for gas. I will never be able to get one, unless I steal one, which is how I get most my stuff. Tomorrow I would go salvaging again. By midday because of the thinned ozone layer, the sun would be at its full power. This time of year it would be even worse. I would use the Temp Seal suit I stole, so I don’t get burned alive. I fell asleep to the sound of thunder and rain.

I woke up, the sun blinding me. I scrambled for my Temp Seal suit, and put it on as quickly as I could. I flipped the visor to block out the sun, and stepped outside. I collapsed the tent and put it in the heat resistant storage container I keep hidden in the trunk of a dead tree. I looked around. The top of the hill, where I was, was completely dry already. The sun was only three fingers up from the horizon. Steam rose from the ground at the bottom, causing a thick layer of fog to form. It will be difficult to find my way back unless I place timed flares, which I have few of. I started down the hill, almost tripping over twisted roots and mud that hasn’t dried yet. I wove between dead trees and ditches, making it too the road. I planted a timed flare and set the timer for 12 hours. I should be back by that time. I usually follow the road to closed gas stations, but this time going straight into the woods on the other side looked more promising. I started that way. After about 2 hours of walking, and my feet beginning to hurt like crazy, I sat down on rock. The sun was high in the sky, beating down. The fog mostly dissipated by now, so was exposed to the suns dangerous heat. I lowered the temperature in my suit and began to walk again. More hours passed. Then I froze. I heard movement. If there are any hunters out here, they will not hesitate to capture me, or worse. I got behind the nearest tree, not peeking out again until I was sure I was safe. About 50 feet ahead of me was a chain link fence, topped with barbed wire, and decorated with signs such as “stay out” or “no trespassing”. I looked past the fence and saw small low buildings, clearly abandoned, but well fortified. The floods wouldn't be able to get inside. Another sign caught my eye. By the gate, in bold print, was the words “US army”. It’s a military outpost. This is the biggest find I have ever made. I Have to find a way in, I thought. Walked to the fence. The barbed wire would cut my suit to threads, and I would never make it back to the campsite. I took out my metal cutters, which I took everywhere, and tried to cut the lock on the gate. It wouldn’t work. I managed to cut the barbed wire, and carefully pulled it out of the way so I could climb over. I reached the top of the fence and jumped over, almost twisting my ankle in the process. Proud of myself, I walked to the nearest building, kicked in the door and looked around. A brown desk, old cabinets, and no windows or any openings greeted me. Not even air conditioning. Yet even though how airtight this room was, a half inch puddle of green water covered the floor. I began looking for anything of interest. I rummaged around through the rusting metal cabinets, but came up empty handed. I checked the desk, which only held a full magazine for a .9 millimeter. Even though I don’t have one, I pocketed them anyways, hoping it doesn’t don’t explode in the heat. I was about to leave when something caught my eye. It was a silver box, about the size of a backpack. I knew what it was before I even walked to it. There was a tag on it, labeled: Made in USA, 2097. That was about 30 years ago. What I was looking at was an Autonomous Robotic Czar Hound, or ARCH. Here’s a short history lesson. Nicholas Czar was the inventor who made the first ARCH. He never intended for these to be weapons of war, but rather just company for his son, who was born unable to walk. He felt it would be insulting to his son to give him a biological creature, who can do something he can not do, so instead made the ARCH in his spare time. The AI in the first ARCH was the first to match human consciousness. Inside an ARCH, is an Alchemy Core. An Alchemy Core can change elements. They cost more than a space shuttle, and can only change organic matter. This allows the ARCH to eat like a regular dog, and grow and power itself. Some, could even reproduce. Only a few species of ARCH’s were given this, such as the husky, German shepherd, and greyhound. After his incredible works, Czar worked on making limbs, exo suits, and vital organs into robotic parts. He found out how to connect the mind of a person to the computer of a robotic limb, and then gave his son the ability to walk. He immortalized himself, and his son, then disappeared. The ARCH in front of me was one of the newer designs. I was surprised that the last scavenger didn’t find this one. I pressed the button on the back and it began to whirr, softly, then louder. It opened, and the face of a metal dog stared back. The rest of the ARCH was still forming, all the moving parts and shifting plates were coming into place. It growled at me. I quickly got a knife, and opened the plate on its head. It was a DNA sensor, allowing for it to sense me as its owner. But in case of it getting shut down and its memory erased, it would need a long term sample so that when it was reactivated it would not attack the owner. I pricked my finger and pressed the sensor. The ARCH’s eyes went green, then back to white. It was mine. I wiped the blood off on my suit. It stood up straight, its head reached about to my stomach. I saw that it was many shades of silver, now that I activated it. I only takes voice commands, as a regular hound would.

“Sit”, I told it. And it did. “Come”, I said gesturing to the door. I would have more time to admire it later, but it was getting dark. It ran alongside me to the gate. I hesitated when I reached the fence. The ARCH didn’t. It burst through the fence, leaving a gap large enough for two people to get through at the same time without touching each other or the gate. I ran after it.

We were halfway back when my ARCH halted. It stopped and turned around to me. Exhaust was pouring from its nostrils. It layed down and whined.

“What is it”, I asked the ARCH. I touched its head, then recoiled away, smoke coming from my glove. I cursed my stupidity. An ARCH overheats easily in normal weather. It must be a strong one to go as long as it did in heat like this. I thought about collapsing it. It wouldn’t get damaged, but if I was attacked, I would be nearly defenseless. I decided to collapse it and keep moving.

It was dark before I got back. The flare went off, a little too much to the right than I wanted. It’s red glow cast an eerie glow into the dark clouds that were forming. I redirected myself towards the flare and picked up the pace. It suddenly went out. That was odd. Timed flares usually last for 10 minutes. This only stayed lit for 3. I looked around the sky for anything responsible. Off in the horizon, were the last of the sun's rays were disappearing, a small object was looming closer. I kept my eyes on it until it was within earshot. It sounded like a mix between a helicopter rotor and a jet engine. I immediately understood what it was. It was a patrol drone. It’s spotlight swept across the ruined land as it grew ever closer. I didn’t know if it was searching for me or someone else yet, so I didn’t want to bolt and draw its attention. Civilian ownership of a military ARCH was strictly forbidden. The drone made a sharp turn to the left and descended at a rapid pace. I breathed a sigh of relief knowing it wasn’t looking for me, my breath sending steam into the air. I jumped, adrenaline surging into my veins. The rains should start any minute now! I activated the ARCH and threw it on the ground, its eyes glowing red sensing my elevated heart beat. I may not have time to make it to the hill, and the military camp was too far back. I considered climbing a tree, wondering if I could hang on all night until the flooding subsided. I decided not to. I my chances getting to my hill seemed far better. I booked through the woods, my ARCH at my heels. The cracking twigs and the squish sounds of moss beneath my boots became such a blur, that I didn’t notice that the rain started until I began splashing through puddles. I can see the ruined house that I camped at. Only 200 feet to go!, I thought. The rainwater has reached my knees by now, making running difficult. Reaching the foot of the hill, I began the uphill climb to the top. Usually I use the winding road on the other side, but I don’t have the time. Halfway up I stopped. The water shouldn’t get up here, so I was safe. My ARCH realized this too and relaxed, eyes going white. I turned around, looking at the surrounding water. My hill is now and island, the tips of trees poking out of the water like drowning people. I turned back, wondering what I would do next.

When I finally got back, expanded my tent, took off my Temp Suit, and crashed into my instamatress. When I woke, the sun was just appearing over the horizon. I pulled down the window flap, seeing that the clouds were long gone. I thought about the last day, hoping it wasn’t a dream. That was the luckiest find I ever made. I sat upright and rubbed the drowsiness out of my eyes. After turning on the light, I unzipped the tent and almost had a heart attack. Right outside was my ARCH. I jumped back, in a mixture of surprise and slight annoyance.

“Don’t scare me like that!”, I hissed. The metal dog put its chin on the ground between its paws and lifted its tail up, then yawned loudly. It sounded like a fog horn, creeping me out. I just dawned on me just how dangerous it is to have a weapon of this power. ARCH’s are virtually indestructible, and can kill a predator the size of a bear in seconds. Then I realized it wasn’t dangerous to me, only those foolish enough to attack me with it around. The silver plates of the ARCH glinted from my light. I admired how intricately it was designed. “What kind are you?”, I pondered out loud. I haven’t seen a dog in years, and even then I was awful with identifying species. It had a thick and long tail, a muscular torso , and deadly jaws. “Husky?” I asked hopefully. It growled, retracting the metal around its mouth to bare its razor sharp teeth. Lining the roof and bottom of its mouth were inward-facing saw blades. “Sorry”, I quickly said. It stopped growling. “What about german shepherd?”, I guessed. Its tail wagged quickly, splitting in two and back to one. “Yes!” I exclaimed. A German Shepard! These are a reproducing species of ARCH, and one of the only one banned from war use. Why it was at that military outpost, I didn’t know. I went outside, eager to learn more about this creature I found. “So what can you do?”, I asked it. It turned toward the edge of the hill, looked back at me, and quickly nudged its head back. Oh, it wants me to follow, I thought. It ran down the hill and I followed after it. Getting to the receding water line, the ARCH sniffed out the place where I hid my boat. I forgot where I hid it last, and wasted valuable time trying to find it. “How’d you find that?”, I asked it. The ARCH ignored my question and barked at the boat, sending leaves flying and my ears ringing. “Okay, fine”, I said as I righted the boat. It was 8 feet long and 4 feet wide, and made of wood. It used to be a dark shade of red, but the paint has been eroded away. A small engine on the back allowed me to travel at slow speeds, but effortlessly. Before I lost it, I was planning on selling it at the black market, in the slums of old Los Angeles. But in this shape, it wasn’t going to make much money. I began pulling it up the hill, struggling to make it a few feet without having to stop and recollect my energy. I tried again. The ARCH sensed my intentions and pushed its head against the back, making my job exponentially easier. I got it up, slipping a few times, within an hour. I positioned the boat in front of the destroyed house. Old rusted buckets the held rainwater were collected on the cement porch. When I first discovered this place, the previous owner had left a lot behind. I stored them in the wine cellar of the house. I stepped through the ruined door and walked to the small metal hatch, unlocked it, and climbed down the metal ladder rungs. Before, I have considered just sleeping in the cellar, but was uncertain if I could get out again. The lock automatically engages when the hatch shuts, and there is no way to unlock it from the inside. If I get stuck in there, starvation and dehydration would kill me slowly. When I finished climbing to the bottom, I pulled out my flashlight and swept it around. I scrounged through the shelves, finding steel wool, heavy duty car soap, and rust remover. I pocketed these and climbed back out the ladder. After pushing myself from the cellar, I walked back to the boat. I put some soap in the steel wool and got to work. It took all day, and during that time, I had to stop and put on my Temp Seal suit. The rust remover cleaned up well. When I was done, the boat was perfect. My hands were raw from scrubbing, and the discolored dried paint flecked my arms. The boat gleamed a shade of tin. I stepped back and admired my work. This might make me enough money to rent an apartment in new Los Angeles for a little while, and scout out my next salvaging points. All the large cities have climate control, so people can enjoy the sunlight without being fried. I walked back to the shelter of the house. I kept a GPS hidden in my tent. Most of the satellites have been converted into planetary defenses, to protect the earth from meteors and space junk that has built up over the years. But some still work. I got to the tent and picked up the GPS tablet I kept next to my bed. I powered it on, which would take a few minutes. I went back outside, looking at the seemingly harmless rays of sunlight bursting from between the trees. The clouds in the distance were like pure white mountains. I got my Temp Suit on before the sun rose completely. A high pitched beep sound pulsed from the tent meaning that the GPS was done starting up. I went back to it, happy that it still works. My location blinked on the screen. I was only 7 miles from the wastes of old Los Angeles. I pressed a button on the side and spun the tablet on to the ground. A holographic image of the city sprang up, colorless. My route was shown by a line that was brighter than the rest, weaving between wrecked buildings and extinguished bonfires. My destination was the Los Angeles city hall. For years, and undiscovered natural cave was under most of the city. In the year 2046, sewer workers stumbled into it, drilling new water ways for rain to go. The cave underwent many refurbishing, including massive support columns, 2 more square miles of space, and a reactor. After the order for the evacuation of all coastal cities were given out, the cave was abandoned for decades. When scavengers came to the city, the cave became the biggest black market outlet in America. Law enforcement regularly tried to shut it down, but every time they were outsmarted by the clever minds of the dealers who resided there. One time, they tried to flood everyone out by breaking the dam that was set on the east side, holding water back from the lake that used to be death valley. But the people of the cave were ready for that. After building a massive turbine and new, makeshift waterways and canals, the flood that came was rerouted into the turbine, and then out into the ocean. After this, the cave was dubbed “Venice” because the only way to get from place to place now is the canals. This is the reason I wanted to sell the boat, because for others who live there it could be an indispensable tool, and would pay good money. I was a usual there, and was friends with all the guards. I searched the GPS for a transport business to get my cargo to get to Venice. One mile north from me is a rendezvous point for the carriers that usually take goods to and from different continents. These have more than enough carrying capacity to take several thousand pounds across vast distances, so the trip to Venice should be no problem. All I need to do is request to take me to the roof of the city hall, which then an improvised elevator would take me and my haul to the depths of Venice. I considered leaving my ARCH behind so I wouldn’t get jumped by some thugs trying to steal it, but then thought I should bring it along because i’ll probably get jumped anyways for the boat. I looked at my ARCH, who whined at me and then pointed its nose at the sun slowly rising in the distance. Understood that it wanted me to put my Temp Suit on, and obliged. After I did, the ARCH looked contented, like it saved me one again.

“Good job… boy”, I stuttered. I still hadn’t come up with a name for it, and it didn’t even occur to me until now. I decided to think of one on the way to the rendezvous. I gathered a pack and several other small items I planned on selling, including an “iphone” from the early 2010’s. I heard that people used to spend tons on these, even buying new ones every year for overpriced and identical versions that they thought would bring them happiness. Phenomena like this was the first domino in the fall of our earth. I put everything in the bag and slung it on my shoulder. After checking my direction, I made my way to the rendezvous, my soon to be named ARCH paced beside me.

After marching through decayed trees for a good amount of time, my stride began to be strained, as I realized I was going uphill. Almost there, I thought. Making it to the top, I looked around the clearing. There was not a single tree, and dark green grass covered the ground, except for the occasional mud hole. Operating hours for the transport business should have been started by now, but they were always late. Just then, a bird-like figure shimmered through the clouds above me. It seemed to be the size of a skateboard, but from this distance it was hard to tell. It was almost invisible, and it was a miracle my eye caught it. Before I could decide if it was dangerous or not, it dove at me, emitting a spine chilling screech like metal being torn apart. I dove out of the way, waiting for it to hit, but it never did. I heard a crash to my left. Shakily getting back up, I then looked for it. Sticking out of the ground was a scout drone, still twitching. It suicide bombed me!, I thought. Why? I walked over to it, adrenaline still surging through me. It bore no identifying marks, so it wasn’t government. Sticking out of the center engine, was a sliver spine. I turned toward the ARCH, astonished, who was still growling at the corpse of the drone. I didn’t know ARCH’s could shoot spines from itself. Ace thrower, I thought admiringly. Ace. That's your name. “Your name is Ace”, I told the ARCH. It nodded with approval, salivating black oil. I examined the scout drone once more. It was the size of my arm, covered in screens now blinking static. Two wings extended from the middle, still trying to flap. Scout drones modified for stealth would have wings instead of propellers to make less noise. On the nose was a camera, pointed right at me. I took the emergency power source from the drone and it stopped moving, the screens going dead. I decided to keep the drone, in hopes I could fix it. I didn’t know who sent the drone, but the whole time I was waiting for the carrier I was on edge. Finally, it arrived. It took up the whole clearing, the landing gear pressed into the ground. The thrusters emitting purple fire and black smoke burned away the grass under it. I had to cover my ears to keep them from bursting. The engines shut off and the fire subsided. A miniature climate control unit flipped on, and a sphere of clear and cool air under a force field spread from the ship. I took the helmet of my temp suit, the natural coolness refreshing me. The cockpit lowered on its rails, and a ramp extended down to the ground. Out stepped a short man, dark skinned, dressed in army fatigues. He had a scar running down his right arm. Hanging from his side was a handgun, and on his back was a machete. He called out in a thick Australian accent, “There you are! We’ve been waiting for you!”.

“Actually I’ve been waiting for you, Oliver”, I said. “You’re never on time”.

“Yeah, well, we rarely get customers from this part, so we figured we had time”. His gaze turned to Ace. “My God, how did you get that!”, he exclaimed. Oliver had such an affinity for ARCH’s, that I once saw him cuddle one like a puppy. He has a literal pack of them that he either made himself, or bought in Venice. In fact, trailing behind him was his guard ARCH, a bronze great Dane of startling size. He named it “Leslie”.

“Lucky find”, I replied. He whistled a long, envious whistle.

“I wish me one of those”, Oliver said with his eyes crinkling around a smile. “So what’s new? Beside your trillion dollar war pet of course.”

“You know that boat I was gonna sell a while back? Ace here found it. In fact that’s why I'm here. I need transportation to Venice”.

“I hope you mean the cave. We don’t have enough fuel to get halfway across the world.”

“Yea”.

“Good. where’s the cargo? We have plenty of space”. I showed him the GPS, on which I saved the coordinates for the hill. A live satellite image of the hill showed up, and the boat glinted in the sunlight. “Nice”, he said. “Let’s head there now”. Oliver handed the GPS back and wheeled around to the carrier, Leslie growled at me and followed him. The climate began closing around the carrier, and I walked up the ramp with a bounce in my step. I entered the cockpit, met by the smell of cigarettes and brownies, the source of the latter probably from the on board kitchen in the door behind the cockpit. A rear view mirror hung front and center on the windshield, even though the only thing Oliver could see in it is a close up view of the back bay. “Want to put your stuff in the guest room until we get to Venice? Should only take a few minutes, but based on your usual haul it’s got to be heavy. You know where it is, first room on the right. And there’s brownies in the kitchen.” I thanked him, and walked to the guest room. I left the brownies, because knowing Oliver they were probably drugged. The guest room consisted of a bunk, a sink, mirror, and toilet, and pantry, all in a 15’/15’ space. I put my bag on the mattress and sat down, facing the door. The room across from mine had a grey door, lined in black. With the ARCH symbol on it, I figure that’s where Oliver kept the rest of his pack. I got up and turned right, heading for the hangar. “Don’t break anything!” I heard Oliver call out from the cockpit. There wouldn’t be much to break. A buggy sat in a corner collecting dust, and a shipment of wooden boxes were strapped to the ground opposite from it. Suddenly we slowed, and I lost my balance. I got back up and hurried to the front of the carrier. We were hovering over the hill as Oliver slowly lowered us so the grabbers could lift the boat into the hold. Oliver pressed a button that closed all the doors, then opened the massive door in the back. This made sure nothing would get damaged by the heat, including us. The grabbers got a good grip on the boat, then slid on rails into the hangar, set the boat down gently, then back out. The grabbers then concealed themselves in hatches at the bottom of the ship. “Let’s go tie it down”, he told me after he closed the bay doors and opening all the other ones. We were greeted by a burst of hot air, and my mouth dried instantly. Oliver was similarly affected. “Sorry!”, Oliver said as he rushed to the temperature settings, and then to the fridge. He passed me a water and opened one himself, downing it in seconds. “Phew, let’s go tie that boat down”. I nodded and led the way.

“Careful”, I told him. “The boat is burning hot”. Oliver then took out a cigarette, pressed it to the metal, effectively lighting it.

“That’s hot”, Oliver said. Then he walked to a storage container, pried it open and took out what seemed to be a high tech water gun. It was pure black, had what appeared to be a coolant container sticking out of it, and many cords and tendrils leading from the core to different parts of it. “I call it the Freezer”, he said proudly. He pressed a bright red button on the side, walked to the boat, and told me to stand back. A jet of freezing air came from the barrel of the Freezer, cooling the boat slowly. After a few minutes and face fulls of steam, it was safe to touch. Oliver put the Freezer away and came back with ropes and hooks. We tied the boat down and went back to the front of the carrier. “We should get to Venice in 10 minutes, so don’t get comfortable”. I sat in the copilots seat and reclined in the seat, ignoring what Oliver said about not getting comfortable. Ace trotted over to me, its metal feet clicking against the floor. I could hear its gears whirring. I watched the scarred land pass below me, miles of rotting trees and abandoned houses. Old Los Angeles appeared over the skyline and was closing fast. Within the next few minutes we descended over a tan building, one of the few that have been maintained after the evacuation order. We lowered into the force field keeping the burning air out and opened the bay doors. After we untied the boat from the hangar, we let the claws do the work. I went outside and watched with Oliver as the claws lowered the boat on a cart on a massive elevator, ready to be taken into Venice. “Thank you, Oliver”, I said. I gave him the coordinates for the military outpost I found Ace at. “I didn’t check the rest of the site, so there may still be other ARCH’s there”. Oliver lit up. I reached into my pack to get payment for the ride, but Oliver stopped me.

“This one’s on me”, he said. I smiled and shook his hand.

“I hope to see you again”, I told him, and with that he left. I turned to the guards who were still securing the boat onto the cart, and then walked onto the elevator. Ace was hesitant to step on, sensing moving parts it thought it was a trap. I convinced Ace by telling it that the only people who would set the trap are on the elevator with me. Ace was convinced. The elevator ride to Venice would take use to the center of the cave, on a small island. I decided that I would put the boat up for auction, then go to the main restaurant and wait for the numbers to roll in. The restaurant is burrowed in the side of the cave, overlooking Venice. You have to take a modified ski lift to get in unless you are an employee, in which case you can get in from the surface, an entrance only known to those who work there. The elevator emerged from the roof of the cave, and a cascade of sights, sounds and smells overwhelmed me. The bustle of thin boats in the canals, the super bright lights hanging from the roof of the cave, just barely able to penetrate the darkness. I could smell strange foods and the feces of exotic animals. Venice is made like an onion. Instead of city grids, everything spreads from the center. The middle is a large island, dug under it is mostly vaults and banking. Just outside of the island is weaponry. Past that, animal trafficking. Past that robots and ARCH’s. Past that, is the drug circle, and past that, is the vehicles and drones. Sprinkled throughout every circle are places where you find get services of every kind, ranging from caricatures to mercenaries. On the outer circle, is housing for those who don’t own a storefront, which comes with an apartment. Half underground, half sticking out from the wall of the cave, the housing units are truly a sight to see. On the way down, I saw aerial transportation, for the rich few that don’t have to travel by boat. We eventually reached the bottom. The vehicle circle is a three and a half miles from the center. The guards helped me weave through the crowds of people to the docks. Ace growled and barked at anyone who got near, keeping me safe from behind. We reached the docks. The docks were mostly full, but there were a few open spots at the end of the pier. With difficulty, we found the strength to take the boat the rest of the way. We got to the first open spot, exhausted. The guards ditched me after that, so I had to slide the boat onto the ramp myself. Ace helped. After I got it on, I checked for fuel, and wasn’t surprised that it was empty. I told Ace to stay and protect the boat in case someone wanted to steal it, and then ran to the nearest fuel tent. I walked through rows and rows of gasoline, until I found the right size I needed. I took my selection to the self checkout line, swiped it, and deposited my currency. Today's currency is universal-literally. Diamond coins mined from the planet Uranus and Neptune are the main currency. The coins are the size of a half dollar, and the amount of money its worth is engraved on it, including famous presidents. People from the early 2000’s might have found it crazy that we use diamonds as currency, but diamonds cost less than gravel now. It’s just Neptune gravel. I think it’s weird that people back then wore ground up money around their neck. I put a fifty dollar coin in and waited for it to finish scanning the coin. Out came a receipt, which I promptly threw on the ground, and ran back the boat. Ace was unmoved, and the boat was untouched. I patted Ace’s head, and then refueled the boat. I hopped in after Ace, and pressed a button to lower the boat into the water. We sat in the water for a second while I pulled the cord to start the boat. It whirred to life, and I the walked to the front of the boat to the steering. I maneuvered the boat through the docks out into the circle of open water. There are “highways” in Venice on the north, east, south, and west points. These provide an unobstructed path through all circles. I steered the boat in the direction of the closest highway, the east one. The ride was relaxing. Some time ago, someone had either stocked Venice with fish or they had came with the flood the government had tried to flush everyone out. I always see the strangest fish in the waters of Venice. One I swear was 30 feet long. As I neared closer to the vehicle circle, I searched for a place to anchor. One spot caught my eye, because it was easily accessible and and nearly impossible to miss. I steered over to it, dropped my anchor, and scribbled on a piece of cardboard that was by the dock, the words: for sale. I also put my contact number. Ace hopped out and began pacing on the wooden deck, his claws making scratches that I hoped I wouldn’t get fined for. I looked for the nearest lift to the restaurant, and saw one only a block away. I locked the boat up and then satisfied, went to the lift. It was old and rickety, and probably unsafe. It was still probably a better option than the termite infested ladder that was built for those who couldn’t pay for a lift. I went to the lift and deposited one coin, then sat on the lift and buckled in. Ace jumped on, lowering the lift a whole foot. I waved to the operator and we began moving. The ride was smooth, and I enjoyed the view of Venice. The lift approached the restaurant, a neon sign advertising Julio's, the restaurant name. The lift carried me safely. I got off with Ace, relieved. Finding a seat, I sat down at a balcony table and looked over the stained menu. One option was deep fried squid, caught in Venice. The table had a built in screen, so I could access the bidding offers for the boat. One person had already offered $20,000 for it. That was more than I thought someone would pay. A waiter came over, dressed in an old suit, and was startled by Ace.

“Anything...I can get you sir?”, he asked from a good distance, eyeing the ARCH.

“A steak for the dog here, and i’ll get one too”. The waiter hurried away, seemingly relieved to be away from our presence. I looked out across the cave. It seemed impossible that this was undiscovered for so long. I looked back at Ace, and noticed it wasn’t there. I got up and looked around, and couldn’t see Ace anywhere.

“Ace!” I called. He didn’t come. I heard a bark in the distance. It sounded like it was coming from the circles. I rushed to the lift. I didn’t have time to pay, so I got a cloth napkin, put one side over the line, and wrapped my hands around it. I pushed off and began zip lining down at such a speed, my cheeks jiggled. I could see Ace below. He was running like a cheetah. I wondered what he was chasing. I got to the bottom and jumped of before my hands could get shredded by the machine. The napkin was on fire. Then I hit the ground running, following the sounds of Ace’s barking. I caught up with him. I ran into an alley, where Ace was standing before a cowering man. “What is it, Ace?” I questioned him. The man was gaunt, pale, and balding. He probably hadn’t seen the sun in years. He had bleeding cuts along his calves and back, probably warning cuts from Ace. “Back away, Ace”, I ordered him. The ARCH obeyed, and then jumped onto the brick alleyway wall like a frog to watch over, making sure the man made no move.

“Who are you?”, I questioned. He didn’t answer, and kept staring angrily at Ace. I grabbed him by his shirt and walked him to the dock, as if to throw him into the lake. The circle I was in probably hadn’t been cleaned in a while, and pollution swirled in its depths. This got his attention. He ripped his gaze from the ARCH and focused on me. He didn’t look me in the eyes before, but now that he did, I saw a madness in them. I shivered, and a feeling like ice falling down my back crept on me. He grinned a full three toothed grin. He reached for his pocket. “Stop!” I yelled. I then held him over the water. “Don’t do anything to make me drop you”, I said. He looked down at the water, and then at me. Being submerged in that would probably give him an extra leg or ear. Then he spoke.

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If you made it this far, thank you SO MUCH. It really means a lot to me, and of you have any suggestions you'd like to tell me, I'm always open for constructive criticism.

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[prouxvaire]

Upstairs Bath: Finish Work and All The Swears

Progress on the upstairs bathroom is– and this is a phrase I haven’t used in conjunction with progress around the house in a long time– coming along nicely

I mean, to be honest, there is nothing nice about it… this bathroom is coming along like a gigantic pain in my ass, but it is coming along, and that’s the important part.

There have been some easy wins over the last week. I mean, I spent last Friday night inside the tub with a beer and caulk gun…

By the end of the night the tub was water-tight and I started giving some serious thought to having a working shower in this bathroom, which meant dealing with the unfinished plumbing.

Three years ago when I bought the tub (and, again, assumed this was going to be a 3 weekend project) I also bought the Delta Addison tub and shower trim kit. It came with a tub spout connector that needs to be soldered to the copper stub-out the plumbers left…

I’m mediocre at sweating pipes. Like, I can do it, but I don’t want to do it within an inch of the new surround tile with zero margin for error. Right? I’m crazy, but not I-want-to-accidentally-burn-my-house-down crazy.

Here’s how I know the idea of finishing this plumbing was stressing me out…

I woke up Saturday morning with plumbing parts in my bed.

Apparently I had a burning plumbing question at 3AM that had to be answered right then.

Also, Saturday morning I got an Amazon notification that a new coupling with a set-screw (that doesn’t need to be soldered on) had been shipped. Apparently 3AM me is very resourceful and good at problem solving.

The new coupling cost $7. So, two years ago when I had a working tub upstairs and thought I needed to bring the plumber back to install this coupling… turns out I just needed a small bout of insomnia, a $7 part, and to stop being such a wuss and start thinking about other ways to solve a problem.

Story of my life, guys.

Here’s how the install went…

I did a dry-fit first, and then cut the stub out down to size using a copper tube cutter (they’re fairly cheap, easy to use, and you can find them at most hardware stores.)

Then, put the coupling on, and tightened down the set screw…

And then screwed the tub spout on…

Yep. Took all of 3 minutes.

After the drywall patches were finished above the shower I also installed the shower head (which was just screwed in with a little Teflon tape.) And then, for the first time in 3 years, had a working shower upstairs….

And not just a working shower, but, an amazing shower. This house has mediocre water pressure, and I thought that until I fixed that (sometime in the next 20 years) it was just going to be mediocre showers from here on out, but turns out all I needed was a really good shower head.

This one is like an effing massage. (And that’s not sponsored in any way, just the gods honest truth.)

Which is all to say, my mom was right. Having this bathroom mostly functional has drastically improved my quality of life.

But, as with all good things, it did not come without a fight. And in my case that fight was with every single one of the five– yes five– separate light fixtures in this bathroom.

There’s the one that used to be in the closet I tore out, and worked briefly 3 years ago before all of the sudden dying… (Currently I’m getting no power to the switch, and have no idea why.)

Then there’s the two can lights I tried to retrofit a few years ago, but the trim doesn’t fit quite right (because why would it?)

Oh, and this thing above the shower.

I can’t even.

But the worst of all of them is this fan over the toilet.

The light hasn’t worked for the entirety of the time I’ve lived here, and just about nothing could compel me to take the cover off that light because I’ve been traumatized by getting a facefull of desiccated japanese beetles one too many times while trying to change light fixtures in this house.

Note: They taste worse than they smell.

Ugh.

But there was no way I was going to have a fully remodeled bathroom and still have that ugly fan over the toilet, so I got to it… and, first of all? There was a (luckily abandoned) wasp nest in there…

Wasps nest notwithstanding, removing the old box from the ceiling was a maddening affair. I have access to the attic so I thought this would be no big deal, but that particular part of the attic had decking installed with nails. So instead of being able to un-screw the OSB to access the fan box I had to haul two saws up to the attic to cut a hole in it.

Then I realized that because of the large space between the floors of my house and the fact the that fan was in a soffit, the box was a solid 18�� below the floor of the attic (i.e. only accessible if I laid on the floor and reached down as far as I could while my face was smashed up against a pile of what was most likely mouse poop. I don’t want to talk about it.)

After maybe 30 minutes of trying to locate the screws and/or pry the box loose I realize it had actually been NAILED into the soffit framing. Nailed. Why.

It’s been a long time since I’ve truly lost my shit in the middle of a project, so I will just say this: I only managed to remove that fan box with the liberal use of my hammer and every single swear word I know.

And, of course, in the process, tore a nice big chunk of drywall out of the ceiling that I’d just finished patching and sanding BECAUSE THIS PROJECT WILL NEVER END.

All the swear words, you guys. All of them.

But finally, finally, I got the new box up, installed the fan and the light, Flipped the switch, aaaaaand…

The light didn’t come on.

You know how this goes… take it all apart, put it all back together again, remain convinced that there will never ever be a working light fixture in this bathroom, and then, after several hours and all the new and creative ways I could combine four-letter words, I finally got the fan AND the light to turn on.

Whew.

At this point I thought it would be smooth sailing… just replace the old fixture above the shower with a new LED retrofit can light. These things are super easy to install. You just screw an adapter into the light socket, push the light up into the can, and voila! New can light. It’s as easy as changing a light bulb.

Except in my house, of course. Because the “can” wasn’t a standard 4″ can OR a standard 5″ can. It’s 4.5″. Because why not?

After some finagling I figured out how to use a 5″ retrofit LED can light (which, yes, I happened to have on hand because I hoard house-parts, apparently) but it was a pretty tight fit, and I may have been less than gentle trying to get the trim to fit into the can, and the next thing I know…

Yeah, cut a wire, popped a breaker, and for the life of me could not get the power to turn back on to this room.

If you need me, I’ll just be sitting up here in the dark for the next eternity.

Ugh. Fine. I did not sit in the dark for all eternity. I eventually stopped whining, reset all the GFI outlets and the breaker, and eventually ended up here:

It’s like the skies parted, the heavens opened up, and angels started singing. Also, 4 of the 5 lights turned on.

So for about a week I had one of the most well-lit bathrooms in the history of modern electricity… and then we got hit with an early-March snowstorm.

Which knocked out the power to the house for the last 3 days.

I mean, I’m sure the universe isn’t actually out to get me, but you know it’s also definitely getting a few laughs at my expense right now.

Here’s the good news though (other than the fact that I own a generator, which is very, very good news after 72 hours without power) the progress may be a pain in the ass, but it is coming along:

Tear out closet and patch drywall

Re-face cabinets 

Level, tile, and grout floor 

Tile tub surround 

Patch ceiling 

Move outlets and patch all drywall 

Replace plumbing and install toilet 

Caulk tub and toilet

Paint radiator

Paint ceiling and touch-up walls

Install baseboard

Install new light fixtures and switches

Add cabinet “feet”

Finish tub plumbing for working shower

Get and hang mirrors

Get hutch for storage

Install shelving, towel racks, etc.

Paint and re-hang door with new hardware

Another couple of weekends and it might actually be finished.

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