#just want to be a god damn guard mutt ok.

[jasperyourmutt]

I’m your guard dog in public. Walking around with that big tough expression on my face, not letting anyone near you. I open doors for you, drive you around, growl at anyone who looks at us the wrong way.

But in the bedroom, I’m nothing more than your submissive pup. It’s shocking how quickly I melt when you instruct me to get on my knees. I blush hard when you praise me and ask me to tell you what I want you to do to me. You stick your fingers in my mouth and grab my tongue, just as I ask. You tell me I’m such a good, tough dog for you. Of course I should be rewarded.

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch6

Description: another slow burn chapter. I did warn y’all. Don’t think Y/N /Laika can quite grasp that she isn’t a monster. She might realise eventually!! Progress with Soap and Gaz - think they might have a soft spot for her already!!

Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

I eventually recover from Soap's - well - whatever the hell that was.

"Thirty minutes till we load the car and go to the Heli. Let's not keep Kate waiting" the Captain rumbles from the kitchen. I must have put him in a bad mood..

"I have nothing to pack.. should I just" - "you can help me pack, the room is a mess. Need to leave it clean and ready to be used in emergencies again" Gaz interrupts. I nod and follow him back upstairs. I seem to be doing this a lot. Just following Gaz around like a stray mutt. God, they must find me so annoying.

Gaz strides into the large room to the right hand side of the upper landing. I stop at the door. The strong scent of Alpha phermones almost knocks me back a step. I'm not usually overly bothered by scents however I put it down to the fact I've been in the facility for so long, the guards were probably taking blockers anyway. That's what I settle on to explain my new found ability.. if you can even call it that. It's because I've not been exposed to any scents.

"Just come in, we don't do the traditional 'permission to enter the nest' bullshit. We ain't exactly a traditional pack as it is" Gaz says, motioning me further into the Alpha's nest. I try not to look at the worn clothes scattered around the room. It looks so.. lived in. There are reading glasses on the bedside table. I wonder who wears reading glasses..? Two books stacked, one bookmarked, the other dog eared. I bet the dogeared one is Soap's. There is a journal on the floor with a pen resting in the central valley between pages. There is a beautiful drawing on one page, the next page is filled with messy disorganised writing which is, in a strange backwards sense, very pretty. Intruder! Intruder! Get out of their space! You don't belong here! My brain starts to shout at me.

"C'mere" Gaz stops my inner thoughts from running rampage. I obediently move towards Gaz and await instruction. Obedient little mutt, indeed. SHUT UP! I wish I could turn my brain off for a few minutes. Or longer..

"We can start with my stuff. Just check labels for names.. Are you warm enough? You'll probably want a hoodie for the ride home, right?" - "Oh uhm, are you sure you want me rooting through your belongings...?" - "You're not rooting through anything, you're helping, I asked, didn't I?" he reassures "ok, yeah.. ok.. sorry.." - "here, that's my bag" he places his bag on the large bed. The bed they all share. The pack bed.. You shouldn't be in here... QUIET! My damned brain and its self sabotaging tendencies.

I start by collecting the things that Gaz has piled in a seperate stack of all of his things. Fold, place in the bag. Fold, place in the bag, Fold, place in the bag.. it becomes quite relaxing. I enjoy the scent of his clothes wafting past my nose as I fold them. I shouldn't be enjoying it, should I.. Snap out of it.. They are literally taking me to be interrigated later today, why am I acting as if I'm welcome? Stop it, stupid girl!

I make it to the end of the pile and he claps his hands together once as the last piece of clothing gets zipped inside the bag. "Done and dusted! Here, I kept this out for you to wear on the ride back to base." He presents a navy hoodie, a Union flag on the upper sleeve, 'Sgt. K Garrick' embroidered over the chest, below a larger fonted 'SAS - TF141'. I take it from his hold. "Thank you..." I say softly. He smiles brightly at me as I pull it over my head. I must look ridiculous wearing all these clothes that are far too big for me..

*Gaz's POV*

She pulls my hoodie over her head. YES! Mission accomplished.. She will be warm *and* be covered in my scent. I shouldn't care but seeing her in my clothes again wakes something up in me. Like when she wore my jacket.. and how Johnny must have felt when she walked down this morning in his clothes. I knew he'd enjoy the sight.. led her down the stairs trying to wipe the smirk from my fuckin' face. I could see how effected Cap was from the showergel scent too. That fuckin' tobacco smell drives him mad. Could tell it caught him off guard when she turned the corner dressed in his pack Alpha's clothes and scented up to high heavens.

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Gaz is looking me up and down, I shrink under his gaze, embarrassed. He definetly thinks I look ridiculous. "C'mon, love, downstairs.. looks like we are ready to. You got your hanky bandana thing?" He asks. I pat my pocket for the shape of it, before nodding, confirming that I haven't lost it. "Good, let's go then. The others will only be five minutes".

I trail after him towards the front door of the house. He holds his hand out, stopping me in my tracks. "You wait here, I'll go and check the perimeter and bring the car round to the door. You'll be alright waiting, won't you?" God he thinks I'm useless, such a burden. The floor is suddenly all too interesting. "I'll be ok" I confirm. He nods and pats my arm before turning and leaving through the door. I get a brief blast of cold air. I'm thankful that I'm no longer in my cell - the snow fell heavily last night. I'm thankful for the hoodie Gaz had let me borrow.

I flinch when two big hands suddenly grab my shoulders from behind. "What's the matter, lass? Planning your escape?" - "No - no Ky-Gaz went to get the car... I was told to stay.." - "Awkt, I'm sure he didnae mean stand and stare at the door. C'mere, come sit with me" - "I..I -"

Soap practically herds me to the sofa and directs me, by my shoulders, to sit. He sits right next to me. "Nice hoodie, you smell like one of us, eh?" he inhales, obnoxiosly loudly and groans. I resist the need to roll my eyes at his light-hearted joking, still not quite ready to leave the sad, anxious corner of the depths of my brain but the fact I was even considering must be progress though, right. It just upsets me, that every single time I feel like I could feel a tiny better, I am reminded that I don't belong here - or anywhere for that matter - and that I am following along with these deadly Alphas, like a stupid mouse right into a trap. It was inevitable.

"Where've you gone.. hey! Laika..?" I feel him tapping on my knee, trying to snap me out of it. Looking at him, with watery eyes, he practically engulfs me. "What's the matter? Tell me.." he pleads, with the softest voice I'd heard from him, right next to my ear. I just sniffle into his chest, still frozen, not reciprocating his embrace , instead, finding warmth and seclusion in his arms. I finally feel like I have some privacy, which is strange, isn't it?

"Whatever it is, it willnae go away if you bottle it up, lass. Tell me, we might be able to help.." - I lean away from him, wiping my face messily with the too-long sleeves of my - I mean Gaz's - hoodie. "I just - I am going to be interrogated.. and I've done so much, so many lives.. so much blood on my hands, all my doing.. I deserve whatever I get, but - but - I'm scared.."

"Lass, this isn't how it's going to happen. We just want to find out more about you. You've been drugged right? You've been forced into submission.. like a puppet on a string. Laswell - she's understanding of circumstances. Hell - L.T's got a few skeletons in his closet - pardon the pun" he laughs. "S'not funny" I whisper, "Look, we dinnae even know what you are going to present as when the drugs leave your system, it's illegal to alter presentations and designations without consent, so you've already got that on your side" he tries to reassure me. "I'm probably Beta.. my parents.. they were Beta's".

"The Cap said you were in there for, what, six years? fuckin' hell. So .. you're twenty six-ish then? That's awful late to be undesignated, lass. Those bastards." he rants on, I just sit quietly and listen. "What other tests and bullshit did you have done to you?" - "lost track, it'll be on my file somewhere. They recorded everything.. They changed it up when I did'nt cooperate to a satisfactory level.." - "what the fuck does that mean?" he scoffs, angrily "well, there was one mission, where I was sent to kill two cartel members.. they were a bonded pair..." my voice breaks and my eyes start to water again. "C'mon lass, you're doing so well telling me all about it.. keep going for me" he rubs my knee reassuringly.

I continue "They were a bonded pair.. I-I had lost my drugs that I was ordered to take three times a day to keep me complient. They must have been fading from my system, because I started to-to question the information I had been given. My own conciousness sort of kept fading in and out at that point. It's sort of blurry.. I- I had the shot lined up on the leader - an Alpha - and just as I was about to pull the trigger.." I stop suddenly and turn away.

"Shhh, lass, shhhh, it's ok.." - C'mon, tell him - "the trigger, a kid pulled my leg.. he needed help, he'd been caught in the fire and was all hurt and scared.. I don't know why.. I shouldn't have done it.. it was stupid of me.. I shouldn't have.." I wipe my tears again, reliving the trauma. My heart hurt. "Shouldn't have what, Lass, what did you do to the wee boy?" he asks, I swear I can hear suspicion or tentative anger in his voice.

"I got him killed. Walked him straight to his execution. Delivered him to his death.." I weep.

"whoa, whoa - what d'ya mean? You've lost me, lass. Slow down, take deep breaths, aye?"

"I - I took him and hid him under my elbow, I lined up the shot again, trying to keep the boy quiet.. but he was scared. He was so scared.. Something got in the way of the shot.. it was - was one of the guards from the facility. They'd come to finish the job, probably thought I was dead because I was late returning or something like that, but when I saw him in my scope I took the shot.."

"Good lass, you were fighting the drugs! You clever girl!" - "no- no not clever.. I tried to run back to the spot they said they'd pick me up from.. I don't know why but my brain wasn't - wasn't completely cleared from the drugs. I don't know why I thought they'd be pleased. Pleased that I'd saved the kid. All they cared about was the success of the mission. The cartel leader. And his mate, a male omega. I think he was killed.. because they were never apart but when I had my shot, it was just the Alpha.. I think - I think he saw me, when I took the shot at the guard, I swear he caught my eye as I ran.."

"Did you make it back to where you were supposed to meet?"

"Yeah, they shot the boy. Right between the eyes. It was like slowmotion. I don't remember what happened, but I woke up attached to machines and my brain went back into the controlled state again.. they developed a new drug that lasted longer, so it didn't risk running out on missions.."

"Bastards.. fucking BASTARDS" Soap rages. I look at my lap, shaking and weeping. "Pieces of shit, I'll fucking kill the lot of them slowly and" - "Johnny, that's enough!" he is interupted by a gruff voive.

I look up from my, lap my eyes widening. I obviously didn't notice the arrival of the rest of the pack. The Captain was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and a reserved anger soured his face and crinkled his brow. Slightly behind him was Gaz. How hadn't I noticed Gaz come back from outside..? Then behind both of them, I see the masked Ghost, sitting on the bottom of the stairs, his elbows resting on his knees, while he cracked his knuckles.

I had just signed my death sentence. They'd heard everything. How I killed the boy.. Fuck.

FUCK!

[ava-imagines]

Hiiii, is it ok if I can ask for a benatar x scenecore/scene kid reader?

HELL YEAH!! (I LOVE SCENECORE SM BTW)

(Mentions of SH jokes btw because it's Puff Puff)

Benatar x Scenecore!Reader: Your style is so pretty <3 💙🎹

Not gonna lie, the first time he met you, he was kinda freaked out by your clothing

He didn't hate it or anything, it was just the surprise of seeing a scene kid for the first ever time

But there was something so attractive about you, and Benatar knew it was your aesthetic

So, after a quick pep-talk from Deejay, he goes over to you and says hi. To his surprise, you said hello back! (It made him so happy on the inside)

You guys become friends quickly and a few months later, you're in a relationship!

Before he took you to meet the band, he had to sit Puff Puff down and tell him to be respectful and not say anything that may offend his S/O

Puff Puff doesn't take this in LMAO

The rest of the band didn't really care tbh, so they were chill when they met you. (Okay, Deejay raised his eyebrow from under his big hair but he got over your style quickly after seeing how nice were. Axel, on the other hand, will steal your wardrobe)

Puff Puff comes out with the SH jokes literally as soon as you step foot into the bus

Benatar was about to jump into defend you, but you were used to this sort of thing

"Hey Benatar, why in God's name did you hook up with a chopping board? Like damn, you cut your carrots on them arms or somethin'?"

"Hey Benatar, why do you have a disheveled, mutt that doesn't ever shower for a lead singer? Like damn, why do you think you don't get laid?"

Puff Puff had his jaw hanging open as Deejay and Axel all whooped at him getting roasted. Benatar threw his arms around you, being impressed that you caught him off guard with your insult!

Even if Puff Puff somewhat attempts to insult you again, Benatar will be there to defend you <3

He also wanted to try dressing like you! (Axel is in envy)

Overall, he loves your style so much

Edit: I believe in Scenecore Axel supremacy

[blackmissfrizzle]

Once Upon A Time

Summary: The reader has a cleaning tradition that she’s embarrassed for the boys to find out about.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x black!reader

Warnings: Violence and mention of smut

A/N: 2 Dean fics in one week? Who do I think I am???

Ever since you were a child obsessed with fairy tales. Not the Grimm brother versions, but Disney’s family-friendly versions. You had your mother to thank for that. She painted her love story with your father as her own fairy tale.

Your mom came from a family of evil witches, but she didn’t share the same values and wanted to help people instead of harm them. As she told it, she didn’t see a way out until she met her own knight in shining armor, your father. He was a hunter and fell in love with your mom while he hunted her family. She helped him defeat them and they ran off to live their own version of happily ever after.

They both hunted until your mom became pregnant with you, their little princess. Even though, they retired from the hunter lifestyle they taught you all about hunting; they always knew there was a possibility for their past to haunt them. While your dad stuck to teaching you about hunting in particular, your mother taught you the art of witchcraft. “There’s a beauty in magic.” She always said.

Unfortunately, your parents happily ever after didn’t last forever. They were right to worry about their past coming back to haunt them. You came back from a sleepover excited to dress up in your princess ‘rags’, sing Disney songs, and clean up the house with your mom. Instead you found their mauled bodies. The remaining werewolves from a pack they killed came back with a revenge. They even tried to kill you when you discovered the bodies, but due to your extensive training you killed them before they got the chance.

Years later you found yourself and your familiar, Aladdin, hunting and living with the Winchesters. To keep the memory alive of your parents, you kept up your mom’s cleaning tradition. Only thing was you always waited for Sam and Dean to go hunting on their own. You may be a little extra with this tradition, so extra Aladdin refused to participate. Sometimes you’ll cast a spell on some birds and sing with them as if you were Cinderella or Snow White. So, if the boys ever caught you, you would never hear the end of it and be deeply embarrassed.

Currently, you were singing your heart out to Part of Your World and washing the dishes when you heard the clearing of someone’s throat. Turning around you saw a set of hazel and emerald eyes filled with mirth and a pair of poorly hidden smirks. “I thought you two wouldn’t be back til tomorrow?” You asked, fidgeting with the hem of your dress and then remembering the bandana a la Cinderella you had on and quickly removing it.

Barely containing his laughter Sam answered you. “You know Dean. Speed limit laws don’t apply to him.” Just as Dean was about to say something, his eyes went wide and zoomed on your shoulder. Raising a hand, he pointed in your direction, “Is that a crab on your shoulder?”

Looking down in fact you saw an annoyed crab glaring at you. In the midst of getting caught, you forgot you turned a reluctant Aladdin into a crab for your Little Mermaid set. “Oops, I’m sorry, Al.” With a wave of your hand you returned your familiar back into his canine form. “Looks like the mutt wasn’t happy being turned into seafood,” Dean muttered as Aladdin stalked off. Your familiar had excellent hearing and growled at the eldest Winchester before returning back to your room.

“Your highness,” Dean bowed before you. Snatching the towel from the sink you balled it up and threw it at Dean’s head.

He caught it instead of letting it hit his face. “Hey, that’s not princess-like,” he reprimanded you. Just to tease him some more you gave Dean the middle finger and he clutched his imaginary pearls.

“What’s up with the Disney routine anyway?” Sam asked, trying to stop you two before y’all got too childish. While you explained the backstory of your cleaning tradition, Sam stood back and mentally shook his head at Dean, who looked at you like a doofus. Sam tried multiple times to get his big brother to admit his feelings for you, but he refused.

Done with your story, you noticed Dean looking at you with that funny face you sometimes catch him with when he thinks you’re not paying attention. “What’s with that stupid look,” you asked him.

Caught off guard, Dean had to quickly come up with an excuse. “Um, I’m just confused about how someone so badass is still obsessed with princesses who always need saving.”

“First of all, me being a badass and loving princesses are not mutually exclusive. Second of all, you must be talking about them older white princesses, because my girls with color didn’t come to play. Tiana, a true boss bitch, Mulan saved a whole country, Pocahontas looked out for her people, and Moana got a whole god together. And third of all, I don’t know why you’re trashing them when you have so much in common with them.”

Dean crossed his arms in disbelief. “Please explain to me how me and a Disney princess are alike.” Chuckling to yourself, you proceeded to explain to Dean. “On the somber note, you have the requirement of at least one dead parent growing up. Sam’s your sidekick, Castiel’s your fairy godmother, Rowena is sorta the wicked witch, just depending on the day, and I’m your knight in shining armor.” Dean couldn’t believe his ears and was about to counter your claim when you interrupted him. “Oh, and you have Rapunzel’s eyes.”

Pointing between him and Sam, Dean responded. “Listen, we don’t need saving that often.” Without saying a word, you cocked and eyebrow and a hip, silently challenging Dean’s claim.

“Ok, you win. I’m a stupid princess, but I’m gonna be Snow White!”

Looking to Sam he had his bitch face while you were confused. He must’ve known why he choose Snow White. You looked to him to ask why and he mouthed ‘You wouldn’t want to know.’ Going against his advisement, you asked Dean why he choose her.

“Because the version I watched, the wicked stepmother was wicked.” His smile suggested it wasn’t the G-rated version you’ve seen before.

With a sway of your hips you walked up to Dean and stared up at him devilishly. “Well, you gotta show me that version. I need to spice up my porn playlist.” Instantly, Dean’s face turned red and Sam off to the side muttered, “You two are perfect for each other.”

You walked off to your room, beginning to sing Kiss the Girl, while leaving the boys in the kitchen dumbfounded. Halfway to your room, you remembered your surprise for Dean. Sticking your head in the kitchen doorway, “Oh, there’s pecan, sweet potato, and apple pie in the oven.” Both boys stared at each other and ran to the oven to get to the treat. Even Sam couldn’t resist your baking.

--

Back in your room, you found Aladdin in his human form laying in your bed and watching tv. He rolled his eyes as he listened to you sing another Disney song. It wasn’t your voice that he was annoyed by, because you had the voice of an angel, but it was who the song was directed to. Al didn’t understand your attraction to Dean, but he supported you, nonetheless.

“Jordan text you. She needs help with a coven of witches in New Orleans. And she said leave the Winchesters at home if you come,” Al informed you in the middle of your song.

“That would’ve been nice to know earlier. Why didn’t you come get me?”

“I was giving you some time with your precious Winchester.”

Deciding not to address that statement you asked Aladdin if he wanted to go with.  “Nope. I got a crazy ass ex down there and I’m having a Smart Guy marathon.”

“Hey! You were supposed to wait for me.” You pouted.

“That was before you turned me into a crustacean.” Knowing that it was fair, you told him bye and went on to tell the boys you were leaving.

“You sure you don’t want us to come?” Sam asked clearly concerned. They didn’t know your friend and were overprotective of you hunting without them. Standing on your toes, you gave each boy a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be fine boys, promise.”

Just as you opened your car door, Dean tugged on your wrist. “Be safe and call us if anything’s fishy.”

Snatching your hand back, you laughed at your friend. “Ok, mom.” Crowding your space, Dean looked at you hungrily. “I preferred to be called daddy.” Cheeks heating up quickly, you turned around and rushed into your car, waving bye to the boys while you heard Dean’s deep chuckle as you drove away.

--

It was setup. Jordan wasn’t just your friend, but your cousin from your mom’s side of your family. The little traitor knew who you were when you ran into her in Atlanta when you were working a job. She continued to earn your trust until she could find the right moment to kidnap you.

Turns out your mom and dad didn’t get rid of the whole family and your grandma somehow survived. The old woman had been plotting against you, since Jordan told her of your existence.

Struggling against the cuffs, you were looking for an escape. “Its useless, my dear. Those cuffs are spelled to imprison supernatural beings.”

Great, the one time being a witch was a bad thing. “Well, can you just kill me now?”

Your grandma turned away from the potion she was concocting and caressed your face. Her amber eyes that reminded you of your mother’s softened. “Don’t be silly, girl. You’re family, even if that didn’t mean anything to your momma. Our coven is growing weak, but you’re the strongest witch ever in our bloodline. With you joining us and the Book of the Damned we’ll return to our former glory.”

All this trouble for that damn book. Even though it saved Dean, that book has been causing so much trouble ever since it came into you and the boys’ possession. “So, this is why you want me. For the Book of the Damned. Well, newsflash no matter what you do to me the boys won’t give it up.”

Stepping away from her potion once more, she knelt down in front of you. “It’s a shame, really. All your power gone to waste. When Jordan informed me of your existence, I thought I would just kill you, but then you got involved with those Winchesters and we were still too weak to deal with them and you. But then I heard Rowena took you under her wing and I felt hope again. I thought Rowena would surely teach you the dark arts, but once again I was wrong. Those damn Winchesters sure do know how to suck out all the fun.”

“If you know I’m so good, then it’s a waste to try to get me to join the coven.” Levitating the mortar, she used to make the potion, your grandma had it in her hands. “Chile, I know I can’t make you do things on your own free will. That’s why I got this little potion for my spell. It’ll make you more malleable to my will. Now open up, girl.”

Refusing to be anyone’s puppet you shut your mouth close. Your grandma was frustrated with your antics and didn’t have any time to play with you. The cuffs dampened your own magic, which allowed your grandma to use hers and get your mouth open. The vile taste of the potion slithered its way down your throat and you knew when you woke up you would be a different person. Hopefully, Sam and Dean would be able to fix you.

--

Once you returned to the bunker, the boys instantly knew something was off about despite you saying nothing went wrong with the hunt. “Man, something’s up with Y/N.” Dean whispered to Sam while you were in the library.

“I know. Something had to have gone with that hunt.” Their whispers died down when they heard you walking towards them.

Holding the Book of the Damned, you made a beeline to the stairs, but Sam stopped you. “Y/N/N, what are you doing with the Book of the Damned?”

Annoyed but also prepared for this moment you threw the boys against the wall. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

With a flick of your wrist the door opened up, letting in your grandma and Jordan.

“What a cute little place! We’ll have to set up base here, Y/N. That’s after we kill the Winchesters of course,” your grandmother informed you while inspecting the bunker.

“Yes, grandmother. Would you like me to dispose of them now?”

The elder Winchester scrunched up his face in anger. “Grandma??? Y/N/N this isn’t you. Break out of it!” He pleaded with you, but his words had no effect on you.

“You evil bitch! What did you do to Y/N?” Dean asked your grandma.

She stood in front of Dean and traced a finger across his face. “Hmmm, I can see why my granddaughter is in love with you. Such masculine features, so handsome that you’re almost pretty. And the passion that radiates off of you, hmph, you must be an excellent lover.”

Dean turned his head away to escape her touch. “Get your filthy hands off my brother! And what did you do to our friend,” Sam reminded her of the more pressing issue.

“Oh, I just made her more pliable to my will. The girl is headstrong like her mother. Too bad I didn’t discover the potion I used on Y/N when I had those wolves kill her mother.” Your grandmother revealed which stirred a little something in you, but you must complete the mission for her. “Y/N, be a dear and kill these oafs. We have important work to do,” she ordered you.

Imagining liquefying their insides, the hunters started to cough up their blood, but as you saw them struggling you started to feel bad. Something didn’t feel right, but you had to press on.

“Y/N, you’re in there I know it. I know you heard her. That wicked bitch killed your parents! Come out and fight, damn it!” Dean was screaming at you, it seemed that the emotional torture was more painful than the physical torture you were dishing out.

Seeing that Dean wasn’t getting through to you, Sam joined in at trying to break through to you.  With each passing second, they were chipping away through your grandmother’s defenses. It worked well enough for your hold to weaken and the boys fell to the ground. The boys easily incapacitated Jordan, leaving your grandma with no backup.

“Y/N, what are you doing? Kill them!” Your grandmother ordered, terrified of what a free Sam and Dean Winchester could do.

You paid her no mind and pinned her to a wall instead. Dean approached you carefully, as if you were a scared animal backed into a corner. “Sweetheart, I know you’re in there.”

Your eyes darted between your grandmother and the Winchester. You didn’t know who to believe with both of them talking to you simultaneously.

Sensing he was losing you, Dean got desperate. “God, I hope this works,” you heard him murmured before he grabbed your face and mashed his lips to yours. At first, your lips you were stiff, resistant to the kiss, but soon it started feeling right, like home, like your lips and his were meant for each other. Your hands snaked up to the back of his head and you pulled Dean closer.

The screaming of your grandma alerted you and made you and Dean break the kiss. Caressing your face, Dean whispered against your lips, “You back?” He asked, his hopeful searching yours.

“Yeah,” you whispered back blinking through tears.

“I should’ve known. You’re weak, just like your mother!” Your grandma somehow pulled herself halfway off the wall, but you pushed her back.

Taking out your gun from the back of your jeans, you pointed it at an unconscious Jordan and shot it right in the center of her forehead, feeling no emotions for so-called friend.

Next, your sights turned onto your grandma. “What?! You can’t grant me the decency of killing me like a witch? You’re gonna kill me like some filthy hunter?” She screamed with her grey locs falling in her face, spit foaming at the mouth, truly looking like a wild woman.

Raising your gun, you only said a few words to her before granting her the same death as your cousin. “Its more than you granted my parents.”

For awhile you stood above your dead grandmother’s body, grieving the life you could’ve have. Standing there reflecting on her need for power it finally hit you, she was the cause of your parents’ deaths. The emotions overtook you and you cried until Dean carried you away and let him fall asleep in his arms.

Waking up hours later you found Dean gone, but the smell of his famous burgers told you exactly where he was. Making your way to the kitchen, you were granted to the scene of Dean cooking, singing along to an old rock song, swinging his hips.

“Wow, you’ve been holding out on me. Who knew you had such killer dance moves?” Placing your hand over your heart, you acted as if you were offended at this great tragedy.

Rolling his eyes at you, Dean lowered his music and started to make you a plate. “I can do that.” You attempted to grab the plate, but Dean moved it out of your reach.

“I got it. Go sit down, pretty girl,” Dean ordered you before he leaned down and gave you a kiss. You guessed that the kiss from earlier wasn’t a one-off and discreetly smiled to yourself, wondering what this means for you and Dean.

Taking your seat, Sam entered the kitchen and began making a plate of his own. “Hey, Y/N, how you feeling?”

“Mmmm, better now. It still hurts, but I know that my mom wouldn’t want me to dwell on it too long. She lived the life that she wanted, even if it was cut short.”

“Between Samuel and your grandma, we had some crazy ass grandparents,” Dean referenced to his grandfather that would’ve let them die in exchange to have Mary back. Little did he know if he could’ve waited a couple of more years, he would’ve had her back.

Setting down his plate and yours, the three of you began eating dinner. Talk varied from when y’all would take the next case, when you should visit Jody and the girls again, when would Cas and Jack get back, and even a little argument about how turkey burgers taste the same as regular burgers.

At that moment you were trying to convince Dean to watch The Little Mermaid with you, but he refused, saying he was too grown to be watching fairy tales. Deciding that he wasn’t too grown, Sam poked fun at Dean. “So, Dean, how did you know how to break the spell put on Y/N?” Sam knew the answer, Dean confided it in him earlier, but he wanted Dean to say it in front of Y/N.  

Looking at his baby brother as if he could strangle him, Dean dropped his burger. “Lucky guess.” He grunted before picking it back up and biting into it.

Your eyes switched back and forth between the brothers. Obviously, Dean was holding something back by the way he was giving Sam bitch face.

“That’s not what you said earlier,” Sam retorted, hiding his smirk by taking a bite of his own burger.

“Oh, Dean, c’mon tell me.” You pleaded, giving him your best puppy dog eyes that he couldn’t resist.

“Truelove’skiss.” He mumbled quickly.

Hiding a giggle, you asked him to repeat himself, “Excuse me, what was that?” You knew exactly what he said, you just wanted him to be louder.

“True love’s kiss, ok! Now can we drop it?” He snapped, embarrassed he knew this little fact and that he was basically announcing his feelings to you this way.

Abandoning your seat, you jumped into Dean’s lap and kissed him all around his face. Sam silently left to give you two privacy and also, he didn’t want to see anything if you two decided to get explicit.

“I love you, Dean Winchester,” you whispered into his ear.

Dean’s eyes lit up as if you told him he had an unlimited amount of pie. He knew that for a true love’s kiss to work, both parties had to love each other, but hearing you say it confirmed it for him. “I love you, too.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you snuggled into Dean deeper. “So, does this mean you’ll watch The Little Mermaid with me?”

“I guess,” Dean accepted defeat as you squealed in his lap. “But only if you sing along. I can’t get enough of that voice of yours.”

“Of course, my knight in shining armor.” Dean put an arm behind your back and the other under your knees to carry you bridal style to his cave.

“And at the end of the night can I kiss the girl?” Dean asked with a mischievous grin on his face, glad that he made at least one reference.

Making your voice a bit softer to sound like a princess, you replied, “Oh my dear sir, you can do whatever you like to the princess. She’s forever in your gratitude.”

“Well, princess, be prepared not to finish that movie, because I got other things in mind.”

Soon, Ariel and her pals became a distant memory with the opportunity of a better time spent with Dean. “If that’s the case, then how about you show me how wicked that stepmother was in Snow White?” You offered, suggestively raising your perfectly arched eyebrows.

With that suggestion, Dean changed his course and headed for his bedroom. “Anything for the lady.” Passing a conversating Sam and Al in the hallway, you conjured up earplugs in their hands. Of course, you could’ve soundproofed the room, but you wanted to gross them out instead.

“Dudes, disgusting!” Sam groaned, but you could barely hear him over yours and Deans’ laughs. This is what happily ever looked like and you wouldn’t trade it for a thing in the world.

Tags: @titty-teetee​ @nervouspetsonanime​ @thefaithfulwriter​ @nerd-lovely​

[canoncannon]

So, I have a prompt that won’t get out of my head. Jesus makes it a habit to visit Hobo Daryl whenever he is out on runs and stuff and they get to know each other, and eventually fall in love. It takes a long time. D is initially annoyed at the intrusion to his solitude, but Jesus cracks through his shell. They open up to each other and J eventually makes a move. Awkwardness insues. D is virginal and things don’t go smoothly. You are the goddess of awkward Desus, and you would rock this. 😘

This was prompted so, so long ago, and I kind of paused doing prompts to try to update my WIPs… it’s actually a continuation from my last ficlet (https://archiveofourown.org/works/10833258/chapters/40192958), but can also be read on its own I think.

@radiofreeamy thank you so much for the prompt, and I’m sorry it took me so long :)

“You ain’t gotta take the couch,” Daryl says, shifting his weight. He and his dog look both filthy and uncomfortably aware of it.

“You and Dog won’t fit on the couch,” Paul replies.

“She can sleep on the floor. Don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“Daryl. It gets cold at night, even in here. Take the damn bed.”

Daryl leans down to pet the mutt. “You and your Jesus shtick. Always running people’s errands, giving people your food, letting people sleep in your bed.”

“By ‘running errands’ I think you mean ‘conducting trade negotiations.’ And my usual way of getting people into my bed is far from Christlike, I assure you.”

It’s something he’d have said without second thought in the woods. In his room, though, it feels too intimate. Too real.

“Pft. Explain all them women you’ve slept on the couch for, then.” Daryl’s not looking at him, still petting Dog.

“You want a shower? There’s warm water,” Paul says, because sure, asking Daryl to get naked will help ease the awkward tension in the room. He doesn’t so much as glance at Daryl as he adds another blanket to the couch, mentally berating himself.

—

In the woods, everything had been easy. Paul liked stopping in for a night or two to check on Daryl and flirt a little—occasionally even going so far as to think about taking things further than that, if only Daryl would give him a sign he was into it—before returning home and fucking Alex into the mattress.

Alex is with Wes now, and Daryl is ten feet away in Paul’s bed.

Having a stupid little crush on someone he only saw a couple dozen times a year had made it easy to dismiss the way he felt as unimportant—as, well, a stupid little crush. Having Daryl in the trailer is a different thing entirely.

They play checkers a lot. They eat breakfast that Daryl cooks while Paul struggles to drag himself awake, because coffee is now officially a thing of the past.

Which gets Paul thinking: in the past, if he was attracted to a guy, nine times out of ten he’d simply ask to kiss him. And it had usually worked out for him, at least for the night. With Daryl, that seems unimaginable. He’s never made friends easily, even before roamers started eating his available options. Losing Daryl, even if he gets to fuck him first—maybe especially if he gets to fuck him first—is unacceptable.

But there’s a look on Daryl’s face, sometimes, that makes him wish that he was be brave enough to risk it.

—

Paul falls asleep reading on the bed one night; there’s no light by the couch. Daryl doesn’t wake him up to move, and he wakes up to find Dog laying across both of their legs, head on Daryl’s foot and sharp nails against Paul’s shins.

Two nights later, he falls asleep there again, and pretends in the morning that it was an accident.

When he gets back to the trailer that evening, Daryl’s moves his pillow and blankets onto the bed. He blushes when Paul comes in, and Paul’s heart does something weird. Some might call it ‘skipping a beat’—Paul calls it a fucking betrayal.

—

“She wasn’t kidding. We started it two years ago.” Paul is laying on the bed that he tells himself they share for warmth. Dog is laying in the exact middle of the bed; she generally sleeps between them, as if guarding her master’s virtue. He glares at her, then scratches her ear.

“Does she even know for sure that it’s New Years Eve?” Daryl settles into the bed in his pajama bottoms and long-sleeved top. They’re all freezing their balls off this winter.

“I guess Gregory kept a calendar, and she took it over. It’s close enough, anyway.” Paul reaches for the light, then settles back into the bed. “We don’t have to go. We’ll sign up for watch.”

“I already told her I’d go. She just sprung it on me.”

“Sucks to be you, then,” Paul teases, and they fall silent for the night.

—

Paul had underestimated Maggie’s determination, though. Before he gets a chance to switch watch shifts with someone, giving them the loud, chaotic heat of a jam-packed Barrington library in exchange for a flashlight and Voltaire in the frosty silence, Alden oh-so-casually mentioned how important the party is to her, and how much she wants him there.

As if that wasn’t enough, the next day Maggie hunts him down while he’s doing laundry for the sole purpose of telling him that Daryl doesn’t know that many people at Hilltop yet, and will be more comfortable with Jesus around to distract him.

Paul knows when he’s being manipulated; he also knows when he’s been beaten. He gives in with fairly good grace.

—

The night of the party, he and Daryl sequester into a corner to be uncomfortable and drunk together.

Alex is across from them in the opposite corner, hanging all over Wes, suddenly comfortable with PDA in a way he’d never been with Paul. Granted, they’d never been an official item, but he’d made such a point of keeping his distance—and now he’s sitting on a couch practically in his new boyfriend’s lap, occasionally nuzzling his neck. 

The worst part is that Alex isn’t even doing it to annoy him—he’s completely oblivious.

Daryl looks miserable, too, but then he always does when he’s surrounded by people.

Finally, midnight strikes.

—

Daryl definitely hadn’t planned it. In fact, he doesn’t know what he’s doing until he’s in the middle of doing it: holding out his arms with a tiny shrug, offering Jesus a midnight kiss.

It’s just something about Paul’s hurt expression after he locked eyes with Alex—

Something about the superior little glance that smug asshole gives them as he practically gnaws Wes’s face off—

Something about Paul’s flushed cheeks and abrupt change in posture—

Daryl just reacts, offering, and to his surprise, Paul takes him up on it.

Daryl steps back less than a second later, realizing he’s made a mistake; seeing Paul kiss a grimy redneck isn’t likely to make Alex feel any less superior.

—

Paul leaves right afterwards, just turns and practically runs out of the room, so apparently it had been a mistake on multiple levels.

Shit, fuck, goddamn it. Woozy with liquor, Daryl stands and follows him out, down the stairs and into the freezing cold.

Small boot prints lead him to the barn.

“I’m sorry, alright?” Daryl calls out as he enters, because he knows Paul will have heard him coming even over the wind. “Don’t know what I was thinking, just… your ex is a douchebag, and… I dunno. M’sorry.”

“Are you… apologizing for the fact that I kissed you?” Paul appears before him in the dim light, looking cold. Neither of them had grabbed their coats before leaving the party.

Daryl scowls, and Paul’s eyes.

He takes a slow step forward, then a faster one, and then he’s kissing the hell out of Daryl. Then he takes his hand and pulls him out of the barn, across the courtyard through the snow.

Daryl honest to God doesn’t know where they’re going at first, and thinks vaguely that he doesn’t want to go back to the party.

When they reach the trailer they both pause out of habit to pull off boots and socks. Daryl finds himself staring stupidly at a perfectly ordinary set of small white feet that he’s probably seen a dozen or two times before, but never actually noticed.

“I could bring you off with them, if you’re into feet,” Paul says, and Daryl realizes, for the first time, that Paul definitely intends to have sex with him.

—

Paul wants this. He wants it now, and tomorrow night, and next week, and he’s more than willing to go outside of his usual sexual wheelhouse to ensure Daryl has a good time.

“What?! No! Nah, ain’t into that.”

“Sure? You were staring an awful lot just now.”

“Ain’t the feet, it’s just, uh.” Daryl’s face and posture telegraph his discomfort, but Paul doesn’t interrupt to save him from his own awkwardness. He wants to know the end of that sentence. Eventually Daryl finishes sweetly with, “It’s just you.”

It stops Paul in his tracks, trying and failing to hide a beaming smile. “Ok. Just… I’m open to suggestion, is all. If there’s something specific you want, here.” 

A brief shadow slides over Daryl’s face. “But… what do you want?”

Utterly charmed, Paul steps closer and swoops in for another kiss. Daryl flinches at the quick motion and Paul redirects to his cheek—the last thing he wants is to scare him.

Fortunately Daryl recovers quickly. And he doesn’t just recover, he goes a bit wild, mouth careening around their kiss. Paul’s eyes widen a bit and he pulls Daryl closer, letting the other man plunder his mouth messily.

The enthusiasm makes Daryl’s lack of experience extremely obvious.

Paul pulls away gently. “Hey, slow down a little. We’ve got all night, right?”

Daryl nods and pulls in a huge lungful of air. “M’sorry.”

“What for?”

“I ain’t good at this.”

“You’re doing fantastic so far.”

“Pfft. Ain’t gotta lie.”

“I wouldn’t, I’m not.“ Paul would and is, a little, but he’s not about to complain. He pulls them to the bed—pausing to get Dog settled on the couch, where she glares at them reproachfully—then lays down and waits for Daryl to join him. Smiling reassuringly, because Daryl looks about ready to hyperventilate at their new position, he says, “Is this alright?”

Nodding, Daryl turns towards him. “I didn’t think you wanted this, with me,” he says quietly. He’s not touching Paul, or reaching for him.

“I didn’t think you did.” Paul has been waiting too impatiently for too long to deny himself now. He grabs Daryl’s waist and pulls.

—

The bottom line is, Daryl can’t keep up.

Paul has him out of his clothes before it occurs to him to reciprocate. Then Paul’s touching him, and that’s distracting, and by the time Daryl realizes he needs to move his goddamn hands and do something, anything, with them, Paul is back to kissing him instead.

He wants Paul’s clothes off, he thinks, trying to kiss back. Unless Paul doesn’t want that—but he would, right? It’s the usual thing.

Not that Daryl would fucking know.

He slides a hand up Paul’s thigh to his zip. Paul leans back, straddling Daryl on his knees, and it’s so fucking hot that Daryl loses the use of his thumbs.

After a minute, Paul has mercy on him and undoes his pants.

“Your shirt,” Daryl says, willing to sound stupid if it gets the job done, and Paul smiles down at him in the dim light and pulls his shirt over his head. It’s cold, and his nipples are hard. Daryl’s mind is suddenly launched into an unwelcome tangent: Merle bragging about turning up the air conditioning in a car to get some chick’s nipples hard enough to see through her shirt.

He pulls the other man back down to kiss him, and Paul moans over it, biting Daryl’s lip, and fuck fuck fuck how is this actually happening to him now, at forty-something, after a lifetime of not knowing how to even start talking a guy into having sex with him?

Sitting up again, Paul shoves his pants lower, still straddling Daryl, and pulls his dick out, which Daryl isn’t supposed to want to suck. His mouth waters as Paul starts stroking himself, grinding slightly down on Daryl’s dick.

It’s too fucking much.

“I think I might- might come if you-”

Paul stops, eyebrows raising, but it’s too late, and Daryl shoots off against the ass of his jeans.

—

Watching Daryl squirm underneath him, chest rising from the mattress and teeth clenching, just makes Paul jack off even harder. Then Daryl slumps, spent and embarrassed, and shit, Paul really should stop and make sure he’s alright.

He compromises and asks while still jacking off, “You ok?”

Looking determined, Daryl bats his hand away from his dick and takes over. His mouth hangs open, and Paul stares.

Do not ask. Don’t even think about it.

Instead he lets Daryl continue his slow, gentle handjob, touching Paul like he’s worried about hurting him. Paul’s getting off on the idea of it all, more than the actual sensation: Daryl Dixon came in his pants just from the sight of his dick. Daryl wants his dick, is staring at it like he wants to suck it, would probably scramble to his knees for it if Paul just- just asked- “Do you want to use your mouth?”

You are a bad person.

Daryl does scramble, though, and is in position before Paul finishes pulling off his come-soaked pants.

—

It takes long enough to make Daryl’s jaw ache, and to make him wonder if he’s completely fucking this up. Then Paul starts trying to pull away, like maybe Daryl’s so terrible at it that he’d rather jerk off, but Daryl stubbornly stays put and redoubles his effort, sucking harder, going deeper—which is how he ends up with come going down the wrong pipe.

He pulls back, gagging and coughing as Paul comes helplessly on his face.

They both stop at about the same time. There’s come on Daryl’s eyebrow that feels like it’s threatening to drip down and blind him, but he’s not sure about the etiquette here. Paul’s shirt is closest, his own is on the floor a few feet away.

“Shit, sorry,” Paul says, and begins wiping his face clean. “I tried to- that was-”

“A disaster from start to finish?”

Paul pauses in wiping Daryl’s forehead for a second. “Maybe. But we’ll do better next time, right?”

They stare at each other in the darkness. “Yeah,” Daryl says, and he can’t keep the happiness or the surprise out of his voice. “Alright. Next time.”

“Happy New Year, then.” Paul smiles at him, a genuine grin, and Daryl grins back.

[sailoryue]

Darkness falls, evil rises

So going off on that what if I posted yesterday, here's the fic I was inspired to write... When Lewis got his revenge he never expected an ancient evil from awakening

....

Lewis floated down to the bottom of the cavern. He wanted to till feel angry, but the shock on Arthur's face caused a momentary lapse in his ire. But it was too late. Once he let go of his murderer, there was no going back. He cleared the pink fog around the bottom as well as the spikes. An exact recreation of his place of death. It was supposed to be poetic justice. So why did it feel so empty.

It didn't take long forewis to realize something was wrong. Arthur's body was missing. He heard the impact. Heard Arthur cry in pain. So where was he? Surely a dead body can't just get up and walk away. Right?

"Looking for someone?" A voice called from behind him. Lewis spun around and was shocked to see Arthur standing there behind him, a twisted grin on his face.

"Arthur? But... How?" Lewis was speechless. There was no way he could have survived that fall.

"Oh, I can promise you. Good ole Artie is dead. I want to thank you for getting me my body back. " The thing in front of Lewis gave a slight bow. Something about this thing renewed the anger within Lewis.

"And just who are you?" He growled.

"Oh, I don't really have a name. My existence is older than the invention of the name." The thing admired his hands. Gone was Arthur's metal arm, something Lewis didn't notice he had until too late.

"Ok, then WHAT are you?" Lewis felt an unease. This creature seemed to be inhabiting Arthur's corpse. Somehow took possession of it, and somehow had to do with his arm. He wanted answers.

"Now THAT is a question isn't it. Im just a spirit if you will, more close to a demon. And I had been ITCHING to get back into this body ever since I was torn from it."

"Back in....?" What did that mean? "You've been in his body before?"

"Oh, you don't recognize your murderer? " The creature twisted Arthur's face into an evil scowl, one that had been burned into Lewis's memory and driving him for his goal for so long. "I'm the one that killed you. Or rather made this fellow do it. Man his begging made killing you all the more satisfying. 'please no! He's my friend!' blah blah blah. He was so heart broken when I lurched his body forward, sending you to your death."

Lewis stumbled back as this...not-Arthur lunged for him, hand brushing against him. He felt so bad now, knowing that his best friend really was that. He should have known better than to think Arthur would ever hurt anyone. If he saw Arthur again, he would apologize and beg for forgiveness. He looked around wondering if Arthur's ghost was going to spawn. Did it take him that long when he died?

"Looking for string bean's ghost? I highly doubt he'll come back as one. He was such a weak person in life, he wouldn't have the power to generate enough spectral energy. Pity really, I would have loved to make him watch as I fulfill my plan." He gave Lewis a dark look.

" And just what is your plan?" Lewis asked, glaring new found hatred at this ghoul.

The demon chuckled. "Exactly what it was before. I was originally going to go after your little blueberry girlfriend next, torture both into submission as he kills his only other friend. It would have been magnificent, untill that damned mutt ruined everything!"

Lewis wondered if he meant Vivi. He noted that Not-Arthur's face twisted in a sneered at the mention of the word 'mutt'. Did he mean Mystery?

"I'm so grateful you brought me so close to a human town. Even tho there'd be no one to appreciate what I plan, I can still have fun. Starting with your little girlfriend." He smiled maliciously.

" Don't you go near Vivi!" Growled Lewis, setting his fists alight

" Hmm I'd be careful there, Lewis. This IS your anchor, is it not?" Not-Arthur held out his hand whichheld his greying cracked locket. Lewis looked down at his chest to be sure that, it was indeed missing. "This thing looks so brittle, like all I would have to do is squeeze to break it. What would happen to you then?"

He started to squeeze his fist around the locket. It gave a cracking sound, and Lewis felt a great pain in his chest. He couldn't move as the demon squeezed tighter, trying to shatter the locket.

Without warning there was a squeak and a bright flash of orange flew into the ghoul, throwing it off balance and releasing his grip on Lewis's heart. The small ball of orange light caught the locket and flew behind Lewis, wrapping itself around it.

"So the weakling did manage to come back as a ghost. A pretty pathetic one if you ask me. Doesn't matter, I'll still go on my little killing spree. I should be able to kill your blueberry girlfriend in no time." He gave a grin full of malice. How could Lewis ever mistake that for Arthur?

"Not if I have anything to say about that." A new voice growled nearby. They turned toward the voice and saw it belonged to a very large, very pissed off, seven-tailed fox.

"You damned mutt!" Not-Arthur shouted.

"I'd been wondering if I'd ever be able to eat 'chicken' again.' Mystery's eyes glowed an angry red as he pounced the doomed, green skinned Arthur. "I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner, Arthur. But I was a little preoccupied."

Lewis watched in abject horror at the scene before him before he turned his attention to a small noise behind him. It was a small formless ghost, no bigger than one of the Deadbeats, that was the same shade as Arthur's hair. It looked up at Lewis sadly.

"God Arthur. I'm so sorry." Lewis choked out. He reached out slowly, and the small thing flinched, causing Lewis to hesitate. "I won't hurt you. Not anymore. I promise Artie."

Lewis held his hand out and waited for the spirit to slowly float over and place his locket in his hand. It looked up at him, yellow eyes full of sadness.

"Lewis, WHAT DID YOU DO??" Mystery growled behind him, apparently finished with his meal.

What did he do? Make the worst mistake in his existence.

"There's no justification for it Mystery. I thought I was getting revenge, but I should have known better that it would solve nothing." His locket cracked more, startling the small ghost.

"And just what am I supposed to tell Vivi? Because of all this she will be left alone!" Red flames seemed to leak from the kitsune's mouth.

"I--" Lewis was cut off when the tiny ghost put itself between Lewis and Mystery, as if to shield Lewis from the Magic of the kitsune. "Arthur?'

." Arthur, you always had a soft side. No matter what." Mystery sighed, shaking his head and trotted over to where Arthur's abandoned metal arm was. He picked it up and brought it over to Lewis. "Lewis, if you will, there is a charm under his wristband. If I'm not mistaken it should be his anchor. Give it to him and it should give him form."

Lewis did what he was asked. The charm he found surprised him. It was the friendship bracelet he'd given Arthur when they were children. He'd kept it after all these years? The bracelet was partially woven with simple glass beads throughout. It seemed alive when he picked it up, much like his locket, giving a soft pulse. He held it out to the formless orange blob, who reached out for the bracelet almost happily.

"Ok Arthur, concentrate on your form. Focus on what you want to look like." Lewis said softly, remembering how he manifested. He showed him what he meant by shifting his face to look human

The ghost looked happily at the friendship bracelet, before humming quietly. The light surrounding him grew brighter before turning the spirit into one that looked exactly like Arthur, two arms and all. He looked around with now blackened eyes full of confusion before noticing Lewis.

"Lewis! Oh God, I found you!" Arthur wrapped him in a hug, his joy catching him off guard. He never realized how much he missed that

"Arthur? How can you forgive me?" Lewis choked out.

Arthur shook his head. "Lewis, I don't blame you for that. When I died, all my memories came back. You had every right to be angry."

Lewis shook his head. Even in death his best friend proved to be a much better person than he is.

"As touching this little reunion is, Vivi is still waiting outside. It's only so long. Before she finds a way to break my ward."

Arthur laughed. "That's definitely true."

He looked down at himself, noting he had both hands, neither metal or the wrong color. "Well this will be interesting to explain, huh. Oh God! Lance is going to kill me for crashing into the shop!"

"Um, Arthur, you're already dead, so how would he do that?" Lewis said standing up.

"You must not remember how my uncle can get." Arthur said with a sigh, following Lewis out.

Mystery shook his head at the two ghosts, shifting back to his dog form. These children were going to be the death of him!

....

This was going to be much darker, but I could not bring myself to do that

[writingfantasydreamer]

Breathe

Summary:  When Logan ups and leaves the X-Men out of the blue, he finds himself deep in the mountains of Alaska where he gets caught in a snowstorm and is rescued by a girl named Zofia and after a year of living with her, Logan tries to find a way to confess his love to her.

Fandom: X-Men, Marvel

Characters: Wolverine (Logan), Zofia (Original Female Character)

Genre: Romance/Drama

Rating: PG-13/PG (more on the PG-13 side)

He didn’t know what happened or how, but all he knew was that something or someone had blindsided him, catching him off guard. And after the struggle with whoever it was (strange, the smell of his attacker wasn’t familiar so his attacker wasn’t that damned Sabertooth), Logan found himself caught in an avalanche and after that….

It was nothing, but cold darkness until he woke up and found himself in this small, cozy log cabin. He was wrapped up in what felt like a blanket and a furry pelt (it was a blanket made out of some kind of animal hide from what he could tell). It was relatively warm in the room, so warm in fact he almost fell back asleep but when he smelled the sweet aroma of whatever was cooking, his stomach growled and it was then he saw her.

Long brown hair and blue-green eyes. And of course she had been sitting in a chair, just crocheting or knitting (Logan never knew the difference between the two) and at her feet was a beautiful white furry dog (and from the looks of it, it was a boy, just around two years, maybe three). The dog’s barking had caught her attention and she immediately spoke.

And from their first exchange, Logan felt something stirring in his heart, something about her made Logan want to stay with her.

All of that happened almost a year ago. He couldn’t believe that it had been close to a year since he left the Xavier Institute, it was at random and for no reason. He just packed a bag, got on his motorcycle and left. Sure, he left a note saying he was leaving, but not even he was sure whether he’d be back or not.

“Heh.” The corner of his lips pulled back into a smile as he stood at the pile of wood, his metal claws unsheathe. A white mass of fur entered his field of vision and Logan glanced at the dog. This dog gets really attached to anyone it encounters and Logan couldn’t help feeling attached to the mutt. The beautiful fuzzy white marshmallow of a dog stared at him, ears perked as it’s blue eyes met his.

“Think that'll be enough firewood, Max?” He asked. The dog barked, his tail wagging furiously as he now rose to all four legs. Logan often wondered how the mutt could stand outside in this cold weather for a long time, waiting for him to finish chopping up some wood. He allowed himself to smile as he reached out, the claws on his knuckles retracting as he did, and ruffled the fur behind Max’s ear.

The dog’s eyes closed for a few seconds, the dog relishing in the attention he was given.

Logan retracted his claws and grabbed a few logs, hoisting said firewood to his shoulder, “Come on Mutt.” He said teasingly and as if on command, Max barked again and bounded after him, close on his heels.

The walk back to Zofia’s cabin was a relatively short walk but walking through this freezing snow, it felt a bit longer than usual. But Zofia had made sure Logan dressed appropriately (and he wasn’t about to turn her request for firewood down, after all, he liked being alone as much as he enjoyed being around her). And the scenery was quite nice and he didn’t mind the cold much (he survived in worse conditions).

As soon as the cabin was in sight, Max sped up, running at full speed, to the small stone steps leading to the door. Logan chuckled at seeing the dog, now looking back at him, waiting for him to open the door for him, and possibly for food. As soon as he opened the door and stepped in, letting Max inside as well, Logan was greeted by the comforting warmth coming from the fireplace and the smells of food (Zofia was one hell of a cook! One more reason to stay and ma-).

Logan quickly dismissed the thought as he felt the familiar warmth blooming in his chest.

“Lucy, I’m home,” Logan called out in a teasing tone as Max barked.

“Logan?” Came Zofia’s voice. She came out from behind the curtains that led to a small backroom that was Zofia’s bedroom (Logan slept on a roll out cot that was placed in one corner of the room when it wasn’t used). He couldn’t help feeling surprised and joy at seeing Zofia in her beige sweater, blue jeans, and her hair.

Her usual wavy hair had been twisted into a low ponytail, leaving a few wisps of her hair to hang about the sides of her face. It made the woman look….

Well, he couldn’t describe it exactly, but sexy would be too much in describing sweet gentle Zofia.

Not hearing his voice, Zofia reached out for him, feeling just a bit alarmed. Of course, Logan wouldn’t just stop at saying his usual, “Lucy, I’m home!” joke when he entered. He would start asking about her day and what she was up to. It just how he was (at least from what she’s seen during the year he’s been living with her--she never did ask about his past. Her daddy always said men--and women--don't have to talk about their past unless they want to, and what happened in the past stays in the past).

“Logan?” Zofia started again. This time she took a few steps towards where his voice came from. Max, having been trained to help her, walked by her, using his body to gently nudge her and guide her. A smile graced her lips as one of her hands brushed against Max’s soft fur.

Logan snapped out of his trance.

Damn it, Logan, ya gotta stop being captivated by her! She’s just like any other woman. Except for one thing, Zofia was blind. She wasn’t helpless for she still knew what the world looks like, but having turned blind when she was really young due to a childhood injury, Logan ended up treating her with a little more care than he would with Jean or Storm, or any other woman he met.

Logan smiled and reached for her, mumbling an apology.

“Sorry snowflake, seein’ you with your hair prettied up took me by surprise.”

His words made Zofia blush with embarrassment, a pink tinge gracing her usual creamy colored skin. Zofia felt a bit flustered (and flattered) at the comment, her heart starting to pound hard in her chest as she walked towards him. But when she took another step, Max stepped at the same time as her, but his paws landed in front of the woman, making her trip and stumble over him. The moment she started to fall, Zofia felt a small twinge of fear spreading through her, but in the same instant, Logan called out to her, fear in his voice.

She expected to feel the hardwood floor when she fell, but instead, she felt something soft and warm embrace her as she fell. It wasn’t Max because the texture of whatever she grabbed onto didn’t feel like dog fur. It felt like the soft leather of a jacket, the thin material of a flannel shirt, and something warm like…

Skin?

“L-Logan?” Zofia whispered, her voice almost quiet. Confusion could be heard in her tone.

His hold on her tightened a little as he answered her.

“Yeah, it’s me, Snowflake. You ok?” Logan asked quietly. The soft graze of her fingertips on the skin at his collarbone made him shiver, but Logan was able to contain himself (save for holding her a bit tighter of course).

“Y-yea, I think so, thank you.” She murmured against his chest. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest. A strange wave of emotions was washing over as she remained in his embrace like this. This was the first time anyone, who wasn’t related to her, held her so intimately like this. Most people would try avoiding her or treat her like she was completely fragile. But never has anyone ever treated her like this.

“You gave me quite the scare.” Logan felt her trembling a bit in his arms and he felt his own heart beating just as fast. Holding her close, Logan could smell a sweet aroma coming from her neck. It was perfume but it was just a small sprinkle. Enough that it wouldn’t overpower his acute senses. (Damn if Rogue and Jean didn’t sprinkle that stuff on so heavily sometimes. It’d drive him to seek out a skunk! Well almost).

“I’m sorry.” He heard her whisper. It almost sounded like she was about to cry but that’s always how Zofia sounded when she whispers.

Just how in the world did whatever “God” up there knew he longed to hold her like this. Did someone really want him to have happiness at long last? Or is this going to be another of those moments where someone like Sabertooth would show up and just destroy his happiness in one fell swoop? Yeah, it happened with Silver Fox (Even though that was more or less a fake memory but his feelings for Silver Fox were real, he was sure of it). And it could easily happen again. This one thought made Logan tense, his hold on Zofia loosening some. As if expecting his sworn enemy to burst through the windows or the door, or even the roof, Logan sniffed for his scent, his eyes looking for signs of the bastard.

“Logan?” her soft voice snapped him out of his paranoia and he looked down at her in time to stare into her gray eyes. Had she sensed his unease?

“Is something wrong?” Zofia asked, feeling a bit uneasy herself. Was he feeling the same anxiety and nervousness as her? Or was he just regretting holding her this long? It’s not as though she resisted being held this close to him. In his voice, under that gruffness, she could hear the soft tenderness when he spoke to her. It wasn’t the tone of voice one would get when in an awkward situation or pitying someone. It was the voice of one who is in love. She had noticed when that tenderness slipped into his voice and she’s been waiting for something to happen since.

Logan blinked, immediately calming down and relaxing. Good no Sabertooth to ruin this life. He then chuckled at his own idiocy. He hasn't seen the damned fool in over three years (as far as Logan knew, Sabertooth was, well, he was dead). He wasn’t going to let ghosts of his past ruin this new life for him. And nothing was going to harm Zofia, he’d make sure of that. As if to reaffirm his silent vow, Logan hugged Zofia closer, burying his face into her soft hair.

“L-Logan.” Zofia’s voice came out as a soft gasp. She heard his heartbeat, soft, and steady, and the smell of firewood and pine trees. Yeah, that’s how Logan smelled to her, with a slight hint of those cigars he was so fond of. It was a wonder he didn’t have lung cancer yet.

“No one’s ever gonna harm ya. I'll make sure of that because I love you, Zofia.” His breath tickled her ear as he said this.

Zofia felt her heart jump to her throat and for a split second when they pulled apart slightly (though Logan’s arms were still around her waist), she looked at him and really saw him. Logan felt Zofia’s hand gently touched the side of his face, her fingers taking in what she’s touching. He didn’t know how being blind works exactly but he knew this was her way of seeing the world. Logan took one of her hands into his and pressed a kiss to her palm. Warmth spread through her body and she smiled.

Her senses painted the perfect image in her mind’s eye. Wild dark blue-black hair, stubble on his chin, and usually fierce blue eyes now staring at her with such affection and tenderness. It made her feel…

Excite? Joy? Love?

It had to be a mixture of all three. But whatever this feeling was, it felt nice. And she wanted it to last.

A giggle escaped Zofia’s lips. Pushing herself to stand on the tips of her toes, Zofia smile and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say this for a long time.” And with that said, she pressed her lips against his in a soft kiss. That one kiss felt like a shockwave and it made her pulse go fast. Logan just smirked and returned her kiss with one of his own.

“Good to know you’ve been waitin’.” He teased. As they shared a few more kisses, Logan shut the door with his foot, his arms still holding Zofia close.

---

He didn’t know when or how it happened, but Logan (or maybe it was Zofia) guided them to the back room where the two had given in to each other. It was dark now and his mind was blank, though thoughts of Zofia were still in his head, for once in his life, he felt at peace. Logan laid there in the bed with Zofia curled into his side, her head rested on his chest and his arms were still wrapped in his arms. Gods, just how long has it been since he’s felt this happy? Zofia was receptive of his yearning for her, even though it was her first time.

Logan chuckled and kissed the top of her head, making the woman groan in her sleep. He looked from his lover at seeing Max stretching his body out, paws stuck up in the air as the dog slept.

The Mutt knew what he was doing. He thought with an inward chuckle. Logan reached over barely stirring Zofia from her slumber as he pets the dog on his belly.

“Thanks for givin’ me the push, Max,” Logan whispered softly. The pitbull-husky mixed dog’s fluffy tail wagged from the attention and his eyes opened. Max then rolled over onto his stomach and crawled closer, laying his head on Logan’s lap. The mutant chuckled at this and scratched the dog’s ear.

For once everything felt right, and Logan didn’t think of what could go wrong. All he could do was lay there with Zofia and Max next to him and watch as the first snow of the early morning twilight begin to fall.

[xxprincessjewelsxx]

The Bitten (Baekhyun Werewolf!au Fic) Chapter 3 - The Traveler

Warnings: Mild violence

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8, Ch. 9, Ch. 10, Ch. 11(M), Ch. 12, Ch. 13, Ch. 14(Final Chapter)

~Juhee~

“You are going no where near that village,” Junmyeon stated.

“Why not?” Juhee questioned, “They would have no idea I’m a wolf unless they saw your mark, I shifted, or if I got caught in a wolf trap enchantment which aren’t even as strong on bittens...and they’ve never seen me before.”

“It’s way too dangerous, none of us would be able to be close enough in case something happened,” he said, “I can’t...I won’t...”

Juhee clenched her fists. “I’m going whether you like it or not.” Junmyeon looked at her with wide eyes. “You were born a werewolf...you don’t understand how it feels to go through this. Right now she keeps hearing thumping in her ears and she doesn’t know why, her body is on fire, and her soul is breaking apart from the shreds of mortality that it has...right now she probably feels like something is clawing at her insides, because it is...” A tear rolled down Juhee’s face remembering all the pain she had been in after. Junmyeon had bitten her. “I don’t regret being bitten and going through all that pain...I did it so that I could spend an immortal life with you. Difference is...I knew that. She has no idea what’s happening to her...”

Juhee’s shoulders shook slightly as she stood there, by now her knuckles were white from how tightly her fists were clenched and her tears were free flowing. The only reason that she had survived her transformation was that she had the others. But this girl...Y/N....she’s in a village full of people who despise magical beings and she’s becoming one herself and may not even realize it on top of it all.

Junmyeon grabbed her hands and held them to his lips. “You have to be damn sure of what you’re doing if you go in there....”

Juhee looked up at him still teary-eyed, but determined. “I know what I need to do.”

~Y/N~

I spent all day and into the next morning in my room. When I woke up still on the floor I felt like I had been tramped. I could still hear that ever obnoxious thumping noise, and my insides felt like they were being shredded. But I couldn’t just lay on the floor all day, I had to get up.

Prying myself from the floor I stumbled to the bathroom, breathing heavy as I leaned over the sink. It was like I couldn’t get any air to my lungs. Looking in the mirror I was momently startled by what I thought....I saw. For a moment I could have sworn that my eyes were a bright shade of red, but when I looked back they were their normal color.

“Ok...I’m so sick I’m hallucinating...wonderful,” I thought, before washing my face and heading downstairs to get food...water...I wasn’t even sure what...I new that I needed something.

“Did you see that traveler?” I heard my mom question as I walked in the kitchen.

“I saw her when I went to the bakery this morning,” my father replied. The only reason they were home was because it was a Friday and Fridays were normally days off or half days depending on orders.

“Don’t you think it a bit odd...her traveling alone like that,” my mother said as she practically leaned out the window like she was looking for someone.

“I heard she was traveling north to see family,” my father said, his eyes shifting to me when I walked in the room, “Y/N...you look....well...how are you feeling this morning?”

“Like I got run over by a horse cart,” I said getting a glass of water. As I drank the water I would’ve hoped that it would’ve helped cool the burning sensation that was coming from my insides, yet there was no relief at all.

“Y/N, do you find it weird that a woman your age is traveling alone?” my mother questioned.

I rolled my eyes. “Not really...people travel...some alone...” I hung on to the counter, my ears now ringing. “I think I’m going to go lay back down.”

~Juhee~

It had been quite a while since Juhee had walked freely in a village, she grew up in the village that’s run by Lord Namjoon and his clan and for her, that village life was wonderful. The Bangtan Clan were generous and noble leaders and welcomed any creature, which is why growing up she loved it so much. But this...you could feel the difference, see the difference, smell it...

These people had no tolerance for anything other than other humans. Or at least...no need for anyone but the ones they already have around them. As soon as Juhee stepped into the village she was met by weary stares...when asking for the nearest inn the old man just grunted at her an pointed to the tavern.

“Just you, miss?” the tavern owner questioned as he handed her a key.

“Yes sir, I’m traveling to see my family, and I just need a room to rest for the day,” she said with a smile as she put some gold pieces on the counter.

“Ah, well if it’s my assistant and not me on when you leave, safe travels...” the man said before turning and walking back into a room without a single notice.

He was nice enough, but it was clear that her presence wasn’t exactly wanted. He probably made plenty of money from the bar that the rooms being sold meant nothing. So her being there was nothing more than an annoyance. Fine with Juhee...she had work to do.

From her room she sniffed the air. ‘Just a day and you already smell like wolf...’ she thought as she watched the people bustle through the market.

Slowly...day turned to night...and Juhee was on the move...

~Y/N~

I lay in bed clutching my chest, the pain I could only describe as someone trying to claw my chest to pieces with searing hot blades. ‘I’m dying...’

“You’re not dying,” a woman said, putting her hand over my mouth so I couldn’t scream.

‘Who is she...and how the hell did she know what I thought?!‘ I thought staring at the bright blue eyes of the intruder.

“My name is Juhee...and the reason I can hear you is because you’re like me, a bitten. If I take my hand off your mouth will you let me explain without you screaming?” she questioned. Hesitantly I nodded and she removed her hand from my mouth. “I could hear your thoughts because you’re turning and you’re destined to be part of my pack,” she said.

“Turning? Pack?.....what?” I questioned.

“I’m sure you remember Baekhyun,” she said. At his name my heart raced and she gave a small smile. “Look in the mirror...”

I did and my eyes were glowing a bright red. “What...what is happening to me.”

“Baekhyun didn’t mean to...his instinct to have his mate came over him when he was near you and...well he bit you. You’re a bitten, you’re turning, Y/N...”

It was becoming clearer why it felt like my insides were being ripped to shreds now but... “Mate?”

“You’re Baekhyun’s destined one, you-....” she stopped, “Someone’s coming...thing of anything other than Baekhyun to help your eyes change back.” I did the first thing I could think of and thought of Jihun and she nodded as my eyes changed back. “I’ll be back...”

She went out the window and soon after a light knock the door opened, Jihun stood there. “So...you are alive after all...”

“Barely,” I said, not in the mood to give in to any wit he thinks he might have.

He set a bouquet of flowers down on the dresser and went and pulled out the wooden desk chair. He was not a man for romance or gifts...the flowers were probably a way that he got passed my parents even though I’m so sick.

“So...who let out the big bad wolf...” he said looking at me, “That’s been the big question everyone’s had the last couple of days. How’d he get out? Who helped him? Who would do such a thing?”

“Have you figured it out?” I questioned, feeling nervous.

“Tell me...with no wolf in a cage to rescue and I as handsome and as great at protecting the town as I was the other night?” I looked him in the eye and opened my mouth. “Oh I am so looking forward to this...” he stated.

~Juhee~

Juhee watched from the tree just outside Y/N’s window as this man began to question her about who may have let Baekhyun out of the cage. She looked scared...and she was scared for her. One wrong word out of him towards Baekhyun and that was it...that wolf that was trying to break free could try and reveal itself.

“The key to the cage is heavier than it looks, isn’t it?” the man continued to taunt, “Although...that could also be the weight of guilt knowing that you’re the one that let that mutt out.”

“Oh crap,” Juhee said as Y/N’s eyes flashed as she looked at the man.

“I have no guilt...“

~Y/N~

In an instant Jihun grabbed me by the hair and dragged me down the stairs, me punching and scratching at him.

“Oh my god! What is going on?!” my mother exclaimed seeing what was happening.

“I knew your daughter was a fool and I was hoping that at some point in time she would grow a proper brain between her ears,” he said, looking from my mother to my father, “But I didn’t realize she could be so stupid.” He grabbed the collar of my shirt, the bite mark still there.

My parents gasped and watched as Jihun threw me out the front door into the streets. Landing on the ground I looked up at him and growled. “The only one that’s stupid here is you!”

He kicked me and I let out a yelp. “Don’t you dare speak to me that way you mongrel bitch.” Soon the commotion between us brought on lookers out onto the street. “You are going to spend a few nights in that cage and then you are going to Lord Yeongjoon and he can do what he sees fit with you. The Bitten are the most despicable kind in this world, even lower than the mutts themselves.”

I let out a growl and punched him in the stomach. I was soon being grabbed by other guards and dragged towards the cage. As I fought against them, the burning in my chest got stronger and my whole body at this point felt like it would explode. But there was nothing I could stop it.

“TIME FREEZE!” I heard just as the guards were about to push me into cage. A hand grabbed my wrist and soon I found myself being dragged out of the village by Juhee. “Just keep running, Y/N I know you're tired and you hurt, but you have to run.”

We ran probably for a good twenty minutes before I stopped dead in my tracks and clutched my stomach. “I can’t...I can’t run anymore,” I said before dropping to my knees, “Oh god it hurts so bad.”

“That’s your immortal wolf soul...it’s fighting your mortal soul...don’t fight it,” Juhee said, “It will only hurt worse.”

“I’m scared,” I said.

“I know...but just let go and it will all be over soon,” she said.

I was scared, more scared that I could probably ever put into words. But I let the wolf that was trying so desperately to escape, claw it’s way to the surface. I let out a scream of pain and soon those screams were replace with sounds of howling.

The pain that I had been feeling had started to subside and I found myself once again looking up at Juhee. “You did it Y/N...you let your wolf free,” she went to touch me and for some odd reason my first reaction was to snap at her, “I’m not going to hurt you...”

I backed away from her and then looked passed her five pairs of glowing eyes emerged from the bushes. They all smelled like Juhee, but at the same time had their own unique scents. I was beginning to feel...almost threatened by the arrival of so many new faces at once and began to back away with a growl...

To be continued....

[iantoswolf-blog]

I have a Tumblr.

Oh dear, now I’m doing ALL the social medias. I decided, to ‘celebrate’, to put the very first snippet of my 112,000 word manuscript ‘Beneath a Melbourne Moon’ (working title) up. ‘Cause why not? It’s like second draft though, so expect it to be super rough. Originally written entirely in November 2013, and last looked at in 2015, apparently. I’ll get back to this sometime though; need to publish it once it’s refined more.

***

Darkness blanketed the St. Kilda roadway; in this dead of night, only the waving canopies of Red Gum and Queensland Brush Box made another movement along the road. Normally the area would be tranquil, but on this night, the distant lap of beach waves was replaced by an unnatural, roaring rage. Eric could certainly hear the argument – muffled anger accented by the occasional shatter of some furnishing or another – and had been able to since he had turned onto the street. But despite this volume, the words and cause of tonight’s debacle remained unknown to him

Frankly, he was happy to leave it a mystery anyway. This wasn’t his first visit to number 32 Smith Street, and he knew it would not be his last.

He reached the gate leading up to the old townhouse, and took a last drag on his cigarette. He entered the courtyard of this old hell, and butted the fag on the doorstep before giving a strong, resigned knock on the door.

The house died for a moment, and the door eventually opened after some hushed whispers. In it’s frame stood a bald man, thickset with an astonishing amount of muscle, dressed in nightwear and an unpleasant expression. Regardless, Eric managed a weak smile.

“What you want, Officer?”

Eric stuffed his hands into the side pockets of his jeans. “You know what I want, Donnie.”

A weary woman with ragged hair poked her head out from around the corner of the hallway behind the man.

“Oh, see? I told you this would happen if you -”

The man snapped his head around and snarled.

“Shut it, Laura. No one asked you.”

The woman huffed. “Fuck you, Donnie.”

Eric shut his eyes for a moment, and took a breath.

“Calm down. And good evening, Laura. Now, you know I’ve been here before -”

The stocky man turned his attention back to the visitor at his door.

“Yeah, you have. Like last gudamn night.”

Eric nodded. “Yep. So I shouldn’t have to remind you why I came then, or am here now. I can’t keep getting calls to come down here.”

The bald man contorted his face. “Then don’t come down here. Ain’t no-one’s business what we do. Sometimes we have love spats. Nosy dogs in this street can keep their snouts out of it.”

Eric removed his hands from his pockets, and crossed his arms across his umber vest.

“Normally, no, what you do isn’t my business, Donnie. But when you wake up the entire street, it becomes theirs – and then mine. Just try to get along, and fight less, OK? Resolve your differences, sleep somewhere else, something. Just try for one night.”

Laura shook her head in disbelief.

“Are you shitting me?  We – well, I try. Actually, take him in, Officer; this prick causes most of it anyway. Listen; he decides to record over my favourite show with his ‘Mantiques’ crap, and then tells me off for even using the damned TV Recorder. He’s unbearable.”

Before he could respond, Donnie craned his thick neck around to face his partner.

“That’s because it’s my fuckin’ recorder woman; get your own. God knows I give you enough of my money to afford one.”

Laura smirked. “Typical selfish dog-lord; I give you the best years of my life, and you can’t even let me record my show. My mother was right about you.”

Donnie spat. “Your mother always did have poor taste in men – quantity beats quality though I suppose.”

Laura’s thin face boiled to a shade of red, and in a second she was speeding down the hallway. Eric barely had enough time to step aside before Laura tackled Donnie through the screen door and out onto the curb. Sadly, this behaviour was known to happen; now all he’d have to do was break the two up, and help them sort their differences – which usually meant getting Donnie a booking at a motel for the night.

Laura was first to rise, and it was at this point Eric saw warning signs this was not going to be that usual sort of night at Number 32 – her normally green eyes shone a familiar amber in the moonlight. How long , exactly, had they been arguing before he got a call?

“Hey,” Eric barked, “Hey! Calm down. No need for that.”

Laura proceeded to kick Donnie – still struggling to raise himself – in the head. Eric stepped in and grabbed her by the shoulders.

“You take that back about Mama you son of a bitch!” She roared.

A deep growl emanated from the downed Donnie; Eric looked about the street to make sure it was still empty. He really hoped it wasn’t going where he was starting to think it was.

“Enough. Guys, you have to calm down, and let’s go back inside. Now.”

The solid man rose, slowly, as Laura leered overhead, jerking to and fro in Eric’s grasp as if uncertain whether or not to try and strike again whilst she could. A deeper growl came from the man, and she stopped; Eric, too, froze – his warnings, it seemed, proved futile. Donnie’s bulk quivered under his stained shirt, the upper body and sleeves straining as they filled with new muscle. The bald man’s head quickly disappeared under a coat of pitch fur, his ears warping and elongating into pointed tips. The man’s calves snapped with a sickening sound, the track pants convulsing as the flesh beneath reformed into a new, double jointed shape. From the top of the waistband burst forth a tail, growing increasingly long and bushy. The man’s boot’s split apart as large, clawed toes spread out and into the leather, the foot growing in length. The man heaved, growling with a familiar primality that Eric had hoped not to see tonight.

Donnie finally arose fully, his tall, beastly form a great deal more menacing than he previously had been.

“Damn right I’m the son of a bitch,” The now transformed lycanthrope growled, “Beats being the daughter of a mutt!”

A claw struck out in form of a backhand, sending the wiry woman flying from Eric’s clasp and into a bush in the yard. Eric reached out and grabbed Donnie by one of his hairy, muscular arms. The head of a wolf, gnarled in disgusted, focused on him.

“No, Donnie. Enough.”

The big werewolf’s other large claw grabbed the smaller man by the throat, and raised him off the ground until their eyes met.

“I’ll say when it’s enough, Watchdog.”

Eric closed his eyes half way, and ignored the instinct to flail his arms and legs, the desire to release himself from the choke in sheer desperation. It was hard to resit, but he knew in this form he was hardly a match for the titanic mythical creature. He’d only piss him off more.

That stupid, stupid bastard – had Donnie finally gone and lost his damn mind? Did he even realise what he was trying to do? What he was provoking? The officer would have to do something soon if the man didn’t come around.

The officer barely noted the sudden flash of light brown that solved his dilemma, as it shot from behind the large creature. Eric found himself suddenly on the ground. It took a second for him to realise what had happened – and how much things had escalated.

“Get off me, whore!”

The wiry lupine figure remained perched on the larger lycan’s back, clawing at his neck. He howled in pain, wildly trying to remove his transformed wife. A fierce grin splayed upon Laura’s features.

“Didn’t catch that, sweetie. Mouth too full o’ crap.”

Eric got to his feet, and rushed towards the scene, snarling. He should of known it’d go like this. He should of done something more drastic the moment he saw that sheen in Laura’s eyes – no, before they even came outside. The rage was bubbling inside him, begging for him to give into his primal urge. He would deny it; he would try one last time. One final time to appeal to the sensibilities of two complete idiots.

“You two, enough. Get off the streets and revert now,” He snapped, “This is your last warning. I will arrest you both unless you comply.”

Laura turned to Eric. A thick globlet of spittle soon landed square on his face.

“Piss off, Officer. Let me have my fun,” She said, turning her attention back to Donnie, “Now you going to let me record in that timeslot, or what?!”

The officer sighed, wiping his face of the foul substance. He’d tried. He’d damn well tried to settle this peacefully, legitimately – properly. But there were two werewolves brawling out in a side road of one of Melbourne’s best known suburbs, located a stone’s throw from the inner city. All it took was one human, one smart phone, and evidence would be all over the net in minutes.

It was reasons exactly like this that made the Melbourne Guard entirely necessary. You certainly didn’t see the vampires pulling these brainless stunts.

As the two lycanthropes before him exchanged words and blows, Eric Bennet controlled his shallow breathing as best he could, and started to give form to his disgust and rage.

A few moments passed before a large, clawed hand reached around the she-wolf’s waist, and ripped her from her perch. She landed roughly on the ground with a yelp; Donnie spun around and faced his new menace.

“Hey,” He rumbled, “Hands off my wife, Watchdog.”

The shifted officer just growled in response. The larger beast threw a punch, but the other lycanthrope was too quick; he’d played this game many times before, just with different opponents. He danced around a second punch like a blur of brown, and snapped one of his own fists into the larger wolf’s muzzle. Donnie’s face sprang with shock, before returning to a snarl of rage. A solid kick flew out, hitting the transformed Eric square in the thigh - but he took it well and maintained his balance. Again, he threw a punch, this time at the sizeable creature’s chest. Then another, and another.  

Wind him, Eric thought. He would finish this much quicker if he managed to wind the larger wolf.

The barrage gave way to a counter from Donnie, trying to push the smaller, faster wolf away – instead, the officer weaved to the side of the effort, and elbowed his opponent in the head. He coughed, and backed away; the two glared at each other in a stand off. Eric grinned large, and toothy.

“That all you got, big boy? Or is this how you tell me it’s now 'enough’?”

Furious, the stout lupine barrelled into Eric, and the two tumbled. The heavier of the two pinned  successfully, and began to punch Eric in the face. The trapped lupine roared, and freed a claw before stabbing it into his assailant’s side. It yowled, and rolled, allowing the officer to escape.

The proud member of the Melbourne Guard jumped to a stand, and took the opportunity to knee his quarry square in the side of the head. The larger creature slumped to the ground, his hulk raising only in breaths.

Eric snarled.

Now. This was it. If it wasn’t over then, it was about to be; It was time to teach this moron a lesson for keeping people up all night, and constantly wasting his time.

Eric advanced, cracking his knuckles as he went.

A set of smaller paws grabbed him by the shoulders, taking him by surprise. He’d almost forgotten her.

“He’s had enough,” Laura cried, “Leave my Donnie alone!”

Eric snapped around and glared at the intrusion, before returning his gaze to the downed wolf.

Had he? Had he really had enough? His mind, clouded with rage, wasn’t so sure. This was, after all, the first time it had finally come to something like this. After months of house calls, after all the issues…

It was the first time it had come to something like this with Donnie. But he was damned sure it would be the last.

He pried himself free from Laura’s grasp, who rushed to stand between him and the downed Donnie.

The two stood, claws at the ready, sizing each other up. Waiting for any flicker of movement to indicate round two of this tag team match was about to begin.

Again, a huffing Eric glanced at the downed wolf. He hadn’t moved a muscle since that strike. He looked again to Laura; a pleading, desperate fear dwelt within her amber eyes.

If it came to it, she really would defend the other.

Yes. Perhaps…perhaps he had had enough. Both Donnie, and him. Eric focused his mind elsewhere, on more peaceful things – the rage started to die within him.

The officer relaxed his pose. Cautiously, Laura did the same.

“OK,” Eric said, trying to regain composure, “OK. It’s not good to be out here. Any of us, like this. Let’s…let’s get him inside.”

The female lycanthrope watched him with uncertainty. She nodded.

“Ok.”

Laura allowed the officer to approach her unconscious partner, and the two reached under the stocky lycan’s arms, and rose him to his feet. Supporting his still lifeless form, the two lycanthropes used their strength to guide Donnie up the doorstep and through the utterly shattered fly screen door.

* * *

The Guardsman took another puff from the lit cigarette. A human hand massaged his brow.

Outside 32 Smith Street, things were now peaceful – in the distance, he could finally hear those waves, but also the beginnings of life awakening in the suburb; the patter patter of an early morning jogger somewhere in the Gardens across the road, a bird heralding another day in the tree overhead…

They had been very lucky. Any other suburb, human cops would of gotten the call before the Melbourne Guard did.

Though, any other suburb wouldn’t of been Melbourne’s werewolf heartland to have this problem in the first place. They were just lucky that St. Kilda’s denizens still tended to be too apathetic to really investigate.

He looked behind him, at the house with the destroyed door, and the ruined front lawn where a majority of the brawl had taken place; inside was a woman tending a very dizzy, likely very pissed, werewolf.

At least Eric had a feeling he wouldn’t have a call back here - not for a very long time at least.

He shoved his hands into his jeans, and began to walk across the road, blowing short puffs on his drag as he went. At least he knew how the rest of the day would go.

It’d be a simple, honest report when he got back, that would earn him a simple, honest yell out from the Alpha. A deserved one, considering how the situation was allowed to escalate from a simple warning to brawling werewolves in the goddamn street.

That wasn’t the worst part though; the worst part would be that it would get back to the others, his colleagues. Snowie would be jealous he’d been the one to get into a brawl; Ophelia would question if such hardline tactics how things were supposed to go; John would comment yet again on his anger issues.

All would wonder how far he would of gone.

Eric dropped the cigarette on the curb, and crushed it beneath his shoe – a shard of ash found it’s way through one of the holes that had been forged by his toes.

No; he was wrong – the real worst part wasn’t that forever unasked question they’d all have at the forefront of their minds.

It was that he himself didn’t know.

* * *

[tumbalumps]

Monsoon vs Bladewolf

Another pile of shit I wrote when I was high

Monsoon never could have predicted that such a mundane task like shopping would trigger such extraordinary events. It was early evening as the cyborg strolled around Lidls doing his weekly shop. His basket was almost full of his usual items - magnet polish, tooth whitener, hair straighteners, scrap metal, tarantulas and some oil to fry them in... There was only one more thing, perhaps the most important thing, that he needed to get. He turned into the alcohol aisle and spotted a lone flagon of white cider; the last one in the store. At the opposite end of the aisle was Bladewolf who had also been shopping for his essentials. His robot dog eyes were on the cider too. Sensing he may have competition, Monsoon decided to take no chances and dismembered himself to launch his speedy tornado move to get straight to the prize. Bladewolf launched into action and bound down the aisle with his artificial tongue flopped out. The pair collided inches away from their goal creating an explosion of spilled shopping items and Monsoon's body parts. "This cider's mine!" Monsoon declared pulling himself together and clasping a hand on the flagon. "Negative," Bladewolf responded in his monotonous robot voice as he wrapped his tail around the neck of the bottle.   They exchanged deathly stares and did the only thing they knew how: fight. Monsoon pounced on him but Bladewolf was no easy prey. He tail whipped him in the face and flipped him off and soon they were rolling around the supermarket floor grappling for the cider like a pair of amateur wrestlers on Money in the Bank. During the struggle a strange feeling of Deju vu came over them and it dawned on them that they had met before. Ten years ago, in the early hours of a Saturday morning, they had just so happened to bump into each other whilst drunkenly staggering home from a club. Memories were vague but weird sexual activity had taken place in a phone box that never would have happened if they had been sober. Ashamed of themselves, they had gone their separate ways and repressed it as deeply as possible, never seeing each other again. Each wondered silently if the other was thinking the same and decided not to mention it, in the hope that they had forgotten. Meanwhile, the scuffle had attracted the attention of the security guards. Two stern looking cyborgs stood over them with their arms folded. "What's going on here then?" the first asked, raising an eyebrow. They yelled at the same time drowning each other out with their childish squabbling and resorting to hair and tail pulling. The security guards looked at each other and shook their heads. "If neither of you are willing to back down then you will have to share." "No way! I have won this!" "Negative. Failure of this mission would violate tonight's objective." The guard spoke firmly, "If you do not agree to share we'll have no choice but to ban you both from the store and report you to your bosses." It dawned on Monsoon that the consequences of this would be dire. Not only was this the only shop for miles but he did not want Armstrong to know he had been wrestling an AI dog on the floor for three litres of white cider. Regrettably there was no choice in the matter. They begrudgingly glared at each other and nodded.

Monsoon's apartment was bigger and the closest so they agreed to go there. Bladewolf planned to share a little with him then swipe it when his back was turned. Monsoon had no intention of sharing any at all (not with Bladewolf anyway). The first thing Bladewolf noticed about Monsoon's apartment was that it was one of a kind. His jaw dropped when he saw the living room. The carpet was invisible under a sea of what to the untrained eye looked like scrap metal. There were bits of tank, helicopter, car parts and set aside even some motorcycle parts. Some of them had the creepy purple Lorentz aura about them. The leather sofa was covered in them too leaving only a small space for a single person to sit down. Plant pots were dotted around in random places and numerous Richard Dawkins and Hendrik Lorentz pictures hung on the wall as if Monsoon worshipped them as gods. The last thing he spotted was propped up in the corner: that damn, godforsaken, unholy Wheel. He would stay as far away from that thing as possible. The so called living room appeared as nothing more than a magnetic scrap metal lab. Bladewolf concluded that it most definitely deviated from the social norms he was programmed with. Monsoon spied the stunned look on his face and explained, "It's simply the way things are; this way I know where everything is so it’s easier and more efficient. It's who I am see. All is as it should be." "We shall be needing some glasses. Do you think you could find some amongst all your weird shit?" Bladewolf shot back, realising that perhaps he had been learning too much of Raiden's vocabulary. Monsoon grunted and reluctantly fetched two half pint glasses. He would permit Bladewolf to that before he booted him out of his house and kept the cider. He also permitted him to sit on the only seat in the room, but only so he could creep him out by sitting on the ceiling. To his annoyance, Bladewolf did not seem phased by this, he was an AI afterall. An uncomfortable silence fell on the room, which Monsoon broke by disconnecting his hand and rifling through Bladewolf's shopping bag. "Let's see what you got, shall we," he grinned snidely at him. "Ooh a squeaky toy, a dog dish, Pedigree Chum... What's this? A leash, dog collar, a Brazillian edition pot noodle and WKD! Tell me: what would a dumb AI dog want with those?" "I see no reason to share my objectives with you," Bladewolf answered coldly. "Do as you please!" yelled Monsoon angrily as he necked his cider in one. "I've got my own objectives to attend to." Rattled, he threw the shopping bag down purposely spilling all the contents and scurried into the kitchen, which was also covered in various vehicle parts leaving only a small space on the worktop and cooker. There was something that bothered him about Bladewolf's shopping list. He put it down to nothing more than paranoia and began making preparations for dinner: fried tarantulas with crickets as a garnish - they were a delicacy in Cambodia. He only made the effort to cook on special occasions or when entertaining guests. All he had to do was get rid of Bladewolf before the said guest arrived. Bladewolf padded into the kitchen curious about what the unusual smell was. Tarantulas! What the hell! But that was not the only odd thing he noticed; "I calculate that the portion sizes are inadequate for just a singular meal. Are we expecting company or is this strange concoction for me?" "I see no reason to share my objectives with you!" Monsoon shot back sarcastically. Bladewolf scowled and headed back into the living room as the smell of fried spiders became overwhelming. He figured the extra meal probably wasn't for him and he dreaded to think what kind of people Monsoon mixed with. If they were anything like him then the situation would become even more awkward; one was bad enough. He may have had some weird tendancies, however he wasn't stupid and had taken all necessary precautions to guard the precious cider in keeping it right next to his fryer amongst bits of magnetic scrap. A distraction was needed. Heading back into the so-called living room, Bladewolf pondered over tactics. For reasons his giant intellect could not fathom, he got a weird kick out of antagonising the cyborg. He found him strangely intriguing: a worthy opponent.  He was drawn to one of the plant pots, (which looked oddly out of place amongst all the mechanical equipment) to see what he was growing. There were some pretty pink flowers alongside some psychodelic looking mushrooms that were probably best avoided. Bladewolf smirked and pushed the pot off the ledge. Monsoon heard the smash and came dashing in, "What are you doing you stupid clumsy mutt?" Bladewolf replied with a hint of smugness, "Oh erm.. I apologise. I seem to have broken one of your Pol Pots." "What did you say?" Monsoon snarled. He was very sensitive about the traumatic childhood he had spent on the killing fields. "Plant pots." Monsoon gave him a death stare that was invisible from underneath his dome. A fake smile appeared to mask his plotting, "Oh, I must have misheard you. I suppose it’s OK I've got loads more." Bladewolf looked at him suspiciously. Why was he suddenly being nice? Monsoon's grin spread, "How about we try and be amicable towards each other seeing as we will be sharing this cider." "Your terms seem acceptable." "Good doggy. How about we play some fetch?" he said whipping out the stick he'd stolen from his shopping bag. Bladewolf's tail wagged furiously; he was a sucker for a game of fetch. The fact that Monsoon was willing to play it with him almost made up for how obnoxious he had been earlier in the supermarket. He happily followed him into the garden jumping up and down in excitement. Monsoon had a huge grin on his face that was difficult to read without seeing his eyes. Was he wide-eyed and full of joy or scowling sinisterly? Was he to be trusted? He tossed the stick far into the garden and it disappeared into a bush. Perfect; it was the ideal cover for him to perform his stealth attack... Bladewolf fell for it hook, line and sinker; he darted across the garden to the shrubs, only to find that the stick had been replaced by one of Monsoon's detached legs, which swiftly sprang into action and booted him in the face. Damn that crafty cyborg! He decided he had to up his game... Monsoon retreated back into his kitchen, chuckling maniacally to himself as Bladewolf lay whimpering and injured on his side. His fried tarantulas were almost cooked to perfection. The timing was perfect for his date were due to arrive very soon. Nevertheless a quick codec call to make sure he was on his way wouldn't hurt. 'Good evening my love. I trust you are on your way. I have prepared an exquisite meal for us. I am looking forward to seeing you.'

Meanwhile, in a nearby motel room, Jetstream Sam sat up in bed and wiped his brow after enjoying a steamy session with Raiden, who lay flat out exhausted next to him. He reached over to the bedside table and discreetly checked his codec. It had only been abandoned for a mere hour but already had several messages left on it. He sighed - it was hard being as popular as he was. It was even harder still to satisfy the tremendous sex drive he had... No singular cyborg, human or animal had managed to fulfill it, which is how he justified enjoying them all. "Who's calling you?" Raiden mustered up the last of his strength to ask. "Don't worry, nobody as good as you, pretty boy," Sam smiled, playfully running his fingers through his hair. It was true, Raiden held the largest place in his heart (still that didn't give him the right to be so possessive!) but there were things he craved that he just couldn't satisfy. That was where Monsoon and Bladewolf came into it...  He had dates with both of them lined up. Monsoon harboured some of the kinkiest freakiest fetishes that not even the darkest XXX website catered for, while Bladewolf would be his loyal unquestioning servant and do anything he wanted just like the obedient dog he was... And the beauty of it was none of the three were likely to speak to one another so he could use the same puny excuse to get away and have each think he was their one and only. "You know I have VR training to go to," he smiled at Raiden. "I know," Raiden said glumly. "Same time tomorrow though?" "Of course. I'm missing you already." He kissed him and departed for Monsoon’s place, smiling to himself, “I’m just getting started!”

Bladewolf padded back into the house after escaping the rogue limb, his pride literally dented. Analysis of that damn Monsoon, who stood frying his tarantulas with that infuriating grin on his face, concluded that he really was a smug, creepy weirdo and it was just as well that he had that big thing on his head to contain his ego. But it was OK, he would have the last laugh. For now he would let him think that he had the upper hand while he planned his next move. In the living room, in pride of place above all the junk and hanging on the wall were Dystopia, Monsoon's precious Sais. It was where he hung them when he was at home and not ripping people to shreds on the battle field. If there was a way of getting to him, then this was certainly it. So... Monsoon wanted to play fetch? If he was going to get treated like a dog then surely the only thing to do would be to act like one! He tore them from their throne and pinned them down with his metal paws like a hungry predator going in for the kill. It was in a dog's nature to maul and chew things of value. A regular dog would go for things like furniture, slippers or newspaper but he was a cyborg dog with razor sharp metal teeth that could tear up much more. The Sais were infused with Lorentz, which made them a little tough, nevertheless he managed to leave some jagged teeth marks as he slobbered and savaged them as if they were a bone. Monsoon would be furious... On hearing the feral growling from the kitchen, the cyborg dashed in to see what destruction he was causing. It was to his complete and utter horror that his beloved Dystopia were being mauled by that vile mutt! "What the hell do you think you are doing? How dare you!" he bellowed. Bladewolf looked up a sweet look of satisfaction upon his face to see the enraged Cambodian launch himself at him. He should have expected a revenge attack! Yet again, they became embroiled in a whirlwind of metallic body parts grappling at each other on the floor, hair and tail pulling like children. Once again the feeling of deja-vu swept over them. The claws of Bladewolf scraped down his attacker’s face, slicing one of the few human parts he had left. Monsoon’s artificial heart thudded and his skin tingled. Obviously, he felt more pain to his actual flesh than his cyborg body would permit and the scratch gave a jolt to his senses and made him feel alive! A desire he could not understand nor control took hold of his senses and in the grip of its vice he pinned Bladewolf onto his back and ran his tongue along his snout. Bladewolf’s eyes widened with curiosity and the same unknown feeling took hold of him too…

Drawing ever closer was Jetstream Sam, after taking a quick shower to erase the smell of he and Raiden’s bodily fluids from their earlier encounter. He felt as fresh as a daisy but of course it wouldn’t last if past experiences with Monsoon were anything to go by. He was a kinky devil and such an attentive lover! His hair slick back in his usual ponytail he walked up Monsoon’s street with a cocky swagger in his step and a cheeky grin on his tanned face. What sort of fetish would he be indulging in today? He tapped the heavy front door but there was no response. Strange noises could be heard inside: rhythmic grunting and moans… Sam was intrigued so tried the handle. Monsoon usually left it unlocked when he was expecting him although he liked to knock just out of politeness. However the door was open. Nothing could have prepared Sam for what he was about to see.

There was Bladwolf being pinned to the ground by Monsoon who was holding him by the scruff with one hand while violently fisting him with the other. A twisted expression was upon Bladewolf’s face as he yelped and Sam was unsure as to whether or not he was enjoying himself or just in vast amounts of pain. There was no such doubt with Monsoon though; his sadistic grin was spread ear to ear. It was at least a minute before either of them noticed that they were being watched but Sam was more than happy to watch the show. “Ahem…” Sam said clearing his throat. The interruption startled them. Bladewolf was mortified – he had genuine feelings for Sam and did not want him to think of him as being disloyal. On the other hand, Monsoon could not have cared less because he had no interest in being in an exclusive relationship, or any kind of relationship for that matter other than a sexual one. “Sam… why are you here?” Bladewolf asked. “I could ask you the same question,” Sam said, intrigued. “This stupid mutt was helping me warm up for you,” Monsoon grinned. “He was just leaving.” “Well, let’s not be too hasty,” Sam said, the corner of his lips curling into his own cheeky grin... "Let's dance!"