#can you shove a dresser forward with a kick? can you shove a barrel over?

[swan2swan]

Ariel: the Strongest Disney Princess

[deascheck]

Problem Solved

Prompt: "Whatever that thing is, it is not what we are looking for so, Dean put it down immediately! Cas stop fooling around like an idiot, and Sam, what the hell are you even doing?"

Summary: The reader’s hands are full when Dean, Sam, and Cas are all affected by an object cursed by the witch they’re hunting.

Word Count: 1553

Trigger warnings: Death, brief mention of blood

A/N: Would love to know what you think! Comments and reblogs are amazing!

Edited by @winchest09

--------

You glanced at Sam as he picked the lock with nimble, practiced fingers. A slight smile ghosted across your face as you checked the yard and surrounding properties for any witnesses. There wasn’t a lock that Sam couldn’t pick. 

Dean and Cas had split off and gone around back. The house was huge, with cameras everywhere. The property was thick with flowers and plants surrounding the house, making it easy for the two large men to hide as they worked their way over to the security box. 

The lock clicked, and you and Sam crept forward through the door. Guns drawn, you moved around each other with practiced ease. Thanks to Dean’s ungodly ability to flirt, the four of you had gotten blueprints of the house and had memorized them down to the last brick. You moved swiftly to the upstairs, followed by Sam. 

You knew the witch was home – you had seen her arrive. Stealth was key in this case. She’d killed eight people with hex bags already. They were gruesome, horrible deaths, and you wanted her dead like you’d never wanted anyone dead before. 

Once Dean and Cas had cleared the downstairs, they joined you and Sam upstairs. You peeled off towards the bedrooms with Dean, and Cas joined Sam. The hallways were dark, and there were nine doors to check behind. As Dean entered the master bedroom, you spared a glance over your shoulder towards the other two before you went with him. 

As you finished clearing it, trying not to bump into the bed, dresser, desk, or table, you heard a strange thump and then a yell. 

You and Dean barreled out of the room and down the hall. You skidded to a stop when you reached the open doorway and stared. Dean all but ran into you as his sprint was halted by your body blocking the door.

Cas had a stupidly silly smile spread across his face, and was dancing around in big circles with his hands waving in the air. Whereas, Sam had his mouth wide open and was measuring with his hands how big it was. 

Almost as soon as you’d taken in the ridiculous scene, Dean knocked you into the doorframe as he shoved forward, eager to figure out what was going on. He grabbed some sort of ancient looking scroll from Cas’s hand, and almost immediately started mirroring Sam’s actions.

“Dean!” you whispered angrily. “Dean, whatever that thing is, it’s not what we’re here for! Cas, stop fooling around like an idiot! And Sam, dude, what the hell are you even doing!?” You couldn’t believe you had this to deal with now. You had three men who were currently no better than children, and a dangerous witch you still hadn’t seen. 

Backing away, you shut the door quickly, hoping to contain the noise that Sam, Dean, and Cas were all making. With these circumstances, you’d do better against the witch on your own, which still didn’t mean things would go well.

As you turned around, you came face to face with a very smug looking woman. She had brown hair slightly past her shoulders, had a pretty, long face, and looked like she knew how to handle herself. It was the witch herself, Elizabeth.

“Shit,” you managed to get out before attempting to take a shot at her with your gun. She knocked it from your hands as you fired, spinning you into the wall. You retaliated by launching up and taking a swing at her with a mean right hook. She ducked, and you recovered quickly, doing your best to keep your back to the wall. The two of you fought your way down the hall. The blows and kicks were vicious, and you knew this wouldn’t end unless one of you was dead. If you could keep her busy enough to not say any incantations, you figured you might have a chance to extend your life by a few minutes, but without your gun, you weren’t sure how in the hell you were going to kill her.

The fight wore on, and it was becoming apparent that you were at a disadvantage. Primarily because Elizabeth knew the house best. Even having memorized the blueprints, there was a difference between studying the layout of a house and living in it. She knew when there was a corner to throw you against, a table to flip you over, curtains to tangle you in. You’d never admit it, but you were starting to wonder if she was in better shape than you. Being a hunter, you had your fair share of fights, but you’d always had Sam or Dean to come help take out whatever monstrosity you were fighting with.

With a loud smash, you went flying over the kitchen counter and hit the fridge with considerable force. As you lay on the ground, slightly stunned, you fisted your hands angrily, your fingers closing around something which caused you to glance down. It was a knife. 

You quickly scrambled to your feet with a maniacal grin across your face. Elizabeth advanced and you launched yourself at her, the knife coming into her view too late. You ran the blade right through her neck, forcing it through her windpipe and into the spinal vertebrae. Elizabeth’s eyes went wide, and her mouth moved like she was trying to speak. But instead of words leaving her mouth, it was blood. As crimson liquid dripped down from her mouth, you heard another commotion coming down the hall. Sam was weaving around in the hallway, smashing into the walls as hard as he could as he walked, chuckling stupidly. You sprinted over to him while the witch was in shock from your attack. You reached behind Sam’s waist to grab his gun, which was filled with witch-killing bullets. 

You heard her gurgle as you spun around and fired without hesitation. Elizabeth stared at you lifelessly before dropping to the floor. You smiled grimly at her and then kicked her hard with your booted foot. 

“That’s for the innocent people you killed, you bitch.”

You watched her for a minute, and then realized you weren’t hearing any stupid noises from Sam. You turned to look his way and saw him looking proudly at you. “Well done, Y/N. I can’t believe you killed her by yourself!” 

“Yeah, well, I can’t believe you let yourself get cursed when you knew we were in a witch’s house,” you teased.

As the beating you took stared to cause your body to ache something awful, you thought, Shit, this is gonna hurt tomorrow. 

Groaning to yourself, you walked back upstairs with Sam to find out what had befallen Dean and Cas. You opened the door, and immediately was knocked off your feet by two well built men falling out of the door.

All of you let out grunts and “oof”s as the three of you landed in a pile on the floor. Immediately on top of you was Dean. You looked at each other in surprise and relief. 

Both of you started talking at the same time. “What the fuck are you doing?” “How’re you still alive?” He laughed as you chuckled weakly. 

“Get off me you big lugs,” you moaned. They got up good-naturedly and looked at Sam, waiting to be told how the spell was broken.

Sam responded to their expectant looks by saying, “The only thing I can think of is that Elizabeth had cursed the scroll herself to cause whoever touched it to lose some sanity. But since it ended, I’m assuming that curse was tied to her life force.” He looked pensive and then shrugged. “I mean, kinda rare, but I’ll take it.”

Taking their pause as a cue, you spoke proudly, “I killed her.” Dean and Cas looked at you in shock. Continuing smugly, you said, “I mean, she was kicking my ass, let’s be real. But she made the mistake of throwing me over the kitchen counter.. By the knives.” You paused briefly to give them a knowing look and then kept going with your story. “So, I hit the fridge, and as I made a fist - cause man, am I pissed now! - my hand closes on a silver knife. How lucky was that!” You laughed. “I grab the knife, and launch myself at her before she can attack first. Got her right in the windpipe. Then Sam, who somehow got out of the room I shut y’all in, wandered right into my lap with his witch-killing bullets. Problem solved.” 

Sam gave you a hug and helped you up. “I’m sorry we weren’t able to help you, Y/N.” He looked at you proudly, but behind his eyes you could see guilt warring with pride.

“We’re proud of you, Y/N! Couldn’t have done it better ourselves,” Dean said, “C’mere!” He reached for you and grabbed you in a big bear hug. Squished against him, barely able to breath, you peeked over his shoulder, and saw Cas smiling softly at you. 

You extracted yourself from Dean’s hug, as much as you loved the rare moment, and gave Cas his turn. He let you go quickly, since he was still a bit of an awkward hugger. You chuckled, and said firmly, “Let’s go home, shall we?”

[offtopicoverload]

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold

Poppy messed up. Poppy messed up even if she doesn’t know it yet. But Bea knows it. Bea knows that Poppy messed up really, really bad this time. And Bea’s going to make her pay for ever even thinking about messing with Zoey.

Or, what should have happened at the bacchanalia if MC wasn't so stupid and  Zoey was respected and yes im still salty

also didn’t edit as much as normal so there’s definitely issues in this one but whatever

Zoey x MC (Bea Hughes)

~5.5k words

Bea rifles through the false bottom of Poppy’s dresser, searching for her credit cards that can be used against her, finding all sorts of blackmail and dirt to levy against the obnoxious rich girl. Bea eventually spots them buried beneath papers and folders, a phone, hard drives, all kinds of things that no doubt hold enough dirt to destroy Poppy for good.

But Bea’s only here for the cards, she doesn’t have the time to sort through everything right now. She grabs them, her hand knocking against a manila folder as she does. ‘Human Sacrifice’ is written in red sharpie, a paper falling out of the side, with a name at the top.

Bea’s eyes go wide as she reads every letter over and over and over again, every drop of black ink. She rips her phone from her pocket, fumbling to swipe and tap to her contacts and presses call on ‘Zo 😘.’ It rings for a minute, each tone sending panic spiking through Bea.

“Hey, what’s up? How’s it going?” finally rings from the speaker pressed to Bea’s ear.

“Get the fuck out of there,” Bea doesn’t bother with greetings, skipping straight to the point, “Get the fuck out of there right fucking now, Zo, fucking run.”

“Why? What the hell’s going on, Bea?” Zoey sounds on edge, no doubt concerned by Bea’s words and tone. Good.

Bea pulls her phone from her ear, putting it on speaker and opening her camera, “I don’t know, but it’ll be bad, so please leave, Zo, I’m on my way,” she hurriedly snaps pictures of Poppy’s stupid cards to use against her later.

“Okay, I’m seriously freaking out right now, can you please tell me what’s happening before I book it?”

Bea jams the cards and folder back in the false bottom, shoving it closed and struggling to her feet, “You’re Poppy’s ‘Human Sacrifice’ and you seriously need to leave, I’m not fucking around. I have no idea what she has planned but it’ll be bad, I’m sure of it.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going, I swear. But are you coming with?”

Bea rushes out of the room, darting for the stairs, “I’m coming now, I’m almost at the stairs and I’ll -”

“Fuck.”

“Zoey?!” Bea shouts into the speaker, not receiving an answer as she sprints down the hallway, tripping to the ground as she rounds a corner, desperate to get there in time.

“Put your hands together for this year’s sacrifice, Zoey Wade!” Poppy’s voice rings through the foyer as Bea slams into the railing, just to find Poppy standing on a makeshift stage to address the crowd and a spotlight on Zoey by the door.

“Bitch!” she swears under her breath, stumbling for the stairs as Poppy continues.

“A little backstory on New Money here. Once upon a time, Zoey grew up in a three bedroom home in… Brooklyn.” Bea can feel the steam coming from her ears as she barrels down the staircase, gripping the railing to keep from falling in her stupidly high heels that she should have never bothered with.

“Three? Where did you keep your clothes? And where was your dog’s room?” Trixie joins, only further enraging Bea with her incompetence.

Zoey's voice rings through the foyer, drawing Bea’s eyes as she stands her ground, “We kept our clothes in the closets and our dog didn’t have his own room. You know, how normal people live.”

“Not these people. I’m sure none of these people’s fathers worked as a banker either,” Poppy taunts, a sadistic smirk on her face.

“Like handling other people’s money?” Luis sounds as if it’s the most insane thing in the world.

The crowd erupts in laughs and jeers just as Bea reaches the end of the obnoxiously long staircase, already shoving through the crowd, elbowing everyone in sight.

“No! He… He was a senior manager! What the hell is wrong with all of you?!” Bea can just barely see Zoey across the room as she dives into the crowd, spotting a line of frat guys blocking Zoey from the door.

“I’m sure it must have been rough for him, working so hard to support you,” Poppy looks at her in fake sympathy. “Though I guess those paychecks weren’t enough to cover everything. Like say… a tube of peach flavored lipgloss? Sparkly pink nail polish? Maybe a pair of cubic zirconia stud earrings?” Poppy asks, feigning innocence or kindness, Bea can’t tell and she doesn’t care anyway.

“Poppy… Don’t,” Bea can barely hear Zoey’s quiet response anymore, can barely see her through the gaps in the crowd, and she hates what she sees. Zoey’s eyes are shining with tears, every muscle in her body tense as she trembles, glued to the spot.

Poppy turns back to the crowd, not even bothering to address her victim anymore, “That’s right, everyone. There’s a thief in our midst. A shoplifter.”

Bea pushes forward even more, jabbing everyone within arm’s reach until Michael grabs her, arms around her waist as he yanks her backwards to prevent her from reaching Zoey. She struggles, squirming and kicking in his grasp, shrieking as his arms tighten around her.

“Bea?!” Zoey’s voice sounds terrifyingly hopeful as she scans the crowd for Bea trapped in Michael’s hold.

“Zo!” she shouts back, pushing her head above the crowd to meet her eyes, just as a projector launches photos behind Poppy on her stage, drawing the entire crowd’s attention.

It’s a younger Zoey in an office, with red eyes and tears still streaming down her cheeks, a mugshot of sorts. Bea squirms even more, elbowing Michael in the ribs, but he still won’t fucking let go.

“Someone lock up the imported silverware!” Chloe’s shriek echoes in the foyer, providing a soundtrack to Bea’s struggles.

She jams her heel into Michael’s thigh, earning a yelp from her captor and pushing up enough to see the heartbroken expression on Zoey’s face, “How did you… Those… Those records were sealed! I never even had to pay a fine!”

“Oh, I know, I know,” Poppy nods with that same ridiculous sympathy again, “You may not have had to pay the price, and how could you have? Considering you clearly didn’t have any money. But this burden will live on with you forever,” her tone quickly turns malicious as she zeroes in on Zoey, “I will never let you forget that this is who you are. That you, Zoey, are a sad, little social climber who had to wait for someone with balls to cling onto to even make it onto our radar. Well, you’ve finally done it. You’re on my radar. Are you happy now?”

“Shut the fuck up, Poppy!” Bea screeches, jamming her heel even further into Michael’s thigh to rise above the crowd and glare at Poppy, flames in her eyes as she attempts to light Poppy on fire.

“Oh, Farmsville. Stupid, naive, little Farmsville,” she gives a saccahrine smile, hauntingly sweet. “Let the sacrifice begin,” she announces into the mic, eyes still trained on a furious Bea.

Zoey screams as tomatoes and wine fly at her, soaking her skin, her hair, her outfit, all of it seemingly coming out of nowhere as the crowd pelts Zoey mercilessly. She ducks her head, covering herself with her arms and backing away, only for the frat boys to shove her back in the spotlight.

“Betcha didn’t see that one coming,” Poppy mouths to Bea, right as Michael finally lets her go, rubbing his thigh and grabbing a tomato from Luis, hurling it at Zoey with a laugh.

And Bea can’t take it anymore, can’t take how powerless he just made her feel, can’t take how disgusting they all are, how cruel and heartless. She can’t take this shit anymore, she can’t deal with it, she can’t stomach it, not when her best friend is being assaulted across the room without her help.

She slugs him in the jaw, sending him reeling and staring at her in shock, but she’s already moving back through the crowd as the tomatoes fly, nearly tripping over people as she hurries as quick as she can. Zoey’s so close to the front door, she almost made it, she was almost safe. If Bea was only a few seconds quicker she could have changed this, she could have fixed this.

Bea shoves through the crowd to reach Zoey, receiving a few elbows to her sides and irritated comments, but she doesn’t stop pushing. She finally sees Zoey through the crowd again, the frat boys guarding the door throwing tomatoes at her without remorse as she cowers, arms raised to protect her head.

She grabs Zoey as soon as she reaches her, arm coiling around her waist and pulling her into her side protectively. Her hands are raised to hide her face as she leans into Bea, a slight whimper escaping her throat as Bea holds her. She pulls Zoey along to the door, shoving through those ridiculous frat boys and stomping on a few feet to do it, tomatoes still pelting them as she yanks the door open. She drags Zoey along, the other girl stiff at her side, arms still raised as they put the sorority house behind them, Bea running until it’s too far in the distance to be a threat.

She slides to a stop on shadowed grass, their heels ruined as she turns to Zoey, still tucked into her side. Her face is blank save for a few tears in her eyes and a quivering bottom lip, her eyes glassy as she stares into space. Bea can feel her body trembling under her arm and concern spikes within her, “Zoey, babe, what can I do to help? What do you need? To go home? I think we went in the wrong direction to our dorm, but we can still go. Do you want to get something off Postmates? Do you want to go and attack Poppy? I got the pictures,” Bea rambles, trying to catch Zoey’s glazed over eyes.

But Zoey doesn’t utter a single word, simply wraps her arms around Bea’s neck and buries her face in her shoulder, a sniffle muffled against her skin. Bea holds her tight, fingers scratching at the small of her back and swaying softly from side to side. She starts humming through random song choruses and verses stuck in her head until she lands on Uptown Funk. It popped up in their playlist earlier, as they did their hair and makeup, and the bathroom exploded in an impromptu performance.

“This hit, that ice cold, Michelle Pfeiffer, that white gold. This one for them hood girls, them good girls, straight masterpieces.” She pulls back, Zoey following and glancing up at her from beneath her lashes, the smallest smile on her lips as she watches.

Bea pounces on it, smiling and dancing goofily, jumping around in her heels, “Stylin’, wilin’, livin’ it up in the city.” Zoey laughs softly, Bea’s hands falling to hers and swinging her arms as she moves from side to side, “Got Chucks on with Saint Laurent, gotta kiss myself I’m so pretty. Too hot! Hot damn,” she echoes, “Called a police and a fireman, I’m too hot! Hot damn,” she fans Zoey, who rolls her eyes with a smile.

“Make a dragon wanna retire man, I’m too hot! Hot damn! Say my name, you know who I am, I’m too hot! Hot damn! And my band ‘bout that money, break it down,” she crouches low, pulling Zoey with her, “Girls hit your hallelujah,” she chants low, looking to Zoey expectantly.

Zoey meets her gaze with pursed lips and raised eyebrows, Bea tilting her head as she waits and waits and waits and - “Whoo,” Zoey cheers, Bea’s smile exploding as she launches forward, tackling Zoey in a hug and sending them tumbling to the ground. “Bea!” Zoey exclaims, even though it’s followed by laughter.

“What?” she asks cluelessly, pulling back from the embrace enough to meet Zoey’s dark eyes as she feigns innocence.

Zoey rolls her eyes, “God, you’re such a dork.” But she’s smiling fondly, even with tomato chunks stuck in her hair and dripping from her body. Bea beams wide at her success in cheering her up, her eyes nearly shutting as she just stares at Zoey, who shoves her shoulder, “Dork.”

“Yeah, but you’re smiling,” she singsongs the last word, still grinning down at Zoey beneath her.

Only that smile falls away as soon as it’s mentioned, her head falling back to stare at the sky blankly. Bea wiggles closer, flopping onto her back beside Zoey and staring up at the few stars they can see, her hand slipping in Zoey’s and interlocking their fingers. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Zoey sighs, staring up at the night above them, her thumb brushing along Bea’s knuckles. “I only did it because the group of girls I hung out with in middle school did. They never once got caught, so I thought it’d be okay.”

Bea turns her head to watch Zoey’s shadowed features, “And of course the one time they convinced me to try it with them, I got picked out and searched. Me, the only black girl in the group,” she scowls to the sky. “They all abandoned me there, not even looking back as I got taken with security,” she pauses to glare upwards, and Bea squeezes her hand in the silence. “But after I got off with just a warning, they wanted to keep pretending we were the bestest of friends.”

“I hope you told them you didn’t have time for snakes,” Bea grins, hoping the joke’s enough to lighten the mood, to help Zoey feel better.

“I’ve been dealing with mean girls, girls like Poppy, my entire life,” Zoey looks angry, rightfully so, “I don’t know why I thought for a second Belvoire would be different.”

Bea turns back to the few glimpses of stars they can see in the city, “I know it’s not much, but I’m always here. I’ve got you no matter what, babe.”

“I know,” Zoey whispers to the sky, silence settling between them easily, a familiar presence from study dates and weekends spent collapsed on the couch. From early mornings to late nights when they’re too tired to speak more than a few words, to do anything but smile or squeeze the other’s hand or shoulder. From haunting hours in the middle of the night after awful days to sunrises that promised a second chance, a redemption of sorts.

Bea sits up straight, squeezing Zoey’s hand as she looks down to her, “You wanna go home now? Wash up and get some sleep?”

Zoey nods stiffly, sitting up beside Bea and dropping her head to her shoulder, “Can we order pizza? And breadsticks?”

“We can order the entire pizza place if you want, babe,” she raises their interwoven hands, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Zoey’s.

---

Bea stalks into the courtyard the next day, determination boiling inside her as her gaze locks on Poppy sitting with Chloe and Veronica, tapping away at her phone and drinking a smoothie. She makes a beeline for the witch, fists clenching and jaw tight as she approaches.

She woke up early for this, made calls for this, went to the store for this. She went out of her way for this, and she’s going to relish it, relish the start of her vengeance. She’s not just going to forget what happened last night, she’s not going to move on or accept the revenge from posting trash about Poppy on The T after Zoey had fallen asleep.

She needs more, and she needs to make her suffer, to feel gross and less than, to feel loathed and despised. And Bea knows she can do it, that this is just the start.

She slams her palms on the table, startling Chloe, provoking Veronica to whip out her phone and start recording, and not even earning Poppy’s signature glare, “What do you want, Farmsville? I thought you’d have slunk off to your corn field by now.”

Bea doesn’t even say anything, just grabs Poppy’s smoothie, pulls off the lid and dumps it on her head with a neutral, unbothered expression. The only indication of her rage is the fire still in her eyes from the night before. Poppy cringes under the waterfall, her mouth falling open and arms raising to protect herself, “You are dead, Farmsville!” she screams as the liquid stops falling.

She stands, hovering above Bea in her ridiculously high heels and ruined pompous sweater and skirt. But Bea doesn’t back down, she meets her gaze, she squares her shoulder. She’s from the country, she could take this city bitch no problem.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Poppy spits through gritted teeth, her lips pulled back in a snarl as she glowers at Bea below her. “I will ruin you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Bea spits right back.

Poppy smirks, self-satisfied and disgusting, “I already destroyed your little pet. How come she’s not following you around? Still too mortified to leave your nasty little dorm? Or did she finally realise she’s not cut out for this life? That she belongs in Brooklyn?”

Bea explodes, shoving Poppy backwards and nearly pushing her to the ground, her heels stumbling beneath her and ankles almost collapsing, “Zoey’s off limits!” she shouts, face flushed in her fury. “This was between you and me, not a single other person!”

“Then how come you constantly messed with the Zetas? And Carter?” Poppy counters, regaining her balance and matching Bea’s anger.

“That was different and you know! I didn’t humiliate or harass them, I didn’t fuck with them, I offered them an alternative to her Royal Bitchiness!” Bea gestures at a smoothie-soaked Poppy.

“I don’t see a difference. Besides,” Poppy shrugs, feigning indifference, “Why do you care?” she flicks her hair over her shoulder, “I thought she was just a tool. She’s not even top 15, she doesn’t matter.”

Bea steps right into Poppy’s face, fury flowing off her in waves, “I will ruin you. I will wreck your stupid little reputation, I will crush your pointless popularity, I will make sure that you are nothing but an average, basic, heartless bitch. I’m going to take your crown and give it to someone who deserves it, someone who isn’t mean and cruel and evil. I’m going to make you nothing, Poppy.”

“Yeah? And who’s taking my spot?” Poppy taunts, “You? Midwest trash will never touch first place,” she scoffs.

“No, not me. I’ve sunk to your level and I don’t even care. I’ll make sure someone better than the both of us takes that stupid spot.” She takes a step back, putting some much needed distance between them to prevent herself from punching another person within twenty-four hours. “But until then, I’d watch your back, Pops,” she turns on her heel, striding away. “Go ahead, boys!” she calls without looking back.

A shriek sounds from behind her as Carter and a few of the football and frat guys that most certainly do not include Michael, dump a tub of crushed and mashed tomatoes on top of Poppy, juice soaking her clothes and chunks mixing in with her strawberry blonde locks. “Farmsville!” she shrieks, Bea smirking as she walks to her dorm, not once sparing a glance over her shoulder.

---

Bea sits on her bed, grading papers for Kingsley as Cutiepie lays flopped on his back beside her, his little legs sprawled in the air and his tongue lolling from his mouth, Bea occasionally breaking to scratch his exposed underside. She tosses a paper to the side, pulling up another as her door flies open, slamming into the wall.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Zoey asks, striding into the room and waving her phone crazedly.

Bea glances up, pen pausing above the paper, “I’m… sorry?” her brows knit together.

Zoey huffs, “You dumped a smoothie and tomatoes on Poppy?! In the middle of the courtyard?!”

Bea caps her pen and drops it to the bedspread, smiling as she leans back and props herself up on her hands, “Yep!”

Her amusement isn’t shared, Zoey glaring at her angrily, “Why the hell did you do that?! Are you trying to start a war?!”

“I’m trying to finish one,” her smile’s fallen away as she meets Zoey’s dark, furious eyes.

“Why?! She’s just going to retaliate!”

“Good.”

Zoey gestures wildly, as if she’s the only sane person left in the world, “Why is that good?! What is going on with you?!”

Bea leans forward, her elbows landing on her knees as she meets Zoey’s eyes, her expression stone and tone serious, “She fucked with you. She crossed a line and she’s going to pay. Every time she escalates things, I can, too.”

Zoey’s features soften and her eyes fall shut, a sigh slipping past her lips. She walks to the bed, flopping face first onto the comforter, frozen as Bea sets her papers aside and scoots closer. She pokes Zoey’s shoulder, moving up to poke the side of her face when she doesn’t move, “Zo?” she asks softly.

“You’re really stupid, you know?” she finally says.

“Probably,” Bea concedes, “But why exactly this time?”

Zoey exhales sharply, rolling over to her back and meeting Bea’s eyes, “She’s ruthless. She doesn’t care about you and she’ll do whatever she can. It’s a miracle you’re still here.”

“Then I’m going to take advantage of it,” Bea answers coolly, confidently.

Zoey’s eyes fall shut again and she takes a deep breath before wiggling further onto the bed beside Bea, her arm open for her. And she obliges, falling to her side and dropping her head onto Zoey’s shoulder as an arm tightens around her shoulders, “I know there’s no stopping you, but you’re not allowed to get kicked from school. I’m not putting up with a shitty roommate because you got expelled or quit or something.”

“Okay,” Bea nods.

Zoey continues, “Do you promise you won’t do anything that might impact your stay at Belvoire?”

“Is this a contract? Do I need to get a lawyer?” Bea jokes, smiling against Zoey’s shoulder.

“Bea.” Her voice is stern, “Do you promise or not?”

She raises her head to meet Zoey’s gaze, the jokes falling away she pushes as much earnesty into her eyes as possible, “I promise, Zo. I’m not going anywhere.”

Zoey releases a sigh of relief, “Good,” just as Cutiepie crawls onto her side, flopping on her stomach and the tiniest amused smile quirking her lips. Bea reaches down to scratch his head, picking him up under his arms and pulling him into her grasp. She settles back against Zoey, setting Cutiepie on her chest and scratching behind his ears. He turns, licking at Zoey’s chin as she laughs softly, “Little weirdo.”

“Yeah, but you love him,” Bea grins.

Zoey pauses for a beat, glancing at Bea below her, eyes on Cutiepie, “Yeah, I do.”

---

Papers and plans surround Bea and Zoey on the floor of Bea’s bedroom, the former plotting her next move against Poppy as the latter scrolls her phone, her head on Bea’s shoulder as she works. Bea sorts through her papers, scribbling notes as she scans the pages.

Zoey glances up at her, finding her brow furrowed as she taps her pen on a page, focusing intently. Zoey sighs, sitting up and cupping Bea’s cheek to draw her gaze. She doesn’t give it, fighting to keep her eyes on the mess before her, “Zo, I’m working.”

Zoey’s palm pushes Bea’s face even farther from her paper, and she gives in with a sigh, irritatedly meeting Zoey’s gaze. There’s a crease between her brows and a frown on her lips that makes Zoey smile. Bea rolls her eyes at the quirk in her lips, “What, Zoey?”

She raises her other hand, cupping both sides of Bea’s face and uses her thumbs to lift the corners of her lips, “Turn that frown upside down,” she murmurs softly with a grin.

Bea’s jaw falls open as she stares at Zoey, whose gaze is trained on her lips, fingers still brushing the corners. She swallows thickly, “I, uh, that’s why you interrupted me?” she chokes out through a throat that seems impossibly dry.

Dark eyes finally meet her own, “Yep,” she beams. “But now that I have your attention,” she drawls. Her hands spring from Bea’s face, grabbing her hands as she jumps up, “Movie night!” She drags Bea along before she’s even on her feet, pulling her out of the bedroom and into the common area. She sets her on the couch, pushing down on her shoulders to get her to sit.

“Zo, I need to finish -”

“Nope!” Zoey cuts her off, looking at her sternly, “Movie. Night.” She turns, grabbing the remote and pulling her phone from her pocket. She passes the remote to Bea, giving her a sharp look when she attempts to decline, and pulls up Postmates on her phone.

They spend the night on the couch, ignoring the problem of Poppy, ignoring the plans Bea’s been working on, ignoring their homework and all the assignments Kingsley needs graded. They ignore everything outside of the dorm for the night, gorging on Chinese takeout and watching bad movies that make them laugh until they cry.

---

Bea and Zoey sit at a picnic table on the courtyard, eating burritos and scrolling their phones, occasionally showing each other funny videos and posts. It’s a calm day in the courtyard for once, no events or billboards of hog calling.

Well, it was a calm day, but Poppy’s intent on ruining that. She storms across the courtyard with Chloe hot on her heels, eyes trained on the back of Bea’s head as she sips an iced coffee, laughing at a dog video Zoey just sent her. “Farmsville!” she screams across the space.

Bea glances over her shoulder, shrugging as she spots the fury on Poppy’s face, and turns back to her lunch, still tapping away at her phone. Poppy muffles a scream, striding directly to Bea, “Farmsville!” This time she doesn’t even get a glance.

She stops at the table, grabs Bea’s burrito, and throws it as far as she can, leering down at her. Bea stands meeting her gaze, “What, Poppy?”

“You leaked my credit cards?!” she hisses, snarling like a wild animal.

Bea grins, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bull. I know it was you.”

“Do you now?” Bea asks calmly, reaching for her coffee and taking a long sip, meeting Poppy’s gaze coolly as she does.

“This part of your little vengeance plan for New Money?” she leers at Zoey, still sitting at the table and eating quietly. “Why do you even care about her, Farmsville? I get that she’s a little useful, but she’s still replaceable, just like anyone else,” she scoffs.

Bea slams her drink on the table, startling Poppy briefly as rage immediately takes over features, “Is that what you think Poppy?! That no one but you matters?! You think you’re so important and above everyone else even though you don’t do shit!”

Zoey’s abandoned her lunch now, crossing over to the opposite side and hovering warily behind Bea, close enough to intervene if necessary but far enough to let Bea handle it. It’s part of her plan, after all.

Poppy scans the pair of women before her as if she’s unimpressed, “No need to get so worked up, Farmsville. This never would have happened if you hadn’t picked her. Just find someone that’s not a criminal,” she shrugs.

Bea flies forward in the blink of an eye, tackling Poppy to the ground and towering over her, Zoey shouting behind them in shock, “Bea!”

Before she can do anything, Bea punches Poppy right in the jaw, sending her head flying. She punches once, twice, and is rearing up for a third hit when Zoey’s arms slip around her torso and jerk her backwards, pulling her back as she squirms and fights in her grasp, “Let me go, Zo! Let me fucking go!”

“You’re gonna get expelled!”

“I don’t care!”

Zoey’s lips drop to her ear, “You promised me.”

Bea immediately goes limp in her arms, all the fight knocked out of her in a fraction of a second. “Thank you,” Zoey whispers again, Bea’s feet slipping beneath her body to hold her up.

“You fucking animal!” Poppy shrieks, still sitting on the ground as Chloe pokes at her jaw, only pissing her off even more.

“At least I can admit it!” The fight’s back as she stands properly, slipping out of Zoey’s grasp, even as the other woman attempts to keep her back. “At least I can admit that this is all ridiculous! At least I can admit that it’s pointless and stupid! Can you admit it, Poppy? Can you admit that your precious crown has no worth? That you have no worth?” She stands over the strawberry blonde, staring down at her intently.

“Fuck off, Farmsville,” she scoffs, stumbling to her feet by gripping Chloe’s shoulder and shoving the blonde to the ground. “Run back to your cave with your little felon friend. At some point you’ll realize just how little she matters,” Poppy spits.

Bea meets her gaze easily, jaw clenched tight, “She matters more than you. She matters more than me. She matters more than anybody, and at some point you’ll realize that, when she’s more successful than you, more popular, more wealthy, more respected. You’re a vile creature, and somebody you’ll lose your power and sit sulking as everyone stops caring about you. Because you. Don’t. Matter.”

“Bea, that’s enough,” Zoey slips an arm around her, carefully leading her away, their lunches abandoned. And this time Bea doesn’t resist, doesn’t fight back, doesn’t try to squirm away to fight with Poppy more.

She lets Zoey lead her back to their dorm, sit her at the kitchen counter, and make her a cup of tea. She lets Zoey turn on 90s music as she dances around the kitchen, trying to lighten the mood and resolve some of Bea’s anger. She lets her wrap her in a hug when the music and dancing doesn’t work, let’s her tell her to let it go and move on, to forget about Poppy and all her bullshit.

“I can’t just forget it, Zoey, I can’t let her get away with everything she’s done,” she meets dark eyes, her own shining as she silently pleads for Zoey to understand, to give her permission to carry on this path that will only lead to destruction.

Zoey sighs, her head dipping as she thinks. She looks back up after a minute, meeting Bea’s gaze, “If we’re doing this, we’re being smart about it.”

“I’m doing it, Zo. You’re staying out of this,” her brows knit together, her face serious as her eyes pour into Zoey’s.

“Nuh-uh,” Zoey shakes her head. “You just attacked Poppy. You need me to keep you in check, babe, hate to break it to you,” she smiles teasingly.

“She already -”

Zoey cuts her off, “I don’t care. You promised me you’d stay safe, and clearly you can’t do that on your own, so suck it up and get over it, Bea.” Her words are sharper than she meant them to be, harsher as she stares down the woman across from her.

Bea sighs, her head falling to the counter beneath her arms. “Fine,” comes out muffled against the countertop. “But if she ever throws another tomato at you, I’m killing her on the spot.”

Zoey laughs, “Alright, deal. Luckily, I don’t think tomatoes are her choice weapon,” she grins down at Bea’s hunched form, relief spilling over her at Bea’s acceptance of her plan.

A hand slips in her own, Bea squeezing tight as she weaves their fingers together, “They better not.” Zoey squeezes back, lifting their locked hands to kiss the back of Bea’s, her thumb tracing her knuckles gently.

They miss the rest of their classes that afternoon, Bea plotting intently as Zoey reels her in on the crazier ideas. They order more burritos and watch the chaos of Bea posting Poppy’s cards on The T, all the purchases people made, all the people complaining that the cards were declined, and all of Poppy’s messages urging people to stop and telling them off when they don’t.

It’s amusing, Zoey has to admit, watching Poppy suffer and face backlash, to be the one under the criticism of the Belvoire public, be the one struggling and hurting. It’s nice, to get revenge and not even have to feel an ounce of guilt.

And it’s nice that Bea’s the one that got it for her, the one that decked Poppy in front of dozens of students because she talked trash on Zoey, the one that took tomatoes to the head to help Zoey.

Maybe it’s just Bea that’s nice, Zoey decides as she watches Bea break from her work to grin at Zoey, butterflies whirring in her stomach as she meets that smile, a tornado of fluttering wings whirling in her gut, a sickening but thrilling sensation filling every ounce of her body, an overwhelming but welcome presence. Yeah. That’s it; it’s just Bea that’s nice.

[super-duper-stupor]

Not so bad - George Syszek (Banzai runner) x reader 

"Beck what have you gotten yourself into now." you muttered to yourself, irritation and fear manifesting in the quickness in your walk. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" You scold yourself. 

You approached the Motel room door with a sudden sense of realization of what you were doing. You were gonna be entering an isolated, dark place in the dead of night quite possibly surrounded by dangerous people. Nobody knows you're here and you have no place to run to if things go awry as you're at least an hour away from any help that you know of. This was a horribly thought out plan, to put it bluntly. Yes you can run back to the car but a bullet will always be quicker than you. 

Beck was your longtime friend, since childhood even and you suspected he'd fall into the temptations of this fast lifestyle but you also knew him well enough to know that he'd eventually see this seedy way of life for what it truly was, a snakepit. 

It was a foolish idea of Beck to meet George Syszek, the main cocaine supplier of this racing circle, or anyone for that matter from this reckless "sport" in such an isolated place. From what Beck told you he was the main supplier for not only cocaine but for plenty of racing cars off the black market.

He also told you, however about how the people affiliated with this type of racing was bad news, drugs, sex and apparently even murder was the lifestyle and you quite frankly wanted to keep as far away from it as possible. But you, at least an hour ago, felt it necessary to come and either rescue Beck from this idiotic situation, somehow or at the very least make sure he wasn't in this dreadful ordeal alone. 

You took in a deep breath and did your best to swallow the fear in your chest, tilting your head upward slightly to fake some defiance and rose a closed fist to knock. However your hand barely touched the door before you nearly jumped out of your skin when the door swung open, revealing Beck with an expression of worry and surprise. 

"Y/n" he whispered loudly, looking back at the men inside then quickly back to you. "What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here, it isn't safe." Panic prevalent in his tone.

"No! I'm here t-" 

"Well well well," a tall man with devilish blue eyes and a devious smirk on his face crept from inside the room and laid a hand on Beck's shoulder, leaning against the doorway, eyeing you up and down.

"Kid, you didn't mention your woman stoppin by." The man said staring seemingly right into your soul with his intense gaze. "And a fine lookin one at that" he said in a slightly softer tone, tilting his head in curiosity of the pretty young woman. 

The man was handsome, that was for certain, just as certain was the sense of danger that hung around him, despite this you couldn't help but notice his high, perfectly sculpted cheekbones, his devilish good looks...

You caught yourself before you completely zoned out and quickly  cleared your throat, taking your eyes off of the man and onto the ground below before looking back up at him, putting on the bravest attitude you could conjure up.

"I'm here to take my friend home, his father's wondering where he is." You said coldly. 

"Is that right?" The man said, removing his hand from Beck's shoulder and stepping off of the front stoop closer to you.

 You gulped nervously as he came nearer to you. 

"Well aren't you sweet" The man smirked then proceeded to look down to your chest. 

"Kids got good taste.." He looked back up into your eyes  "In friends." 

You couldn't help but look away from him, trying your best to hide your bashful expression, as repulsive as this man seemed, he sure was having an effect on you. 

"Y/n, i think it'd be best if you just left-" Beck stepped forward

"Not so fast, kid" The man interrupted whilst placing a hand on Beck's forearm, stopping Beck in his tracks.

You looked up at Beck then back to the man, inwardly, panic was stirring in your stomach, outwardly you kept a stern expression. 

Keeping his strong gaze on you he spoke "Y/n, a pretty name for a pretty girl." A sly grin grazing across his features, removing his hand from Beck's arm.

"Now I'm sure ya won't mind joining us while he and i settle some business, won't ya sweet thing?" 

With that you finally noticed that there was two other men in the room. Lightly peeking around the man's stature you caught a brief glimpse into the room and the two men. 

One of them a tall man with dark brown hair, wearing a gray suit with a black button up underneath and a flashy gold watch, he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed watching the exchange intently, brows slightly furrowed in curiosity. Also there, is a shorter man with slicked back blonde hair, blue suit with the buttons done up with a white button up underneath, he was leaning back on a small dresser drawer that was right across from the door. His attention also on the interaction, only he had a slight smirk playing on his lips. 

Before long the man in front of you moved right into your line of sight, obscuring your view of the room "Don't mind them, sweet thing. I'll be sure they won't hurt ya." 

"Syszek, just let her leave, please" Beck urged the man.

Before you can make an argument for Beck to leave with you, Syszek spoke again, taking his eyes off of you and onto your friend, a trace of amusement in his expression.

"Now now, I'm sure she'd like to see how we settle our business." 

Syszek looked at you with a grin "Whaddya say, kitten?" He said softly, looking your body up and down, taking in your form with a hungry expression as he took a step closer towards you, you took a step back.

"Ya don't need to worry with me, you'll be in really good hands" He purred. 

"Please-" you practically whispered, every bit of confidence you've had before, fake or not was gone. 

"Dammit Syszek, leave her out of this." Beck stepped in front of Syszek, acting as a barrier between him and you. Syszek's grin fades into a look of contempt. 

"She has nothing to do with anything-" 

"She does now. If the girl wants to be a hero then she's gotta pay the price for her bravery." 

The man then violently shoved Beck aside, knocking him to the ground before grabbing y/n. You fought, clawed and kicked with every bit of energy you had but he was still able to get a grip around your torso and one of your arms and drag you inside the room, you yelled and screamed, that was until he moved his hand from your arm to over your lips, stifling your screams. The man was strong, no matter how much you'd kick and drop your full weight downward, he was still able to drag your dead weight into the room.

Whilst you put up your fight with Syszek, the two men inside had come out and managed to restrain Beck and drag him inside as well.

You were thrown down onto the floor with a loud thud that was sure to leave you bruised. 

You grunted as you hit the solid carpeted floor, ignoring the throbbing pain in your hip and shoulder, you rolled over onto your back and with a wince you sat up, staring incredulously at Syszek as he clicked the doorlock and fastened the latch closed. 

The yells and insults from Beck towards Syszek and the men were all you could hear.

With fear and shock coursing through you, you looked up towards the bathroom sink area to find Beck being restrained by his arms by the pair of Syszek's goons. 

"Fuck you Syszek!"  Beck was yelling and hurling swears left and right. Like you, he was putting up quite a fight to break free of his captures but to no avail. 

Syszek sauntered over to the boy, bringing a hand up to Beck's jaw before gripping it tightly, making Beck grunt in pain.

"If you don't keep it down then I'm just gonna have to shush you myself, aren't I?"." Syszek sneered.

Then to your's as well as Beck's horror, Syszek reached inside of his jacket and pulled out a gun, Beck practically froze in place, eyes widening and breath hitching in his throat. Bringing the edge of the barrel up to the frightened boy's chin, a sinister smirk graced Syszek's features.

"That's a boy. Now, when we put our trust in a client we expect that trust in return and part of that trust is that the client don't run their mouth!" the man exclaimed through gritted teeth.

"How many people have ya told about this exchange?" Syszek demanded, pushing the barrel into Beck's cheek, making the boy grimace. Syszek's grip on his jaw still firm, he held his head in place, forcing Beck to face him.

"No-nobody just her! I told her, yeah but all i said was that i had an important meeting, that's all! I don't know how she found this place, i swear! She's not a threat, George please" Beck pleaded.

"Well isn't that sweet, what with you protecting her and all" Syszek said in a condescending tone. 

"It's true, she's not gonna rat you out, i promise." 

"It's not that i don't trust her, it's that I don't trust the both of ya." Syszek loosened his grip on Beck's jaw with a light shove and lowered his gun.

"The fact ya ran your mouth at all has landed you into some deep shit, kid. Now you gotta pay the price." At that Syszek gave a brutal gut punch to Beck, Beck keeled over, coughing and gasping for air before the man almost immediately brought Beck to stand straight again with a forceful tug of his hair making Beck groan in pain.

"Take this as a lesson." The man remarked coldly, without releasing the boy, Syszek turned his sights toward you.

As this was happening, you were watching it all from the floor in sheer terror, yelping in horror when he struck Beck, afraid to say or do anything knowing this lunatic had a gun and would most likely blow either of you or Beck's brains out, no problem. Not to mention the two men that most were likely armed as well.

Eyeing you intently as if contemplating. Syszek's gaze made you look away towards the floor, heart pounding profusely. You shut your eyes and hoped what ever was in store for you wasn't as bad as it could be.

Syszek took another glance towards Beck.

"I'll let these gentlemen deal with you someplace else, I can take care of your little friend, here." Syszek remarked, giving a menacing grin before releasing Beck's hair and waving his hand to the men to take him out of there.

"You son of a bitch! Don't you fucking touch her or I'll kill you!" Beck was shouting, pain quickly subsiding and vicious anger taking its place as he was drug towards the door. However he was cut off by another demand from Syszek to his goons.

"And shut him the hell up!" 

At that the man in the gray suit gave Beck a savage blow square on his jaw, knocking Beck out cold. You stifled a cry behind your hand and watched as they drug Beck's limp figure out the door. 

Syszek didn't waste anytime to close the door behind the men. Using his free hand to click the dead bolt lock shut then fastening the latch back on. 

Turning back towards you, he leaned himself against the door letting a lazy grin grace his features "Now with that out of the way, we can get to know each other a little better." 

As terrified as you were, you couldn't help the faint blush that covered your cheeks and your heart to skip a beat despite how clearly sadistic this man was. Which is why you shifted your gaze from Syszek to the floor beside you once more, crossing your arms over your chest and hugging yourself, inwardly cursing yourself for feeling such a way. He eyed you like a hungry lion stalking a wounded gazelle, you were his prey and he savored that fact.

Syszek raised himself from the door, swiping the curtain as closed as it could go and made his way over, never taking his intense gaze off of you. Stopping just in front of you, eyeing you intently, no doubt admiring your helpless form below him. 

"Look at me." He says softly but maintaining his commanding tone. 

It took every ounce of willpower but you did as the man said and slowly brought your eyes from the carpet to the man in front of you.

You took in the sight of his stature above you, taking your time to let your sights linger over his body before meeting his gaze. 

"That's a good girl." Your heart leapt into your throat at those words. 

Bringing the tip of the gun to your chin your breath hitched in your throat and you suppressed a frightened whimper

"C'mon, where's that hellcat I met outside? Not so confident now are we?" He smiled.

Leaning down and snaking a hand behind your neck, with the barrel of the gun still pressed to your chin, Syszek ushers you to stand with a slight upward wave of the gun. 

You do so, the pain in your hip making you cringe, your eyes close momentarily before setting your gaze on his again once your standing. 

"Syszek, please-" 

"If you had any brains honey, you'd keep your mouth shut." He taps your jaw lightly with the gun. "I have to give it to the kid, though. He picked one loyal woman." He says releasing you from the grip on your neck and lowers his gun.

"He'll be alright, don't you worry about him. As for you, I'll take real good care of ya." 

                          end of part 1.

@thehighsign♥️

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Bad Blood - Chapter 29

You can find it on AO3 or read the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

____________

Stiles hears the explosion—the fire escape—and then it’s silent. He stands with his gaze fixed on the window. He’s in Laura’s room. There’s a white comforter on the bed that looks ghostly in the gloom, and a few knickknacks on her dresser. There’s a stack of books on her bedside table, all of them well-read and dog-eared.

The Hales are readers.

For some reason it had never occurred to Stiles, in all those years, that werewolves had human traits like that. That they liked books, or cooking, or going to the beach, or a million different things that make them no different than anybody else.

It never occurred to him because Kate and Gerard only told him they were monsters. They didn’t tell him they were people too.

Sudden movement: a blacker shape against the darkness outside.

Stiles shoots before the guy even makes it through the window.

The glass shatters and the guy lurches back—and back and back and back. Turns out that Stiles didn’t need to make a kill shot in the dark with no night vision. He just had to hit the guy hard enough to send him over the railing.

Well, it did the trick, he guesses.

From the room next door, Derek’s room, he hears a roar, and then shots. There’s chaos from downstairs now as well, but Stiles can only think of Derek. Can only think of getting to Derek’s side and helping him.

His speed is his mistake. He rushes into the room, firearm held ready to shoot, and Derek and the hunter aren’t in the positions he assumed. Stupid stupid stupid. Derek is standing by the window, and the hunter is closest to the door. Stiles pivots, but he’s off balance, and the shot he squeezes off puts a hole in Derek’s wall and not the hunter. The hunter raises his arm to shoot back.

And then Derek is pulling Stiles back into his arms and spinning on his feet, like some intricate dance move from an old black-and-white film. Derek jerks as the bullet hits him, and Stiles feels all his breath sucked out of him in that instant.

Derek sags into Stiles’s arms, his eyes flashing beta gold.

No. No no no.

From downstairs he hears more shots fired, and the sudden yelp of a wolf.

“Sorry, Der,” Stiles whispers, and lets Derek go.

Derek stumbles to the floor with a pained grunt even as Stiles is raising his arm and firing at the hunter.

And again.

And again.

And again.

The hunter jerks and twists like a puppet before he finally drops to the ground. Stiles moves over to him and kicks his firearm out of reach. He leans down and reaches for his body armor. Tears it open with a loud Velcro rasp. Exposes his chest, and then shoots again.

The hunter lies still.

Stiles replaces his clip.

“Stiles!” Laura skids into the room. “Shit, Derek!”

Derek makes a pained sound, and sucks in a breath. “I’m okay.”

But he’s not, Stiles knows. The poison is in his blood now.

“Wolfsbane bullets,” Stiles says. “We need to remove the bullet and then burn the poison out.”

And then from downstairs Stiles hears the most terrifying sound of all—Allison’s scream.

***

Stiles’s brain works fast.

“Be my hostage,” he tells Laura, and points his firearm at her.

“What’s your plan?” she asks, her worried gaze drawn again to Derek.

“I’m winging it,” Stiles says. “Just go along with it, okay?”

Laura nods.

Stiles tangles his hand in her ponytail, and tugs her head back. He jabs the barrel of his firearm against the back of her neck. “We good?”

“Yeah,” she says, and a part of him can’t believe she’s trusting him. He has an alpha werewolf at the end of his gun, and all because she trusts him. How crazy is that?

They descend the steps carefully, just as the lights flicker on.

There’s blood all over the concrete floor.

There are two dead hunters on the floor.

Peter Hale is lying near the breakfast bar. He looks like he’s been shot at least twice. The blood is still spreading out from underneath him, and his fingers are twitching against the concrete.

Gerard is here, and so is another hunter.

John Stilinski is standing with his hands up.

Allison is here too. She doesn’t have her bow. She’s shaking.

“Stiles,” Gerard says. His voice is like sandpaper over the exposed ends of Stiles’s frayed nerves.

But his mind is moving fast.

He walks over to the room with the steel door, and urges Laura inside. She resists, her suspicion catching her at last, but Stiles pushes her, and manages to pull the door shut. Then he turns to face Gerard.

“I can make it up to you, sir,” Stiles says, because there’s not point pretending there was no betrayal. “Please.”

Gerard’s stare is as cold as ice.

Laura bangs on the inside of the steel door.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says, and babbles like he’s a kid again. “Please, I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry. I’ll be good.”

Gerard’s eyes gleam and his expression sharpens. “Prove it.”

“Wh-what?”

“Prove it,” Gerard says, and waits to see what Stiles will do.

Stiles’s brain is working very quickly. Derek is upstairs with a bullet in his spine. Peter is here, with at least two in him. They’re as good as dead if nobody helps them.

Stiles steps toward his father. He reaches out his hand—it’s shaking—and touches that shiny badge on his rumpled uniform shirt. Then he squeezes his shoulder, his thumb sliding under the collar of his father’s shirt.

He holds his father’s gaze for a moment, and says: “Traitor.”

Then he takes a few steps back, and raises his firearm.

“Do it, Stiles,” Gerard says. “Do it. Show me that you’re a man.”

Stiles aims for his father’s chest, and fires.

His father staggers back and hits the floor.

Stiles’s heart freezes, and Peter Hale howls like his world is ending.

Stiles doesn’t wait for instructions. He strides to the steel door, wrenches it open, catches a glimpse of Laura’s wild red eyes, and shoots her too.

Over the roar of blood rushing in his skull, he can hear Gerard laughing.

***

In the car, Allison won’t look at him. She’s sitting in the middle seat, with Stiles on one side and the surviving hunter on the other. Gerard is driving. Stiles has no idea where Gerard is planning to take them. Out of Beacon Hills, probably. He’s finally got what he wanted—the Hales have been taken care of, and Allison is in his grasp. Stiles isn’t sure if Gerard intends to keep him alive. If he is, then Stiles guesses that right now Gerard is coming up with some sadistic way to punish him for his failures. Because if Stiles knows anything about Gerard, it doesn’t matter what Stiles did right tonight—only what he did wrong in the days leading up to tonight.

Gerard took Stiles’s gun off him before he let him leave the loft.

“Grandpa,” Allison says in a small voice. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain it all soon, Allison,” Gerard says in that fake-friendly tone that makes Stiles’s skin crawl.

Allison unclips her seatbelt so she can lean forward. “Please, Grandpa. Where are you taking us?”

She slides a hand down her leg, fingers dipping into the top of her boot.

Stiles’s heartbeat races, and he glances across to the unfamiliar hunter. The guy is staring out the window.

Allison shifts forward again, pulling her hand back, and there’s a glint of light as they pass under a streetlight. She has an arrow in her hand, and she leans into the gap between the front seats and jabs it toward Gerard’s throat—

Stiles flings himself sideways behind her, grabbing for the unfamiliar hunter’s utility belt. He’s not sure he can reach his gun from this angle, but maybe he can stop the guy from reaching it too.

—just as Gerard turns his head. There’s a sickening squelching sound, and Gerard screams in pain.

The Escalade veers off the road.

“Ally!” Stiles yells.

Allison braces herself a second before the Escalade collides with a light pole.

The impact is shocking, jarring. Metal screeches and crumples, the windshield pops in a shower of glass, and the Escalade lurches back a few feet. The light pole snaps, crashing to the ground.

The strange hunter’s head bounces off the window. Stiles grabs his gun, shoves it under his chin, and fires.

Hot blood splatters the interior of the Escalade.

“Oh my god,” Allison says, her voice shaking, and then she scrambles over Stiles, opens the door, and tumbles out. She hits the asphalt hard, and climbs to her feet. She’s splattered with the dead hunter’s blood. “Oh my god! I got him in the eye! The fucking eye!”

Stiles leans between the seats to get a look at Gerard. “Holy fuck.”

Allison’s arrow is protruding from his eye socket. There’s…blood and goo dripping down his face. It’s disgusting, but it takes Stiles longer than he would like to look away. He can’t believe Ally did that. Jesus. She’s an Argent all right, and Stiles would follow her all the way into hell if she asked him.

He stares at Gerard a moment longer, and then scrambles out of the car to join Allison at the side of the road.

“Ally,” he says.

She backs away from him, wide-eyed. “Don’t come near me, Stiles!”

“Ally, no, listen,” he says.

“Stiles! You killed them! Laura and your dad!” She tugs at her hair like a maenad. In the flickering light of the downed light pole she’s wide-eyed and tear-streaked. “Oh god.”

“Ally, listen!”

A screech of tires heralds the arrival of a battered blue Jeep. It pulls up beside the Escalade, headlights blinding Stiles. He lifts a hand to shade his eyes as the driver’s door swings open and his father steps out.

“Sheriff!” Allison exclaims. She turns to Stiles. “But you shot him!”

“Technically,” Stiles says, at the same time as his dad says, “Only a little.”

And then his dad steps forward and pulls Stiles into a hug. And Stiles doesn’t know if they’re there yet, but also, fuck it. He’s shaking, and his knees are weak, and he wants to throw up. Hell, he’d take a hug off anyone at this point.

His fingers find his dad’s badge again—that old familiar shape of it. And then he lifts a hand to his Dad’s shoulder, and feels the ballistic vest under his shirt again. He lets his breath shudder out of him.

“Been wearing it since I heard the Argents were back in town,” his dad says gruffly. “Glad you figured it out, kiddo.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “Me too.”

And it feels a lot like the truth.

Because if he hadn’t been wearing it, he’d be dead, and so would—

Stiles’s heart clenches.

“Is Derek…”

“He’s fine,” his dad says. “As soon as you left, I saw to them. They’re all shaky and weak as hell right now, but they’re healing. You did good, Stiles.” He ruffles Stiles hair. “You did good, son.”

Stiles closes his eyes and remembers, for the first time in years, how to breathe.

[strawberriestyles]

Chapter 26

(Banner made by the loveliest @harry-nofookingway-styles)

Harry X OFC (AU)

In which Melody is reacquainted with an old classmate named Harry, and must keep afloat in the violent, criminal life of an underground boxer.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: LAST CHAPTER Y’ALL. EPILOGUE TO COME. I’M SO SORRY. XX Pls like, reblog, send feedback. :’)

There were a lot of Harry’s things scattered over Melody’s apartment. She realized this in the next few weeks. T-shirts, sweatshirts, a roll of tape, hair ties. She even found a stick of his deodorant in the bathroom. It all made her nauseous.

Bea was back. Part of it was because Melody had told her all about what happened with Harry. But part of it was also because she and Dom had been arguing, with their new constant proximity. They needed some separation.

“That was a pretty shitty move, Mel,” she had said. And she was right.

Melody still couldn’t wrap her mind around the end of her relationship. It felt like the wrong ending to a book, like the last few pages were missing. But Bea thought it would be easier if there weren’t reminders of Harry everywhere.

“Boys are so fucking weird,” Bea said, stuffing another item into the tote bag full of his things. “How do you go somewhere wearing a jacket and then leave without it?"

Melody didn’t reply. She was folding up a worn cotton shirt, the logo of Harry’s gym peeling off the front. It was her favorite to sleep in because it was the oldest, most-washed, softest of all his clothing. She swallowed around the knot in her throat and placed the shirt deep within the bag so that she wouldn’t have to look at it.

Bea leaned back on her knees. A strange calm had come over Melody since she’d been with her. Or perhaps not calm, but resignation. And Bea knew that Melody had had break ups before. She had witnessed one the previous year, when they were living closer to campus, in a nicer apartment that neither of them could really afford. That was Nate, an archaeology major, and it had taken Melody all of two days to forget the entirety of their three month relationship. This was different.

“I can come with you, if you want,” Bea offered gently. She toyed with the freshly-washed curls that were dangling over her forehead, stretching them out to dry to her liking.

Melody smiled at her, or tried to. She couldn’t get her cheeks to lift. She didn’t feel the overwhelming urge to cry, though. And she didn’t know if that was a good sign, that she was able to keep her emotions under wraps, or if that meant that her tears were just pooling, preparing for an onslaught when she saw Harry for perhaps the last time.

“No, I think I need to do this on my own,” Melody whispered back. “But thank you.”

“Of course.” Bea rose to her feet and took a sip of the smoothie that she had made for an afternoon snack. There was one for Melody too, but it hadn’t been touched. “Get in, get out, okay? Even better if he’s not there. Just drop the shit off and come home. We’ll watch a movie or something.”

Melody didn’t really feel up for smoothies or movies, but she nodded anyway. What she really should have been doing was working on the self-portrait for her art class, but she had a hard time going in the studio when Harry’s eye was always staring at her and she would have to use the paintbrushes he’d bought for her birthday. Besides, she had a hard time looking at herself in the mirror lately.

“Okay,” she agreed. She stood, a pair of sneakers already on her feet, a thick sweater already hanging down to her thighs. She pulled the tote over her shoulder and was surprised at its lightness after everything that she and Bea had packed up.

“Come right back.” Bea patted Melody’s hip and then returned to her room.

Melody hurried down the stairs and out onto the street before she could lose her nerve. April had found the city. Melting snow was trickling down from rooftops, forming puddles in the uneven sidewalks. The sun was warm when it was able to peak through clouds, and even though the park was many blocks away, Melody could smell the fresh scent of spring grass. It would have been a welcome change of season if the rest of her life didn’t feel like a muddy mess.

She tried to think only of schoolwork as she avoided joggers and dog-walkers. Her nails, however, were wearing down by the time she reached the corner store. Her teeth had worked of their own accord. That was an old habit, one that she thought she had kicked long ago.

Melody was examining her fingertips as she trailed down the alley where Harry lived. She was distracted, occupied, probably just trying not to think about seeing him again. She didn’t notice that the door was open until she reached his steps.

Melody paused. Her pulse picked up as she remembered the cops that had scared her so terribly, that had had her watching her back for weeks afterward. But Harry was done with that, right? He’d told her he paid off his last shipment and would never sell another gun. But that was for her, wasn’t it? Maybe he’d taken it back up after she was out of the picture. Both of those thoughts made her gut twist.

Get in, get out, she told herself in the same voice that Bea had used. There was no reason for her to stick around. It didn’t seem like the door had been forced open like the last time, only left open. She should just drop the bag in the hall and go home.

Melody sucked in a deep breath and stepped through the doorway. She kept her eyes down, set the tote bag on the other side of Harry’s shoes, and began to back out. But she looked up, bittersweet memories flooding through her, breaking the feeble dams she had begun to construct.

The coffee table was on its side.

Melody’s stomach flipped again. The table was tipped lengthwise, one of its legs splintered. She took a single step forward and that’s when she heard a sharp thud deeper into the flat.

She took a short moment to steel herself and pressed down the hallway. The thudding was coming from Harry’s bedroom. She heard him swear under his breath and then shout something she couldn’t make out over the ringing in her ears.

She was in the doorway, Harry was slumped back against the edge of his mattress. Colton was poised over him. She could recognize him just from his profile. His hand was wrapped around the collar of Harry’s shirt, his muscles tensed just like Harry’s were before a fight.

Melody gasped as Colton delivered a punch to Harry’s abdomen. Both of their heads swung toward her. Harry’s eyes blew wide as he sucked in a pained breath.

“Melody—” He was cut off as Colton slammed a fist into the side of his jaw. He grunted and then shoved against Colton’s chest until he could straighten up.

Colton lost his grip on Harry’s collar, stumbled backward into the dresser, where his arm sent bottles and the picture of Harry and Melody crashing to the floor.

“Melody, get the hell out!” Harry shouted, turning to fix her with an urgent glare. “Now!”

She flinched again as Colton barreled forward, taking Harry down to the floor with him. Her feet reeled her backward. She started back down the hall, frantic, panicked, but she stopped at the corner of the living room. Her eyes flitted to the cabinet at the kitchen’s entrance.

Melody tripped forward as she heard another impact back in the bedroom. Colton was yelling now, but she couldn’t make out his words either. Her breaths were ragged, her fingers trembled, but she still managed to unsnap the holster holding Harry’s handgun. It felt heavy and cold and foreign in her hand. She pulled the hammer back like Harry had, until she heard it click into place. Then she made her way back down the hall.

Melody had no clue what she was doing. She didn’t know anything about guns. She didn’t even like the feel of it in her hand. And when she reached the entrance to the bedroom she couldn’t even raise it.

Harry and Colton were tumbling on the floor. Harry caught sight of her again, over his brother’s shoulder. Blood was dripping from the corner of his mouth. There were spatters staining the collar of his gray t-shirt. And Melody opened her mouth to speak but froze when Harry narrowed his eyes at her.

She jumped and stepped backward as Harry spat in Colton’s face. He sent a fist into his abdomen. They rolled over, out of her line of vision. She heard more hits and the next thing she knew, Harry was in front of her. He slammed the bedroom door behind him and held the knob firmly in his grip. His chest was heaving, his eyes were wide, his pupils dilated as they lowered to her hand.

“I—”

“Mel, go in the bathroom and lock the door,” he commanded, peeling the gun from her fingers. He swiped at the blood running from his mouth with the back of his wrist, and when she hadn’t moved, he shouted, “Go!”

The door behind Harry jiggled violently and the muscles in his arms strained as he tried to keep it closed.

“Open the fucking door!” thundered Colton from the other side.

Harry gave Melody a hard shove and she stumbled backward into the bathroom, finally gaining her wits and shutting the barrier between them. She clicked the lock into place. It was dark. The sounds outside were muffled, but she heard a loud crack and then more fumbling as the fight began again.

With a moment of clarity, she yanked her phone from her pocket and shakily dialed 911, gasping as something crashed in the other room. Her thoughts were jumbled with her panic. She spat out information, though, when her call was answered, and was halfway through describing where she was when she heard a gunshot. Her voice failed her.

“Ma’am?” came from the phone.

Melody’s ears were ringing with the sound of the shot. Her lungs had stopped working. She stared unblinkingly at the single flimsy door that separated her from whoever was on the other side. She waited. Waited for Harry to talk to her through it, but then the woman on the other end of the line kept talking, asking questions, and still he wasn’t there.

Melody dropped her phone when a minute had passed, when there was no sound from outside the bathroom. She hesitated, but she clicked the lock out of place and peeked into the empty hall, into the bedroom where all she could see were Harry’s sheets spilling onto the floor. She stepped across the hallway and peeked around the corner.

“No, no, no, no,” Melody chanted as she stumbled past the dresser and shattered bottles and fell to her knees. Harry didn’t even flinch as she gripped his limp arm. She crawled up his side, into the blood that had begun to collect around him. There was a lot of blood. So much blood. Spreading out through the carpet fibers. She didn’t think a single person could hold much more.

Harry’s eyes were closed. His hair was sticking to the side of his head. Melody pressed her fingers to his cheek as she started to cry. She reached for the sheets that had been crumpled onto the floor and pressed them to the wet side of his scalp, lifting his head onto her thigh, and she let out a pained sob when none of her jostling pulled a response from him.

“Please,” she choked out as blood began to seep through to her hands. “You’re not dead, you’re not dead, you’re okay, don’t die.”

She didn’t know if she was right. She couldn’t bring herself to check his pulse or his breathing. If she was wrong, she wasn’t sure she could handle it, so she would wait. She’d wait for someone else to do it. Because there were people coming. She could hear the sirens even now, through her sobs and her ringing ears and Harry’s deafening silence.

Epilogue

[cloudfiveclub]

——————————————————

ahh it’s finally here sorry for the wait anon!

there’s also one more zabdiel request and erick request sitting in my ask box and i am trying my best to get to it but it also depends if my brain will cooperate with me 😣 i promise to get to them eventually though 😅

enjoy this xx

Replacement [Zabdiel De Jesus]

Zabdiel's name fell from your lips like a broken record as your orgasm washed over you. Your thighs quivered as he filled your cunt, both your juices mixing together. He let out a loud groan as he emptied himself inside you, before pulling out slowly to let you savour the feeling of his cock sliding through your walls for the last time that afternoon. You shivered at the feeling of oversensitivity, but let out a tiny and satisfied whimper.

He immediately collapsed beside you in a huff, laughing despite his shortness of breath. "Good as always, amor," he chuckled. Both of you sat up against the pillows and he took the opportunity to wrap his arm around your shoulder, and you let him. But you couldn't stop the feeling of discomfort and guilt from returning.

"Do you want to have dinner tonight, amor? There's a new place at the pier. Some seafood stuff, I think," he suggested. You smiled superficially, breathing out deeply as you sat up further. You lent forward to reach across the bed to grab your bra, which had been carelessly tossed to the corner of the mattress during your activities.

"Uh, I have plans tonight actually," you told him hesitantly as you moved away to reclothe yourself.  Zabdiel frowned when you said that, sitting up as he watched you walk around the room to grab your various articles of clothing. He wasn't going to lie to himself, he was disappointed. It had started off as a casual thing and both of you had agreed that it wasn't anything exclusive. It was just sex and you guys were just best friends. Just something to preoccupy yourselves with and in short, just for fun and for the heck of it.

But as time went by, the physical intimacy with you turned into a craving for emotional intimacy. Zabdiel knew he liked you. A lot. And he could only hope you felt the same way. You liked kissing him during sex, which was different compared to his previous sexual partners. You actually didn't mind when he slowed down the pace to make love to you rather than go hard and rough. He hoped this were tell tale signs you liked him back, but right now he was too much of a wuss to tell you.

"Oh," was all he could respond with. He tried hiding his disappointment, but a slight whine was evident in his voice. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Uh, dinner. And I'm going to the carnival after that, I think," you mumbled as you pulled your shirt over your head. You grabbed your phone off Zabdiel's dresser and cracked a smile at the lockscreen, seeing that the recent messages were from Joel.

hey there, can i pick you up at 6? :)    3:56pm you can pick a later timing if you want   3:59pm or earlier, i don't mind  3:59pm

You bit back a dumb smile as you read his texts. You could practically feel his nervousness through your screen; he was too cute.

"Uh, with who?" Zabdiel questioned further, frowning as he tried his best not to sound too jealous. He didn't want to pry too much either.

You froze up momentarily when he said that. God, you couldn't tell him it was his bandmate. You didn't know if he would flip his shit. You couldn't tell him you were going on a date with his best friend just after having sex with him. You bit your lips, preoccupying yourself with putting on the rest of your clothes as you stumbled over your words.

"It's... uh... I-It's someone. This guy... he.... uh, you-you don't r-really, um, know him," you mumbled unsurely. "Just some friend. Just a dinner."

He frowned, squinting his eyes at your vague answer and you nervously looked at him, awaiting his response. Eventually, he sighed and shrugged his shoulders, reaching over to the bedside table to grab his phone.

"Alright. Have fun," he stated simply. There was a slight edge to his tone, and his response was too snappy for your liking. You worried if you had upset him, but he seemed to have busied himself with his phone, so you grabbed your things, leaving the matter aside, and left him after saying goodbye.

-

"Ta-da!"

Joel shoved a whole box of pizza in front of you, and you couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips. He hopped onto the couch next to you, immediately sinking in dangerously at how bouncy and soft it was. He snuggled up to your side and placed the pizza box down on the table in front the both of you, opening it up and grabbing a slice.

He held it up to you, opening his mouth to get you to do the same. You laughed, mimicking his actions and you let him feed you the slice, taking a bite and catching as much of the stray cheese strands as you could with your mouth and fingers. As you shoved the food into your mouth, you phone went off. You checked it, but your heart dropped slightly when you saw who it was from.

Princesa, you free now?   9:41pm Can I come over? ;)   9:41pm

You swallowed the food in your mouth, sneaking a cautious glance at Joel. Fortunately, he was too preoccupied with devouring the pizza and flipping through the shows on netflix to pay you too much attention at the moment. You typed Zabdiel back a quick reply, saying you were too busy and that you couldn't do tonight. The last thing you wanted was for him to find out about you and Joel. No, the both of you weren't exclusive. Yet, at least. You were hoping Joel would ask you to be his girlfriend soon. You really liked him.

But you were still slightly guilty. You were still sneaking around with Zabdiel behind his back; his best friend and bandmate. And you still needed to find a way to break your arrangement off with Zabdiel. You anxiously gnawed on your nail as you re-read Zabdiel's two latest messages over and over again. You knew he was going to push though, you had never once said no to him when he asked you for sex. He always found a way to get you to do anything for him willingly, especially when it came to fucking. But lately, you had been trying your best to put off your shagging sessions more and more, and you knew he was becoming suspicious.

But this was a date; and you couldn't let him come over to your house now. Especially not with Joel snuggling with you on your sofa.

"Do you want Thor? Or... The Avengers?" Joel asked, bringing you out of your deep ponder. You gave him a stressed smile, trying your best to cover up your jitters as you set your phone down for a second.

"Thor. I haven't watched that in a while," you told him. You wiggled around a little, bringing yourself closer to him and letting him wrap his arm around you. Your phone went off again, and you discreetly checked it away from him. Just as you predicted, Zabdiel had asked you again, followed by a string of messages saying that he missed you and he needed you badly. All in lewd descriptions, though.

Your face burned, and you gazed up at Joel cautiously to make sure he wasn't looking before you messaged Zabdiel back to try and tell him you really couldn't do tonight. But you stopped short and almost screamed when you saw his last text.

I'm coming over.   9:53pm

You gasped a little too loudly at that, which gained Joel's attention. He turned to you in concern. "What? What's wrong?" He questioned, looking you up and down in assumption that he had done something. You shook your head as you stared at him with wide eyes.

"Uh- nothing, no. Muscle twitch. It was a shock," you fibbed quickly as you placed your phone down on the table. "Let's just watch the movie."

You ignored his suspicious look and faced the television to avoid any further questioning, and thank god, he followed along. But you could barely focus on the movie, and Joel's comforting arm did nothing to ease your nerves. You knew your doorbell was going to ring anytime soon, and you were already formulating a plan to kick Zabdiel out before he saw Joel or vice versa.

But the time passed by all too quickly, and only ten minutes later, your doorbell rang and your heart stopped short. Joel frowned and turned towards the door. "Who's that? Did we order more food? I thought everything was here..."

You plastered on a nervous smile, wriggling out from his arms and hopping over the back of the couch. "Nah, probably my neighbour asking me where her cat went again. Crazy, haha," you lied, almost breathless from how nervous you were. You could tell Joel didn't really believe you but he let it go, nodding unsurely and facing the screen again to continue the movie.

You scampered over to the door, yanking it open and coming face to face with your friend. Before he had a chance to say anything, you pushed him out, barreling out the door with him and shutting the door behind you.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you hissed, causing the cheeky grin from his face to be slapped away. He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at frosted window on your door as if he could see what was going on inside.

"Are you actually busy?" He asked gruffily without answering your question. You scoffed in disbelief when he said that.

"Yes," you replied. "And I can't do anything right now." You breathed in deeply, screwing your eyes shut and rubbing your temples. Zabdiel frowned, and before you could stop him, he hopped over to your window. Which you had left wide open and void of curtains.

He peeped in, moving around to see the inside of your house, and you hurried after him to block his vision. But he had seen Joel at that point, and he whipped his head round to face you.

He was clearly confused, but you could see him jumping to all sorts of conclusions in his mind. "Joel? What's he doing there?" He demanded. You opened you mouth to respond to him, but he cut you off before you could say anything. "Are you guys on a date? Is that why you can't hang out with me?"

"Hang out? We both know you just wanted to come over so I could suck you dick," you spat harshly, voice still low to make sure Joel couldn't hear from the inside.

Zabdiel's jaw clenched and he widened his eyes at you. "Are you seeing him?"

You swallowed as you stared at him defiantly. "You don't control my life," you hissed, totally avoiding his question. Truth be told, you didn't know if you could even tell him the truth. You knew he might feel betrayed if you told him you'd been sneaking around with his best friend. Worse, he might feel bad towards Joel. 

Zabdiel stared you down and you recoiled back slowly, and it shocked you to actually see him so mad. "You like him," he said shortly. It wasn't a question; it was a statement. And you realised your dodgy answers had basically just confirmed it for him. You couldn't deny anything further. 

"So what if i do?" you asked, voice going slightly higher as you became more nervous. He scoffed incredulously, mirroring your actions of folding his arms. He brought his gaze away from you, and glared angrily at your window, which you knew was just indirectly aimed at Joel even though they couldn't see each other. 

"Oh come on? You aren't jealous that I might be sleeping with him too, are you? But no, I am not sleeping with him. Joel is actually really nice," you told him, ending off your sentence with a huff. But just like that, a lightbulb went off in your head. Suddenly all the times he chose to go slow and intimate in bed, all the lunch and dinner dates he liked inviting you to, all the possessiveness and short answers he gave you whenever you talked about another guy made sense. He was jealous, alright, but not for the reason you thought. 

"You like me," you concluded, pretty much in disbelief yourself. He avoided your eyes, keeping them trained on your open window, which only meant confirmation for you that you were right. 

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a second. "I'm sorry, Zab, but we need to break this off. I really like Joel and I don't want to ruin anything with him," you told him sombrely. "We'll talk about this another day. I have a date."

You didn't bother catching Zabdiel's reaction. 

[sprnklersplashes]

A New Hope (4/?)

AO3

Leaning against Alex’s bedroom wall, Robin keeps her eyes trained on her bed. Less than 24 hours ago they were tangled up there, legs weaving in and out of each other, trading lazy kisses and making summer plans. And their parents were awake and talking and the streets were still in tact and there weren’t any ogres and Hope hadn’t had to carry most of the weight in magically lifting a sword. When all she was worried about was how they were going to spend the summer and what college her girlfriend was going to.

Funny how 24 hours can seem like a lifetime ago.

Alex lifts a shirt off the ground and shoves it into her bag. Its old contents, her school stuff, litters the desk, notebooks stacked on top of each other and pens and pencils rolling around and clattering to the floor. She’d pulled her blonde waves into a braid, the indigo streak standing out proudly. Robin kicked her backpack next to her, bulging a little with her pyjamas, fresh clothes, toothbrush, hairbrush and a few magic books she had stolen from her mum’s bedroom, as well as a rolled up sleeping bag from last summer sitting next to it.

“Um, pyjamas, sweater, jeans… what else?” Alex asks, looking up at Robin.

“Toothbrush,” she replies. “Hairbrush.”

“Shower stuff?” she asks, tossing her hairbrush in and squashing everything down. She thinks to herself that Alex is lucky that she wears the same outfit for at least a week. Robin raises an eyebrow, having not thought of that before. “We will need to shower eventually. Also.. pads?”

“Exactly how long do you think this is going to go on for?” she asks, sniggering slightly.

“I don’t know, which is why we need to be prepared for everything,” she explains.

“I didn’t think of that,” she says, following Alex to her bathroom, leaning against the doorframe and hugging her elbows as Alex begins taking stuff out of the cupboard.

“You can share with me,” she says with a wink, turning to her with her arms full of two bottles of shower gel, shampoo and a pack of pads, leading Robin back to her room and pushing them all into her bag.

Robin sits on the bed, picking at the covers. Alex goes about packing, checking over what she has. She closes the bag, seemingly satisfied before marching over to her closet and pulling a blue sleeping bag out of it, dusting it off.

“How long’s it been since I used this thing?” she asks aloud. “I don’t think it’s come out of my closet since last year.”

“There’s a joke to be made in there,” Robin says, getting up and grabbing her stuff. She looks around Alex’s room, the bed still isn’t made and there’s old hoodies and jackets strewn all over the place. Alex never puts stuff away. She’s at her dresser now, shifting through pieces of paper and loose pieces of jewellery and badges until she finds what she was looking for. She turns whatever it is over in her hand, smiling gently. “Alex?” Robin crosses over to where she is, her reflection coming just behind her in the mirror. Over her shoulder, she sees what Alex has in her hand; the heart shaped necklace with an A carved into it. The one Robin got her on her last birthday. A pink blush creeps up Alex’s face.

“It’s my good luck charm,” she confesses, looking into her mirror. “I know it sounds dumb but it is.” She winds the chain around her fingers. “I wore it the day I made vice-captain of the cheer squad.” She hands it over to Robin and lets her fasten it around her neck. Robin takes the opportunity to kiss the back of her head.

“I didn’t know you believed in stuff like that,” Robin admits. Alex laughs, taking her hand and pulling it around her waist. With her other hand, she reaches out and touches a polaroid stuck onto her mirror of her and her parents when she was about eight, blonde hair still in pigtails. Still refusing to wear a dress.

“I haven’t always,” she says, her voice tight. “But maybe we need as much luck as we can get right now.” Robin nods and places her chin on Alex’s shoulder while Alex gently pulls the photo out of the mirror and slips it into the pocket of her jacket. “Come on, I need to get something else first.”

Robin follows Alex down the hall and into her parents’ room. The curtains are already open, though not tied back and the blanket torn off her sleeping parents.

Alex doesn’t even bother trying to be quiet as she goes over to her parents’ closet. Robin stays close to her, wanting to avoid even looking at Ella and Thomas. It’s not that she dislikes Alex’s parents, in fact, she thinks they’re pretty awesome, but looking at them makes her remember how she felt that morning, when her mother didn’t even flinch no matter how much she screamed.

“Lex, what are you doing?” she asks in a low voice while Alex hunts in the back of the closet for something.

“Nearly got it…. Here.”

“Shit!” Alex comes out of the closet holding a rifle in her hands. It has to be her dad’s, she knows he hunts sometimes, but she’s never seen it up close. It’s almost as tall Alex’s waist, dark brown with a forbidding barrel. “Alex, what are you thinking?”

“You said we need to suit up,” she replies, carefully putting packs of ammo into her bag.

“I know I did,” she says, thinking about the Swiss army knife from her Girl Scout days that’s in her bag. “But I mean, do you even know how to fire that thing?”

“I’ve seen my dad so it enough times,” she tells her. “It’ll be fine.”

“That’s not the same thing,” she reminds her, her voice growing higher.

“Well it’s not like I have a sword!” she snaps before pushing her loose hair out of her face. “I’m sorry, Rob. Look it’s just… I don’t have magic, like you do.” Robin kneels down next to her and puts her hand on her shoulder. “Or a sword like Lucas. What if I’m left alone with Melody or Philip again and we need to hold down the fort?” Her hand covers Robin’s. “It’s a precaution, Rob.”

“Promise you’ll be careful with it?” she asks.

“Promise.”

Robin isn’t sure she’s convinced, but they don’t have time to worry. She leans in to end the conversation with a kiss, but before she can, a low rumbling sound erupts, making her stomach drop.

“What was that?” she asks, helping Alex to her feet and moving to the window. In the distance, out at the town line, she sees something shooting into the air, only just about visible against the blue of the sky. “What the hell?”

“Come on.” Alex tugs on her hand, urging her out of the room, and later the house.

They run down the street as easily as they can with backpacks on their backs and sleeping bags under their arms and in Alex’s case, a rifle on her shoulder. They reach the town line, sweaty and red-faced and meet Gideon and Melody, his hands on her shoulder, holding her back.

“Well, that’s neat,” Alex sighs. They turn around at her words, likely not even noticing their arrival at first. Too distracted by what was in front of them.

“Is that a rifle?” Gideon asks, looking at Alex.

“Focus, Gideon,” Alex says.

It’s a wall. At least three times their height and God knows how thick. Robin shivers looking at it, and she’s not sure it’s out of fear. The temperature definitely dropped when they got there. She steps forward a little, then a little more, then a little more until she’s almost nose to nose with it. Or nose to… wall.

“Robin….” Gideon says behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his grip tighten on Melody.

“It’s fine,” she assures him. “I’m just checking it out.” She reaches out and presses her hand against it. The cold makes her flinch and it’s incredibly solid. She wipes at it, clearing up some of the fog on the surface, but all she sees is more ice. “It’s ice.”

“An ice wall?” Lucas’ voice comes from behind them. He and Philip skid to a halt behind them. Further down the road, she can make out Hope and Henry running towards them too.

“Yeah,” she says, taking her hand off it and shaking it.

“Do you think it goes all around the town?” Philip asks.

“I don’t know,” she admits, just as Hope and Henry join them, Henry holding Gideon’s bag.

“Ice wall?” Hope asks, and they nod. “Awesome.”

“I doubt it goes all the way around the town,” Henry says. “The power’s still on. And anyway, the town line is the only way in or out. Unless anyone has a magic bean and somehow I doubt that.”

“So… we’re trapped,” Alex summarises. “So whatever’s doing this to us clearly doesn’t want us to leave.”

“But why an ice wall?” Robin asks, turning back to look at it, craning her neck to try to see the top of it. They’d never be able to climb it. She could swear it’s gotten taller since then.

“I think I might know,” Melody pipes up. When everyone turns to look at her, she steps backwards, closer to Gideon, her eyes avoiding all of them. “I mean maybe, it’s just a theory.”

“What’s the theory?” Lucas asks. Melody fidgets with her ponytail, chewing her lip, half nervous, half thinking.

“The ogre, the ice wall,” she begins. “They’re both adventures from the book. The story book! Mary Margaret fought an ogre to save Emma and Elsa trapped Emma in an ice wall.”

“So you think that the book is doing this somehow?” Henry asks. “You might be onto something here, Mel.”

“Where’s the book now?” Alex asks.

“I have it,” Henry says. He turns his bag around and unzips it, pulling the book out of it. The group goes completely quiet. That book, as far as they’re concerned, is their Bible. They know their parents’ stories off by heart, in Robin’s case there’s parts she wishes she didn’t know. But it’s the centre of everything they know about their messed up little town. Henry opens it and rests it on his knee, opening it at the right page in one fluid movement. She wonders how many times he’s read it to have committed it to memory the way he has. “Here. When Elsa rolled into town, she put up an ice wall all around the town and Ingrid kept it up. And here-” He flips through the pages. “My grandma shot an ogre down in the Enchanted Forest.”

“So whatever it is is… taking inspiration from the book?” Philip asks. Henry shakes his head and puts the book back in his bag.

“Maybe,” he says, standing back up. “But for now we should get inside. Come on.”

The town is far too quiet as they walk to the library, and the journey from the town line isn’t exactly quick even though they start running. They slow down after a bit, not exactly seeing the need to run. It’s not like they’re running from anything.

Alex adjusts the shotgun on her back. Robin looks from her to Hope, who has a sword strapped to her waist, as do Henry and Lucas. Despite the weight of the magic books sitting in her bag, she feels vulnerable. Open to attack. The knowledge of how weak her magic actually is sits heavily in her stomach. Hope took most of the weight of that sword. What’s she going to do if something actually comes at her? Pull a rabbit out of a hat? And besides, her mom and aunt’s spellbooks are dark magic, and her mother has warned her about the dangers of going too deep into that.

She runs through her other options. Her experience with a sword is limited to play fighting with Lucas when she was a kid. She doesn’t think she’s even seen a gun up close until today. She’s handy enough with her fists and kicks. She can take on a basic schoolyard bully or asshole in Granny’s. Not an ogre. An ogre would snap her in half.

When they get into town and along the street to the library, something catches her eye when they pass the pawn shop and she feels a pull in her gut. She slows down as they pass it, looking in the window. Propped up in the window display is a brown leather sheath filled with wooden arrows, a large bow sitting beside them. She knows what it is, of course. There’s only one archer in Storybrooke’s history who wouldn’t need his arrows anymore.

Her fingers twitch and she takes a few steps closer to the window. She’s noticed them before, of course. Belle has assured her she has no intention of ever selling them, just in case she ever wants them for herself. She used to decline, not thinking she’d ever use them, but now, the sight of the bow and arrows seems to offer her protection.

She can’t be called Robin for nothing.

“Robin?” Gideon’s voice is in her ear, his body beside hers. “Rob, what is it?”

“Does your mom have the key to this place?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he says. “I left it back at my house, why?”

“Well.” She slips a pin out of her hair. She looks at Gideon and smiles at the look of shock in his wide eyes. She’s not sure why, she’s dragged him into worse than this. “Basic tumbler lock, right?”

“Robin what the heck are you doing?” he asks as she approaches the door and slides the pin in.

“Quiet, I need to concentrate,” she tells him, visualising the inside of the lock.

“Robin, this is breaking and entering!” he whispers furiously. “We could get in trouble!”

“With who? The passed out sheriff?” She hears the pins in the lock clicking away. Her tongue darts out the side of her mouth, like it always does when she’s concentrating. Gideon apparently gives up on talking her out of it and instead leans against the wall, muttering furiously under his breath. “I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

“Oh I would love to see you attempt that,” he replies. She looks up at him with a smile when she hears the final pin click away. She turns the handle and the door creaks open. “Where did you even learn to do that?”

“Emma taught me,” she answers, stepping inside.

“That does against everything her job should stand for.” He follows her in and turns on the light.

Robin rarely sets foot in here. Surprisingly, antiques aren’t her thing. She doesn’t understand why people would spend so much time with old things while there’s so much new stuff out there to discover. Half the stuff in here she can’t even place. She catches sight of the wooden dolls she knows to be Archie’s parents on the table and shivers.

After Rumpelstiltskin died, Belle took over the shop part time, mainly returning things to their owners. Still, there’s enough in here to make a museum. Necklaces hang off stands, swords adorn the walls, coats hang from racks, boxes pile high in a corner, and that’s just the beginning. Some people don’t want to pick up their stuff. Some people are dead and can’t pick their stuff up. In some cases, their children have claimed it for them, in others it’s all just sat in here, being dusted by Belle once a week, some of it being sold after the owner vehemently assures her they won’t use it.

The window display is incredibly easy to get into; there’s no barrier stopping her from getting at it. She hops up onto it, pushing away a mannequin wearing a ballgown and lifts the sheath and bow before jumping back down to the floor.

They’re bigger than she expected, but then again, they were a man’s. She tests it, placing the bow in her left hand and pulling the string back, playing at taking aim. It must be old, but it’s still in good condition. When she releases, the string snaps back into place without a sound.

“Okay, can we go now?” Gideon asks, his voice shaking. Robin looks up at him and tenses when she sees him; his face a good two shades paler, hugging himself tightly. This is far beyond worrying about getting in trouble.

“Sure,” she says, lifting the sheath and placing it on her back. They leave together, Robin not bothering to lock the door. His eyes look scared, his hands balled up in his jacket. “Hey.” She rubs his shoulder. It’s far too tense. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he says. She shakes her head and runs her hand down his arm to grip his shaking hand.

“Pardon my French but that’s crap,” she tells him.

“That whole place reeks of my dad,” he confesses. Stupid, she thinks, stupid Robin. Gideon’s never held his father in high esteem, less so after reading the book. She knows what he thinks of him, and what Gideon thinks that makes him.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made you go in there,” she tells him. He shakes his head.

“It’s fine.” His trembling voice tells her it’s the opposite but she doesn’t press, though she does worry that his pale face and shaky voice might hint at his lunch being thrown up on Main Street. She slides her hand into his and laces their fingers together. She squeezes his hand gently and he holds hers tighter. “Thank you.”

They see the rest of their friends as little toy-sized people on the street, standing in the cluster. Robin feels guilt twinge in her gut, even more so when Gideon groans. She can handle trouble, she’s gotten herself into her fair share of it, Gideon less so. Henry turns to the rest of the group and they start coming towards them, meeting them half way, Henry more in front.

“Where were you two?” he asks, his voice louder and angrier than either Robin or Gideon had heard it before.

“We were-”

“It was my fault,” Robin says. “I wanted to grab something.” She wiggles the bow in her hand, drawing their attention. “And I got Gideon involved.” Henry bows his head, his hands on his hips, and lets out a long sigh.

“Look, Robin-” He shakes his head. “This isn’t a game. This is serious. I need to know where you guys are.” Robin and Gideon exchange a guilty look before looking at the ground.

“I’m sorry, Henry,” Robin says.

“Really,” Gideon adds, though Robin squeezes his hand. It wasn’t his fault. Henry’s frown melts away and he bows his head, his shoulders dropping as he rubs the back of his neck. Robin can just about make out the small smile on his face.

“Thank you,” he says. He eyes the bow in Robin’s hand and the sheath on her shoulder. “Nice weapon choice.” She shrugs. He opens his mouth as if to say something else but closes it. He nods his head in the direction of the rest and they follow him. Their friends crowd around them, Alex on her side and Lucas on Gideon’s, and Robin and Gideon drop each other’s hands.

“You okay, babe?” Lucas asks Gideon, running a concerned hand up his arm and tracing his fingers along his pale cheek.

“Yeah,” he says, taking Lucas’ hand in his, stopping him from checking him more. “Just tired.” Lucas nods, not convinced, but he kisses his shoulder.

“So,” Alex says, drawing Robin’s attention away from them. “Bow and arrows?”

“Yeah,” she answers, not sure what else to say. “I mean, you were right. We have to suit up.” Her hand tightens on the bow, her thumb running along the dark wood. Holding onto it means Alex can’t hold her hand, and she’s settling for placing her hand across her back and on her shoulder, but there’s tension in it, unspoken words. “What?”

“What?”

“You’re holding something back,” Robin tells her. “There’s something on your mind.”

“No there’s not,” Alex says casually, not looking at her.

“Lex,” she tells her. “Do not bullshit me.”

“Fine…” she sighs. “I guess…. I told you so…”

“Excuse you?” Robin says, raising her eyebrows. Alex shrugs, scrunching her face up in guilt.

“You did question me bringing this,” she gestures to her rifle, sitting on her shoulder. “I know, I’m sorry.” She kisses Robin’s cheek to make up for it, and it works.

They file into the library, Henry running around switching on lights. Robin drops her bag under a window and strolls around. She’s been in here often enough, as anyone else in the town has. It’s as close to the perfect base as they will get in their situation. She cranes her neck and looks up at the ceiling, above which is the clock tower, and the mines below them.

Alex taps her shoulder and brings her over to the table, where Henry has the book open out on the front desk. Hope stands next to him, on her toes, grabbing the desk to keep her balance. Robin leans next to her, her elbow on the desk, her ankles crossed, while Gideon and Philip stand behind the desk. Henry flips through the book, every page covered with careful script and illustrations of their parents. Not her mom, though, she doesn’t come in until much later. He’s busy looking through Snow White and Emma’s story, long before any of them came into being.

He keeps flipping through the pages until he finds what he was looking for; the page where Snow fights off an ogre. She doesn’t bother looking at the words, but there’s a picture of Snow standing with her bow and arrow, feet planting, a protective snarl on her face just before she lets the arrow fly. In other circumstances, she might be studying the picture and scanning through the words, especially considering her new found weapon, but that’s not what holds her attention.

“Holy-” Philip breaths. Normally, the page is pale white and tinged with a golden hue, but it’s darker now, not to mention crumpled, and the edges of the page are black and cracked and broken, a dark brown shade emitting from the blackness. Henry runs his hand over it, his breathing getting faster.

“It’s, it’s warm,” he says, bewildered. “How can it….” He flips through more pages, all of which are pristine, white perfection. Like someone took the page out, burned it around the edge, and put it back in the book seamlessly. He flips far forward until he reaches the page showing the ice wall going up around the town. In the same way the other page was, its normal white is darkened and the edge of the page is torn and black. He doesn’t need to tell them it’s warm as well, the look of shock in his eyes and clenched teeth say everything they need to know. “You were right, Mel.”

“Someone’s using the book to get to us?” Alex asks.

“Maybe they’re getting their inspiration from it,” Hope suggests.

“Typical,” Lucas sighs. “Our first villain and it’s a rip off of the old ones.” They all pause and look up at him, frowning. Really, this should not be his first priority. He shrugs, as if to say, ‘well what else can I say?’. “Just saying, if I ever have to face a villain again, I’d like one who doesn’t plagiarise.”

They all giggle softly, and Robin thanks God she has Lucas at least to, intentionally or not, diffuse the tension.

“But how are they even getting it?” Henry asks, more to himself than anything else. He closes the book and holds it up, looking at the cover. “How does this happen? I had the book in my bag when the ice wall went up.”

They don’t know, of course.

“Oh my-” Henry gasps, dropping the book. He shakes his hand frantically. “It’s hot! It’s- I think it’s burning!”

They step back form the book, eyes wide even though it lies dormant. Then, wisps of smoke begin rising from it and it starts to shake.

“That’s not normal,” Hope states, Robin takes her and pulls her against her, wrapping a protective arm around her chest.

“Does this mean something else is coming?” Melody asks from where she stands behind Henry. The shaking gets worse; the book doesn’t seem to be touching the floor as small wisps of black smoke starts rising from it. Nothing else happens; the rest of the world stays calm and still, just that book trembling and burning.

It doesn’t slow down; it simply stops shaking, dropping to the ground with a thud that echoes around the room, the smoke fading away into the air. Robin holds Hope tighter as her hands shake, her heart in her mouth. The room falls deathly quiet, so quiet they would be able to hear a pin drop. She wants to ask if that was it and nothing else will happen now, but she’s not a fool and she also doesn’t want to jinx it.

An ear splitting shriek comes from outside, tearing at her ears and making her stomach churn. It wasn’t human, whatever it was. It’s high pitched, guttural and unhinged, never stopping. More come in, overlapping, some coming out in short bursts and some being drawn out until whatever it is runs out of breath. And whatever it is, it has strong lungs. The noise feels like it’s clawing at the walls of the library, trying to break it down. As the shrieks keep going on, they hear something else, something sounding like wings beating and fists pounding the pavement.

It’s when one of… whatever they are hits the wall of the library that they burst apart. Robin turns towards the window involuntarily, her heart pounding as she sees exactly what is waiting outside.

At first, she can only register the bared white, seemingly razor sharp teeth and the glowing red beady eyes, seeming to zone right in on her. It’s only when she’s able to tear her gaze away from those features that she can focus on everything else; the brown face twisted into a snarl and sunken in nose, thick matted grey fur surrounding it. Its face is the only thing that can fit in the window, but it’s enough to make poor Melody behind her scream and clutch Henry tighter.

“What the hell?” Gideon pants. “What is that?”

“Whatever it is, it has friends,” Alex reminds them, raising her voice over the chorus of deadly shrieks.

At the door, they hear something banging against it, metal being shoved against metal.

“Are they breaking in?” Hope asks, her voice trembling. Robin frowns. There’s no indents on the door and it’s not shaking. Pieces begin to click together in her mind.

“I think something different.” She runs over to the door and shoves it hard. It only budges slightly, letting in a tiny stream of daylight before being closed again with another cry. “They’re barricading us in.”

“Then… what do we do?” Melody asks. They look around, the door continuing to be heavily pounded against. God knows what they were doing out there, but it was working. She’s pretty certain that not even their combined strengths could move that door.

“Here,” Gideon says, running to the elevator and opening it. None of them know what he’s thinking, but she trusts him with this. “If you brought weapons, grab them and let’s go.” He looks nervously at Melody, who doesn’t even own anything. But her little gentle face is hard, her brown eyes alight, and if he was going to tell her to stay behind, it dies on his tongue. Robin never put the bow and arrows down since she picked them up, nearly forgetting about their presence altogether. They file into the elevator, Henry managing a brief head count, before Gideon pulls the leaver and it takes them down into the mines.

“What now?” Philip asks as they step out into the dank tunnels. The cries of the creatures are muffled by the layers of earth and tarmac above them.

“I’ve looked at the town plans,” Gideon explains, leading them through the tunnels. “The library isn’t the only way into and out of the mines. There’s one that takes us right up to Main Street just about… here.”

He stops at a grey ladder, looking slightly rusty, that sits under a manhole.

“Right up into the heat of the action,” Henry says, looking at it like it’s a live bomb. “Okay. Just let me go first.” When he moves to the ladder, Hope is right beside him, clutching the hilt of the sword on her waist.

When they file out onto Main Street, they don’t have to go far before the creatures find them. They don’t know if they can smell blood or were expecting them and they don’t feel like finding out.

Up close, they make Robin’s stomach feel like it’s dropped out of her body and her blood feel like it’s turned to ice. They tower over all of them, grey course fur everywhere, even on their thin, crouched legs on their hands, which have claws which could no doubt tear their throats out, and on the massive wings which sprout out from their backs.

Flying monkeys. Her mom’s old minions.

Not her mom’s ones. Fake ones conjured from a book. But the same ones she used when she first rolled up to Storybrooke.

“Don’t let them bite you,” she calls out as they begin descending upon them, her voice fighting to be heard over the howls and squawks. Trembling, she notches an arrow, trying to remember what she saw Snow demonstrate, but that was long ago and her mind is racing and tears are beginning to blur her vision. She notches one on the bow, but it only travels feebly and clutters to the ground without getting near one.

“Hey!” a voice calls out, and it takes her a moment to realise it’s Philip. “Hey you big furry dumbasses! You want some? Come get it!” She sees him run down the street, defenceless, and the monkeys follow him.

“You want him?” another voice asks, higher, younger. Melody. “I’m over here, idiots!” She runs off in another direction, sending others after her.

Robin takes off in Philip’s direction, planting her feet firmly, hoping she’s the same way Snow was in the book. She slides an arrow into the bow, keeping one eye on Philip. He keeps running, changing direction. Those monkeys might be scary, but they’re not smart. All she needs is for him to keep them distracted until she can make a shot.

Creeping closer, she pulls the arrow back, says a prayer, and lets it fly. With time not on her side, she does the same with another without checking the damage done with the first one. A third, fourth, fifth fly from her bow, and she hears pain filled wails that can only be good.

When she dares to look, she sees them writhing on the ground, Philip panting and laughing, moving delicately around them.

“Nice work,” he tells her. “Didn’t know you did archery.”

“I didn’t,” she replies. She looks worryingly at the monkeys on the ground. They’re still alive, but there’s more to deal with.

“I’ll finish these ones off,” he tells her. She nods and runs up the street again. She sees Hope shooting them down with her magic, Lucas and Henry waiting until they’re low down enough before they slash at them with their swords. Gideon and Melody seem to be acting as diversions, their drawing them down to Lucas and Henry or away from anyone else.

She doesn’t see Alex and her heart nearly stops.

She tries to put that out of her mind, trusting Alex, and aims for the heart of one of them. It catches in the leg instead, but Lucas plunges his sword into its chest when it hits the ground.

When she gets closer, she sees Alex, further up from the rest, grimacing, struggling to hold the rifle, sitting up on one knee. Her eyes move behind her girlfriend towards the creature behind her. It stalks slowly behind her, its jaw unhinging, revealing the rows of pointed fangs, saliva dripping off them, the red eyes glinting as it focussed on her.

“Alex!” Without thinking, the arrow was in her bow, and not even a second later it was soaring through the air, cutting through the wind and landing directly in its chest. It hits the ground fiercely, shaking the street and the buildings around it, the sound echoing in Robin’s head. “Alex!” She runs over to her, her heart nearly stopping when she sees the rip in her jeans, exposing glistening blood on her knee.

“I’m fine,” she says. Up close, Robin can see her arms shaking holding the gun. “Just a cut.” Alex turns and looks over at the fallen money behind her, which is groaning softly, taking long, pained breaths. “Nice shot. You saved me.”

“Yeah,” she says, though she isn’t paying much attention. The sounds of screaming, both human and monkey, have died down completely, leaving the streets devoid of any sound aside from the monkey’s laboured breaths. Their dying breaths, she realises. Keeping one hand on Alex’s back, she looks around the street. There’s no place she can look where there isn’t a fallen flying monkey. Her friends are still there, putting their weapons back in their sheaths and looking around at each other. They might be having a conversation, but all Robin can see is the monkeys littering the street. She suddenly becomes very aware of the bow in her hand and the arrows against her back, many of which are sticking out of monkey corpses.

The irony isn’t lost on her; the monkeys were her mom’s; the bow and arrow was her dad’s. She wonders if this was set up by whoever was doing this to them. And despite the unsettling feeling growing in her stomach and the ringing in her head, she feels something else. Something she can only really describe as wholeness. Like something has finally slotted into place in her life. The two feelings clash inside her, despite the obvious bigger picture she thinks she should be focusing on. She wraps her arm around Alex who, despite her insistence that she’s fine, leans on her for support. Blood is still dripping from her leg and she’s wincing as Robin takes her arm, not to mention the clear upset look on her face when she thinks Robin can’t see.

                                                                                               *****

Lucas’ knees hit the ground hard as he falls, finally letting his exhaustion take over. Sweat mixes in with his hair, leaving it sticky and hard, the cold breeze blowing over his warm body as his heart settles into a normal rate. He lets his grip on his blood-stained sword loosen as it clatters to the pavement. For a while, he lets his mind go white, thinking nothing, feeling nothing, not acknowledging anyone else. Just getting lost in the complete silence and nothingness, welcome after the heat of the battle he just engaged in.

“Lucas!” Hope slides next to him, grabbing his shoulder. She’s out of breath, and her hands and jeans are covered the in the black sludge that was the monkey’s blood. “Luke, you okay?”

“Uh…. I don’t know,” he mutters. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a large black shape and immediately jumps back, pulling his arms around himself. “Shit…”

“Lucas?” Hope asks, her grip tightening. He feels his heart begin to pick up again as the reality sets in. “Lucas, are you okay?” All he can see is dead monkeys are far as the eye can see. Lying on the pavement, still and cold and unmoving.

“We killed them,” he states numbly. “We killed them.”

“Yeah, we did,” she replies, leaning onto him slightly. They sit in silence, listening to the wind blowing as his breathing gets faster and his eyes prickle with tears. He dares to take another look at the dead monkey beside him. It-he? She? They?-died with its mouth open, exposing its fangs. Its eyes are closed, and he remembers the roar it made when he stabbed it, just barely audible above the blood pounding in his ears and the chorus of its friends screaming.

“We killed them,” he simply repeats. He wonders if it felt pain when he stabbed it. When he killed it. He is vaguely aware of his breathing being near frantic now, and that Hope is calling his name and tapping his cheek, and he gives her arm a squeeze to assure her that he’s still there before letting it limply fall back again. When she starts calling for Henry, he knows he should assure her that he’s fine, but he can’t find the words. The only words he can really think are ‘we killed them’.

He doesn’t feel like his parents did after a battle. He’s read in the book about the epic victories, celebrated with banquets with gold cups and roast pigs and plenty of dancing while knights shine their armour and ordinary citizens thank the heroes for saving them. He wouldn’t want any of that. All he wants to do is go to a dark room and lie down until he can stop shaking and feel like a person again.

[iamvegorott]

Broken Hardware Chapter 4

Perfectly

“Alright, if I make it from here, I’ll make pizza for dinner.” Chase said as he stood on one of the couches, a ping-pong ball in his hand.

“Pineapple pizza?” Robbie the Zombie asked with a big smile.

“Absolutely!” Chase chuckled.

“I hope you miss then, that shit’s disgusting.” Anti huffed, leaning over since he was sitting on the couch Chase was standing on.

“You just don’t like it ‘cause Jack likes it.” Jackieboy said, sticking his tongue out.

“I also don’t like passing Marvin’s room at night and hearing his little whimpers as Chase plows him.” Anti looked over at Marvin and saw that the magician was hiding behind his hands, chuckling when Chase kicked him.

“Dude, fuck off.” Chase huffed.

“Am I wrong?”

“I said fuck off.”

“Perhaps we should have stayed at the Iplier Manor.” Dark stated, coming back to the living room and holding two wine glasses.

“I had to make sure Micro got proper introductions to the Septiceyes.” Anti said, gesturing towards Bing and Micro as he took one of the glasses from Dark.

“Because yelling ‘they’re fucking’ and shoving them on the couch is such a great introduction.” Chase said with an eye roll and tossed the ping-pong ball, cheering when he made it into the small red cup on the other side of the room.

“Fuck yeah, bro!” Bing jumped up and ran over to Chase, giving him a high-five.

“Pineapple pizza!” Robbie threw his arms into the air.

“You’re lucky that you’re adorable.” Anti muttered as he took a sip of wine.

“I’ll make a pepperoni one.” Chase ruffled Anti’s hair and leaped off of the couch. Anti got up to go after him, but Dark wrapped an arm around his stomach.

“Let me hit him. Just one thump to the head.” Anti said, lightly slapping Dark’s arm.

“You’re hosting.” Dark sat his wine glass down. “You need to not fight your fellow egos.” Anti slumped over and poured as Dark fixed his hair with one hand, the other still holding him.

“Normal families fight.” Anti protested, continuing his pout as Dark lowered him to the couch and sat with him.

“We’re not really a normal family, now are we?” Dark chuckled, wrapping an arm around Anti’s shoulder and smiling when the virus nuzzled his head into his neck. Dark rested his own head on top of Anti’s.  

“Aren’t you two sweet?” Dr. Schneeplestein said. “Like a barrel of candies.”

“Don’t call me sweet.” Anti huffed. “I am a literal murderer and I could kill anyone with a simple flick of my wrist.”

“Just take the compliment.” Dark rubbed Anti’s arm. Bing was sitting on the other couch with Micro again and he watched Dark and Anti with sad eyes, he flinched a little when something touched his hand, calming down when he saw that it was Micro. He watched his hand as Micro laced his fingers through his own and a small smile formed on his lips.

“The new couple’s being cute!” Anti shouted, scaring Bing from his trance. “You’ve been dating for a week, y’all fuck yet?”

“Anti, that’s not an-” “I’m just asking out of curiosity.” Anti cut off Dark, knowing what he was going to say. “I’m not being crude, JJ.” Anti huffed after reading what Jameson signed at him.

“How would that function between two search engines?” Dr. Schneepeatein tapped at his chin while he thought. “Do you have reproductive organs?” Bing curled up while Micro chuckled.

“All I’ll say is that, yes, I do.” Micro answered.

“Wait. That means Google has a dick.” Anti started laughing. “Google has a dick!” Anti was laughing so hard that he ended up spilling some wine on Dark’s lap. “Whoops.” Dark said nothing and just looked at Anti, a look that caused a light flush to form on the virus’ cheeks. “Want me to lick that up?”

“I think Chase might need some help cooking!” Marvin shouted and ran out of the room. Bing felt himself sinking into the couch as Dark stood. The demon silently got his wine glass and downed it before taking Anti’s and doing the same. Bing was expecting Anti to protested, but Anti looked all too pleased with Dark’s actions and he was giggling as Dark grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.

“If you’ll excuse us.” Dark said before leading Anti into his bedroom.

“Let go help cook, shall we?” Dr. Schneeplestein took Robbie’s hand and walked with him to the kitchen. Jameson signed ‘congratulations’ at Bing before following the doctor and zombie.

“We should probably join them.” Micro gave Bing’s hand a squeeze.

“Of course!” Bing smiled and got up as well.

x~x~x

“I feel like, after the third time, Anti was doing it on purpose.” Bing laughed as he checked his computer, making sure everything was set for the night.

“After the first time, they were on purpose.” Micro laughed as well, going to the desk and picking up the glass of water that was sitting there. “Look at me, I’m Anti. I like getting my boyfriend wet.” Micro used a light mocking tone as he moved around.

“You’re not doing it right.” Bing laughed. “More like; look at me, I’m Anti. I like to piss off my boyfriend.”

“He’s doing it so he’ll get some ‘special attention’ from Dark.” Micro shimmied a little.

“You’re going to pull an Anti and spill that.” Bing teased, trying to take the glass back.

“Please, I have more grace than Anti. I won’t-” Micro ended up fumbling over his own feet and splashing the water all over Bing’s chest. “Whoops.”

“Good thing I’m waterproof.” Bing chuckled and went over to his dresser, not seeing that Micro went to the bed and sat on the edge of it, a smirk on his lips. “I’ll be right back.” Bing pulled out a dry shirt.

“Do you have to change?” Micro’s tone made Bing stiffen a little.

“I mean. Sleeping in a wet shirt is a good way to catch a virus.” Bing nervously laughed.

“You’re right, but there’s nothing wrong with sleeping without a shirt.” Micro tilted his head, the smirk growing.

“I-I don’t know.” Bing balled up the shirt.

“Here, does this help?” Bing had to hold back a little yelp when Micro removed his shirt and tossed it to the side. Leaving him in only sweatpants similar to Bing’s.

“I…” Bing found himself staring. They were all based on Mark, but they all had individual differences that set them apart and none of them could argue that their basic form was attractive enough as it was and for some reason, Micro was fitted with the form very well.

“Come here.” Micro said in a low voice, gesturing with a finger. Bing had no idea why he was doing this, but he went over to Micro and stood in front of him, allowing him to take the shirt away and throw it aside as well. “Are you ashamed?” Micro asked, placing his hands on Bing’s hips. “We have the same form.”

“Kind of...I mean. We’re all based on the same form, but everyone fits the form differently. I mean, if you look at me and Dark, there’s a huge difference between us if you look. My eyes are weird and I don’t think my chest piece fits correctly and-” Bing’s words became a shaky breath when Micro began lifting his shirt. “I wish you wore your sunglasses less, your eyes are beautiful.” Micro pressed a kiss to Bing’s stomach and Bing had to put his hands over his mouth to block out the sound that came out, a little spark happened when Micro had his lips on him. “Like right now, I can see them and they’re gorgeous.” Micro looked up at Bing and lifted the shirt more, pressing another kiss to the bottom of Bing’s chest before standing up.  

“They’re-They’re not.” Bing had his hands near his mouth.

“They are.” Micro whispered before sliding Bing’s shirt off completely. “See? Nothing to be afraid of. Your chest piece is on perfectly.” Micro slid his hands across Bing’s chest and had them go down Bing’s back.

“I-” Bing stopped when Micro gently bit into the crook of his neck, making him grab Micro’s shoulders and lean forward.

“Perfectly.” Micro whispered into Bing’s ear before giving him another nip. He smirked when Bing’s hold on him tightened a little. “Nice to know you like that.” Micro chuckled. “Do you want more?” Bing shook his head and stepped back, his face bright red.

“I will never pressure you into anything you don’t want, okay?” Micro smiled when Bing looked up at him. Bing suddenly moved back forward and slammed their lips together.

“You’re a butt.” Bing chuckled when they parted. He laughed more and turned away, letting out a little shout when Micro slapped his rear.

“You said ‘butt’ first.” Micro winked.

“Oh, it’s on.” Bing jumped on to the bed and grabbed one of his pillows. “Prepare for battle!” He shouted before hitting Micro.

“No fair!” Micro laughed.