#now though I gotta dig out my needles because time ran out so I have a half finished book

[crimsonblackrose]

Forgot how much I miss book people and artists. Like this dude makes books out of recycled packaging for his sketchbooks and I just...loved it. Like yes, let me cut up a old coffee bag and turn it into something new or a tea box. Not to mention he showed us all these different stitching's people have come up with and I just...I wanna make them. Let me sew lotus patterns into the side of a doughnut box. One problem however...what to do with all these handmade books? I do not want to become a zucchini farmer.*

[eevee-eclair]

Don’t Look Me in the Eyes

Written by Eevee

Things to look out for: Blood, stitches, bandages, fighting, screaming, Ranboo goes feral, Unsympathetic!Dream (just incase), Dadza, Big Bro Techno, a long day, mention of L’manburg (RIP), mention of death/torture, spoilers for a book (Eragon), hunger, fever, (please tell me if I missed one)

Random side note: The small mini fic I planned for this to be was thrown out the window. Have at this, I guess. This is my first time writing for this fandom too, so if I get stuff wrong (more specifically the characters wrong) please forgive me. (More at the end)

Also consistency? Who’s that?

~~~

Ranboo walked outside, feeling weighed down by everything. It had been a long day. L’manburg was gone, he still didn’t know if Techno was gonna kill him or not—let alone trust him—, and even though he was living with Phil and Techno he didn’t have a house, just a small shed. Oh, and on top of it all, he promised one of the most powerful people on the server something he might not be able to provide.

Ranboo sat down in the snow and covered his face, trying not to scream or cry. He heard the soft crunch of snow under two pairs of feet coming closer.

“Ranboo?” He recognized the voice as Phil’s.

Someone crouched next to him. “Hey, you good, bro?” That was Techno.

He let out a pathetic sigh. “It’s just too much,” he mumbled.

Ranboo registered Phil putting his wings around him, trying to comfort him. If he was being honest, it was making him feel trapped.

“Yeah... We’re sorry about that,” Techno said, messing with his braid. “But it had to be done.”

He lifted his head, still not looking at them but he could feel their gaze. It made him feel uneasy, so he let out a small grunt—almost Enderman like. “Just because it was necessary doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” he grumbled. There was a slight edge to his voice.

Phil sat down. “It’ll be okay. Healing takes time so you’ll be okay eventually!” He was trying to cheer him up but it was only making him feel worse.

Ranboo pulled at his hair, his eyes glowing a little. “I’m tired of waiting!” he wailed. “It hurts!”

Techno sighed. “We know, Ranboo. We’ve both been there,” he said, looking at Phil. “It takes time, but it’s worth it in the end.”

The hand he placed on his back was the final nail in the coffin. Ranboo stood up and let out a cry that sounded exactly like an angry Enderman. His eyes were bright and he looked almost in pain.

Phil jumped away and drew he sword while Techno drew his rocket launcher. “Ranboo, i-it’s okay!” Phil tried to reason. “Just-just calm down!”

Ranboo drew his sword and screamed again.

Techno put a rocket in. “Put the sword down,” he said, aiming for his chest. “Don’t make us do this, Ranboo.”

Phil was going to say something else when he made the mistake of looking at his eyes. Ranboo ran at him, almost as if he wasn’t controlling his actions. He blocked every swing he threw but was quickly tiring. He was just too fast. Techno fired the rocket and it hit Ranboo square in the back, trying to help Phil.

Ranboo screeched loudly, causing the other two to cover their ears. He ran at him, angrier than ever.

“Techno, log out!” Phil cried, following his own advice and leaving the game. Techno quickly copied, leaving Ranboo alone.

When they got back, Ranboo was face down in the snow. His sword was stuck in the ground next to him as red and green blood soaked the snow around him. They ran over, horribly worried.

“Oh god,” Techno muttered, crouching next to him. He noticed blood coming from his mouth as he flipped him over. “Shit, what did we do?”

Phil covered his mouth and fell next to him. “Ranboo, please wake up!” he begged, shaking him a little.

“He’ll be out for a while.”

They turned to see Dream standing over him. The sun hit his back, making him look more powerful than he was. The axe in his hand dripped with the blood that definitely belonged to Ranboo.

“What did you do?!” Phil cried, hugging the unconscious body of their friend.

“I saved you,” he said simply. “He would’ve killed us all if I hadn’t stepped in.”

Techno stood up. “We’re miles away from everyone and we had already logged off. Who the fuck were you trying to save?!” he spat.

Dream turned to him, that mask blocking all emotions. “Myself? Himself? Couldn’t you see how unstable he was?” he asked, shoving his axe into the ground.

“We had it under control,” Phil hissed. “Go away.”

Dream laughed a little before grabbing his axe and shrugging. “Alright. You’re welcome by the way,” he said over his shoulder as he walked away.

Phil and Techno watched him walk away before they turned their attention to Ranboo. They just realized the large cut that stretched from just below his collar bone to just above his hip.

Techno quickly ripped his cape to stop the blood that was oozing out. Thankfully, it wasn’t one of his good ones.

“It doesn’t look that deep so he might be fine,” he told Phil, looking up. “But I can’t promise anything.”

Phil nodded, running his fingers through Ranboo’s hair. He was being horribly reminded of Wilbur at the moment. “Okay,” he whispered. He wiped tears from his eyes. “J-just try, please...”

Techno stood up and tried to pick him up and pry him away from Phil. “Come on, I can’t help him if you don’t let go,” he said gently, keeping in mind how Phil must be feeling.

Phil reluctantly let him go, his wings drooping as he watched Techno carry him into the house. He looked away from the red and green trail that was left behind.

———

Techno quickly put some slabs down to lay Ranboo on. He dug around for bandages, water, and a healing potion before walking over. He peeled back the cloth that had stuck to the wound before he started to clean it.

Phil walked in and leaned against the wall, watching him work. He was silently crying and became more worried when Techno drew in a sharp breath.

“What is it?” he asked, running over.

Techno looked at him and frowned. “It’s gonna need stiches,” he told him, digging through his chests.

Phil started to bite his nail as he watched Techno pull out a needle and thread.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Phil looked up. “What now?”

“I have nothing to numb the pain...”

“He’s unconscious, he won’t feel it,” he said, but he was still just as nervous.

Techno but his lip. “I don’t want him waking up in pain, though.”

Phil sighed. “Then splash him with regeneration after.”

Techno nodded and grabbed another. “Okay then...”

He threaded the needle before walking closer to Ranboo who was still out cold. He managed to get six stitches in before he let out a heavy sigh and stepped away.

“I can’t do it, Phil... I can’t risk hurting him,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“And I can’t risk losing him!” Phil responded, picking up the needle and finishing what he had started. “I lost Wilbur and Tommy! I’m not losing another son!” he cried as he sewed.

Techno decided not to mention him calling Ranboo his ‘son’. He looked at the fire and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Phil tied the thread and started to wrap Ranboo in bandages. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay, you did nothing wrong.”

He wanted to argue that all three times he lost a ‘son’ was his fault, but he decided that was a conversation for another day. Instead he walked over with the splash potion. He threw it at Ranboo and they watched his face that was previously screwed up in pain, melt into relief.

“No we just gotta wait for him to wake up,” Phil said. Then he turned to Techno. “Come on, let’s go find something to do while we wait.”

Techno followed him downstairs, both worried about whether or not Ranboo would live. They were praying he does.

———

Ranboo woke to a pounding headache and a horrible pain in his torso and back. He tried to sit up but immediately fell back down with a strangled cry as the pain in his chest flared up in protest.

Breathing heavily he looked down to see bandages wrapped around his whole chest. He shakily reached over and touched them. He hissed in pain and laid his head back down.

He looked around and came to the horrifying realization that he was back in Techno’s house. A million different senecios raced through his head at once.

Had Techno tired to kill him and Phil saved him? Did he do something stupid and since Techno needed him to get the axe back he saved him? Did he save him to do something worse to him later?

Ranboo was pulled from his spiraling when he someone snapped in front of his face. Looking over he came face to face with Phil with Techno right behind him.

“Ranboo, it’s okay. Calm down,” he soothed, sitting next to him.

“W-what happened?” he asked quietly, lifting his head. His voice felt raw and cracked horribly.

Techno looked at him in sympathy. “You don’t remember?”

He shook his head. “I-I remember you guys trying to h-help me with... something...” he mumbled, looking at the ceiling.

Phil bit his lip. “You kinda... Snapped. You tried to kill us, too,” he added hesitantly.

Ranboo’s eyes widened. “Phil I-I’m so so sorry!” He looked at Techno. “I-I didn’t mean to! Ple-please don’t kick me out,” he begged, trying to sit up.

Both Phil and Techno phushed him back down. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay!” Techno reassured, grabbing his shoulders. “I’m not gonna kick ya out, dude. Don’t stress yourself.”

He dug around in one of his chests and pulled out an empty bottle. He jumped down the ladder and filled it before climbing up and offering it to Ranboo. “Here, drink this,” he said, helping him sit.

Ranboo winced as he was sat up and leaned into Phil for support. He took it the bottle, almost afraid of it, before drinking. It was empty too soon but he felt better anyway—even if it burnt a little. “Thanks,” he muttered. “That’s a lot better...”

Techno took the empty bottle and Phil wrapped a wing around him. “How do you feel?”

Ranboo looked at him tiredly. “Not good... I’m sorry again, by the way. If you guys want to kick me out, I understand.”

Phil started to run his fingers through his hair, earning him a soft content hum. “It’s alright, we won’t make you move. Can I see how you’re healing?” he asked, changing the subject.

He nodded and laid back down. Phil got up and looked around for scissors. He couldn’t find any so he settled for a diamond axe and walked back, ready to cut the bandages off.

Ranboo took one look at the sharp object and a frightened Enderman-like croak came from him. He stopped moving and lowered the axe. “Ranboo..?”

“I-I’m sorry, the axe just makes me nervous...” he muttered. Again, there was a slight darkness in his voice.

Techno nodded. “Understandable. After what you just went through, I’m not surprised. Use a hoe, Phil,” he said, looking at him. “They’re still sharp.”

Phil quickly tossed the axe in a chest and dug for a hoe. He found a stone one, deemed it sharp enough, and walked over. This time, Ranboo stayed still but he still looked nervous.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” Phil said, slicing the bandages away. As he peeled them back he took a good look at the stitching.

Ranboo’s eyes widened and he went a little pale. “Wh-what happened?” he stammered, not taking his eyes off the thread holding him together.

“Well, after you started to attack us, Phil and I combat-logged to see if that would calm you down. I guess in that short time we were gone, Dream found you and almost sliced you in half with his axe. Which explains why you were nervous when Phil tried to use one,” he explained while Phil checked the wound.

A small ‘oh’ was all he could say. He looked shaken, in Techno’s opinion.

Phil stepped back. “I hate to interrupt, but it’s not looking the best. It needs cleaned so it has a less chance of being infected,” he said, looking for something to use.

Techno handed him the rest of his torn cape. “Just use this, it’s ruined anyway.”

He took it and went downstairs to wet it down. When he came back, Teachno looked panicked. He quickly ran over.

“What’s wrong?!” he asked. “Is he okay?!”

Techno stepped away. “I don’t know! He said he was tired so I grabbed a pillow to put under his head and when I went back I touched his cheek. He’s burning up!” he said.

Phil quickly ripped the soaked cloth in half and laid the smaller bit on Ranboo’s forehead and used the other to clean the wound.

Looking down, Ranboo had fallen back asleep despite the chaos. “Hand me a healing potion,” he said, looking at Techno.

He nodded and handed on to him. Phil popped the cork and poured it over the wound, hoping it would help. “Bandages,” he requested, holding out his hand. Techno handed him some and he wrapped them around Ranboo’s stitches before tying them off.

“That should work. When he wakes up again, he can eat.” He turned to go outside when Techno stopped him. He looked scared.

“Please don’t leave,” he mumbled after a moment.

Phil pulled him into a hug. “I won’t,” he said, putting his wings around him. “I won’t leave, but I have to get a bucket of water to keep him cool so the fever doesn’t get worse, okay?”

Techno nodded and let him go. When he returned with the bucket of water, he was sitting next to Ranboo and reading a book. Phil smiled and put a block down to sit on.

“Whatcha reading?” he asked as he took the cloth off his head and wet it back down.

Techno looked up, his reading glasses slipping down his nose a little. “Eragon.”

Phil nodded. “Care to read to me?”

He nodded and started to read out loud. That’s how they spent the next hour, Techno reading to Phil as he tried to keep Ranboo’s fever down. As he read, Techno started to forget about his worries and focused on Eragon and Saphira’s adventures.

———

“A dark liquid dripped from the tips of her fingers. Eragon knew it was blood,” Techno read. He yawned and closed his book. “I think it’s time for me to go to bed,” he muttered.

“But what happened to the woman in his dream?”

Both men jumped and turned to see that Ranboo was awake. He looked tired, but there was a small smile on his face.

“How long have you been listening?” Phil asked, taking the wet cloth away.

Ranboo shrugged. “Just that last bit.” He tried to sit up and winced.

Techno went to put his book away. “How do you feel?” he asked, taking the glasses off.

“Like shit,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “I’ve got a headache, my throat burns, and my chest feels like it was ripped apart. Oh, and my back aches.”

Phil dipped the cloth back into the water and laid it on his head. “That’s to be expected. Would you like some water?” When Ranboo nodded he helped him sit up. “Okay, I’ll be back.”

Techno looked at Ranboo before digging through a chest and pulling out a baked potato. “Hungry?” he asked, offering it.

Ranboo nodded grabbed it, eating quickly. Phil returned and gently took the potato away, handing him the water. “Slow down, you’ll hurt yourself,” he said, smiling.

He started to drink and winced as it burned a little again, but kept drinking. When he was done he went back to eating the potato.

Techno and Phil pulled out their own food and started to eat with him. When they were all done, they sat back with Ranboo.

“Feeling better?” Phil asked. When Ranboo nodded he smiled. “Good. Can I change your bandages before you go back to sleep?”

He nodded again and laid down. Phil set to work with changing the bandages quickly. Afterwards, he saw that Ranboo was back asleep.

“We’ll have to remind him about this later,” Techno said after a while. “And I don’t think he’ll be happy about it.”

Phil sighed. “I know, but he might thank us later. At least he’s safe.”

Techno nodded and started to walk downstairs. “At least he’s safe...”

Phil watched him go before turning to the sleeping Ranboo. ‘He’ll be okay,’ he thought. Who the ‘he’, he didn’t know.

~~~

THIS GOT SO LONG IM SO SORRY!!

I hope you enjoyed, please forgive me if things are wrong! I hoped you liked it!!

[achubbydumpling]

[unfinished] Good Boy Bucky (Part 2)

Ok... So, I set myself this self-imposed challenge of writing/posting something every day in July, mostly for Get Beached. Up until now that's worked out to a few complete ficlets (yay me).

However, muses wax and wane and I've been blessed by Sappho the past few days—everything is fragments.

Posting my writing was just a way to set myself a deadline, but it's great to see some of you want to follow me. Since I'm the Captain of this ship I decide where we go and I set up this really nice calendar to cross off every day I post and I don't want to ruin my streak. So, this unfinished thing is me keeping my streak, because I make the rules!

Once again thank you to @wotvagyok for cheering me on and discussing many great chubby!kink ideas with me.

Rating: Explicit Words: 1850 Relationship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers Additional Tags: Dom/sub, Belly kink, Gainer!Dom Steve, Daddy kink

Read on AO3

(also, I've been reading too many fics by howdoyousleep which is why Steve's suddenly Bucky's daddy.. surprise 🎉) They’d played those games before. Bucky asking Steve to control him, use him, hurt him. After Steve’s transformation he’d begged him to really damage him. Use that supersoldier strength to bite bruises into Bucky’s skin that he’d feel for weeks. That was easy for Bucky. Pushing for more, asking for pain. He didn’t know when those wires had gotten crossed in his head, but as long as he could remember pain and pleasure had been linked in his mind. First time he could remember jerking off, coming with his hand in his mouth. Tooth marks on his skin that lasted all night.

This, however, was something new. Something that had only started when he’d found his way back from the Winter Soldier into his own mind, Bucky’s mind—whatever was left of that. There he’d found this. This squirming, insecure little thing that wanted to be good to Steve, didn’t want to push him, but slide against him. Move when he moved, like they were one instead of two separate halves.

Bucky could feel his legs tingling, slowly starting to go numb on the hard wood floor. Steve was still working his way through the entire pot of food. Bucky smiled when he saw the way his belly was starting to really strain the buttons on his shirt. That had started a bit after Bucky had found Steve again. When he didn’t think about finding Bucky all the time, he’d let himself indulge in the new foods of the 21stcentury.

When those first ten pounds had settled on Steve’s hips, he’d wanted to slim back down immediately—stay at fighting weight. Bucky had sniffed out that little bit of apprehension though. After Steve had really used his weight to throw Bucky around, he’d teased that out of Steve.

He’d admitted it made him feel powerful, even bigger than Bucky, felt that dominating strength even outside their bedroom when he felt his waistband biting into his skin and his belly rounding out against his shirts. When everyone’s eyes first went to that pudge Captain America had put on. He wanted more of that.

Bucky had soothed his mind of being useless for fighting the morning after. Pulling out all stops, using every aspect of the Winter Soldier training. Steve still managed to pin him within a few minutes. That little paunch under his belly button laying heavily into the small of Bucky’s back, having him rut against the mat underneath.

Steve’s voice pulled Bucky out of the memory, “You back with me, Buck? You looked a little lost there” Bucky could feel that warm smile spread on his face, didn’t even have to nod for Steve to understand.

Bucky scooted closer to Steve, resting his head against Steve’s right thigh. Steve must’ve made a good dent in the food. His belly was rounding out almost spherical. Bucky could see his belly button through the undershirt that showed through the widening gaps of the button down. The button of his trousers was slightly obscured by his belly, but by the way Steve dug his finger underneath the waistband every few bites, it must be getting tight.

Bucky finally moved after spending so long in the same position his legs had started falling asleep. The buzzing rush of pins and needles running up and down his thighs made him shiver. Instead of rubbing the sensation from his legs, he moved further up and buried his face against Steve’s belly. His hands came up to frame Steve’s ball gut on either side. Steve groaned with Bucky’s hands finally on his belly.

“Don’t pull the shirt too much. Don’t want help popping the buttons, you understand?” Bucky hummed agreeable and began digging his knuckles into Steve’s belly. He wasn’t quite full enough yet, that Bucky had to be careful with his touch.

He could just enjoy that heavy feeling of Steve’s belly in his hands, the way it pushed out against him. Steve really must’ve indulged every offering at the banquet. However, his supersoldier metabolism was working through the food fast. Would Steve also put on fat four times as fast as the average human?

Bucky didn’t have another moment to contemplate that question. Steve groaned above him, and Bucky eased up on the pressure he was rubbing his gut with. The pot must almost be empty by now.

+++

There’s barely anything left of the curry. Steve has been working steadily on eating everything, but now his pace was slowing down, and his breathing was getting heavier. Bucky continued rubbing large circles over Steve’s gut, concentrating on the stuffed upper belly.

Almost finished. Just one more bite. Just one more. Steve hadn’t asked for Bucky to speak and encourage him, but a constant stream of it flowed through his mind. So proud to see Steve indulging like this. To see him grow. Growing heavier than Bucky by the day. His titanium arm had weighed a full forty pounds, but even the vibranium arm gave him a leg up by about ten pounds. Still, he was nowhere near as heavy as Steve, and he relished in the difference when Steve held him down.

+++

The shirt grew tighter and tighter. The fabric groaning with the strain, loud enough now for even unenhanced humans to hear, but the buttons just wouldn’t budge. High-quality materials kept Steve from ripping through the buttons with his stuffed gut. He gulped for air, there was nothing left to eat, but he needed something more.

“Get me something to drink, Buck.” He jumped up and almost ran to the kitchen, coming to a skidding halt in front of the fridge. Something to drink. Bucky defaulted to a glass of water, but then thought better of it. Steve had left the decision to him. He grabbed two of the beer bottles at the bottom of the fridge and raced back. Steve took both bottles from Bucky’s hands and quickly opened one with the other.

He put the first bottle to his lips and downed it within a few seconds. He slammed the bottle on the side table to his right and heaved a few heavy breaths, just as it seemed like Steve would have to open that second bottle as well. The button on the roundest part of his belly popped off.

His belly sagged forward filling the bit of space. Time seemed suspended in the moment until a chain reaction started popping the rest of the buttons and tearing the fabric where the buttons wouldn’t give in fast enough. Steve’s overstuffed gut surged forward, but not by much, weighing high and tight on his torso. He was heaving shallow breaths trying to work around the spasming muscles in his belly.

+++

“Wanna get those pretty pink lips on me.”

“Got myself all ready, so you can fuck me.” Steve’s expression soured into a frown.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to be a good boy for me?” Bucky nodded meekly. “Do good boys talk back when their daddies tell them what to do?”

Bucky’s mind caught on that word—daddy—they’d discussed a few names for the position Steve would be in, in this scenario. However, Bucky had not anticipated the dizzying headrush he’d feel hearing that word out loud. Having Steve say exactly who he was to Bucky.

The feeling shot straight to his dick. His hips involuntarily snapped forward. He let his head fall with the shame that burned on his cheeks.

“Oh,” Steve cooed, “you like hearing me say that?” He shoved another spoonful of curry in his mouth, savouring the taste, only after swallowing the food did he turn his full attention back on Bucky.

“I’m your daddy, Buck. You see how I gotta keep you in check, hm? Just there. You’re always so eager.” Bucky nodded along to Steve’s words. “But when I’m here to guide you, you take such good care of me don’t you?”

Steve clearly expected an answer. Bucky swallowed around the word in his mouth, it felt heavy on his tongue, like a momentous occasion.

“Yes.” He paused and swallowed again. “Daddy.”

Steve pulled Bucky up and up, off his knees and back onto the couch.

“You’re gonna make me come with those pretty pink lips, ok?” Bucky nodded and went straight for Steve’s crotch, eager to please. Once again Steve stopped him. Disappointed frown on his face.

“I try to teach you—” Bucky realised what Steve wanted from him. “Yes, daddy.” Bucky could see Steve’s hand twitch where it was resting on his stuffed belly.

“Don’t interrupt me, boy.” Bucky ducked his head and bit down on his bottom lip.

“I know you’re trying to make this so good for me, but you still have to listen to me, ok?” Bucky sat up straighter and wiggled on Steve’s lap a bit, then tapped his index finger to his ear. Listening.

“Good boy.” Bucky felt that familiar sweet feeling prickle at the back of his neck. He waited for Steve’s next order. Instead, Steve pulled him close by the neck and surprised him with a kiss. He pulled back before Bucky could really get over his surprised reaction.

+++

“Turn around, baby boy. Heard you got yourself all nice and ready for me.”

“What were you thinking about while you worked yourself open like that?”

“Did you come, baby boy?”

“No? Oh, you’re so good, waiting for your daddy to come home and tell you when you’re allowed.”

“Push back a bit for me.”

“Quit your whining that’s not gonna make me give you my cock any faster.”/”Oh, be a good boy and stay quiet, won’t you?”

“Yes, look at you. If I pulled at that little gemstone, you’d be all nice and wet for me. Do you think you should ride my cock right now?”

“Whatever you want, daddy.”

“Good boy. That’s right. I get to decide what you need. Can you sit back for me?”

“Yes, look at that. So obedient.”

“Why don’t you fuck yourself on it? You think you can come on this little thing when you’re used to daddy’s cock?”

“That was a question.”

“Whatever you want, daddy.”

“That’s right, good boy. You come when I tell you to, don’t you? Look at you rutting away on this little toy and leaking all over yourself. Think I can add a finger next to the toy? Oh, look at you taking it so well. Does that remind you of daddy’s thick cock?”

“Keep it up, baby boy. Want you to come just on that toy. ‘m gonna jerk you off to help you a bit, but when you get close you gotta tell me, ok?”

“Already? Ok.”

“I know, I know. Just a bit now. Lean back.”

“C’mon, my fingers not enough?”

“Oh, you need permission, baby boy, is that it?”

“Such a good boy waiting for that.”

“Come for me.”

“Oh, you were so good for me. You gonna be ok leaving that plug in for a bit? Yeah, you’re tired I know. Taking care of your daddy and having your pussy fucked takes a lot out of you. Let’s get you to bed.”

[thewalkingfanfictions]

Teddy Bears and Memories -- Sam Winchester x Male!Reader

Teddy Bears and Memories — Sam Winchester x Male!reader

Description: (name) and his little sister are partnering with the Winchester brothers on a case. Everything's fine and dandy, they've already killed the creature and are hanging out at the motel for the night, when Maddie ((names) sister) decides to pull a prank on her brother, resulting in aggressive flashbacks, intense PTSD and a moose ready to comfort a crying friend.

⚠Warning⚠: IF YOU GET TRIGGERED EASILY, DO NOT READ THIS. This deals with descriptions of rape, (though I tried to keep it vague) PTSD, flashbacks, and a kinda sorta mental breakdown. Cursing, grammar errors, and also quite a lot of negative and toxic thoughts.

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Pairing: Sam Winchester x sexually abused!male!reader

A/N: this is... kinda awful. Like, it made me cold reading this. Seriously don't read it if you get triggered easily. Also, the first, like, quarter, I wrote in a huge hurry, so ignore how trash it is. And its kinda writen shitily, but whatever.

Words without A/N: 4382

Masterlist

<—————————————>

"You gotta watch this," it was my sister. I would recognize her voice anywhere, even though she was whispering and clearly trying to keep me from hearing her. "He's terrified of them, its hilarious."

I wonder who she's dragging with her this time.

Deciding to let her continue to think she was sneaking up on me, I kept quiet and never moved my eyes from the lore book that I'd been studying for the past half hour. Though the case was over now, I still figured it would be a good idea to learn as much as I could about the Leeds' Devil, that way I'd know how to deal with it if we ever ran into another.

I could hear her creeping up on me, thinking I still didn't know she was there. There was another pair of footsteps with her. One of the brothers, no doubt.

It was quiet for just half a second, and I figured she'd be popping up in just a moment to try and jump scare me or something. You know, typical younger sibling style.

"He's terrified of them, its hilarious."

Wait.

Wait.

There was a quiet, girlish giggle, and I'm sure my eyes grew double their size as I figured out exactly what she was doing.

I flung my head to the side to see if she was going to do the thing I thought she was going to do (and desperately hoped she wasn't going to do), and immediately choked on air.

Tiny, beady eyes set high on soft brown fur. Little, round ears on top of a fluffy head.

No.

Rancid, green breath, so-brown-they're-almost-black eyes, sticky fingers touching places they should never be allowed to touch. Bookshelves full of teddy bears looking down on me with empty eyes and sown-on smiles.

I felt my entire body seize up, and before I could make myself come back down to earth, I was hurling the book in my hands at the furry little demon-bear in my little sisters hands and rolling off of the bed and to the floor. Flight-or-fight reflexes kicking in, I shoved myself back to my feet and fled towards the doorway. Away from the sound of heavy breathing and old-people BO that suddenly overwhelmed me.

And then it was in front of me, too.

Maddie, with that little ball of fluff and nightmare fuel in her hands, had darted ahead of me, between me and the only exit from the hotel room.

No.

Callased, rough hands, man-handeling me and shoving me onto my knees. Cold cuffs digging into my small wrists. Boiling breath ghosting over my too-cold skin. Hundreds of eyes staring at me from the shelves around us, none willing to help.

Fucking no.

Fighting past the urge to break into tears, I swatted the thing away from me, and (maybe a little too harshly) shoved my sister out of the way of the door.

"(Name)?" She called, like she didn't know what she was doing to me.

I locked eyes with someone for half a second, Sam, I think before I was out the door and down the sidewalk, towards my (favorite color) Chevrolet.

I heard Maddie call out for me one more time before the car door slammed closed, and I was taking off parallel to the sunset.

Before I even left the parking lot, I clicked on the radio and turned it up to its max volume. If I couldn't hear myself think, then I couldn't see the little black, beetly-like eyes boring into me as my youth died.

I don't exactly know how long I was driving, but somehow I found myself parked at a view point above the town, and the sky was now completely black, not even a hint of the sunset that had shined what felt like just a moment ago.

There were no lights to pollute the darkness of the sky, and the stars shown more brightly than I'd seen in a very long time. Shutting off the Chevrolet's engine, I pulled myself out of the door, and drug my body atop it's hood to look up at the sky. It's amazing how little I'd payed attention to how gorgeous the stars could be before now.

I settled back into the windshield and exhaled, forcing myself not to think for once. It only felt like moments, but it had to have been at least an hour I had sat there, and my arms were beginning to grow goosebumps from the cold. Wrapping them around me, I continued to study the sky; I didn't want to have to go back to the real world just yet.

Emotions were hard. They're difficult to understand, and even more difficult to explain. But something I had realized, I'm not entirely sure when, was that you can suffer from more than one emotion at a time, and that made life so, so much worse. Because, right now, I felt incredibly heavy. I was mourning the death of an innocence I never had the chance to get to know, and I felt completely devastated. Wrecked to my very core. But, underneath all of that, some stupid, small bubble of something resembling happiness, a feeling that had absolutely no right to be present now, grew just under my ribcage, and weaseled its way passed the smog of memories as the gravel behind me shifted with the wheels of a car, and the purring of the Impala's engine broke the relative quiet of the night.

I doubted it was Dean, he's never been very good at emotions, and it was definitely not my sibling, she knew to leave me alone when I needed quiet. That left Sam, and the thought of seeing the ridiculously tall man made my insides flutter cliché-ly.

I closed my eyes and followed the sound of the drivers side door opening, his feet planting on the pine needle-layden gravel. The soft close of the door, his steps growing, ever, nearer. Soon enough he was right by the drivers side of my car, and I could feel his eyes boring into the side of my face. I knew he had questions, but I just wasn't ready to tell.

"(Name)?" His voice was quiet, gentle. Barely a whisper. Like if he spoke to loudly he might shatter me like glass.

"Hey, you okay?" His steps were now right beside me, I could almost feel the warmth fluttering off of him.

'Not even a little.'

I nodded in response, not really trusting my voice to work without breaking. Finally opening my eyes, I refused to look over at him, instead opting to stare up at Ursa and her cub.

"Your sister," he started. Here we go. "She's worried about you. When you didn't pick up your cell, she was afraid something'd happened to you."

"Something did," I wanted to say. I wanted to scream, rant, and sob. But, of course, "I'm fine" was what passed my lips instead. The words sounded fake, even to my own ears.

I heard him sigh as he leaned closer, settling his hip against the hood of the car and staring down at me. I clenched my eyes closed; this is usually right around the time that someone would start asking questions with answers I didn't want to think about, or comment something snide about my stupid, irrational fear.

That bubble of happiness at his being there shrank.

"What do you want?" I asked, barely loud enough to be heard. I didn't care if I sounded rude.

It was silent for a second, like he was debating his answer, or just didn't have one.

"I," he paused, "I guess I just want to help you," his tone matched mine. "I saw the look in your eyes, (name), I know whatever it is, it's more than just a fear. I want to help you."

I was actually, truly speechless for once. He sounded so sincere, it was more than even my sister had expressed. Not that she'd ever actually shown any concern, she just thought it was funny that her big bro was terrified of teddy bears.

I couldn't tell him, of course, he'd just think me even weaker than he probably already assumed after seeing me have a meltdown over a fucking stuffed carnival toy. I shook my head.

"I'm fine."

"(Name)," he trailed off, his voice somehow even softer than it was before.

I wanted to tell him. I wanted to scream it at the top of my lungs just to get it off of my chest. It's a secret I've held since I was barely fourteen. Nobody knew, and I needed it to stay that way, but desperately wanted the pressure to come off of my chest. I don't know how much longer I can keep my silence.

I trusted him, that was never a problem. I trusted him with my life, and I knew he'd never hurt me with the knowledge, but it was still a huge risk. What if Maddie ever found out? I'd be devastated. She didn't need to know how pathetic her big brother was.

I felt words bubble up in my throat without my consent, spilling from my lips like molten rock.

"If," I started, clearing my throat to hide the break in my voice, "if I, uh, if I were to tell you somethin', would you promise me that you'll never tell another soul?" I sounded nothing like myself, even to me. "You can't...my sister can't ever know. She's-she's-she... she wouldn't understand." My voice was barely above a whisper, and cracked on every other note.

"Of-of course!" Sam said earnestly, moving to sit atop the hood beside me. I could see his hand move to grasp my shoulder, but pulled back at the last minute, afraid to touch me lest I break. I didn't blame him.

"Promise?"

I turned my head to look at him and wrapped my arms tighter around my body; whether it was to ward off the cold, or the oncoming pain, I didn't even know.

"Of course, (name), I wouldn't tell anybody, I promise."

Only after searching his eyes for his honesty did I let myself relax some. I trusted that he'd keep his word.

He looked slightly uncomfortable with the way his lanky frame was leant over the edge of the cars hood, like he was stuck on the fence between moving to comfort me and giving me my space. I sarcastically rolled my eyes, scooting over enough for him to climb on more comfortably. He warily pushed himself further up, then lay on his back to look up at the stars like I was. I finally turned my gaze away from him and focused back on the night sky.

They really were pretty out here.

"When I was," I gulped and paused. Not even the person I trusted the most in this world knew; I still can't grasp why I'm about to do what I'm about to do. Maybe it was the bubbling in my gut that told me that he'd understand, maybe I was just weak, maybe I just didn't want to be the only one with this secret anymore.

I made myself start again.

"When I was about fourteen, I was on a hunt with my father. There had been multiple disappearances of children around this one little area in Minnesota, and we had gone to check it out. It was terrible. The youngest kid was nine, and the oldest was fifteen and they'd all disappeared without a trace. No signs of struggle, no witnesses, nothing. Just, poof," I moved my hands to mimic an explosion, for some reason, "and they were gone.

"The local authorities believed it was a person kidnapping them, dad thought it was something else, understandably. Most of the evidence pointed towards something less-than normal. For once, the popo's were right." I laughed ruefully at myself, biting my tongue to keep the whimper that threatened to fight its way up my throat from escaping.

"I don't know how it happened," I cleared my throat and continued. "I don't remember getting split up from dad, I don't remember hi-him grabbing me, I don't even remember the drive there, but when I woke up, I," I choked, pulling my arms closer around me and trying in vain to hold back the burning in my eyes.

"I, uhm, I was," I tried again, with no more luck than before. Strong arms hesitantly wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me into a warm side and gently petting my hair. I cleared my throat again.

"I was completely naked, tie-tied to a bench in a room with shelves from floor to ceiling completely," I choked on my words again, turning to bury myself into Sam's chest. I could still see the room if I closed my eyes. "entirely covered in, in, in, those things. Teddy bears. Their beady little black eyes looking down at me as I struggled against the ropes. I was so-so helpless, I couldn't move, or scream, or-or-or–" he pulled me tighter into him, his hand playing in the strands of my hair. I sucked in a deep breath and held it for a second before letting it out, trying to calm myself.

Why couldn't I just stop talking? He didn't want to hear any of this. I'm just annoying him, he'd rather be back at the warm motel with a book and slightly more mentally stable people. And yet I keep going.

"He... he raped me, Sammy, he fucking raped me and all of those teddy bears sat there with their beady little black eyes staring at me." I felt him tense against me, somehow pulling me even closer still. A small, ragged gasp came from the man. "Nobody found me for three days. He had raped and beaten and-and-and hurt me for three fucking days before he tried to take me out to kill me and dump my body, and dad found us. Three fu-fucking days," I was all but sobbing at this point, clinging on to him as I saw the walls covered in children's toys closing in on me. If I let my mind wander, I could still feel his hands groping me. I felt so small.

"(Name)," Sam shuddered against me, gently petting my shoulder as he held my quaking body. "(Name), I had no idea, I'm so–"

"Don't say you're sorry. Please don't say you're sorry. It's not like its somehow your fault. It sounds like pity, and I don't want your pity," I ground out into his warm chest, not letting go of him.

I didn't need anyone's pity, and I sure as hell didn't want anyone's pity. I felt him nod his head above me, before his long body turned on the hood of the car, and he pulled me tightly into his chest as the rest of him curled around my shaking frame.

I couldn't quite tell if the pressure in my chest was good or not.

I'm not sure how long we sat like that, cuddled on the hood of my car, but eventually, once my sobs subsided and I was brought back into the real world for a minute, I came to realize quite how cold it had gotten. It was still only March, and the nights were still cold, and the goosebumps told me I needed to get inside and get warm, but my mind wanted to stay there for just a bit longer. I didn't want to have to let go of the warmth and comfort that billowed off of Sam like hot air, and I don't think I could have forced myself to let go even if I wanted to. So, in all reality, it shouldn't have come as so much of a surprise when I felt my sleep-heavy body being picked up off of the cold metal of my Chevy.

"Sam?" My voice was low and hoarse from spending so long choked full of emotion, and I felt a little jolt of embarrassment run over my body.

Looking up, I could see it was him, but he didn't say a word, simply shooting a soft smile at me before looking back up to watch where he was walking. Not having the energy to try and determine what was going on, I buried my face in his chest and let my body relax farther in his grip. It was only when I felt him open a door that I looked up. Gently setting me in the passenger seat of his brothers Impala, he threw his coat over me before smiling again. Reaching out hesitantly, he ran the tips of his fingers over the side of my face, an action which I immediately found myself leaning into. His brows squinted tightly like he was thinking hard about something. Without even thinking about it, I reached out and smoothed the wrinkles between his brows with the pad of my thumb.

Locking eyes, I finally took notice to just how gorgeous his iris' were. Green and brown and hazel and gold swirling together like liquid fire. Said eyes darted away suddenly, and I somehow knew he was looking at my lips. Mine darted down to his for a moment as well.

I wanted that. Gol, I wanted that.

He leaned forward slightly, and I actually thought he would go for it. He drug his bottom lip between his teeth in debate before moving his eyes to focus somewhere behind my head and stood back up.

Fucking really?

Smiling down at me again, this time making it look almost sad, he tucked the jacket he had previously thrown over my body around me tighter. As he stood and moved himself around to the other side of the car to get in, my gaze tracked him all the way.

He didn't look at me as he started the car and shifted into gear, and the profile of his face held worry. Had I done something wrong somehow? He probably thinks you're weak for what you told him.

As he pulled away from the view point, I watched the back end of my car get farther and farther away.

"My car..." I whispered pitifully, I didn't want to leave it. I didn't actually think Sam had heard me, but evidently, he did.

"I'll pick it up tomorrow. It'll be safe 'till then."

And then he went quiet again. How did I manage to fuck this up, too?

Biting my lip, I curled in on myself, cuddled Sam's jacket to my chest, and let the purr of the engine lul me to sleep.

This time when I woke up in his arms, I made a point of keeping my eyes closed and my breathing steady. We were through the doors before I realized where we were.

The hotel smelled just the same as it had before. Beer nuts, sex, and mothballs. It certainly didn't help the painful rolling in my stomach.

I'd managed to ruin this relationship, too. How was I so good at that? I shouldn't have told him, he didn't need to hear, didn't want to hear. Now he thinks I'm some pathetic little wimp who couldn't so much as protect himself from a human. You fuck everything up, (name).

Somewhere in the back of my self-piteous mind, I was vaguely aware of someone speaking.

The more I tuned in, the more I wished I hadn't.

"—uck happened!? Is he okay?! What'd you do!" Came the accusational voice of my little sister.

Of course she'd have to see you like this. Pathetic. Now she'll surely think as badly of you as Sam does. What the fuck is wrong with you? Can you at least try not to break something for more than ten seconds?

"He's fine," rumbled Sam's voice from beneath my ear, "just tired. He fell asleep on the way here. Just– just leave him to himself for a bit, okay? He's had a rough night."

His tone was somber. His tone conveyed sadness and sadness meant pity and pity meant uncomfortable glances and tense silence and hesitant avoidance of touching. Of course you had to fuck up one of the only good things going for you. Good fucking job. Pathetic.

He was moving again (or maybe he'd never stopped in the first place) and I immediately felt the drop in temperature as he walked with me through the joint door to him and his brothers room. Dean must have been out somewhere, as I didn't hear his voice or feel his stare.

There was a bit more shuffling as he carried me to the bed, and I just don't understand how his arms aren't tired out yet. Soon, he's gently setting me down on the bed, and I'm so grateful that I'd managed to keep myself passing as asleep, because I don't know if I could handle the awkward not-conversation that was sure to follow.

I follow the sound of his feet leaving the room, and wait for the soft closing of the door before I let myself fall apart again. I put a hand over my mouth to muffle the sobs and curl into myself, wrapping one arm around my chest to try and hold off the pressure that's filling my ribcage.

Pathetic.

Weak.

Are you really crying right now?

You're such a pussy.

Why did you have to tell him that shit? 

Now he thinks you're even more of a quivering quim than he thought before.

You can't go a day without destroying at least one relationship, can you?

How sad.

I don't really know how long I sat there and cried pathetically into my fist, but at some point my sobs turned to cries, which morphed into sniffles, and eventually evened into silent, hot, tears.

I was almost fading off again when I heard the door open again.

The hunter side of me wanted to immediately reach for a gun, but the realistic side of me told me that it was just one of the Winchester's coming to grab something from the room, or maybe Sam coming to check on me. Hah. Funny. However, when I felt the bed dip beside me, I couldn't help but tense up and open my eyes.

They were on the other side of my body, my back was to them. I was just on the verge of flipping around and sucker punching whoever it was, when a sudden, soft heat draped over me. A blanket.

Somehow, I knew it was Sammy.

For few quiet moments, we sat in companionable silence. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time, though I couldn't quite tell if it was the judging glare that I expected or not. After a good couple of minutes, I felt the bed shift again as he stood up, and I thought I heard him mumble something under his breath as he did, but I couldn't quite make out his words.

I immediately missed his presence as he moved back towards the door.

Why had I said anything in the first place? He didn't care, he didn't need to care. He probably feels so uncomfortable now. I probably made him so uncomfortable hugging him like I did, crying into his shirt. He probably hates me.

As the door cracked open, I found myself sitting up suddenly, "I'm sorry," I blurted.

He paused in the doorway, and turned to look back at me. I immediately averted my gaze, instead choosing to stare at his boots as I wiped my face of any remaining tears.

"I'm sorry," this time it was softer, a bit more broken.

The door clicked closed, and he was walking back towards me. Seating himself at the edge of the mattress, close enough that I knew he was there, but far enough away that he wasn't making me uncomfortable, he reached out and gently held one of my hands in both of his large ones. I guess he probably expected me to look up at him at that point, but I couldn't make myself look him in the eye, knowing that I'd only see that godawful pity, or worse, he'd see the tears that still threatened my eyes.

It wasn't until his hands left mine, and traveled up to my face that I looked at him, and was met with an expression I definitely wasn't expecting. His eyes were so, so soft. His face not full of pity, as I'd expected, but instead, some gentle version of understanding. A caring, almost loving look came to him as he wiped away the tear that managed to escape, soothing the red tenderness that came from the last however-long of crying.

As if he knew what I had been thinking a few moments before, his face again morphed expressions. A small, sad smile pulled at his lips, and he shook his head softly, "you aren't that at all," I could almost hear him say, though his lips never parted for the words.

His eyes once again glanced down, and, once again, I imediately knew he was looking at my lips. He leaned forward slightly, as he had in the Impala, but this time, instead of pulling away, he chose to look further into my eyes, like he was seeking permission.

A small nod, a painfully slow movement, soft, warm lips pressed gently against mine.

I sighed contentedly and leaned farther into him. The kiss was but a close-lipped peck, really, but somehow it spoke more than I'm sure a full kiss would have.

After a moment, he pulled away, thumbs grazing slightly at my cheekbones, and I found that I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes once again, but this time, for an entirely different reason.

~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, Dean Winchester walked into his and his brothers shared room, only to find said brother's long body curled up tightly beside (name)'s.

A quiet "finally" echoed through the air as the eldest brother turned back and left the room, deciding he could handle sleeping on the couch in the other room if it meant his brother could have at least one good night of rest.

                                                   *fin*

[btssunnyboy]

Hii! Can I please request an OT7 Poly Mafia!BTS x Shy Cat hybrid!fem oneshot where they find her scared on the streets after she ran from the shelter, & take her home with them, adopting her. The boys are in a loving relationship, & they fall in love with Y/n too, & she with them. It takes her time to be comfortable around humans, but then she’s all cuddly, loving, & wants kisses! +They spoil her! They ask her to join their relationship & she says yes! She feels safe with Bangtan. 💜👑

Glad You Came Around - BTS

in which some seemingly ruthless mafia leaders find a terrified hybrid and offer their help.

Word Count - 2,183

Warning- It’s me so profanity alert! A fight happens between the hybrid and the people in the alley so be careful! Also I hope this is what you wanted my mind had a certain scenerio and this came out, I apologize if it’s bad.

Masterlist

———————————————————————

The outside was warm and welcoming, a seemingly happy place. Within the moment of enter that building you’re exposed to harsh conditions. Just because you’re DNA was partners with felines and canines doesn’t mean you wanted to be treated like one. The moment they took you into their sugary sweet arms you should have known that facade was gonna slip away sooner rather then later. Oh god, how you wished you noticed those fake smiles that were planted along their faces and maybe you wouldn’t be ducking behind dirty dumpster right about now.

The pungent aroma radiating from the dumpster was making your stomach churn in displeasure.

“Moments like these make me wish I didn’t have heightened senses.” You gagged while trying to pinch your nose together to avoid the smell. It was working for the most part, but things can never stay good for a long time. Your body froze at the movement from the other side of the dumpster started getting louder. Your fur was spiked and your ears twitched rapidly in each direction, determined to figure out the source of the noise. You’ve heard of the violence that hybrids faced the moment predators spotted them alone.

“Come on little kitty! We just want to play!” A voice sung out as they skipped down the alley way.

The high pitched laugh wasn’t what caught your attention, it was the sound of something hard scraping against the beat up walls of the alley. Your body froze in fear the closer it got. The closer it got it was like more voices were being added to the mix.

“We got her boys!”

Your body couldn’t register the harsh grip upon your forearm until it was took late. The bruises were already forming as their thick fingernails were breaking skin. You watched in horror as your body collided with the cold ground. Their laughter was beginning to amplify as it echoed in your head. The pounding headache was slowly killing you the longer their loud voice screeched in your head.

“Hold her. We can’t let her get away!”

Despite the heavy pain you immediately lashed as soon as their grimy hands made contact with your skin. You were not gonna go out like this, you couldn’t. You had only just gotta away from that god forsaken shelter and you weren’t giving up easily. The breath was knocked from your body forcefully as a ring clad hand collided with you stomach. The overwhelming urge to vomit was beginning to take place.

“Should’ve stayed at the shelter little one,” One spat in your ear as small droplets of spit reached the side of your face. The same one took a fistful of your hair and gave harsh tugs upon the roots. “How about let’s mark up that pretty little face.”

With that statement he pushed your head to the side as he crouched down. You could feel the small stream of blood leaving your forehead from the smack to the ground.

“You lay a hand on her and I won’t hesitate to kill you.” A cock of a gun made your damp ears perk up more. Whoever was talking seemed to intimidate the few people that were gathered around your helpless body. “Come on let’s get you someplace safe.”

You winced as your hand made contact with what felt like glass, as you tried to scoot away. Who knows what this mans intentions were, they could probably be worse then those guys who almost took a knife to you. You felt your head bob slightly and a quiet no pass though your dry lips. “Stay a-away.”

“Look I promise I’m not a bad guys, I’m only trying to help.” The man said calmly and took cautious step towards you. His hand that once held the gun reaching out for your wounded one. “Please, I have my partners at home. They’ll know how to fix you back up.”

You only stared with narrow eyes the best you could. Your body was giving into the blood lost and you could be out cold in a few minutes. “You have to promise you’ll h-help.”

“Cross my heart.” The man took your clean hand and wrapped it around his shoulders. His arms wrapped around your waist as he guided you to his car. “Please stay awake, Jimin!”

Another man bursted from the driver side of the car, panic evident in his voice, “Jungkook, are you okay?”

“Yes I’m fine, but we need to help her.”

Jimin gave a curt nod of his head as he quickly opened the doors to the back seat. Jungkook held your body loosely, but never failed to make sure you were comfortable. What felt like forever before pulling up to an expensive looking mansion.

“Jin hyung!” The moment that name pounded off the walls of the house many stomping feet scurried into the room. “Please help her.”

The seven men quickly laid you comfortably across the crouch and pulled out a small first aid kit. They seemed to back off the moment Jin props your head up. You felt the needle dig into the cut on your forehead as you clenched your fist to distract yourself the pain. Big mistakes as that hand was the one that had glass shards embedded within it.

Soft hands cupped your hurt one as you felt cool tweezers skim across the skin. They pulled the glass out one by one and patched up any other wounds your body may have received. You couldn’t help how heavy your eyes felt and pretty sure you were out cold like you predicted.

—

“Wow, be careful.” A soft voice spoke as they stepped closer. The mere thought of their hands touching you sent you into a frenzy as you pushed yourself against the couch in attempt to get far away. Your ears and tail were spiked and you could felt the claws were aching to tear some flesh.

“Hobi, she’s skittish be careful. Hi I’m Jin.” Jin smiled as he took little steps towards and to his surprise you didn’t move away. You actually leaned forwards. His shaky hands reached up slightly to brush away the dirt that had collected on your ears.

“You’re the o-o-one who helped me.” You stated and tried to sit up. A pain from your gut shot through your body and forced you to sit down.

The man nodded as he sat down beside you and motioned towards the one named Hobi. “He also helped, he got the glass from your hand.”

You cocked your head to the side and scanned the man up and down. You took in many things, but the man himself seemed rather harmless. “I’m sorry, I’m just so used to being a little spooked.”

Hobi gave a quick nod in understanding as he made his way to you. He gripped Jin’s hands as they both stared with concerned eyes.

“How about I make breakfast?” Jin asked and gave a small smile when you shook your head rapidly. Jin quickly captured Hobi’s lips in a small kiss as he set off. “Hobi can show you the shower?”

Oh so Jungkook was meaning partners partners not just partners, who would’ve knew.

His large hand was held out for you as you hesitately took it. The small circles he was rubbing on your hand was soothing and provided a much needed comfort that you haven’t had in a long time.

“Here’s your stop, I’ll be right back.” He smiled before setting off down the long hallway and quickly reappeared with some baggy clothes. “Yell and well be here faster then light.”

Hoseok felt pride burst within his chest when you small hand gave a slight clutch to his before entering the bathroom. As soon as the door closed he raced to find the boys. They needed to figure out a plan and fast.

“We gotta talk about this.” Yoongi sighed, as he gestured towards the bathroom. His eyes held skeptical glare within them as he eyed Jungkook and Jimin. Both boys seems to cower away at the death glare their hyung was giving them.

“She was getting attack! I was gonna help her!” Jungkook defended quietly. “Besides if this goes well maybe we’ll have a new addition to the family.”

Yoongi painfully resisted the urge to role his eyes at the young ones. He knew the business they were in would put her in danger even more. Their enemies would use the poor hybrid as leverage every single chance they got. Yoongi had went through that once he wasn’t gonna get attached again. ‘No, I’m putting my foot down. We’re not keeping her. We’ll let her eat and then she’s on her way.”

—

1 YEAR LATER

That was the first memory you had of meeting your new family. Almost everyone took you in within a second though and never failed to show you how much they loved you. Others took a bit of convincing. He had his walls up and high and you understood that. You were the exact same way when you first came, but had you not let them down you’d never be able to call these people you’re family.

You couldn’t imagine what life would be like now. No late night movies with Taehyung, trying new recipes with Jin or smothering Yoongi In concerning words and praises when he needed it the most. You loved these boys, but sometimes it does get overwhelming. They loved each other to the moon and back and you feel as if you’ve stepped in the middle and made things tense.

“Guys can I talk to you?” You question as you fiddled with the soft black fur of your tail. You could feel your heart about to burst from your chest the longer it took to get their attention.

“Yes, princess?” Namjoon soothed down the spiked fur of your ears with gentle fingers. A loving dimple smile stretched across his face as he watched you lean into his touch. The more time he took to stare at your beautiful features the more his palms became sweaty, his breathing was getting deeper. He knew the reason behind all of this. They all did.

You wiped your hands rapidly across your jean clad legs. You needed to get these words out and the sooner the better. Oh, god every time you tried to even muster of the courage it faded away the moment your eyes locked with theirs. The concerned looks only adding to the heartbreak. “I think it’s best I leave.”

You held your head down towards your lap, almost ashamed of even asking to leave. These men have done everything for you, but the guilt of getting inbetween was growing too much for you to handle alone. You didn’t want to cause them anymore problems.

“Why would you want leave, I thought...I thought you enjoyed it here.” Jungkook whispered to himself as his hand clenched around Taehyung’s thigh. His eyes looked like they swelling up in tears when he finally looked up. “What did we do wrong?”

Your heart seemed to physically break even more when those words echoed in your ears. They think you’re leaving because of them. You had seemed to cause so much problems recently and you couldn’t bare to stand it any longer. “It’s just recently everything’s been...quite. You all are talking in secret a lot more and you’ve left me out of the meetings. When usually you all seemed to like me being their. I think I’m getting in the way of your relationship.”

Their faces fell with realization as they fully took in your words. All the late night conversation that were mumbled do too the hard walls to not wanting others to see her during certain meetings. It was all connecting like puzzle pieces in their heads.

“We were gonna ask this at a better time, but I think now is perfect !” Hobi smiled and reached across the chair to hold your hands. The soothing circle reminding of the first time he ever held your hand.

“You’re not coming in between any princess. We actually wanted you to be part of it. All those things were just us talking about how to bring it up.”

It took a minute to have the words set fully in your brain. They wanted you to be apart of this? They all loved you enough to want to be more then just mere friends.

“So what do you say?” Yoongi asked quietly as he leaned forward with anticipation. Their eyes held hopeful gleams while staring at you with so much love. They’ve loved you for longest time and they couldn’t stand it to not be with you anymore

“I’d love to be with you all.”

[nightwingshero]

Hold Me Down Chapter Three

Here’s that stuff. It’s a long one, which is shocking. I’ve been doing a lot of writing recently, but I tried to get this done before I focused solely on my commission queue. I figured a nice, long chapter would be good to put out for Wren content. @dieguzguz @ja-crispea y’all can laugh at Jacob now, lovelies!

I didn’t fidget often. Not anymore, at least. Those kinds of things were drilled out of you immediately. Maybe that should have been my first red flag, the way that he broke down every little tick that made you human and unique. But I suppose that would have been a needle in a haystack, and what 12-year-old kid looks for those kinds of things when someone saves them from the system? None of them.

But here I was, bouncing my leg as I sat in the chair, my table by the front window, giving me the perfect view of the people going about their day. I envied them, so wrapped up in their own little worlds. What I wouldn’t give to unfuck my life. Wishful thinking got me nowhere, though.

As much as I would have loved to allow myself to disassociate, I had too much on my plate that needed to be handled. And just being in this fucking restaurant was risky. I couldn’t help my mind wander to Rowan. All these years…I sighed, throwing a glance around the room. She didn’t recognize me, but what had I expected? There was at least eight years between us. She was someone that I could look up to, someone I was close to until she left. Someone I aspired to be as Dutch put her on that pedestal. At the end, it was all just bullshit.

Giving a look around, the place seemed dead, but I had to keep in mind that I was in the door the second the damn place opened. I didn’t care much for the old rustic country style, to be honest. It wasn’t my style, but god did it resonate the same aesthetic of its owner. I could never say a word against that. I furrowed my brow a bit as I caught sight of one of the other customers here. The man was sitting in the middle of the room at one of the two-chaired tables facing the window. If I had been on a job, I would’ve chosen the same seat, it was perfect. You could see what was going on outside while keeping an eye on the entrance, and it was deep enough in the room so he could easily check the exits and the coming and going of the employees.

I eyed his clothes, trying hard not to scoff. If I had to label him, it would be hipster mountain main with the big dark beard and flannel. Slowly, I grab my cloth napkin, quickly hiding a knife under it as I placed it across my lap. Was I paranoid? Probably. But after thing that had happened, I wasn’t about to take a chance. Not by a long-shot.

I turn at the sound of the bowl being set down in front of me and I wrinkled my nose. “What the hell is that?” I asked, glancing up at the blonde.

Mary May sighed heavily, placing a hand on her hip with a shrug. “Casey is experimenting, trying new things.”

“You sure he isn’t trying to poison me instead?” I looked wearily at the dish as I poked around with my spoon.

“It’s greasy and unhealthy. He said it would do you some good and that he’d cover it.” She wiped her hands on the white apron wrapped around her bright blue flannel. Was that a fashion thing I had missed out on? “Says that you’re his favorite, so gotta treat you special every now and then.”

I threw her look. “He saw my face. That’s what you’re saying.”

Mary May gave me a sheepish look. “You do look pretty rough, Wren.”

She wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, so there were dark marks under my eyes, but that was nothing compared to the massive bruise on the side of my face with the split lip. The back of my head was still rather tender from being knocked out and if I wasn’t so adamant about getting out of here, I would definitely be planning my revenge. I don’t normally leave a score unsettled, but things were heating up way too quickly. “Yeah, your locals here are super friendly and welcoming, by the way.”

Mary May pulled out the chair across from me, sitting down as she leaned against the wall, resting her arm over the back of the chair. “Someone I know?”

“Depends. Have you heard of the Drubmans?” I asked, taking a bite. I chewed a bit, discovering it to be some sort of stew that I couldn’t pin down. I made a face at the unexpected heat to it, eyes watering as I tried to swallow and clear my throat. “Holy shit.” I gasped out.

“The Drubmans? Like, I-will-sell-you-this-boat Drumbans?”

I looked up at her exasperated expression and pursed my lips. “You couldn’t have fucking warned me—”

“I’m sorry, I took you for someone who knew not to do something stupid.”

“Stupid--? I’m not from here, Fairgrave! You and Sharky—”

I was caught off by the sound of the front doorbell, a young brunette rushing in. His brown eyes landed on me with a smile and wave, before his brows furrowed at my appearance. “Hey, Wren. What happened to your face?” he asked, walking closer to the table as Mary May gave him a stern look. “You look like shit.”

“And you’re late.” Fairgrave taunted, but he just rolled his eyes.

“Good to see you too, Xander.” I muttered, taking another bite, forgetting momentarily what I was eating. I made another face as he laughed.

“Ah, yeah. Casey is playing around with the Brunswick stew. Has a kick to it, doesn’t it?”

“Can I have a cheeseburger, for fuck’s sake?” I wheezed before taking a drink of water. Xander nodded, grabbing the bowl and tugging at my ponytail playfully before walking away. Mary May sighed, leaning forward and resting her elbows against the table as she watched him go. I frowned. “Everything okay?”

“Xander has been coming in late more and more. His head is always somewhere else.” She threw me a rueful smirk. “Apparently he’s been seeing a little blonde thing on the side. Married, too.”

I scoffed, leaning back as I placed the napkin and knife back on the table. I threw the man another glance to see him playing on his phone as he continued with his lobster mac ‘n’ cheese. “What a fucking cliché. That’s so damn disappointing. What’s her name? Have you met her?”

“Nah, he says they have to keep it on the downlow. Swears they’re the new Romeo and Juliet.”

“They both die in the end.”

“That’s what I told him. And then he told me that they lived in the movie.” Mary May laughed with a shake of her head. “That’s when I realized that he was referring to that stupid kid’s movie with the gnomes.”

“I don’t have any words for that. At all. I couldn’t even attempt to bullshit my way through that conversation to save my fucking life.” I replied as I tried to fight the laughter, but I was failing. Mary May sobered up a bit, giving me a serious look.

“So, the Drubmans is why you wanted to meet then?”

I sighed, watching as my fingers played with the napkin, rolling and twisting it. “I need to get out of Atlanta, May. I…I’ve gotten into a lot of trouble, a big shit storm.”

“How big we talking?” she whispered. I glanced up at her, playing with one of my chain earrings, swaying with my movements.

“Two detectives showed up at my place yesterday morning. There’s a fed in Atlanta that’s taking a look at some of the criminal activity. They’re wanting me to play ball or I go to prison. And this,” I pointed at my face with a sickly-sweet smile. “Was Hurk Drubman trying to blackmail me into helping his family.”

She let out a whistle. “Two sides breathing down your neck? Fuck. Who’s the target? Like, what’s the motive?”

I glanced around before I leaned in. “Remember that gala? The one you said would be a good hit?”

“Yeah?”

“You never told me it was for the Seeds, May. I ran into John Seed.”

Her eyes widened, the shock having her lean back. “No…no, the tip was on Charles Laney. I didn’t say anything about the Seeds—”

“It was John’s event and his man—”

“Charles was not in John’s pocket when I handed you that tip, Wren.” She pointed at me, pursing her lips. “John Seed wasn’t even on the radar. And John never attends his own events, it would be unlikely for you to run into him regardless.”

“Well, he attended this one. And he caught me.” I shake my head. “Honestly, it was my fault for not digging deeper, making sure I had all the facts before making the move.”

“So what? You had a little run in, and he caught you? And you’re not dead…because…?”

“Yeah, that’s a long story. But at the end of the day, I refuse to be in the crosshairs of two rival families and the fucking cops.” Mary May frowned at me as I bit my lip, my hands shaking. “I need out of here as soon as possible. I lost most of my money in L.A., so I don’t have enough to get my ass out of the country and to get a comfortable set-up going. But I’m hoping Sharky could give me some sort of deal, and I can get him back later. He knows I’m good for it.”

She nodded slowly, deep in thought. “He could. And you getting overseas would put some good distance from the feds, and I think that’s the biggest thing.” She chuckled, throwing me a smirk. “Such a shame you can’t start over and hire John as your lawyer. Now that is something I would pay to see.”

I rolled my eyes. “Not a fucking chance. That arrogant asshole would drive me to murder, I swear it.”

“Oh yeah?” she cocked her head. “No chance of the two of you working together?”

I narrowed my eyes at her as Xander returned. I threw him a smile before he walked away. Grabbing some ketchup for my fries, I threw her another glance. “What are you getting at? I know your scheming face when I see it.”

She just shrugged. “I don’t know why you don’t come clean. Just tell them what’s going on, you know? You scratch their back, they scratch yours. I know Seeds are a crime family, but they’re still a bit honorable with how they work. It won’t go unnoticed.”

“Yeah, about that.” I dipped a fry in the red sauce, popping it in my mouth. “I had another run in with the baby brother last night. I held him at knife point, kinda ruffled his feathers a bit. I think that bridge is beyond burned at this point. He’ll probably kill me the next time I see him.”

“Jesus.” She breathed. “You know, as approachable as you really are, you definitely know how to make enemies and choose them, too. I think that you might’ve shot yourself in the foot on this one, Wren. John Seed is a powerful person, it’s better to have him as an ally than an enemy.”

I wrinkled my nose at her in disgust. “You’re kidding me, right? Did you not hear what I just said? Look, I came here to keep my head down, and you and Sharky both insisted on me coming here—”

“Because we can help you!” Mary May insisted in a hushed tone. “We have your back, Wren. You were in deep shit, and I know you don’t want to admit it, but you needed the help. You can’t do everything on your own.”

I sighed, looking away. She wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t like I couldn’t help it. You learn quickly to not lean on other people, and Dutch’s way of teaching it…I flinch as flashes of that damn fire flit through my mind. “I’m not used to working with other people, Mary May. And I appreciate the help. I know you didn’t mean for this to happen.” It’s quiet between us, but I paid it no mind as I pop another fry in my mouth. “But that aside, working with John Seed would’ve been a terrible idea. I steal from the rich that don’t deserve the wealth they have. That’s 99% of them, by the way. Working with someone that I would’ve easily made a mark isn’t in my best interest, because I assure you, John Seed is the perfect example as to why I do it.”

Mary May only hummed, but that was fine. It gave me time to eat the burger Casey whipped up for me. It wasn’t fair of me to believe that this was on Mary May and Sharky. I was the one that mis stepped when all they wanted was to help me. The fiasco in L.A. cost me dearly, and I wasn’t about to jump from one mess into another. It was nice to have people on my side for once.

“But they dropped by my apartment before letting me go. Drubman’s men, I mean. Destroyed my apartment and everything. The threat was pretty clear, May. If I stay any longer, I’m either going to die or get thrown in prison. Hurk said that once the Seeds are taken down, I get to walk away and stay out of prison. But I’m not stupid, he wouldn’t let a liability like me walk away. He’ll probably kill me right after, so I don’t have an out. I don’t win in this scenario, and I’m not interested in walking myself to the Devil’s door.”

“So, what do you need?” Mary May asked, finally speaking as she stole a fry.

“I need to know where Sharky went after the shake down. Where has he been laying low?”

She frowned, glancing at me curiously. “Sharky wasn’t approached by anyone. He’s been working at a tattoo parlor a few blocks down. I thought you knew that?”

“I thought he ghosted and went into hiding after I told him the job went sideways. And it kinda made sense after what happened yesterday. They said they shook him down.”

“Yeah, right.” She snorted. “Sharky wouldn’t ever give you away. You know that.”

I smiled, pushing my empty plate towards her. “I know. But I have a bag packed at home. I just need papers and I’m gone.”

“Where you gonna go?”

“Hmm. Maybe Greece. Somewhere nice and relaxing. I think I deserve it.”

Mary May chuckled as she stood, picking up the plate as she went. “Well, you make sure you stop in and say bye before you go. Don’t forgot us little people.”

I watched her walk to the back and disappear. Part of me was disappointed, honestly. I had high hopes for this working out, but things heated up way too quickly, and there was no way out. Running was never my forte, I hated tucking tail. But my game had been off since L.A., and I just needed a damn break. Peace and quiet to help me think over my next move and let things cool off.

Standing, I finally make my way out of the restaurant and into the bright sun. I was ready to get the hell out of here, despite growing a bit fond of the city. I tried hard to not get attached, but sometimes I couldn’t help it. Mary May and Sharky were the only friends, or allies, I allowed myself to have. It went against everything that I had learned from Dutch. No emotions, no attachments. We couldn’t afford it, and that mattered was the job and the family. That was the only concern you should ever have.

Turning, I began my way down the sidewalk, slowing as a red head pushed off a black SUV and stood there, opening the door. Her braids and ponytail gave her a female warrior look that I couldn’t help but admire, but the dark sunglasses shielded her eyes. Unease twisted in my gut as I stopped. White tank top, dark blue jeans, and biker boots that I definitely wouldn’t want against my throat. I turned around and froze, the man from inside standing behind me with his hands in his pockets.

“So, I guess I wasn’t paranoid, then.” I said icily.

He gave the smallest hint of a smile. “No. Good instincts, though. Impressive.”

“Now, we’re going to need you to come with us.” The woman called and I frowned.

“I don’t think so.”

The man cleared his throat. “Ah, I think it would probably be best. We wanted to give you the option to come quietly, rather than jump you. We thought this would be more polite and our boss insisted.” I weighed my options as people went about their day around us. “You won’t be harmed, I assure you.”

Finally, I sighed. “Fuck it. Let’s go.” I stepped in the back of the SUV with a roll of my eyes. I was leaving either way. What was the worst that could happen?

 I eyed the building wearily. I had expected a warehouse, or maybe a strip club. Possibly an auto shop or a fucking marina, at this point. But a dark glass skyscraper wasn’t at all what I was expecting. I kept throwing my new friends weird glances as they escorted me to the building. To say I was underdressed was an understatement, but saying I stood out like a sore thumb was more accurate. Faux leather pants, heeled combat boots, with a loose black tank top stood apart from the suits and dresses of the white collared professionals milling around.

The leather jacket was unorthodox, but it helped hide the knives I had strapped to my forearms. I felt a spike of anxiety as we talked across the shiny floor, the three of us taking our own elevator. Patience wasn’t a virtue I possessed, and once I made a decision, I usually worked actively to make it happen. So, being dragged here was making me feel as if I were about to burst out of my skin. I was ready to leave, to get as far away from this damn city as possible.

The elevator doors opened, showing a private office space. It’s a dark modern style, something of good taste I could appreciate. But it’s completely empty, and I wonder if maybe this is where the CEO spent most of his time, assuming this was one of those kinds of businesses. What the hell did I know? The lack of people wasn’t exactly encouraging though. I follow tall dark and handsome with the woman following close behind as he led me to another room.

It was a conference room with dark windows and a massive tv mounted on the wall. It’s a beautiful contrast of wood, grey, and black. Glass sputnik lights brightened the room just a bit, and taking in the rest of the room, I come to a halt. His blue eyes are watching my every move, and I shiver because I can almost feel the way they travel over me.

“Oh, fuck me.” I muttered, but the room is dead silent, so it travels. John’s lips turn into a coy smirk, and my next step is calculated. My brain is racing, taking in the space, the exits, everything I needed if shit hit the fan. I feel the shift coming over, the calm and calculated mask as I step into a role I knew like the back of my hand. It was like slipping into warm water slowly until you finally went under.

“Oh, darling, I appreciate the offer, and I’ve thought about it. But,” John replied with a click of his tongue. “You’re just not my type.”

I returned his coy smile with one of my own, walking slowly towards the table and deeper in the room. “Never thought for you to have such a good sense of humor, Johnny. It’s hilarious, you believing you ever had a chance to begin with.” My black nails drum against the back of an office chair, and at the opposite head of the table, I caught eyes with none other than Joseph Seed himself.

While John sat to his left, his wife and sister sat closely to his right, as far away from me as possible. Taking a quick note of the oldest brother’s absence, I recalculated as the woman continued to follow me, but the male guard stayed at the door. The only exit I could really find, unless I threw a chair through the glass wall. I squeezed the chair as I smiled at Joseph. Seemed sturdy enough.

“I’m very glad you could join us. Thank you for being so kind to accept the invitation.” His voice is calm, soothing almost, and as gentle as his eyes. It threw me for a loop, because you didn’t ever expect the head of a crime family to be kind or polite.

“With all due respect, I don’t believe I had much of a choice in the matter. But I appreciate you not kidnapping me off the street. Your…colleagues don’t practice in the manners you’ve displayed.”

His brows furrowed as his wife threw him a confused look. I hesitated for a second, catching John’s narrowing eyes as he tilted his head. So, they weren’t very aware of what the Drubman’s had been up to, which meant they probably got tired of me sniffing around. I was about to continue when movement to my right caught my attention.

I go rigid for only a split second, allowing myself just that momentarily slip as Jacob Seed enters the room with Rowan right behind him, a quick brush of her hand against her stomach. Our eyes catch, and this time, I know she recognizes me. It’s ice, at first, that enters my veins, much like that night. But slowly, and surely, it begins to boil.

She smiled at me, soft and sad, but I’m careful. Oh, so careful as the porcelain of my skin shows the same smile that I’ve shown the rest of them as she speaks. “Hello, Wren.”

My eyes don’t leave her for a second, and while I appeared at easy, almost nonchalant, inside my muscles were coiling like a snake, ready to strike at any second. “Rowan.” I keep my voice light, a slight lilt that only barely hides the sickly-sweet venom dripping off the tip of my tongue. It’s a light tread, almost a nudge, to test the waters. This is no longer about the family in the room, its just her and I, in our own dance. “Long time, no see.”

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” She agreed, slowly making her way down the length of the conference table, both her and Jacob walking towards John. I turn on my heel, walking around the opposite side as I trace my fingers across the tops of the chairs.

“And here I thought you didn’t recognize me.” I slowed as she came to a stop, resting her hands on the back of a chair. She looked good, genuinely. It pissed me off even more, fueling the dark twisting sense of betrayal in the pit of my stomach. She knew, of course, how this game worked. But the 12 years without her gave me the element of surprise. Rowan hadn’t learned my habits, hadn’t learned my tells because she hadn’t been there to see them.

“I would always recognize you.” She breathed out, a glossiness settling in her eyes. “Even though you were still pretty young the last time I saw you.”

There. I come to a complete stop as I feel it, the rip in my chest as my blood pounded in my head. I keep smiling as I move my hand to fidget with the sleeve of my jacket, casual as ever. But there’s a millisecond that feels like minutes, where my eyes finally sharpen on her. The eyes have always been, and always will be, the mirror to the soul, and hers widen when she takes a glimpse of mine, because she knows it’s too late. That my fingers have brushed the cool metal of my knife.

She only has time to take a step back, and that was something I indulged her. Because it’s the next second that knife is gone, and my elbow is smashing the face of the red head behind me. I twist around quickly and grab a handful of hair as Rowan cried out, my knife hitting its mark as I smash Viking Princess’ face against the table. Twisting her arm, pressing and trapping her body with my hip, I pull her Glock out with my right hand.

Rowan’s eyes catch mine once more as she holds her shoulder in shock, blood soaking her shirt as she stares down the barrel of a gun that’s aimed right at her face. Cool and calm as ever, my breathing stays even, but I’m a hurricane on the inside and for the first time, the Seeds see my true self.

“Jane!” a soft cry pierces the air as the little sister rises from her chair, but before she could rush me, Joseph’s wife pulls Faith close to hold her. I glance down quickly, connecting the dots. I realize then why the woman was familiar, and now Faith’s significant other finally had a name. Jane.

Rowan laughed, meeting my eyes with something shining there that I can’t pinpoint. “Ah, there she is. I was wondering when you’d drop the act. Always have been good at changing faces, huh?”

Jacob was at Rowan’s side as she gripped the knife, breathing heavily through the pain as her face pinched. Jacob threw me a dark glare, his blue eyes on fire. “You’re lucky you missed, girlie.”

“No.” Rowan hissed as she pulled the knife out smoothly from her shoulder, eyeing the blood that stained the custom blade. Something crossed over her face, but it was gone when she met my gaze once more. “She didn’t miss.” Rowan her hands in defense, taking a small step forward. “Did you?”

I don’t say a word as I watch her gently place the knife on the table. It’s hard to keep my composure as I seethe, the loathing and hurt oozing out of me like toxic waste. I hated every word that fell from her lips, a nostalgia she had no right to, not anymore. The pain in my chest was worse than I could have imagined and that’s when it hit me just how buried this feeling had been. How it still bothered me…I had never moved past it.

“Never thought of you as a gun person.” She nodded to the Glock I aimed at her.

“People change.” I replied, my voice hard. I could feel his eyes burning into the side of my face, so I spare him a glance.

John is still reclined with his hands folded in front of him, but even I can tell he was more tense than he was minutes ago. There’s a hard edge to his jaw as there’s a burning in the depths of his irises. He takes it in, and for once, I don’t know how to feel. I hate how vulnerable I am, that my mask is gone and there’s no going back. All for the sake of the absolute wrath pumping through my veins for someone I believed I was close to. I hated giving into the instincts, leaning into what Dutch had built me into. And I hear a click of a gun as the hairs on the back of my neck rises, that telling sensation running down my spine as the other guard points his gun at the back of my head.  

Rowan hums as she examines the wound. “They sure do. You’ve improved since I last saw you.”

“And you’ve gotten slower, Rowan. Can’t say I’m exactly shocked.” I sneered. She stops, looking at me with deep regret and I hate the way my heart tugs at it. I hate my hand is beginning to shake the slightest. This was always my problem, why Dutch always told me I would never be like Rowan. I was so emotional, so empathetic that it would almost become a liability. And all their eyes were on me.

Jacob stepped forward. “Drop the fucking gun—”

Rowan placed her bloody hand on his chest, pushing him back. “If she was going to kill me, she would have already, Jake. She wouldn’t need the gun, the knife would have found my throat before Jane got slammed against the conference table.” She sighed heavily before jutting her chin out. “She’s proving a point.”

The way she says it, like I’m a petulant child that didn’t understand the adult’s conversations, made me feel like bursting out of my skin. “No. No, I’m so done with this shit. What’s going to happen is you’re going to tell Lumberjack Steve to back the fuck off, let me walk out of this damn room, and building, and let me get the fuck out of this godforsaken city, because I have had it with this fucking love triangle that you’ve dragged me into.” I snapped.

“Love triangle?” Faith asked, her soft voice breaking.

There was a clearing of someone’s throat before Joseph’s soothing voice joined the tension. “I believe there was a mentioning of colleagues—”

“Yes,” I snapped, my eyes finding John’s once more. “Hurk Drubman Sr. sends his regards.” I reveled in the slight shock he gave away, the way Joseph leaned back and exchanged glances with Jacob. For once, I felt I had finally been able to shake this arrogant asshole and his family. I had leverage, I had information, and I felt that, for once, I was the one holding the cards.

John clicked his tongue as a look of discontent settled on his features, and he began tapping his fingers against the table. “He hit you?”

I swallowed as his gaze weighed on me, my heart picking up in pace. “His men snatched me off the sidewalk last night for a little conversation. And well,” I gave him a cheeky smile. “You know how charming I can be, John. Except Hurk is a bit less tolerant than you are.”

“Wren, I’m sorry. We had no clue.” Rowan breathed out and my face twisted in disbelief as my eyes pinned her down.

“You’re sorry?”

She closed her eyes momentarily, but it was obvious that this hurt her just as much as it did me. This reunion was nothing short of painful. I was just too angry to care for hers. “You have to understand why I had to—”

“I was 15!” I snapped, my voice rising an octave. The tears began to pool as full on rage began to break through the walls that I had spent so long building to keep her at bay. “I was 15 years old, and you left us behind!”

“I foolishly believed you would be safe with Grace, Wren. I thought you were better off where you were—”

“With him?!” I shrieked. Scoffing, I shook my head at her. “You were the only family we had left, especially after what happened with Eli.”

Rowan paled and I get a sick, dark satisfaction from hurting her. Reminding her of how deep she was before disappearing. “There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret what I did.” She whispered.

I swallowed. “I thought you were dead. We all did. He told us you betrayed our family.”

“I always had eyes on the inside. They went silent after a while; I didn’t know what was going on. Grace stopped corresponding—”

“Grace is dead.” I replied, my voice breaking. Her dark brown eyes go wide as she stumbled back. Jacob placed a hand on her lower back, but she doesn’t register him.

“You did it.” Her voice breaks, making her almost squeak out her words. “You passed his test.”

I shook my head, my mouth twisting. “No Rowan. I didn’t.” I swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat to no avail. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it. She…”

“She what, Wren?”

I’m visibly shaking, the gun quivering in my hands, but I’m too scared to put it down. Too worried that I’ve gone too far to turn back now. I needed to get the fuck out while I still had some semblance of control. “Doesn’t matter.” I ground out. That’s a rabbit hole I can’t afford to go down, the guilt still all-consuming. “I’m packing my shit and I’m leaving.”

“What stuff?” the man behind me asked. “We’ve been by your apartment—”

“Yes, and I’m sure the door was wide open!” I snapped sarcastically. “Hurk made sure his men gave me a nice reminder of the shit I’ve been dragged into.”

Joseph stood, placing his hands on the conference table. “Ms. Blake, I understand that you are in a bind. Please. Put the gun down and let’s talk. I believe there’s a solution for all of us.” I gave an uneasy glance around the room. John’s dark look and Jacob’s murderous glare wasn’t at all reassuring. As if reading my mind, he spoke again. “You won’t be harmed, you have my word.”

I throw a look at Rowan, and she gives me a quick nod, but I don’t know if I could trust them. The thought of getting roughed up again seemed exhausting.

“Randy, stand down.” Joseph called. The man behind me lowered the gun and stepped away. “Whitney, why don’t you take Jane and Rowan to get cleaned up.”

The woman I assumed to be Joseph’s wife stood, nodding and dragging Faith with as she walked towards Rowan. He raised his brow at me, and I looked away, slowly lowering the gun and stepping back. Jane shot up, her hand going to her nose as she glared at me.

“You broke my fucking nose.”

“That’s enough, Jane.” Joseph called.

She whipped around, fire burning in her eyes. “Joseph—”

“Enough.”

His voice sent a chill down my spine, and I’m reminded that this man is dangerous. That he isn’t just someone that has been nothing but kind since I’ve been here. No, he’s someone that I need to keep a distance from. So, when he looks at me again, I feel my walls come back up.

“Please, have a seat.” Joseph gestured to the seat in front of me as he sat back down. Looking down, I wrinkle my nose at the blood on the conference table. Moving down a chair, I pull it out and take my seat as I was left alone with the brothers.

The silence is almost deafening as I try to get comfortable. I finally glance at Joseph. “You wanted me for a reason, I take it?”

“Yes.” Joseph gave a gentle smile. “John spoke rather highly of you.”

“Doubtful.” I muttered, making John throw me a shit eating grin.

“It has come to my attention,” Joseph continued, ignoring John and me. “That you have found yourself in quite the predicament.”

“I suppose you could say that.”

“Hmm, yes. I’m sure the FBI haven’t exactly as been any more gracious.”

I paled immediately, and I have to fight the urge to kick myself. I recalled Hurk Sr. briefly mentioning ties in the police department, but I didn’t stop to consider this a possibility. My heart started to race. “What are you talking about?” I breathed out.

His smile never wavered as his eyes seemed to see straight into my soul. “A friend of ours has brought some…unfortunate news.” His attention shifts from me to the door as he straightens just a bit more. “And he’s finally decided to join us.”

My face pinches in confusion as I turn my head. And for once, I don’t school my expression to hide my shock. He’s nervous, and you can tell by the way he tugs at his cheap suit. His gaze is downward as he walks in. Jacob grips him by the shoulder tightly as his eyes finally find mine.

“Pratt.” My voice is detached and firm, trying hard to recover but failing miserably. I can’t hide my distaste for the detective.

He doesn’t say a word as John gives him a malicious smirk. He clears his throat. “Blake. Didn’t uh…I didn’t know you were going to be here.” He mumbled.

“The feeling is mutual.”

“Detective Pratt has done his job well, informing us that there’s a certain…ploy in place against us.”

I casted him a venomous glare. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I hissed.

He swallowed, shrinking into himself under Jacob’s heavy hand. I fought the urge to lunge across the table. If he had kept his mouth shut, I would’ve been long gone by now. But instead I was here, probably about to get a bullet in my head for fucking with the wrong family. John’s taunting voice warning me over and over to leave his family be made my teeth clinch tightly, wounding my pride. Lovely.

“I’m sure there are some hard feelings here, and I understand. But I’m sure you can understand loyalty, Ms. Blake. You can’t fault him for doing his job.”

His words don’t ease a fucking thing, on the contrary, it made me feel worse. “I understand.” I heard myself say, as if I was on autopilot. Slowly, I was switching into survival mode.

“Good. Now, I appreciate your incentive to move on to another city, and I will be more than willing to help you with that.”

“But?” I asked, meeting his eyes once more, and ignoring John’s intense stare.

Joseph let out a small chuckle. “Nothing gets by you, does it dear?”

“Kind of my job to not let it.”

“Ah, yes, that’s fair. Well,” he took a second to clear his throat before continuing, leaning forward and folding his hands on the table. “I have a proposition for you. I understand that the FBI are circling around you, so to speak. Asking for my family in return for your freedom.”

“Which we know is very unlikely to happen.” John added. I gave him a sharp look, trying to figure out if he was being serious or just an obnoxious ass, but I came up empty. Its weird, watching this man go from a cocky asshole to someone who is serious and all business. It occurred to me that I was finally seeing him in his lawyer role. “Chances are they’re going to use you to get what they want, and then from there, they’ll gather a case against you. You will either go down with us or be thrown in with whatever organization you originated from.”

“And now there’s the issue with the Drubman family.” Joseph cut in, taking back control of the conversation. “Clearly they saw an opportunity.”

“They claim to have ties in the police department.” I replied, eyeing Pratt.

“None of that is shocking in the slightest. Hurk Sr, if nothing else, is resourceful. But you have two groups that are weighing down on you, pressuring you to infiltrate and destroy my family.”

There’s something dangerous in the gentle gaze he gives me, and this is the first time I became truly terrified of Joseph Seed. I fight the urge to glance at John, because why would I? And I hated to admit this, but a part of me naively believed he would protect me from his older brother. It was foolish, because I was the enemy. I was the threat to him and his family, and I was answering for it.

“Then let me leave.” I whispered, finding myself desperate to be relieved of his pointed gaze. “Let me get the hell out of here. It would solve both of our problems.”

“But, unfortunately, it wouldn’t.” I frowned as he sighed, glancing at his hands briefly. “That would only serve one party, and it would be extremely short lived. Burke is very determined to keep you in his pocket. John explained to me that you would not be allowed to leave the city, not risking you disappearing from his radar.”

“Doesn’t take a big-time lawyer to state the obvious.” Pratt muttered.

Joseph and John gave him an unsatisfied look as I whipped around. “No one fucking asked you, asshole.” I snapped and he glared at me. I couldn’t explain my irritation towards the man, but something about him set me off. Maybe it was the fact that he reminded me of a weasel, the little shit. “You have some fucking nerve—”

“Language.” Joseph correct softly as Jacob squeezed a little too hard, making Pratt flinch.

“Quiet, Peaches.”

I couldn’t help the way I smirk or the way I quirk a brow at him. Peaches, huh? His glare at me intensified, but I brush it aside as I brought my attention back to Joseph. “So, Burke isn’t going to let me go easy?”

“Neither of them will.” Joseph corrected. “Not now, after they’ve gotten their hooks in you.” I turned and glared at the table, my skin crawling at his verbiage. I hated the idea of someone pulling the strings to control me. It was infuriating. “Luckily, we can work this to our advantage.”

“What is it that you want from me?” I asked, my irritation barely contained. I knew I wasn’t going to like this, and while they were scheming, I was trying to figure out a way to get the hell out of this alive. Just because I was willing to listen, didn’t mean I was willing to comply.

“I want you to do what you’re supposed to do. Or what you are being told to do, I mean.” Shooting him a look, he continued. “You’re going to work for me, Ms. Blake. John tells me that you are very skilled at keeping up pretenses—”

“You mean working a mark? As a con artist?” I asked with a raised brow.

His mouth twitched before he continued. “Yes, I suppose that’s one way to put it. My offer is that you work for us, pretend to infiltrate our family, while feeding the false information we give you to both the feds and Drubmans. In return, you have our protection from both.”

I scoff as I lean back in the chair with my arms crossed. “I can take care of myself, thank you.”

“Apparently not, darling. Or at least, that’s what it looks like from where I sit.” John taunted. I immediately threw him a death glare, ignoring the sting to my ego. I was ready to claw those pretty eyes of his out.

“John, that’s enough.” Joseph reprimanded, throwing him a pointed look. “It’s not just protection, Ms. Blake. This is only temporary.”

“So you say.” I replied warily. “With all due respect, things like this are never temporary.”

“No, I suppose you’re right. Though, I’m not like most people in this…lifestyle. My family, we keep our word. And I give you my word. You do this, not only will you have protection, but I will personally see to it you find your way out of this city safely. We can set you up somewhere of your choice. You will also be properly compensated for your time and help.”

“That’s awfully generous of you.” I responded suspiciously.

“There’s nothing in this world that’s more important to me than my family, my people, Ms. Blake. What you consider generous, I consider a necessary investment to ensure the future of the people I care about.”

I hesitated, completely baffled by the passion in his eyes. I clearly underestimated this family, because I wasn’t expecting that. “So, I pretend to work for you? Is that it?”

“No,” he leaned back, putting his foot on his knee. “That would be too risky. It puts you in the path of the feds and our competition, and neither of us want that. No, you’re going to become engaged to my brother.”

I stared at him before quickly looking at Jacob. Him? Wait…no, he was married to Rowan, wasn’t he? Did I pick up the vibes wrong? No, that can’t be…

My eyes widened as Jacob’s smirk did the same. I immediately turn to see John staring at Joseph incredulously. Oh. Oh.

“Absolutely not—”

“Oh, there’s no way in hell—”

“Brother, we didn’t discuss—”

“That little shit? Just kill me—"

“This is a bad idea, I assure you—”

“He’s an asshole—”

“Enough.” Joseph spoke out, silencing both of us as he raised his hand, and then turned to John. “You’re the only one of us that this could work with. You’re the only one that isn’t either engaged or already married.” He turned back to me. “I can’t hire you as an assassin, con artist, or anything thing else similar to that. That wouldn’t be infiltrating, not in your style, at least. This needs to be believable, and that’s not the way to do it. You understand, don’t you?”

I open my mouth to protest, but I close it when I realize that everything that he’s saying is right. I avoided violence, so me being added to their ranks wouldn’t make sense. No, my technique was always more subtle, taking a different approach. If I were doing this for real, it wouldn’t have been much different than what he had planned. The difference was the man sitting next to him.

John threw me an icy look, clearly not happy with the turn of events. At least that was something we could both agree on. I couldn’t help but think how much of a shame it was, in a different situation, he could have been charming. The first few minutes of knowing him had been pleasant.

Too bad he was such an arrogant prick.

“Look, I’m not exactly down for an arranged marriage. Especially to him.”

“It wouldn’t be real, obviously. You both will pretend to be in love for the public, the feds and Drubman will believe you’re doing what you agreed to do. Being engaged to John will offer you protection on all fronts, and that’s important with the attention you’ve gathered.”

I’m quiet as I take it in, weighing my options. I couldn’t leave, that was no longer an option. And slowly, piece by piece, everything fell into place. I eyed Pratt, and that’s when it clicked. “I don’t have a choice.”

“You still can say no, of course. But I think you know what will happen if you do.”

I hated his soft voice, hated how polite and gentle he was, because it hid how fucking clever and manipulative he was. Saying no would give me freedom to get the hell out, but that would be my only choice. They knew, so any chances of working myself out a deal with the feds was off the table, and there would be a target on my head from the Drubman’s. And it occured to me the real reason Pratt was here. I swallowed. He would take me in on the spot, with just a word from one of the brothers. Not even that, he would have to for Burke. I clenched my teeth. I’ve been played.

“You promise me a safe way out?” I asked softly, trying my best to keep my rage at bay.

“I promise.”

I sighed, eyeing him with distaste. “Fine. I’ll help you. But I don’t have to actually marry him, do I?”

The look on John’s face told me he had been offended, but Joseph ignored him. “No, not really. If we play everything correctly, this will be over in a few months. We can get away with a simple engagement.”

“Good. I can handle that.” I replied. Anything to keep me from getting thrown in the ocean tied to a concrete block or prison. I could handle a few months cuffed to this idiot to get the hell out.

“Hmm. At least she’s an upgrade from that Holly girl you were running around with.” Jacob muttered. “Kinda gives you a way out, Johnny. Keep the crazy broad off your back.”

John shot him a look. “Shut up, Jacob.”

“Just sayin’ you really know how to pick ‘em.”

“Fuck y—"

I rolled my eyes and stood. “This has been fun and all, but I’m gonna go ahead and go. We’re done here.” Without another word, I turned on my heel and walked out, shooting daggers at Pratt on the way.

I smashed the elevator button repeatedly, becoming more and more impatient by the second as I heard approaching footsteps. “Where are you going?”

The sound of his snobby tone made me groan. “Please go away, I’ve had enough of you for the last 24 hours. I need a break from Your Holiness.” I almost cried as the elevator doors dinged open, desperate for my escape.

“That’s awfully rude of you.” John said with a twist of his mouth. “And don’t you think you should be coming with me?”

“Are you kidding me?” I laughed as I pressed the lobby button. “I’m not staying with you, if that’s what you’re suggesting. As far as I’m concerned, as long as there’s no ring on my finger, I can enjoy my personal space while I still can.”

I smirked as I had the absolute pleasure of watching the doors shot to John’s reddening face. It was short lived, however, because I collapsed against the wall with a heavy sigh. I was exhausted to say the least, and there was nothing I wanted more than to curl up and hide in my trashed apartment.

  “What the hell is going on?!”

To say I was shocked would have been an understatement of the century, but the fury underneath was quickly approaching the surface.  I was absolutely looking forward to falling face first on what was left of my bed. So, it was a bit of a shock when I found movers taking my stuff out of my apartment, piece by piece. Spotting the landlord, I rushed over.

“Hey! Did you hear me? What do you think you’re doing?” I snapped, pointing at the apartment.

She was middle-aged, my landlord. Grey and brown hair in a bun as her bangs brushed her forehead, and no matter the weather, she always wore a shabby sweater. She was the strangest woman I had ever met.

“The tenant gave a notice, so we’re cleaning it out for the next one.” She replied with a frown, eyeing me up and down.

“The tenant…? I am the tenant!” Was she daff? I paid her rent every month, always on time and never short. We weren’t friends, but we were civil and polite enough.

She raised her brow at me before looking at the pages on her clipboard. “So, you’re ‘Duncan’ then?”

I gapped at her like a fish. Duncan? Who the fuck was Duncan? “What? No—”

“Then you’re not the tenant.”

“I’ve been living here for the past six months!”

“Under Duncan’s roof. It’s in his name, dear. Positive side, he’s going to be the one responsible for paying for the damages. But there’s nothing I can do, I’m sorry.” And with that, she turned, walking away with finality.

I tried to take a deep, calming breath. As much as I loved him dearly, I was going to kill Sharky. The only alias he was supposed to use was one of mine, but clearly, he had other plans. Turning to leave with a huff, I stop short. This time I can’t help my fists clench as Randy and Jane stand there by the top of the stairs. I could see the bruising on Jane’s face starting to form and the redness of her nose almost made me feel sheepish.

“You’re supposed to come with us, John sent for you.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me?” I asked, feeling exasperated. But when they didn’t laugh or even crack a smile, I realized John’s men had zero sense of humor and I was officially fucked. I’d never felt so cornered in my life and I had to fight the instinct to run and get the hell out of there. “Of course you’re not. Fucking Christ.” I ran a hand over my face as Jane smirked.

“You’ll learn pretty quick that John usually gets what he wants.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

[archangelgabriellives]

Bear

[part 1][part 2][part 3] PART 4

Words - 2200

Warnings - Flashbacks, light body gore, needles, angst, authors head canons

A/N - oh my god you guys. this flashback. it hurts so bad, but it came out so perfect i cannot even tell you. this gets a little bloody. you have been warned.

*gif is @astralgabriel‘s*

~~

2010

“Daddy, please. I don't like it here.”

Gabriel looked down with a sad smile at the child next to him, and held her hand a little tighter.

“I know, pumpkin,” he said sweetly as he dropped to one knee to look her in the eye, “but right now, we’re in danger.” Her eyes widened, and Gabriel could feel her shaking a little. “Don't be scared, Hel. Gotta be brave for me. Ok?”

Gabriel caressed Hel’s cheek, and felt her tremors subside. She gazed over to the other beings around them, saw their true forms, and stepped closer to her father.

“I can feel it, daddy. This is a bad place.” Hel leaned in closer, whispering in Gabriel’s ear. “Things get shattered here.”

A cold feeling of heartache spread through Gabriel’s body. He glanced up to Narfi and Fenrir, finding blank looks of disinterest at the conversation happening before them. With a sigh, he looked back to his daughter, thinking how best to convince her she was safe.

“Hel, these are daddy’s friends. Practically family. They will help us.” When the look of fear didn't dissipate, Gabriel tried a different approach. “Baby, have you got Fárbjódr?”

In her arms, Hel squeezed her teddy bear closer to her, still not letting go of Gabriel’s hand. She nodded, and Gabriel wiped a tear that fell from her eye. “Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” Gabriel said with a smile. “Remember when I made it so that Fárbjódr would be able to always keep you safe?” Hel nodded again, and a weight lifted from his shoulders when Gabriel saw his daughter smile again. “Well, when you get scared, you tell Fárbjódr. Hold him close and it’ll feel like I’m right there with you. And daddy always makes the bad things go away, right?” He tickled her a little, Hel’s laughter lifting him like a soft breeze. “If you have Fárbjódr, there will always be a part of me with you. Ok?”

She nodded, a bit more enthusiastically than before, yet Hel still didn't let go of his hand. Gabriel gave her a kiss on the cheek, and held her hand tightly as he let Narfi and Fenrir lead them through the seedy motel to Loki’s revamped penthouse.

~*~

Gabriel was grateful that Loki agreed to help him again. After Lucifer stabbed that second copy of himself, Gabriel knew he had to go back into hiding. And he wanted to take the one thing that mattered to him the most.

His daughter, Hel.

Lucifer now knew where he had been since he ditched out on heaven, that he was hiding out with the pagans as Loki. If he knew that, it wouldn't be hard for Gabriel’s brother to find and torture one of his pagan friends and get any information about what Gabriel had been doing for all that time. And there was no way that Gabriel was going to leave Hel on her own in case Lucifer slithered his way into her realm.

He knew that she was powerful, that she was perfectly capable of defending herself even though she was forever in the form of an eight year old child. She would always be his baby, his blood; technically a nephilim that Lucifer could exploit. And Father help him, Gabriel would rather die for real than let his fallen brother take Hel’s grace from her.  

Loki had provided everything they could possibly need. Clothes, entertainment, safety; for Gabriel and his daughter. Any toy Hel could want was only a thought away, although she mostly played with Fárbjódr and stuck close to her father.

The motel was always full. When Loki rolled into town, it was a grand time for all supernatural beings in his good graces. The conjured up ballroom was littered with gods and monsters. Ruckus parties and the occasional orgy were always happening, and every now and then Loki would knock on his door and ask Gabriel to join him and his children as they entertained.

Gabriel always declined. There was always a chance that he would be seen, that Lucifer had followed them somehow. Gabriel would rather wait, hidden in their room until it was safe to leave. And Hel, even though she was a goddess of the underworld, was still afraid of leaving the room. Plus, Gabriel just didn't want to expose her to that kind of debauchery.

Things went on fine for a few days. Gabriel and Hel stayed hidden in the motel while they waited for Lucifer to move on so they could run off undetected. Loki and the pagans partied in the floors below, but they were unheard in the angel’s room.

“How much longer do we have to stay here, daddy?” Hel asked, neatly curled up under the covers of the plush bed after a meal, Fárbjódr nestled in her arms. “I wanna go home.”

Gabriel sighed as he cleared the dishes of Loki’s room service. “I know sweetheart,” he said as Gabriel returned to his daughter’s side. He ran his fingers through her hair, eyes soft and loving. “We should be able to leave in a few days.”

Gabriel’s fingers tingled, but he didn't mention it to Hel.

“By then it’ll be safe enough to take you back to your realm.”

The pins and needles feeling traveled up his arm, and Gabriel started to feel dizzy. Something was definitely wrong. The room was reeling. He needed help.

“Don't- don't be s-scared. It’s...gonna...be-”

Gabriel fell back, hitting the floor hard and gasping for breath.

“Daddy!” Hel scrambled off the bed to his side just as the door to their room slammed open, Loki sauntering in and his three children behind him. “Please! He needs help,” she cried to the gods.

“Don't worry, child,” Loki crooned. “He’ll get what he deserves.”

“H-Hel,” Gabriel coughed through clenched teeth, and she gripped her father’s arm tighter as she realized they had been betrayed.

“Grab him,” Loki commanded, and his sons moved to take Gabriel. Before they could cross the room, Gabriel threw his daughter behind him, and with a shout, managed to pull himself to his knees and fire a blast of grace towards the gods. Narfi and Fenrir were sent flying across the room, furniture breaking and glass flying. Sleipnir was caught by Loki, his golden eyes burning with hatred never leaving Gabriel.

“Stay- stay back,” Gabriel spat, his body feeling too heavy to stand.

“Or what?” Loki replied. “You can barely hold yourself up.” Sleipnir moved towards him again, and Gabriel tried to unleash more grace, tried to protect his daughter, but be found he didn't have the strength. “That archangel poison is making you weaker by the second. Soon you won't be able to move, and then you will pay for what you did.”

“I don't-”

Sleipnir cut Gabriel off, grabbing him roughly and tossing him across the room. He landed at Loki’s feet, Hel’s screams echoing in his ear.

“Hel! RUN!!”

Hel slipped past Sleipnir, her teddy bear still in her arms. Fenrir, who had since recovered, tried to grab her. But she reached out, and with a touch of her hand Fenrir was flying again, landing with a sharp cry and clutching a broken arm. Gabriel expected her to run, to escape, but instead she threw herself at him, wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed.

“Baby,” Gabriel whispered in her ear as he struggled to lift his arms and hug her back, “run. Please.”

“No, daddy,” she cried, “I'll protect you.”

“Well, isn't this just a beautiful sight,” Loki sneered as he rounded Gabriel and Hel on the floor. “Get her out of here.”

Narfi came up behind her, pushing a cloth in front of Hel’s nose and mouth. She screamed again, flailing her arms as she was lifted from Gabriel’s arms.

“N-no,” Gabriel struggled to hold on to her, but there was no strength left in his body. “Don't touch her.”

“Don't worry your pretty little head,” Loki said as he knelt down by Gabriel, Hel's tiny body going limp as Narfi carried her out the door. “She'll be fine. Probably,” he laughed. “Isn't that how that line goes.”

Loki's smile faded into an angry scowl as he bounced on his toes.

“You need to be more worried about yourself, brother.”

Tears fell down Gabriel's cheek, not for himself, but for Hel. “Just...don't...don't hurt...her.”

Loki just stared for a moment, his jaw working in frustration as Gabriel struggled to breath and to stay awake. He stood, pacing the floor. Back and forth while Gabriel's whines and gasps filled the room.

“I am very upset with you, Gabriel. I offered you protection. Sheltered you,” he paced, “and you left with a promise on you lips.”

Loki stopped, turned his glare to the archangel at his feet.

“Your lips,” he quietly repeated. There was a snap, and a blunt, wicked looking needle appeared in his hand. The thick thread hung down, dragging on the floor as he walked back over to Gabriel.

“Loki...please.”

“Someone has tendered an offer for you, my friend,” Loki said as he knelt back over Gabriel. “An offer that I didn't want to refuse.” Sleipnir came up behind Gabriel, pulling him into a sitting position and forcing him to look at Loki, fingers roughly digging into his skin.

Gabriel groaned, gurgled really, as the debilitating poison cocktail continued to send him further into unconsciousness. He had no strength left to fight back.

“Did you enjoy being me?” Loki asked as he examined the needle in the light. “You took my face, you took my life. My pleasures and joys.” Loki paused as his eyes fell to Gabriel again. “But now, I think it's time you learned of my punishments.” He straddled Gabriel's legs, a hand in his hair as he tilted the angel's head back at a sharp angle.

The needle sank in, just below Gabriel's lower lip, and he screamed. Sleipnir's grip tightened, but Gabriel could only feel the pain of the needle as it was fed through his skin again and again.

“This is because you can't keep a promise,” Loki said as Gabriel's screams became whimpers behind the lattice work of thread. “This is for every one of my kind that has died because of you.” The blood flowed, ran down Gabriel's face and landed on Loki's suit. Gabriel prayed to his Father for help. “For every lie that has fallen from these lips.”

Gabriel's tears were silent now. Slowly, his vision faded. The pain in his face was so far away, even as Loki continued to sew up his lips. He thought of Hel, of how much he loved her. He hoped and prayed that she would be safe.

He stopped fighting. The sound of the needle slipping through his skin and Loki's laughter were all he heard as he slowly fell into the darkness.

2018

Jesus Christ.

Tell me about it.

Sam sat on his bed, a hand over his mouth as he listened to Gabriel's horrific story. There were tears in his eyes, and he let them fall.

You ok, Sammy? Gabriel asked quietly.

No. He wiped the tears from his face, tried to collect himself. Is that the last time you've seen your daughter?

Yeah. When I woke up after Loki, I was in a dirty cell, and Asmo-dickbag was my… my whatever.

Gabriel. I am so sorry.

It's not your fault, Sam.

Sam only hunched forward, his hands running down his face then back up again.

Maybe if I went back to that hotel sooner...

Please don't do that, Sammy. Don't blame yourself. Anything that happens to me is my fault. Not yours.

Bullshit, Gabriel. You didn't deserve any of that.

Gabriel sighed, pausing before his sad voice filled Sam's mind again. It's ok, Sam.

No, Gabriel. It really isn't.

They sat in silence, both if them digesting the story that Gabriel told. Sam desperately wished he had a solution for this. Something to give Gabriel hope. But at the moment, he didn't have anything.

Do you think...that she's dead?

Sam's blood turned to ice.

I've reached out, with my grace, after I...recovered. But I can't feel her. She's nowhere.

Gabriel was getting frantic, and Sam couldn't find it in him to blame Gabriel for one second of it.

Hel is my daughter. My daughter! He put his hands on her! His disgusting, slimy hands! Where is my daughter, Sam!

Sobs filled Sam's mind. Hearing Gabriel cry, Sam nearly lost it himself. The thought of losing a child, it was too much to bear for either one of them.

We can find her, Gabriel. Please. Please listen.

He waited until the sobs subsided a little.

I'm gonna try. I'll find Hel.

What? Gabriel asked tearfully.

We know the bear that had your grace came from Boston. A hunter named Bart Kemp. We can start there. Hunters keep records, the good ones do, anyway. We'll work backwards. Keep going back until we find her.

Sam…

Or I'll summon her myself with a spell. I'll find her, Gabriel.

Thank you, Sam. I can't tell you enough how-

Abruptly, Gabriel was cut off. Not a sound came through Sam's mind.

Gabriel?

No response.

Gabriel! What happened?!

Sam, he whispered, someone's coming.

~~

A/N again - so, my head canon is that it was Loki who sewed Gabriels mouth shut. Not Asmodeus. Let that sink in and just hurt you all over again.

Everything tags

@doctor-zyre @ourloveisforthelovely @authoressskr @superwhoavengelocketc-blog @sumara62 @mscrazycatbitch @emmii4 @redberrysweets @space-time-paradox @tgpanther @anxietywontmakethewordsgo @I4life @l4life @acarpouschimerical @warlockwriter

Bear

@lovingrevolution @idabbleincrazy @just-another-rp-nerd @maddiefangirl4 @thislumpoffuckicallabrain @strawberryeet @professional-trickster @aspenhearne @destielandsabrielshipper2017 @franthehorsegir @nikithegreat @ace-of-black-hearts @smmywinchester45 @akhuna01 @dontcallmenymphadorayouassbutt @staycejo1 @shipper-trash-bag @quakerlasss  @turkeycleverness @sa5nthunderheadrev

[marshmallowgoop]

Goop Plays Kill la Kill the Game: IF (Satsuki Episodes 5-8)

Oh my goodness.

Episode 5

So, this episode starts off with that haunting line featured in the recent Anime Expo story trailer:

Ragyo: All of this is because of you, Satsuki. Because of who you are.

I guess Ragyo’s saying that Shinra-Kouketsu came into fruition because Satsuki couldn’t prevent this outcome, no matter her efforts, but I gotta say that I was expecting something a lot more sinister. But that’s just trailer magic for you, I suppose, lol.

And I know I said in my last write-up that I really enjoyed interacting with the story, but okay, I get what some reviews were referring to now. Fighting the COVERS felt extremely tedious.

Satsuki: Ugh, this is endless!

Same, Satsuki, same.

Though, to be fair, I don’t know if it’s the Steam port or my computer or what, but part of the reason playing through this segment felt so bad is because it ran so badly. It was slow and glitchy and an utter pain.

Still, I will say that fighting the COVERS with the Elite Four was a bit of a better experience purely because of the cute introductions when each of them joined Satsuki in battle. I particularly loved Nonon and Satsuki’s exchange:

Nonon: Nonon here, at your service!

Satsuki: I’m counting on you, Nonon. Stay sharp out there.

I mean, aw??? Satsuki saying she’s counting on someone? My heart. And that’s not even mentioning that she uses Nonon’s first name.

It’s a real shame that there are no subtitles for these bits. Those playing in Japanese who don’t understand the language will totally miss all of these moments.

But then again, the achievement for the battle is “Unspoken Understanding,” so these words aren’t really necessary. 

They’re so cute, though!

Anyway, on the subject of the Elite Four, my question about their Goku Uniforms gets quickly answered here:

Satsuki: Your Goku uniforms!

Houka: Iori patched them up fast, m’Lady. Nothing compares to his skill with a needle and thread.

And LOL, okay, Shiro can just sew four complicated outfits in like five minutes. Life Fibers: ain’t gotta explain shit.

(To be real, though, I’m honestly not bugged. Details like this just amuse me. And I really like that Houka says this line.)

But what the heck is Shiro referring to here???

Shiro: There’s just one thing that bothers me...

Satsuki: What?

Shiro: It can wait. I’ll come talk to you after the fight’s over.

As of episode 8, I don’t think this talk has occurred? Or did I miss it or something?? What bothered Shiro??? I don’t really have an idea!

Episode 6

It kinda cracked me up that Shinra-Kouketsu didn’t seem to be that far from complete. Nui, what the heck were you doing in the anime? It seems you could have finished that thing in a way more timely manner.

Nui: Awww, Satsuki! You’re too late. I just finished!

But on a more serious note, seeing Satsuki lose control and become Mind Stitched is heartbreaking. I knew at about this point that I was getting close to the end of the story, but gosh, I want so much more. I want to know how Satsuki feels. I want to know more about her history and what she’s done up to this point. Seeing so much go unexplored leaves me aching.

Still, I know I’m lucky to get any Kill la Kill at all after all these years....

Poor Satsuki, though... She’s had to fight all these battles, and then this happens....

But I will say... one thing I actually don’t think I want to know is what Nui ended up doing....

Nui: Okay! I’ll just stay here and mess around then!

Episode 7

Now, episode 7 is the absolute cutest.

Ryuko: Finally. Thought you’d never wake up.

I want ten hours just of the characters being cute like this. They don’t even have to like, do anything. They can just sit around and talk. This is my jam.

Back when the show was first airing, I remember so many people wanting Ryuko to save Satsuki after the Festival. This episode is the perfect embodiment of that dream. And it’s honestly better than I even expected. They are precious.

Ryuko: Can you move?

Satsuki: No. That’s not good.

Goodness, Satsuki, you are such a dork I love you.

Buuuut. Uh. I have so many questions.

How much time has passed? Have the Elite Four been awake a while? Were they talking to Ryuko about Satsuki for a long time (and can I please, please see this in Ryuko’s story?)

And, most notably, how the heck is Senketsu back together again?! Maybe I misunderstood what happened before, but didn’t Ragyo take one of Senketsu’s pieces? How can Senketsu Synchronize with Ryuko without that piece?? What did Ragyo want to do with that piece, anyway? What is going on.

As cute as everything is, it’s also a bit soured for me when it’s revealed that Ryuko was convinced she’d killed Nui.

Ryuko: I thought I killed you!

Just recently, I actually got into a whole discussion on the subject. Apparently, in the Grand Summoners mobile game that had a crossover with Kill la Kill about a year ago, Ryuko states that she’s perfectly willing to kill others without remorse.

And, uh.

Okay, was anybody going to tell me that the Grand Summoners/Kill la Kill crossover had a story, or was I just supposed to read that in a discussion about whether Ryuko would like Shadow the Hedgehog or not myself?

But anyway, I figured that Ryuko would say something like that purely to sound tough. I’ve always viewed her as a sweet who wouldn’t truly want to kill anybody, even Nui (which is why she ultimately doesn’t kill Nui in the anime).

Perhaps I’ve just interpreted her character all wrong, and maybe it’s unfair of me to expect too much depth from a 3.5-hour story in a tie-in anime fighter game, but if Nui is the first person Ryuko’s “killed,” I just... expect more of a reaction. Even killing someone you hate must make you feel something if it’s the first time you’ve done such a thing. Ed killing Greed in the 2003 Fullmetal Alchemist anime is a brilliantly powerful example of that, and Ryuko is a remarkably sensitive person when it comes to how she impacts others—her reaction after going berserk in episode 13 is a testament to that.

Of course, I haven’t seen Ryuko’s side of things. Maybe she does freak out after she’s done the deed. But I don’t know. From what I understand about Ryuko—going easy on Mataro’s gang, helping Maiko despite trying to be tough and saying that it’s everyone for themselves, hardly even being able to function after losing control and hurting the people she loves, putting all her doubts aside to “save” Nagita—it’s hard for me to believe that she’d be so unaffected by killing someone, especially in retrospect. 

I mean, heck, she doesn’t even kill Nui in this episode despite saying that she will and honestly having the opportunity to!

Ryuko: I don’t care how many-a-you there are! I’ll kill you all!

And it’s even weirder to me that Senketsu would be okay with this! He’s the one who says in the preview for episode 18 that “to kill as you please with a smile on your face is evil.” Why would he help Ryuko murder for revenge?

It’s Not That Deep, Goop, I know. But it irks me.

Still, I can (obviously) appreciate the charm of this short story. Nui’s little cloth dolls are adorable, for example.

Episode 8

And getting into episode 8, I love that Ryuko didn’t even understand what she was doing when she cut off Nui’s arms, but she acted so sure of herself anyway, like she totally knew that’d work out.

Shiro: But if you cut those Fibers from both sides simultaneously, they can can’t regenerate.

Ryuko: Ohhh, so that’s what happened with Nui’s arms.

And oh lordy, they are precious.

Nonon: Jeez, Satsuki. Don’t bow down to the new girl! What’ll people think?

But at the same time, we’re missing so much of the power of the anime here. When Satsuki bows down to Ryuko in the anime, it’s so meaningful because she understands that she messed up. She shouldn’t have used her own sister as a tool and a weapon. She went too far. This is cute, but it feels undeserved.

Carrie Keranen, Satsuki’s English voice actress, said in a recent ArcLive that the Satsuki’s apology on the Naked Sol was her favorite scene to voice. She talked about how Satsuki felt she was doing the right thing but realized that she didn’t have to go to the lengths she did. I was so hoping for the game to delve into that realization more, and there is still a tiny bit of time for it to do so, yes, but it was kinda sad to see the bow here before that.

I’m also kinda confused about what’s going on. What is Uzu talking about here?

Uzu: Yeah and besides, Matoi here was saved ‘cuz of you. She should be the one doin’ the thanking.

How exactly did Satsuki save Ryuko? She, uh, kinda tore up Senketsu.....

On a completely different note, I’ve noticed in the past that the localization is kinda wonky, and you definitely feel that in this episode. Ryuko says that she has the Rending Scissors, but then the subtitles call them “Snippity-Snips,” lol.

And more complaints about Ryuko, but I’m not sure I dig her being characterized kinda like a dimwit. “Primordial” isn’t that difficult a word, c’mon.

Ryuko: Wait... Prime-oatmeal?

Maybe it makes more sense in Japanese. Or Ryuko’s just really hungry.

I did appreciate this line, though:

Ryuko: I ain’t here to make friends with you all.

Oh, Ryuko.

But can’t say I appreciated this one:

Ryuko: I’m gonna kill that loli bitch!

Can we just... not with that word, please.

I loved the ending, though. Satsuki, you are such a sweet, oh my goodness.

Satsuki: That said, I’d like the four of you to go after her. Protect her, if necessary.

Awww! She really does care.

And the fact that she prioritizes her students?

Satsuki: I’ll make sure all students are freed from the COVERS and once I’ve arranged for their rescue, I will join you.

Satsuki a sweet, okay. Satsuki is good.

Gallery

Aight, I know this is really long already, but I gotta say that I really appreciate that Ryuko and Senketsu share a place in the Voice Library... even if their names don’t show up together there....

I’m also super curious about those bonus voice lines, but I feel like it’d be cheating to buy them now, and there are probably spoilers in them, too... and I’m broke in this game, lol.... But very excited for it!

And I’ve said it before, but can we just appreciate all the love put into this game some more? Look at all those voice lines! 146 for Ryuko and Senketsu alone. And all characters seem to have at least around 70 lines. I’m fearful about how this story will end, but goodness, the dedication put into this game will never stop being charming.

One more thing... when I started up the game again, Mako was narrating instead of Senketsu! I looked at these voice lines and realized that everyone can be the narrator, but I wasn’t sure how you trigger it to change. Learned today that it depends on the buttons you press during the introduction!

Again love all the effort put into this game.

In sum, I’m not sure how this thing’ll end, and I am nervous, but there’s a lot of charm here, even if I wish there was more. It’s hard to stop playing and write these posts, but I also feel like I gotta let this stuff sink in a bit! I don’t want to break my mind by going through way too much Kill la Kill content at once!

[yellowdistress]

I was wondering if you could write a short story of peter and Tony, after peter has accidentally killed his first person, maybe in the What We Are verse

THIS ONE GOT SO BURIED! I think it was because I looked at it and thought ‘that’s angsty gotta save it for when I have an appropriate amount of time’ and then I just kept forgetting about it. So sorry this one is so late, I’m starting from the bottom now to get the older ones answered.

Anyway, this is angst, so here we go. Sad Peter ensues. I’m not sure where to fit this ‘canonically’ in the verse, because I wanted it before Infinity War, but it was never mentioned in it Hurts to Become cause obviously it’s a prompt. I think I’m thinking too hard about this…haha, but can we consider this outside of canon What We Are? Because I feel if something this traumatic happened it would’ve come up again. So yeah, it’s What We Are verse, but after this little drabble it’s gonna disappear from ‘canon’ What We Are just cause I think it’d be unrealistic for it not to have been mentioned in It Hurts to Become.

It made sense for the world to smell like vomit and cigarettes on New Years.

New York often flourished in it on that holiday in particular. Strong vomit, caked in alcohol and pretzels, peanuts, party hats and the inhalation of fireworks and camel smokes. Peter’s nose was burning, he felt fried right at the top of his brain, staring into the sky where it had begun to rain cold needles into his skin. It wasn’t quite cold enough to snow, but it was icing over where it puddled underneath his horizontal body. His chest heaved, and blood filled his nose, tasting like pennies in the back of his throat.

Peter wasn’t supposed to be out.

He had told his dad he was going to spend New Years with Ned and Ned’s mother. But he had slipped on the suit, had told himself patrolling would only be an hour or two to avoid his father realizing the suit was in use. He probably wouldn’t be checking, he had taken the opportunity of an empty house to take Pepper out to some party, even though he swore he had aged too much for such things. It made the sneaking out easier…New Years was one of the biggest nights of crime in the entire year. People were being robbed, assaulted, stumbling home drunk. Peter had felt he had to go out, despite the fact his dad had forbidden it because it was ‘dangerous’. 

Now Peter supposed he was right.

It had started with a guy mugging someone in an alley. Kicking repeatedly, bloody, until the guy lay limp in the vomit smell on the ground, and Peter had jumped down, had intervened, but the guy had hit him with a pipe…Then there had been hands on his throat, then Peter had grabbed the pipe…and then the rest was relatively blurry. But he knew his nose and head were gushing…and the man beside him wasn’t moving. 

Peter hadn’t meant to hit him so hard, he really hadn’t.

“ - eter? Peter?”

The boy groaned, mind whirling. No stars to sink into above him, only water pooling. Peter sucked in, more blood slipping down his throat and into him. He rolled over in response to Karen’s voice, lifting the bottom of the mask to spit the blood onto the concrete. He replied hoarsely, “Yeah?”

“Peter, you’re injured.”

No shit.

“The laceration on your skull will more than likely need to be sutured,” Karen continued, and she sounded too loud in Peter’s ears, bouncing around, then out again, “Also, your nose needs to be set. I’m contacting your father - “

“No,” Peter snapped, sitting up and holding his ribcage, “No, don’t call him…Karen.”

Karen was silent, then, “I’m programmed to call your father whenever you receive an injury, despite your protests.”

“Do not call Dad,” Peter argued, “Alright? I’m fine, I’m getting up now…”

His voice trailed off when he looked at the man beside him. The man with the discarded pipe just a few inches away from his bloody forehead. Peter blinked, over and over again, trying to get his eyes to adjust, but he felt more confused than anything…Concussion. Definitely concussion…He couldn’t put one thought in front of the other. Peter tried to expand his chest…To open to air, but there was something stopping him and the world felt like it was imploding.

The guy was…definitely not moving.

Peter moved to his knees beside the guy who had attacked him…The guy he had smacked with a pipe. It appeared the victim from earlier had run off, because he was gone from the alleyway. Peter loomed over the figure, slowly reaching out and pressing his fingers to the guy’s neck. When he felt nothing, a shrill horror clung on and Peter spoke shakily, “K-Karen - Karen…is he…Oh God, is he…”

“He appears to be deceased,” Karen replied, clinically, “My scanners indicate a skull fracture consistent with your counter attack to escape his choke hold.”

The smell of vomit disappeared. Vomit and alcohol and pretzels and instead, it was replaced with just the smell of his blood in his nose. Peter fell back off his knees, onto his bottom, holding his hands out in front of himself. They weren’t red…not like the inside of his mask from his gushing head. But he almost expected them to be. A sense of drowning overcame him, and Peter tried to take in a deep breath, but it was difficult…Like his lungs had never learned. Peter supposed…well, he supposed at some point, he was bound to accidentally hurt someone. That was why his father was always so strict about him using his strength. And there were the repercussions, right in front of him. Repercussions for his actions. A dead person…

“Peter, you’re having a panic attack.”

But it didn’t compute - nothing was computing - not the lifeless corpse, not his inability to breathe, not the brokenness clinging into his joints as he grabbed both sides of his head in desperation to escape. To get out of his body. Peter barely heard Karen say she was contacting his father when he pressed the spider on his suit and freed himself from the cocoon. Ever since the ferry boat incident, he had begun to wear clothing under the suit. Just to avoid such a walk of shame again, but he was still exposed in his sweats and t-shirt, barefoot as he started to scale the wall behind him, ripping the mask off and dropping it.

In retrospect, it was unwise was abandon his suit in the alley with the dead man, but it was the only way to get away. From what he wasn’t sure. His father? Karen? The body? There were people cheering in the distance as Peter ran over the rooftop, pebbles digging into his toes. He wasn’t sure how far he ran as the rain continued to pelt him. But he could hear people counting down…

8…

7…

6…

5…

4…

3…

2…

1!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Fireworks bombarded him and Peter ducked under a ledge, flashing lights parading in the sky as he curled into himself, trying to hide from the cold water. He wasn’t bleeding anymore, his hands were clean, but he felt like there was something clotting under his nails. Like an existence he had stolen from the dead man in the alley. The dead man he had murdered. Peter dropped to his side, hugging everything close to him as he shut his eyes and shivered…trying to block the sounds of war - but celebration and he could have wailed.

…

Peter supposed he should have known his father would find him.

His father always found him.

There were no coherent thoughts, until Peter was cracking open his eyelids, and he found himself in his own bed…Not on some roof on New Years, with screaming below him, with blood on his face, though his nose did hurt. Everything was in a heavy haze, like when he had been bitten, and the fever had went through the roof, leaving him incapacitated for so long - 

“Yeah kid…A fever.”

Oh…he must have talked.

Peter blinked, it felt like the movies with the blur at the edges of the screen. His father was there, standing above him, and Peter felt himself, he felt he was wrapped in a warm blanket. A calloused hand rubbed the side of his face and his dad went on, but he sounded like he was under water, “…almost froze to death.”

Which Peter deserved, but his father would never be able to see that. Peter swallowed, throat bobbing, and he wanted to say it, but it wouldn’t come. However, nonsense formed, and he whispered, “…the man…”

“Shhh,” His dad hushed, “We’re not talking about that right now.”

“It was an accident.”

“I know,” His dad said, “I know…I’m handling it.”

Handling it. It didn’t need to be handled. The hand continued to stroke his face, and Peter felt the fever taking hold again. His eyes burned, “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m handling it,” His dad repeated.

Peter tried to wet his lips…

“Am I…am I goin’ to jail?”

He watched as his father was standing, but suddenly he was sitting on the edge of the bed, as if Peter had blinked and he had teleported. Peter must have been so, so out of it…because it felt hard to see. His dad shook his head, “You’re not going to jail.”

“I deserve to go,” Peter felt warm tears, and he didn’t know why he was crying, because he couldn’t feel much under the clamminess of the fever, “I deserve…to get hurt or something.” 

“Hey,” His dad’s voice lost all softness, and it was replaced by a vehement denial, “Don’t start that. That guy was trying to kill you. You did what you had to do.”

Peter could hear under his father’s voice…the dare to argue. But Peter didn’t have the energy and the haze was spreading fast. Peter’s eyes pleaded to close, so he closed them…murmuring, more off topic than anything, but it was the only coherent thought he could muster…

“I hit ‘em…I hit ‘em too hard…you always say to be careful but I wasn’t.”

He felt chapped lips press to his forehead, then, “Bullshit. You saved yourself.”

Murder didn’t feel like saving.

[supernatural-fangirl1967]

No More Regrets

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: A bit of angst, Lots of fluff

Word Count: 2,077

Square Filled: Hurt/Comfort

A/N: This was written for @spnfluffbingo​

You let out a groan as you slowly lift your head from up off the ground. The first thing you're aware of is someone calling your name. You try answering, but all that comes out is a pained whimper. You slowly turn your head in the direction the voice is coming from, and through blurry vision you see Dean running towards you with a panicked look on his face.

"(Y/N)!" Dean yells your name a few more times before he sees you laying on the ground. He runs over to you and falls to his knees beside of you. "(Y/N), can you hear me?"

You nod your head as Dean looks you over, assessing your injuries. "Dean..." You trail off and wince at the sore feeling in your throat.

"Shhh. Don't try to talk, alright? Gosh, that demon really did a number on you." Dean looks at your face and swallows hard. "But we got him, okay? You're safe now." Dean stands up before leaning over and scooping you up into his arms.

You bite your lip to keep from crying out, but it doesn't help much. Grabbing onto the collar of Dean's shirt, you hide your face in his neck to muffle your sobs.

"I know, sweetheart," Dean says softly as he begins walking. "We're gonna get you back to the hotel and get you fixed up, okay?" You nod against Dean's shoulder, and he tightens his hold on you.

By the time you two make it back to Baby, Sam is already waiting. His eyes widen when he sees your limp body laying in Dean's arms.

"Is she okay?" Sam asks as he opens the back door.

"She's alive if that's what you're asking," Dean replies as he lays you down on the seat. He pulls the keys out of his pocket and hands them over to Sam. "Here."

Sam raises an eyebrow at his brother. "You're going to let me drive?"

"I have to keep an eye on her," Dean says as he nods his head towards you. "Are you gonna take them or not?"

Sam takes the keys, and Dean takes his seat beside of you. He reaches over you to the cooler and opens it, pulling out a bottle of water.

"Here," Dean tells you as he holds the bottle up to your lips. "Small sips."

You close your eyes as the cold water washes over your tongue and down your throat.

"No, no, no. Keep your eyes open, (Y/N)," Dean says as he uses his free hand to brush your hair out of your face.

"'M okay," you slur. "Just tired."

"I know, but you gotta stay awake for me." The hidden plea in Dean's voice is what makes you fight the sleep trying to consume you.

"Sam, drive faster!" Dean demands before turning his full attention back to you. "Does anything feel broken?"

You shake your head. "I don't think so." Your words come out soft and slurred, but Dean hears and understands every word.

The sleep becomes too much to fight off, and you let your eyes close. You can hear Dean begging for you to wake up, but you can't find the will to open your eyes.

~~~~~~

You wince when you feel something cold being pressed against your wrist. You open your eyes to see Dean sitting beside you on the bed holding an ice pack against your skin.

"Dean?"

He quickly looks up at you and lets out a sigh of relief. "You're awake."

"What are you doing?" you ask him as you glance towards the ice pack.

"I could tell your wrist was swelling so I figured I'd better put some ice on it," Dean explains. "It must've got twisted."

"I guess," you reply as you shrug your shoulders. "Where's Sam?"

"Sent him out to get some food and pain killers." Dean reaches over to grab your arm and slowly pulls you up into a sitting position. "How you feeling?"

"Sore," you reply. You look down at your left arm and frown at the blood stain on your sleeve.

"I wrapped it up as best I could, but it's gonna need stitches," Dean says. "I was just waiting for you to wake up."

"Well, I'm awake now, so I guess I know what that means," you say as you look over at Dean. He just nods his head before standing up and heading over to one of the duffel bags. You take over holding the ice pack in place as you watch Dean.

His muscles are all tensed up, and you can tell that his mind is over thinking. You know not to say anything when he gets like this, so you just let him work. Dean walks back over to you and takes off the makeshift bandage. He looks at you and holds the needle up.

"You ready?"

"Yeah," you reply before biting down on your lower lip. This certainly isn't the first time you've had to get stitched up after a hunt, but you know that Dean will try to make sure that it's your last.

Dean's hands move slowly, and he looks up every now and then at your face. He knows it hurts, but he wants to do everything he can to make it the least painful for you. Once he's done, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

Neither of you say anything as Dean begins putting everything away. You pull the ice pack away and inspect your wrist, replacing it when you notice that the swelling is still there.

You feel the bed dip, and before you have time to process what's happening, Dean gently grabs your chin and turns your head towards him. He looks you straight in the eyes before speaking.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/N)."

You look at Dean and shake your head. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't want me going on this hunt anyways."

"That doesn't matter," Dean argues. "I was still supposed to protect you. When I saw you laying there, I was terrified that I had lost you, and I was already blaming myself. I blame myself for you getting hurt."

"Dean..."

"This wasn't supposed to happen on my watch, but it did, and I'm sorry for that." Dean's thumb brushes against your cheek, and you lean into the touch.

"Dean," you say softly as you reach out and place your hands on either side of his face. "I don't blame you. I promise I don't. But even if I did, you're forgiven."

Dean laughs a bit, his green eyes crinkling at the corners and causing your heart to flutter. Dean rests his forehead against yours, and you smile at him.

"I love you, sweetheart."

You can't help the giggle that escapes, always feeling this blissful everytime he says those words. "I love you too, Dean."

Before you know it, his lips are on yours and he's holding you a little bit closer. That's when all the emotions you've been too busy to feel hit you out of nowhere, making you feel like you ran into a brick wall.

The stress, the fear. It all becomes too much, so you pull away to choke back the sob. That doesn't stop the tears from running down your face though. You rest your head onto Dean's shoulder and hide your face in his neck.

"It's okay," Dean whispers as he rubs a hand up and down your back. "You're alright, (Y/N)."

His voice usually helps calm you down, but today it only makes matters worse. Dean moves so he's sitting behind you on the bed. He wraps his arms around you and leans back, pulling you with him. You rest your head on Dean's chest as both of your hands grip onto his flannel shirt.

Dean's heart breaks as your body shakes with sobs. "Shh. You're safe now, alright?"

You shake your head before looking up at Dean through tear filled eyes. "It's not that," you get out between sobs. You take a deep breath, knowing he won't be able to understand you until you calm down.

"I thought I was going to die today," you admit. "And I was okay with that, I really was. Until I thought of you, and then I realized that I have so many regrets."

"Like what?" Dean asks softly as he wipes some of your tears away.

"Like the fact that I don't tell you enough how much I love you," you begin. "I don't tell you enough how important you are to me, or how much I appreciate you taking me in when I had no one else to turn to. I didn't know if you and Sam realize how much you both mean to me, but especially you. Dean, you treat me like I'm someone important and you couldn't live without me."

"That's because you are," Dean tells you. "And I can't." He takes one of your hands in his before bringing your knuckles up to his lips. "You know, I would've had regrets of my own."

"Like what?" you ask, causing Dean to smile a bit.

"Not being there for you."

"I thought we moved past that."

"Shh," Dean says as he places a finger on your lips. "I'm talking." You laugh at him and shake your head.

"Sorry."

"I'll forgive you this time," Dean jokes before getting serious again. "I would've had the same regrets as you. Not knowing if you knew just how much you mean to me, or that I really do love you even though I'm not the best at showing it at times.

"But there's one that really takes the cake." Dean sits up, still holding you close to him. Once you're sitting upright, Dean gently turns you around so your legs are dangling off the side of the bed. He takes both of your hands in his, and you look at him.

"There's one regret," Dean begins as he gets up off the bed and comes to stand in front of you, "that I know would've killed me if you hadn't made it."

"What's that?"

Dean takes a deep breath before digging into his pocket. "Not doing this sooner."

Your heart stops as Dean kneels down in front of you, a red velvet box resting in the palm of his shaky hand.

"You know I... I had this all planned out," Dean begins. "Romantic candle light dinner, soft music. I was gonna go all chick flick just for you." You can't help but to laugh a bit, trying to hold back the tears. "But after thinking that I had lost you, none of that mattered anymore. (Y/N), I'm not just asking, I'm beggin' ya, sweetheart. Will you..." Dean stops to clear his throat a bit before trying again. "Will you marry me?"

"Yeah," you barely get out as you nod your head.

Dean's hopeful eyes widen as if he can't believe what he just heard. "Yeah?"

"Yes," you laugh as you smile widely at him. Dean kisses you so fast that you have to brace your hands against the matress, wincing as your hurt wrist takes some of your weight.

"Sorry," Dean breathes out as he pulls away. "You alright?"

"Perfect." You sigh contently and rest your forehead against his. Dean takes your left hand in his before sliding the ring onto your finger. "It's beautiful."

"Better be," Dean mumbles. "Maxed out two credit cards for it." He smiles before bringing his tearful eyes back up to look at you. "But it was worth it."

"You can say that because it's not your money," you tease as you wrap your arms around Dean's neck. He kisses you once more, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. This time, neither of you pull back unitl you're both breathless.

"Alright," Dean sighs. "You've really been through it today, so why don't you rest until Sam gets back, okay?"

"Okay," you reply. "Just, Dean, please don't leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart," Dean replies as he sits down beside of you on the bed, carefully wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Are you sure you're okay now?"

"I'm fine, Dean," you assure him. "I'll heal. But you know what the best part is?"

"What?" Dean asks as he raises an eyebrow at you.

"No more regrets."

You smile at each other and Dean shakes his head. "Yeah," he replies. "Me neither."

[lightkrets312]

impleiadic

replied to your post

“*inhales deeply* *ehxales slowly* hoo boy”

pour the tea G

Well grab a goddamn mug, cause I’m about to spill.

please note this is entirely my opinion and experience and there will be s a l t

(okay this is getting long so)

tl;dr: Good art doth not maketh a good person, a hard lesson I learned after years of mild fixation and just as long a time of observing repeated drama, callouts, and temper tantrums. Their attitude towards their fans is about as nice as the obsidian covering a pool of lava, too; dig any deeper than the surface and you’re bound to get burned.

On an entirely related note, if you want to know why I’m paranoid about talking to Big Name Artists in streams, asks, art, or in general? Read on.

Alright so back when the world was younger, FNAF was new and only had one game, and we were only around Purgatory instead of the 5th ring of Hell, there was an artist named Rebornica who ran a popular AU. They had comedic comics, amazing art, terrific tales to tell, and, alliteration aside, they seemed interesting.

And I, a baby tumblrist, fell head over heels into obsession and checked their blog once a day for years. ...wish I was kidding.

See, when I said they had great art? That’s not wrong at all. Allow me to demonstrate with some character art (read: two characters) I can pull from google images in the next five minutes.

FNAF 1′s night guard, Mike Schmidt. Swearboat, loves his gal (Doll), a little bit possessed.

Purple guy. Fucking nuts. Treated like a meme. Afraid of needles. Motherfucker in multiple senses, I’d bet (he’s dtf at least). (one (1) spooky image at the end please be aware)

don’t worry they died

anyways they do have comics but I’m not pulling those up, would take too long.

So from FNAF the first to FNAF the third, they acquired an appreciable following of people, and we all had a good time. Had some laughs, submitted some asks, had a lot of asks eaten, got to see plenty of dash drama between them and other people- wait what.

...

...yeah, this is where shit turns a bit towards the ‘#bad vibes’ tag I overuse.

Bones was great at art, and I emphasize this heavily because this was a lot of the draw for me. They told stories well. I loved it. I focused on the surface level. As a person, they weren’t super bad either, at least on the surface. Dig about three inches down and check the other side of most of the stories and...

...well shit. Turns out they have a lot of callout blogs. Wonder why.

But of course, I persevered and ignored it. Sure, they had a lot of bad events surrounding them, but they weren’t all bad...!

Hah. Haha. Ha. I’m a terrible liar.

After FNAF 3 rolled out and they had their kicks for a while, they got fed up with all the uncalled for drama (potential misinterpretation but they DO act like this), abandoned their AU to the wilds (read: gave ownership to someone else, said to everyone else they’re giving it away but don’t care anymore liar liar, then took the character concepts and jumped ship), then went off and made their own storyverse.

Pilot.

By the way, that art?

I

wasn’t

kidding

fam

it’s good shit

And for a time all was as usual in the world. Drama came and went, we had streams on Picarto for all to see, everyone had fun with it.

Then one day, as is the way with all things, they decided they were fed up with all the drama-

(READ AS: A group of people calmly and rationally asked for an audience with them on Discord, which they accepted. They all spoke in turns. Then Bones [Rebornica > Dapper Deoxys > Mx. Bones, they’re now the skeleton general or whatever] eventually lost their shit, felt attacked, and basically decided to follow their impulse drive)

-and deleted their blog after a last post announcing it and a week of silence.

The discussion wasn’t even irrational, either! They just wanted Bones to apologize for some of the harm they’d caused, and Bones took it as a personal attack on them.

I read all of this, and yet weeks later when their stream came online and they started drawing again? I watched with glee.

And I kept following their works.

...until.

We’re now in the BATIM era. They’ve gotten involved in an ask blog, and I, with what little shaken faith and adorement I still had, attended streams in silence out of a quiet and, surely, misguided fear of speaking out in a stream chat in case the opinion was wrong. (haha, here’s your sign)

I attended a stream in which they were drawing one of the ladies putting down one of the guy’s “childish attachments to a character”, and the stream chat became livid. As in, foaming at the mouth, expressing an intent to harm- and Bones did nothing. They kept drawing.

I spoke out. For once. “I gotta say something, this isn’t a good attitude right?”

So I put in the chat that maybe we were taking things too far?

Of course, Bones says something at this. Surely it’s gotta be rational, noticing the attitude of their fans at last, right?

“It’s satire, sweetie.”

..............

satire

(it wasn’t satire by the time the chat got a hold of it)

That... that was it. That was the final straw on the camel’s back. That was all it took for me. I stopped watching their streams (even though part of me missed them), I stopped following their content, I stopped peeking in their Discord, I was tired and done. Too much drama and paranoia, too much worry about fitting in or getting kicked out, too much worry that they would Disapprove Of Me, and,,,

...Well, maybe it’s silly that one sentence was all it took for me to Lose Faith Completely, but... I was done. I didn’t want any more part in it.

Trust me. This isn’t the worst of it. I was just one fan worried about appearances, on the outskirts of A God’s Attentions.

It could be worse.

It could always be worse.

[lizwontcry]

Hi. I just wanted to share something I started writing this summer and then ran out of steam to finish. I watched 13 seasons of Greys twice in a row; for about 4 or 5 months it was literally the only thing I watched. I enjoyed the usual shippyness--Cristina and Owen, Meredith and Derek, etc., but the OTP I walked away with was Alex and Meredith. So here is a thing I wrote. It has a beginning and an end but not exactly a middle. Rock on.

Somewhere between the newly instituted Waffle Sundays and living together and working together and barely breathing in the same air without each other, things change. It is, after all, practically inevitable.

The change doesn’t happen all at once, or even in an obvious way. It's just, every now and then, Meredith will look up from helping Ellis cut her waffle into little pieces and Alex is braiding Zola's hair and telling her a story about the little boy who refused to let go of the Storm Trooper action figure Alex gave him while he recovered from his appendix surgery. Zola is laughing and looking at Alex adoringly, probably the same way Meredith is gazing at him if she were to see herself in the mirror at that moment.

As for Alex, he also tried to deny it for a long time. But there comes a time in everyone’s life when they must admit that their feelings are not just about the friendship they've carefully constructed over the years. There was one night in particular where Meredith came home completely exhausted but supremely satisfied. She had completed a long, difficult procedure that was not expected to go well, but as usual, she rocked it. Meredith had this look in her eyes like she could do anything, and Alex realized he kind of loved that about her. Her confidence; her readiness to take on the world. He digs it.

Most of the time they stick to their own respective bedrooms, but when they do fall asleep together, Alex is mostly amused by her snoring--he can't help it; she's adorable. And sometimes, Meredith wakes up and studies Alex's profile, and she can't shake the thought that there's an attractive--okay, hot--man in her bed. Or that she's in a hot man's bed. She tries to ignore the always-gnawing guilt—Derek’s gone. She’s not cheating on him. Plus, he’d want her to be with someone who always had her back—right? He liked Alex well enough. Her rationalizations got out of hand from time to time.

Of course, the sun rises and they wake up way too early for most normal humans and take on the day and the night has been forgotten. But every now and then, it's not forgotten. And they both remember.

_____________

Meredith is knitting. She's not knitting well, or even paying particularly close attention to what she's doing, but she's knitting. She tries to recall what Izzie taught her about it back when they did stuff like that together. Why is she knitting? That's actually a good question.

The front door opens, and a spectacularly tired Alex drags himself inside the house. He nods at Meredith, and puts his bag and keys on the kitchen table, although Meredith always tells him how she'd rather he place his belongings anywhere other than that location.

"What's with you? You look like you're about to pass out."

Alex falls down on the couch next to Meredith. "Long day. Totally routine inguinal hernia repair, with too many complications. Almost lost a 7-year-old girl. But she pulled through."

Meredith nods, and Alex snorts. "What are you, 80? It's a Friday night and you're knitting, Mer. What the hell?"

"Yes, I am knitting. Maggie took the kids to play miniature golf, and Amelia was supposed to come over to watch Rosemary's Baby with me, but Owen's mom is having a little dinner party for Megan, so... that's where everyone is. And I am here. Knitting."

Alex not-so-gently takes all the knitting out of Meredith's hands and throws it on the coffee table.

"Hey! I was... doing that."

"Well, now you're not. You're feeling bummed about Riggs and I get that. But now it's time to stop being an old lady and go outside.”

Meredith sighs. "I'm not that bummed, Alex. You know I’m not. He's a good guy. It would have been interesting. But the long lost love of his life is back, so good for him. It's better this way, really. I'm fine on my own. I'm a mother! I have three children. They are my priority."

"Okay, but have you considered that everything you just said is a pile of crap?"

Meredith punches Alex's arm. He feigns pain.

"It is, though," he continue. "You're a great mom, everyone knows that. But there is no substitute for companionship. For love. For sex.”

"Are you seriously lecturing me on companionship? On love? Look at you. Jo—

Alex interrupts. "Jo and DeLuca are ducking into empty hallways when they think we aren't looking and making dumb faces at each other even when they think we are. She's moved on. Whatever."

"Have you?"

"I guess. I don't want her back anymore, at least--I get that I really messed this relationship up. The rest of the chicks, yeah, I played a part but they were all nuts. This time, I went nuts."

"Well... at least you haven't peed on my couch yet."

Alex shakes his head. Meredith is never going to let that one go.

"Anyway. Get up. Go change. We're going out."

"Where? And why do I have to change? I'm perfectly fine with my knitting, thank you."

"Screw the knitting. Wear something hot; we're going to get you laid tonight."

Meredith opens her mouth to protest, but Alex has that look on his face. The one where Meredith already understands that she can argue about this with him for as long as she wants, but his stubborn ass is not going to give in. So she sighs again and begrudgingly gets off the comfortable couch.

10 minutes later, she comes out in a dress she hasn't worn in years and does a little spin for Alex. He whistles appreciatively, and she curtsies, laughing. Alex has changed into some nicer jeans and a button down shirt. Even though he looked like he was going to pass out on the kitchen floor when he first came home, he now looks reinvigorated.

"Where should we go? Joe's?"

Meredith hopes Alex is kidding. "You want me to find someone to have sex with at the bar where I met my dead husband for the first time?"

Alex frowns. "Bad idea, huh?"

"Come on, we look hot, let's go somewhere nice. Like adults. I'll even let you pay for dinner."

“Oh, how generous,” Alex says, pretending to be annoyed.

In the car, Meredith throws a bag of Cheerios, an iPad, and a coloring book into the back seat so Alex can sit in the front. They happily chat about the hospital, the weather, the kids--carefully avoiding the subject of Riggs and Jo and anything and anyone that has to do with Riggs and Jo.

They decide to go to the Metropolitan Grill. Neither of them eat a lot of red meat, but they’re both craving steak. Once seated, Alex orders a beer and Meredith gets herself a glass of Chardonnay.

“Wine tonight?” Alex asks as Meredith takes a sip.

“Yeah. I can be classy, you know.”

Alex chuckles. “Yeah, you can. But I’ve also seen you gulp a beer faster than any man I know, including myself.”

Meredith nods in agreement. “I can drink a beer with the rest of ‘em, for sure. But I prefer to get drunk on a classier substance these days.”

“It looks good on you,” Alex says. “But I gotta say, it’s pretty hot to see you destroy a dozen beers in a row.”

Meredith feels herself blushing. Why? Alex has admitted similar things dozens of times. She knows he thinks she’s attractive. So what? He’s good looking, too. That’s an obvious fact of their relationship. So why does her face feel like it’s burning? Must be the wine.

They order a ton of food and spend the balmy, rainy evening laughing, drinking, and eating. The whole reason why they went out--to get Meredith laid--seems to be forgotten, as Alex doesn’t leave her side the entire night. After a luxurious and decadent dessert of chocolate mousse, they argued over the bill (eventually Alex gave in and let Meredith pay it), and Alex led her out with his hand on the small of her back. As soon as his hand made contact, Meredith had to fight back a small gasp. It wasn’t that Derek used to do that--he preferred to hold her hand instead--but it was just so… intimate. Like they had already been married for 10 years or something. It was bizarre. It was nice. It was confusing.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” Alex says. “I’m not ready to go home yet.”

“Me, either, actually,” Meredith says. “Where should we go?”

They debated going to a late movie, to act like tourists at the Space Needle, to go for a long drive, but eventually settled on a small, dimly lit bookstore that Meredith’s mom used to take her to as a kid.

“I can’t believe this place is still here,” Meredith says when they arrive. She’s looking through the medical books, most of which were probably the same ones her mother sorted through decades ago.

(This is where I unfortunately ran out of steam for the middle...just imagine them looking at books together and feeling like they know each other better than anyone else knows them)

When they finally get home, they have to be quiet since Maggie and the kids are asleep. They crash on the living room couch, which is where the whole night started. Meredith looks at her abandoned knitting on the table. This night is ending way different than how it started. Funny how that happens sometimes.

“Want a beer?” Meredith whispers.

“Nah, I think I’ve had enough for tonight,” Alex whispers back, and there’s really nothing left to say now. They are sitting way too close to each other. Meredith puts her head on his shoulder, and he sighs in a way that makes Meredith realize something needs to happen, and probably soon. But what about… well, what about everything?

Meredith decides that she will be the one to address this. For once in her life, she will put it out there. No more secrets. Plus, she’s still feeling confident; she feels sexy in her nice dress and can still feel the warmth from the wine she drank earlier.

“You’re my person,” she blurts out. Alex looks at her… not strangely, because he knows exactly what she’s saying, but with a curious intrigue.

“Cristina’s your person,” Alex says softly.

“Yes, she is, but you’re my person. Not the person who lives in another country that I get to talk to for a few hours a week. The person who lives in my house, who helps with my children, who I work side by side with on a daily basis. You’re my person, Alex!”

Alex nods. “That doesn’t mean I can’t be more than your person. You’re not imagining this, Mer. I feel it, too. And we can ignore it forever, but eventually it’s going to catch up with us. Hell, it has caught up with us. It’s here.”

They are really talking about this. All these years, everything that’s happened, disappearing wives with cancer, dead husbands who end up at crappy hospitals, the highs and lows of life. They’ve been through it all. Maybe they can do this?

“But we know what’s going to happen already! We’ll get closer, it’ll be great, and then one of us will get freaked out by something and it’ll trigger our dark places. You’ll back off and move out and maybe get another job with Dr. Butthole just so you don’t have to be near me. Or I’ll start thinking about husband ghosts and how I need someone the kids can depend on and I’ll become cold and distant until we inevitably have some kind of disastrous break up where we never speak to each other again. And Alex, I can’t afford that. I can’t afford you not being in my life. I can’t--”

“Don’t be dumb, Mer. I’ll never work for Dr. Butthole again, that you can depend on.”

Meredith chuckles and hits him. Alex grabs her hand, and the warmth and comfort of it calms her down a little.

“You’re right. Those things can and may happen. But we’re older now. Our friendship can withstand this. Maybe… maybe we owe it to ourselves to try.”

Meredith looks into Alex’s earnest eyes and knows he’s right. She never thought about ending up with Alex, out of all people, but maybe this is what their terrible romantic disasters have been leading to. Maybe they had to go through all of that to come to this moment. Of course, Meredith has to think to herself, if Derek was still alive, she would be with him forever. But he’s not, and Alex is one of the brightest lights in her sometimes dim existence. He loves her kids, and they love him. They have all these shared experiences that have brought them as close as two human beings can be, practically. Maybe it is time.

Alex leans over while Meredith is deep into this existential crisis and gives her a small kiss. It’s an introductory kiss and it’s not everything Meredith has ever dreamed of or whatever, but it’s good. So good it makes the butterflies in her stomach start flying through the rest of her body.

It’s definitely time to try.

Alex pulls away and looks intently at her. Meredith lets every single emotion she’s feeling sink into her brain, and then leans in to kiss him again. This time it’s the kind of kiss they make movies about; the kind of kiss poets and writers have been describing in literature for thousands of years. It’s good, so good. And it’s even better with Alex’s hands in her hair and her hands pulling at his shirt and both of them needing each other in a way they’ve never been able to comprehend.

“Hey… if we don’t stop, things are going to get way too pornographic in here,” Meredith says when they manage to pull away.

“Well, I can’t say that would be disappointing,” Alex says, and she laughs.

“It wouldn’t be. But…”

“Kids are here. I get it. To be continued,” he says, and kisses her again, and it’s so good it almost knocks the wind out of her.

“I’m going to bed,” Meredith says when she catches her breath.

“Is that an invitation?” Alex says, but not in the frat brother way he used to talk to her, but in a respectful, almost hopeful kind of way.

“Yes… actually it is,” Meredith says, and he grins as they both get up and walk the short distance to the bedroom, where they fall in bed together fully clothed, wrapped around each other, wanting so much more but knowing and appreciating the tantalizing feeling of waiting until they can take it further, explore, and unlock the secrets that have been kept in their hearts for so long.

This is the easy part; the kissing and the honesty and the excitement of something new. What comes after will be the challenge. But for now, they are ready. They are at least ready to try.

[secret-kkh-fics]

Anywhere But Home | Chapter 3

Due to this not being posted anywhere else yet, please like but DON’T REBLOG my fics.

Chapter Summary:

Pacifica runs from an unknown horror and stumbles upon the Mystery Shack. Thankfully, she just made two new friends.

Author Note:

Hey! So, This chapter introduces my big bad monster for the series. I'm not actually going to tell you what it is for a LONG time, though. I have a bit of a game going on for people to guess the monster. No prize, sorry. But I am genuinely curious to see if someone can guess it before the reveal. I also have 'Dipper and Mabel's Guide to Mystery and Fun' and ‘Don’t Colour This Book - It’s Cursed!’, so there'll be a few references to those along the way.

Terror and Comical Band-Aids 

“Pacifica!”  

Instantly, she froze in place, her heart stopping a moment before beating hard against her chest. No, it couldn’t be. Not yet!  

“Pacifica!” her father’s voice rung out for the third time. It sounded like it was coming from off to the left, but she couldn’t tell how far away he was.  

But it wasn’t possible. They couldn’t have caught her already? She was sure that they wouldn’t have even woken up if she tried to escape without Murphy’s help.  

“Pacifica, darling, please come back home!” another voice called. Her mother.  

No. No, it couldn’t be them. They wouldn’t have noticed she was gone by now. And if they had, they wouldn’t be this nice. After tonight, they would still be furious.  

“Pacifica!” they both shouted.  

Her heart suddenly felt as if it had been hit with a brick of ice. She felt cold, and her breath stuck in her throat. It wasn’t them.  

Without another thought, she took off running. She ran away from the voices as fast as she could. They weren't her parents. Whatever it was, it wasn't them. Dipper had said that there were dangerous things out at night. And Murphy had said that the forest was dangerous. After tonight she should have known better.  

She ran as fast as she could, the voices continuing to shout out her name. They didn't sound as if they were getting any further away. Panicked, she pressed on. The flashlight in her hand was swinging wildly, making it hard to see.  

Suddenly her foot caught on something, and she found herself tumbling to the ground, her stomach feeling like it was left behind. She crashed down hard on her knees, sticks and pine needles digging into her. She continued to fall, her hands failing to catch her properly, and felt her chin graze the ground. The flashlight was thrown from her hand and skittered down the bank. With a small crunch, the light disappeared, and she was plunged into darkness.  

“No, no, no, no!” she cried, scrambling up and trying to get to where she had last seen the light.  

“Pacifica!”  

They were so close! Ignoring the light, she got to her feet and started running again. Not used to the darkness, she had no idea where she was going. She stumbled many times and-and at first almost ran into a tree. She could tell that she was running downhill, but it seemed like the trees were getting thicker. As the hill started to even out into flat, she was sure that the trees should be getting thinner by now. Instead, she was barely missing them as she ran, sometimes getting scratched by stray branches. The voices were still following her. They never seemed to gain on her, but they were always getting closer.  

She continued running, searching for anyway out she could. Then she saw it. Light. There was light up ahead. She ran towards it as fast as she could, tripping on yet another tree branch on the way. She burst out of the trees into... a sparkly clearing. All around her, the clearing was dimly lit and glittering. She couldn't tell what was making it glow like that, but it was kind of strange, and very magical. It looked like some kind of fairy glade or-  

“Ah!” she cried, as she fell over for the... well, she'd lost count of how many times she'd fallen over.  

“Ah!” something cried back.  

“Ah!!!” echoed many voices.  

She looked down to see that she'd tripped over a pile of... little men? There were a whole lot of little men with beards and pointy hats... What the hell?!  

“Eh? Who the hell are you?” asked the only one with a beard that wasn't white. “What are you doing in our forest?”  

“I – I – Um-”  

“Pacifica!!!” Her head whipped around in fear at the voice, and suddenly every single little man in the area began to scream in panic.  

“It's coming!!!” the same one shouted. “Run! Everyone flee!” He stopped and turned back to her. “Welp, it was nice knowing you, pretty lady. Shame you're gonna be eaten because you would have made a lovely Gnome Queen. But I gotta skedaddle. Bye!” And quickly he dashed up a tree, a bunch of squirrels flocking him and getting him up faster.  

Taking the hint, she began to run again, struggling to make her way across the gnome-infested ground. There were way more of them than she had thought, all scurrying to find a safe place. One even tried climbing up her leg, but she kicked it off.  

It wasn't long till she'd cleared the sparkly part of the forest, and was back in the regular forest. And once again, her sight was lessened because of her recent exposure to the light. She chanced a glance backwards. She couldn't really see anything. The gnome forest was still sparkling lightly, but it seemed quieter now. That was all. There was nothing else to indicate that a creature of unknown horror was-  

“Ahhh!!” she cried as she fell yet again. This time a sharp pain shot through her foot, making her wince. She got up again and went to run. Pain lanced through her foot again. “Ah, ow!” She hobbled slightly and almost toppled over as she failed to balance on the foot that wasn't hurting. Crap, she'd hurt it badly. But she still had to flee. Gingerly, she tried to take yet another step, only putting pressure on the foot for a fraction of a second. “Ow!” Okay, limping it was. She could do this. She just had to get out. She just had to find the road and-  

“Pacifica! Please, honey, come home!”  

“We love you, sweetheart. Come to me!”  

Nope. Fuck that.  

Ignoring the pain, she began to run again. It was slow and staggering. Each step brought her pain, but in her determination to get out of there she found she was able to ignore it. As she ran, she became aware of two things. One was that the trees were starting to clear slightly, enough that she could be running on what could be classed as a path... a trail at least. The other was a strange chattering, swooshing sound... Water! She was near a river. Oh, that may not be a good thing.  

The sound got louder and soon she was running to the bank of a river. She began to panic all over again. What was she going to do? How was she going to get around it?! Looking about wildly, she saw a shadow on the river. With the trees gone from the area, there was just enough moonlight to show that the shadow was a large log lying across the body of water. She was so relieved, but there was no time to celebrate. Quickly she crawled onto the log and carefully moved across. If she fell, she was screwed.  

It seemed that the log was used as a bridge often enough that the top layers of bark had been worn down so it was much smoother. It meant that her knees didn't get torn up as much as they already were, but it still hurt. Once at the end, she jumped down, cringing as she jumped on the foot. Tears were streaming down her face, but she only realised they were there because of the cold wind whipping at her. She took a last look back to the other side of the bank, praying that whatever was chasing her couldn't climb a log or swim. Right now there was nothing over there... wait, something moved. She peered closer. She could just make out the silhouette of... a deer, or horse, or something… but it just leant down to eat some grass.  

Not wasting any more time, she turned and started running again. Soon she was back in another forest, but this time it seemed thinner, and she was running on a defined trail. She heard the creature call out again, noticing something that gave her a bit of hope. She listened for the second call carefully... It was quieter. They were getting further away. They were still on the other side of the river! She slowed her pace till she came to a standstill. She was exhausted, ragged breaths being pulled from her lungs. She leant carefully, so she was resting on her knees, but also so that she was putting all her weight on one leg. No, that wasn't going to work. She needed to lie down. She needed to sleep.  

Desperately she looked about. The trees looked as if they were starting to clear, and she could see... a light! There was a light ahead. That probably meant that she was near a street. Or even better, a house. She could pay whoever it was to let her stay the night. Right now, anything was better than this.  

She waited a few more minutes to catch her breath, then took a step forward and gasped, her leg buckling underneath her. The adrenalin was starting to wear off now, and it must have been keeping her from feeling just how bad her ankle was. And then she'd continued to run on it, and probably made it worse. Now that she'd slowed down, she was really starting to feel the pain. She'd probably twisted the ankle. She was covered in aches, and sore spots she knew were going to come out in nice dark bruises. And sharp stinging ones where she'd been scratched. Her leg itched, and she had the feeling that she had blood running down it from a cut.  

Behind her, that thing called out again. It still wasn't getting any closer. She puffed out a sigh of relief and started onwards. Slowly she limped towards the light, her foot aching sharply with every step she took. It was still quite a bit of a walk across the empty stretch of grass that spanned her path to the light. And it was taking even longer because of her pace now.  

It was as she passed the looming shadow of a totem pole that she realised where she was. The Mystery Hack... er, Shack. Dipper and Mabel. They were all on better terms now. They'd take her in for the night, right? At any rate, they knew what was out there, and they wouldn't want her out in it. Dipper had said so himself, you don't want to be out here at night.  

By the time she got to the door, she just wanted to curl up in a ball. She was sore, and tired, and feeling upset and shitty. And quite frankly she felt she had sunk so low that she'd be willing to sleep on their porch if they didn't let her in. She just couldn't go any further.  

Raising a grazed hand, she rapped on the door and waited. When no one came after a minute, she knocked again. Still no one. It was as she was about to knock for a third time that she heard footsteps coming towards the door. She wobbled on her foot and clung to the door frame as the handle rattled. The door swung open, and she was faced with the oh so pleasant sight of Cheapskate Pines in his boxers and a tank top... Ew.  

He looked down at her and raised an eyebrow. “Pacifica?” he said in surprise. She gave a slight nod, unsure of what to say. He took a closer look at her, and his eyes widened when he saw the state she was in. “Holy cow, what happened to you?!”  

“I, um – I was walking through the forest, and there was some sort of freaky creature out there calling to me. So I started running, and then I fell down a few times. And I really hope I don't look as bad as I feel.”  

“Well, what the hell were you doing out in the woods?”  

“Uh... I was coming to see Dipper,” she said, not entirely lying.  

He raised a sceptical eyebrow. “At four in the morning?”  

She looked about, trying to think of an excuse. She didn't have one. She hadn't realised it had gotten so late. “...Yes.”  

He looked her over critically again, his eyes narrowing. “Alright, fine. Come in.” She breathed out a sigh of relief and stepped inside. But she put too much weight on her injured foot and winced in pain. Stan noticed this and frowned slightly. “Here,” he sighed. She looked up at him to see him offering her his arm.  

With a hesitant smile, she placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “Um, thanks.”  

“Yeah, well, don't want you messing that ankle up even more,” he grunted as he led her inside and helped her over to the couch. It was old and grotty, and she didn't really want to sit on it. But there wasn't really a cleaner option. Once she was sitting, he cleared things off the side table and pulled it around in front of her, placed a pillow on top, and suddenly grabbed her leg and propped her foot up on it. The movement was unexpected, and she let out a yelp. She almost let out another when she saw that the side table was actually a large skull or something. Some sort of dinosaur by the looks of it. “I'll go get Dipper. Knowing him, he'll probably still be up looking at that blasted journal.”  

He left the room muttering something about how he could swear 'that boy' knew the entire thing by heart by now. His voice faded out, replaced by the creaking of the stairs. She pulled the bag off her back and placed it on the couch beside her. Opening it, she took a quick look at her phone. There were only a few messages from Tiffany, telling her to do what she wanted since she would anyway, and that they would talk in the morning. 'Do what you want, you always do anyway'. Yeah, because that made her feel even better right now. Huh, it really was after 4am! She grabbed the other phone that Murphy had given her and quickly sent him a message to tell him she was safe... well, barely, but she had made it somewhere.  

Thankfully there were no messages from her parents. Of course, they probably wouldn't realise she was gone until the next night. When she didn't come down for breakfast or lunch, they would think she was sulking. It wouldn't be until dinner, and they demanded her presence that they would find her gone. It was probably better that way. The longer they took to notice, the longer she wouldn't have to deal with them trying to get a hold of her... that was a daunting thought.  

Next, she took off her jacket and stuffed it in. It was much warmer in this little room than it had been outside. The TV was still going, so Stan must have been watching something. But it was now playing some black and white period piece old lady boring movie... Something called 'The Duchess Upholds'. It looked seriously boring and weepy, she highly doubted a man as... er... well, a man like the twins great uncle would watch something like that.  

It wasn’t long till she heard someone coming back down the steps, distracting her from how gross the couch was. She looked over to the doorway to see Dipper walk into the room. He was wearing his usual red-ish orange shirt and a dark blue pair of boxers. His hat was absent, but he was holding something in his hand. He looked a little groggy, but she could tell that, like her, he hadn’t slept at all yet.  

He stopped short when he saw her. “Pacifica?”  

“Is everyone in your family going to have the same reaction?” she said sarcastically.  

“Sorry, Grunkle Stan didn’t actually tell me who was down here. I’d narrowed it down to Wendy, Candy, and Grenda. He said you were a bit scratched up- Oh wow, you are really scratched up! What happened?” He came and knelt next to her, opening the pack in his hand which turned out to be a first aid kit.  

“I was walking through the forest, and then something started calling out my name. I kind of got freaked out and started running, and I tripped up a couple of times. I mean, it was dark, I couldn’t see.”  

He looked at the bag beside her and quickly came to a conclusion. “You ran away from home.”  

“Yep,” she sighed.  

“What were you doing in the woods? Where were you heading?”  

“I don’t know. I went the back way out of my house, and that leads right into the forest. I was trying to think of where to go when those things started up.”  

“What about Tiffany and Aubrey? Couldn't you stay with them? I mean, the road there is much safer.”  

“That’s the first place my parents will look. Come tomorrow they’d be around there and dragging me back home. Plus the road to my house is covered in security sensors and cameras.”  

“Oh, fair enough, I guess. …Did you hurt your ankle?” He gently picked it up in his hands.  

“Ow!” she cried out. “Yes! Yes, I think I twisted it!”  

“Sorry,” he said. Being even more careful than before, he lightly felt around it and gently prodded it. It seriously hurt for him to do that, but she knew he was trying to help, so she just held her tongue and winced. “Yeah, it's definitely twisted, at least. Could be strained. I'll get some ice for it, and bandage it up. It's already swollen and bruised, but it will help. And you've also got a lot of bruises and scratches, so I'll put some ointment on them.”  

“Right little medic, you are,” she teased. He smiled at that.  

“Mabel and I are kind of what you'd call 'accident prone'. I got pretty good at fixing us up over the years.”  

“Oh.”  

“Okay, this is going to hurt, but I'm going to have to take off the shoe.” She bit her lip, not liking the idea, but gave him a firm nod. Carefully as he could, he untied the shoe and pulled the laces out so that it was as loose as possible. Then he slowly slipped it off. It felt like someone was twisting her foot around while it was covered in small knives. She wanted to yelp, but instead, she clenched her teeth and gripped onto the armrests till her fingers were white and stiff. Once the shoe was off, the pain didn't quite recede, but it felt better than when it was being touched. She let a hissing breath escape between her teeth as she relaxed again. “Sorry about that. Are you okay?”  

“As much as I can be about now,” she said with a grimace. It was supposed to be a smile to cover up how much she was hurting, but she was tired, and her poker-face wasn't what it usually was.  

Dipper just rolled his eyes and began to look at her cuts and scratches, assessing how bad they were. He worked his way up, checking over her legs, hands, arms, then moved onto the ones on her face. She had a small graze on her chin, and a decent scratch across her forehead. But what was most concerning, was a bruise that was already pretty dark on her left cheek. At the darkest part, he could just make out a mark or imprint of some kind. It looked like a zig-zag inside a circle. No, hold on... it was a 'Z'. No, to wide. It was an 'N'. A backwards capital 'N', like someone had forgotten to invert the letter on a stamp. His eyes narrowed when the darker option entered his mind. It was like someone had backhanded her while wearing a ring with an 'N' embossed into it. 'N' for Northwest. Her father. Preston Northwest had been wearing a ring like that on the middle finger of his left hand.  

“What?” Pacifica demanded, snapping him out of his thoughts.  

“What? Oh, nothing. I'm going to go get that ice. I'll be back in a moment, okay.”  

“Yeah, okay. Whatever.” She rolled her eyes, almost looking embarrassed to be there. More than likely though, he had the feeling it was more than just her being superficial.  

He gave her a nod, then went into the kitchen to get what he needed. Grunkle Stan was in there, sculling back a glass of water... or at least, he assumed it was water. He couldn't smell alcohol, so that was a good sign. As he went into the draws and grabbed a few hand towels, he steadied his resolve, then turned to face his uncle.  

“Ah, Gunkle Stan?”  

“Mmm?” he grunted.  

“Would it be alright if Pacifica stayed here a while?”  

“Doesn't she have anywhere else?”  

“Uh, no. Not really.”  

“Ugh! Alright, then.”  

Dipper was prepared to argue but was taken aback when he registered Stan's reply. “Wait, that's it? You're not going to argue me on this? Not going to kick her out of the house because she's a Northwest? Or send her home?”  

Stan turned to face him. “Dipper. I may not like the Northwests in the slightest, and that includes Pacifica. But I would never send a runaway home, especially when they have their father's ring imprinted into their face.”  

“Oh, you noticed that, huh.”  

“Only an idiot wouldn't notice that. I mean, saying that she came here to visit you at 4am, a big bag over her shoulder? She can stay here as long as she needs. But I'm not helping her up those bloody stairs. I have trouble enough myself!”  

Dipper grinned, knowing that Stan was just trying to maintain his grouchy front. “Thanks, Grunkle Stan.”  

“Yeah, whatever. Just don't be too much of a bother! You and your sister are hard enough to deal with.”  

“Aww, come on. You know you love us,” he teased as he grabbed the ice and a glass of water. Stan said nothing in reply as Dipper left the room chuckling.  

When he went back into the lounge, Pacifica looked up away from the TV. She had a confused look on her face.  

“What even is this movie?”  

He just shrugged. “I don’t really know. We just sometimes catch Gunkle Stan watching it. He pretends he doesn’t, though.”  

“Seriously?” she said. He had to be joking.  

“Yep. He loves it. It's... really weird, actually. Now come on, let’s get you sorted.” He moved down over to her ankle and pulled bandages out of his kit. “This may hurt a bit.” She gave him a firm nod, ready for him to do it, and then again she gritted her teeth as he wrapped the strips of gauze around. It really hurt having it bound up, but somehow it felt a little better being held into that position. Then he placed the ice pack around it. She tensed up, it was so cold! She knew it would help, but holy crap! “There, better?”  

“Kinda.”  

“Welp, that’s better than a no. Let’s move onto the cuts and bruises.”  

He grabbed a small red tube from his kit, a glass of water, and a cloth. He started by dipping the cloth in the water and gently dabbing at some of the scratches. Thankfully, she had less than she had thought. But she’d been right about the cut on her leg. Turns out that it was just above her knee, and blood had run all the way down to her ankle.  

“Because this isn't embarrassing or anything,” she muttered as he worked.  

“Huh?”  

“Ugh, nothing. Just... I'm sitting here, injured and useless, and you of all people are cleaning me up.”  

He smiled grimly. “I know what you mean. But hey, it could have been worse.”  

“Really? How?” she said doubtfully.  

“Well, that monster out there could have gotten you.”  

“Oh... Yeah. I suppose there's that.”  

“Do you have any idea what it was?”  

“Nope.”  

“What did it look like? And sound like?”  

Instantly Pacifica began to look uncomfortable. “Umm, I didn't see it, but it sounded like... well, it sounded like my parents. Like they were calling out to me. But I knew it couldn't be them, so I ran. Oh, and I ran into these... little guys with pointy hats. They all seemed petrified of it. One of them said it was going to eat me. But, it sounded just like them. I mean, what sort of creature can do that?”  

“I don't know. I'd have to check the-”  

“Ow!”  

“Sorry!” He'd started applying the ointment to the bruise on her cheek and must have pressed a bit too hard. “This is a really nasty bruise.”  

“Ha,” she chuckled nervously. “Yeah, got hit by a branch.”  

“Well, that branch is an asshole,” he said shortly, moving on to the scratch. “Most of these scratches are shallow, but some are going to need a plaster.”  

Just then they heard movement from the doorway. They both looked up to see a sleepy Mabel rubbing at her eyes. She was wearing an oversized shirt with a floppy disk on the front, and she was dragging a stuffed toy by the leg. That pig of hers was snuffling around at her feet. She blinked when she saw the scene before her.  

“Huh... Pacifica?”  

Pacifica looked at Dipper with a raised eyebrow. He just shrugged in reply. She was only being sarcastic when she'd asked if everyone in his family were going to react like that. “Hi Mabel,” she said.  

“What are you doing here? What happened to you?!” the girl cried.  

“Pacifica ran away from home. She's staying with us for a while,” Dipper told her.  

“Wait, I am?”  

“Yep. Grunkle Stan says it's okay.”  

“Yay!” Mabel whooped, then a confused look came across her face. “But that doesn't explain why you're all bet up.”  

“I was chased by something in the forest. Fell down a few times. Branches are not kind.”  

“If all that's from nature, then why does the bruise on your cheek have an 'N' on it?”  

“What?!” she cried, bringing up a hand to cover the bruise and winced when it made contact.  

Dipper sighed in exasperation. “Subtle, Mabel. Very subtle.”  

“What? You noticed too?” she squeaked, starting to sound a little downtrodden. “Is it really that bad?”  

“No! No,” he soothed. “Well, the bruise is. You can only really notice the 'N' if you look. It will be gone in no time.”  

“So... when you said that the branch was an asshole just before... You knew...” He grimaced and nodded. She hung her head.  

“Hey, Mabel,” he said. “We're going to need a special plaster.”  

“I'm on it!” she called.  

Pacifica looked up at him a little perplexed. “Special plaster?  

“Mabel likes her special band aids. “Most of these are shallow enough that I've fixed them up with liquid plaster. But the one on your knee's going to need something better.”  

“I got it!” Mabel said, standing triumphantly with a bright looking strip of paper held up in the air. “I got the perfect one.” She took the seal wrapping off it to reveal the brightly coloured plaster, then took off the tabs and put it over the freshly cleaned cut on her knee. “Here you earned this.”  

She looked down to see what the plaster was. It reminded her of Mabel's stickers, really. It was bright purple and had the words 'You're Ext-ROAR-dinary' written across it. It was also decorated with a couple of lion faces.  

“H-how did I earn this?”  

“Because of last night at the party. You were amazing and brave. Just like a lion.”  

“Trust me, I wasn't brave. I mean, maybe for that moment, yeah, but... I nearly had a panic attack on the dance floor when I saw how many people had left.”  

“You mean when you were dancing with Dipper,” Mabel said, raising her eyebrows a few times suggestively.  

“Shut up, Mabel,” he said. “Look, Pacifica, I get why you don't feel brave. And that is seriously understandable. Your parents aren't nice people, I mean, look at the way they treat you. But you stood up to them. And even if it was just a little bit, that was something. And it was something to be proud of.”  

She gave him a watery smile, but yet again, it faded, and she looked at her lap. “I ran away,” she said. “That's not brave. I wrote them a letter telling them I couldn't live their toxic life anymore, and I ran away. I'm not brave. And I don't know what I'm doing.”  

“Hey, it's okay,” Dipper told her. “We'll help you figure it out.”  

“Hey, you know what this calls for?” Mabel said.  

“Hot chocolate?” her brother guessed.  

“Hot chocolate. I'll go make some. Ooh! And tomorrow I'll show you the art of using mixed tapes to get over your feelings!” And with that, the quirky girl ran out of the room.  

Despite how horrible Pacifica was feeling, a warm sensation began to spread through her, and another faint smile lit up her face. She was getting more care here than she ever had at home. Despite their differences, the twins really seemed to care for her. They cared about how she felt and how she was treated... She'd never known anyone like that before. And it was even more meaningful due to the fact that she'd treated them like shit... a lot. And yet still they wanted to help her. They cared.  

Perhaps staying with the Pines wasn't such a bad idea after all.  

 WKH WZLQV DUH QLFH, LW’V JUHDW WKDW WKHB FDUHG

Author Note:

Voila! Lots of cuteness coming up. I actually have that mixtape as a playlist on Spotify. So, who can guess the monster? So far there are a few small hints and more will be dropped throughout the chapters. I can give you one more: a lot of people have guessed that it is a shapeshifter. It is not a shapeshifter... though it CAN change its form. Hope that helps! Ciao for now!

Chapter Index  |  First Chapter  |  << Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter >>

[amicitiaas]

[FIC] Just. Drive. 1/2

Synopsis: Gladio knew they should have looked at the other hunts, should have known a behemoth was lurking in the caves south of them. Because the herd of garula they were hunting was already on edge, and their chocobos caught the scent of it, dashing back into town. All it took was Prompto to step on a dry branch to spook the herd.

Characters: Gladiolus Amicitia, Ignis Scientia, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prompto Argentum

Pairing: Gladio/Ignis

Rating: Mature

Read it at AO3

From the start, this hunt was all kinds of wrong; the one they wanted was turned in five minutes after they signed up for it, the Regalia was still missing, and it was already late in the afternoon.

Still, Noctis and Prompto were not dissuaded and confident they could get this lower level hunt done in no time. ‘Piece o’Cake’ as Prompto had said, Noctis just as pumped—an uncommon occurrence. And maybe he and Ignis were too soft on them, let the excitement and challenge cloud their judgment and logic. Ignis had agreed that should everything go right, they should be back in time as the sun set. And he had agreed that should anything go wrong, they could just drop it and hightail it outta there. They had the chocobos, lots of curatives, they knew the general area it was in. Shouldn’t be a problem.

Gladio knew they should have looked at the other hunts, should have known a behemoth was lurking in the caves south of them. Because the herd of garula they were hunting was already on edge, and their chocobos caught the scent of it, dashing back into town.

All it took was Prompto to step on a dry branch to spook the herd.

Gladio gritted his teeth. “Shit! Run!”

All the training in the world didn’t prepare someone to recall all the lessons on fauna of Lucis when twenty walls of tusks and meat were on your tail. Still, he forced himself to remember. Garulas ran in a straight line right? So they had to cut across. Or Fuck! Were those Spiracorns? One of those ran in zigzag—he was pretty sure it was spiracorns—but garula alpha herds ran differently than betas and that kind of assessment was long gone. Only the most ingrained training he ever needed kicked in and that was protecting Noctis. He was keeping pace with him out of the corner of his eye and he also tracked Prompto ahead of them, Iggy flanking Noctis on the other side. So far so good.

“Cut across!” He yelled, not even Noctis hearing him above the thunderous hooves. Fuck. Prompto wouldn’t hear him. The kid panicked sometimes, and he didn’t blame him and his lack of formal training, but he was really hoping this was not one of those times. Nope, not on his watch. They were getting out of this safely, all of them, even if they were all running into an area they were not familiar with.

Up ahead, he saw Prompto dart across, waving them. “C’Mon!” Noctis and Ignis saw him too and they all cut across the herd to a clearing. Even after they cleared it, they still kept running, trying to put as much distance between them, until all they could hear were the pounding of their hearts over the pounding of hooves.

Gladio slowed to a jog, his breath in pants. “Everybody okay?”

Prompto collapsed on the ground. “I think…” he panted, “My heart stopped.”

“That was a close one,” Noctis said, his arms resting on his head. “Oh man.”

Doubled over, Ignis rested his hands on his knees, catching his breath. “Indeed. And perhaps we’re farther from town without transportation.”

“I’ll try and call the chocobos,” Noctis brought up.

Gladio watched him dig around in his pockets then try and summon the whistle to no avail. “It’s probably crushed somewhere on the plains by now.”

“Just our luck,” Ignis said, surveying the area and the height of the sun.

Prompto sat up. “Sorry guys.”

Gladio shook his head and shrugged. “It’s not your fault. This kind of shit happens. Outside the wall, we can’t predict anything,” he said even while he made eye contact with Ignis. They should have and did predict this. Technically, this was their fault. Some Shield and Advisor they were.

“Yeah, it’s kinda my fault though,” Noctis said, and Gladio saw that he was observing the interaction between him and Ignis. “I thought we could do it. I mean, we have done it in the past. But I should have supported you and Ignis’ qualms.”

Ignis raised his eyebrows, impressed, and peered at Gladio, the corner of his mouth quirking before it disappeared. “No use thinking what we should have done, but thank-you, Highness. Perhaps we can all learn from this.”

Noctis ducked his head, embarrassed. “Yeah, well, Specs, you’re my advisor.” He finally plopped down on the ground as well and worked at his knee.

Gladio frowned. That run must have done a number on his knee. He hated that he could already see how the Crystal took its toll on Noctis and he’s only been using it for four years. He could joke about the naps and the sleep-ins, but when he saw the other physical aspects of it, it rubbed him the wrong way. His dad had warned him about it but it still hurt to see his friend in pain and he couldn’t do anything to alleviate it. So he averted his gaze and took to looking at the area they were in and maybe finding a way back to town.

They probably ran about a quarter mile? Maybe a third. If the sun was to their right, then the herd was running north, towards the rock formations in the distance. He could still hear them. To the east were the grassy plains, to the south yet even more plains, and to the west were some trees, smaller rocks and—

“Hey is that a truck!” Prompto yelled, back on his feet.

Astrals be damned, it was. It was about twenty yards away behind some bushes, and they all started heading to it.

“Oh man, maybe our luck is making a turn!”

“Dude, you really think there’s just a working truck out in the middle of nowhere?” Noctis said.

Prompto shrugged. “What about all those vendor cargo trucks they had us look for? Perfectly good vehicles just swarmed with baddies.”

“Yeah, so don’t let your guard down,” Gladio said. They just escaped being flattened. He was not about to let them get blindsided by a bunch of bees. Or a pack of sabertusks.

As they got closer, he could see the truck in better view. It was an old one, not like the ones they found previously, but both tires on the side facing them were still full, the grass under it wasn’t tall and there were tire tracks running up to it. Not recent, but also not months gone. There was a good chance this truck could run.

“I think you might be on to something, Prompto.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Ignis chimed.

“If we aren’t as lucky as we think we are, think you could get it running?” Gladio mused. None of them had any sort of automotive expertise, not cars at least, and it was too late to call Hammerhead.

“The question is once its running, can I drive it?”

“You drive manual.” They all did, except Prompto. Although he would probably beg to differ and insist he doesn’t know when to downshift, which, half-proficiency doesn’t count.

“In theory,” he said so only he heard. “We drive Lucian manual transmission. Not Imperial. This looks like an old Thorston model.”

Shit, he forgot about that. Still, Ignis was their best driver, and also the most skilled. He was pretty confident in his ability. And not because he was his best friend. “I have complete faith in you, Iggy.”

Ignis glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “No promises,” he said, that quirk about his mouth returning.

Prompto dashed the last couple of yards and peered into the gritty passenger window. “Looks pretty good, actually,” he said, and opened the door. “And only smells slightly like cigars and old vegetables. Sorry, Noct.”

Noctis shrugged. “Beggers can’t be choosers. I’ll hold my breath.”

“And it’s a bench seat so we can all fit nice and snug.”

“Is there a stick in the middle?” Gladio asked, walking around to the driver’s side with Ignis.

“Huh? A stick? Oh yeah, there’s one. Dude this thing is a relic! I’ve only read about these.”

The driver’s side opened up fairly easily and the tires on this side were full too. “No way of knowing if this has gas or if it even runs.” Gladio got in the driver’s seat, and Ignis leaned on the door. “Key’s still in the ignition. Not a lot of legroom though.”

“Uh, question? Who would just abandon this car out here with the keys and everything?”

“Who cares?” Noctis said, sliding in. “They’re long gone.”

“What if they turned into a daemon? Or they went out to take a leak and a monster got them? Or what if this is a trap?”

Ignis looked pointedly at Noctis. “Then Lucis’ only hope just slid right into it.”

“Alright,” Gladio said, “Let’s see if she starts.” He tried the ignition and nothing. A couple coughs.

“Well that’s disappointing,” Prompto sighed.

“We got a spark though.”

“Gear’s in neutral?”

Gladio shook the shift knob substantially to demonstrate.

“Have you tried the clutch?” Ignis added, a smirk on his lips and Gladio scrunched his nose, trying the startup again with the pedal pressed. This time the truck actually sounded like it had something.

“Do you think it might be outta gas?” Gladio asked.

“Could be the radiator,” Ignis said, heading to the front and lifting the hood.

“How’s she look?”

“Surprisingly well. Keep trying.”

While Noctis and Prompto busied themselves with their phones, he kept at it, and by the fourth time, actually got it running. He tried revving it a bit before it stalled.

“Huh,” he said to himself. It’s been a long while since his dad let him practice on his grandfather’s old Augustine back in the city.

Noctis slouched in his seat, sighing and returning to his phone.

Ignis popped his head over the hood again. “Was that you or did it stall by itself?”

“Me. Gotta feed more gas than clutch. Try it one more time, huh? I think I got a feel for her.”

This time, he turned the key and found that sweet spot between the pedals. “Yeeeah!” Gladio glanced at the dashboard and all the needles rising. “We’ve got half a tank too!”

Prompto slid in next to Noctis. “Woo hoo! We’re outta here!”

Oil and heat looked good, but then the truck shuddered and let out a squeal that sounded like the fan belt. Just their luck to have a truck with decent tires, half a tank of gas and a broken fan belt. He wouldn’t be surprised if that’s why it was out here.

“Whoa, rattling quite a bit though. Still holding up, Iggy?” he yelled.

Ignis yelled something but he couldn’t hear.

“What’s that?”

Ignis appeared at the window. “I need to adjust the belt. It’s rubbing up along the grill. Quick fix.”

“You want me to turn it off?”

“No, keep it running. With our luck being what it is, it might not start again.”

“Well don’t jinx us.” Gladio said, garnering an eye roll, but that smile appeared again; the one Iggy reserved just for him.

“You’re the one behind the wheel.”

Despite the circumstance, he was pretty sure that constituted as flirting, something that was happening more and more. Ignis was his best friend, but there was a certain camaraderie that came with their duty to Noctis and the throne, and a certain distance they had to maintain. Gladio would definitely admit that he was attracted to Ignis, and he had a strong feeling Ignis more or less felt the same way but their duties only intensified as they got older, enough to accept that maybe nothing would ever really come of it. But then the City fell and they really only had each other to rely on and maybe the resurgence of their flirtation was to offset the grief or a bold realization that life was too short to waste. Maybe both.

Either way, Ignis found a rag of some sort in the bed of the truck, deemed it suitable to separate the grill from the engine, and decided he needed to lean over in such a way to fix it that the curve of his perfect ass was right in his view. Nice. With Ignis, everything was calculated, and it wasn’t lost on him that perhaps he did so on purpose.

The imagery of Ignis and any car was always a favorite and he knew he definitely wouldn’t stop thinking about that any time soon. Reluctantly, he looked away, busying himself before he thought too much on it, adjusting the rear view mirror and acquainting himself with the vehicle. Maybe he’d give it a shot and give Ignis a break from driving. He gripped the gear shift knob to get a feel for the transmission, wiggled it a bit. The vibration was pretty bad and seemed like it was getting worse.

Noctis sat up, looking up from his phone. “Do you hear that?”

Gladio strained, but the truck was pretty noisy, especially with the hood up.

Prompto had a far off look. “Yeah, it sounds kinda low. Like, the truck is higher, but this is…” He stepped out of the truck and listened for a second before popping his head back in a couple times. “Yeah it’s not the truck. Getting louder though.”

He listened again; it sounded like thunder or…Gladio glanced at the ground outside, at the leaves, at the rocks starting to shake on the ground and suddenly at the forefront of his mind, he recalled the other crucial part of Garulas: herds change direction when they hit a dead end. If they hit those rock formations to the north, then hit another to the west—

Ignis seemed to come to same realization as him because he stood up, alert, and gazed back at him.

“Iggy, get inside!”

He nodded.

Gladio turned to Prompto. “Get inside and shut the door.” Prompto was already sliding in and closing it.

“What is it?”

He gripped the wheel tighter. “It’s the fucking herd again.” Ignis was still outside of the vehicle, still working on adjusting the belt, and in just the few seconds, the pounding intensified.

“Iggy,” he yelled, worried. He could see the dust cloud now.

“Ohmygodthey’reheadingrightforus.”

“Should we maybe go now? Like right now,” Noctis said, gripping the dashboard. “Gladio.”

He pushed aside Noctis and Prompto’s fear and brought to the forefront that Ignis still didn’t have his damn ass inside this truck.

“Ignis!“

Finally, Ignis closed the hood and moved to the driver side, ready to close the door.

“Hurry.” He could just climb over them, really no time for anything else.

Instead, he didn’t budge and said firmly, “I’m driving.”

“I’m already—”

“—Please, not now,” he said, hand already taking the wheel.

He huffed noisily but started to slide over. No time for arguing. Sliding over was a bit of a challenge because Ignis was already in, and Gladio had to lift up a leg to get it on the other side of the shift knob. Noctis tried his best to give him more space.

“No more room, dude!” Prompto squealed, pushed up against the passenger side door.

“It’s get flattened by me, or flattened by garulas.”

As soon as he settled, the shift knob between his legs and very bent knees, Ignis deactivated the emergency brake under the steering wheel.

“Here we go,” Ignis said, then realized that he had to reach over Gladio’s leg to reach the knob. There was no way around it. Ignis had to basically rest his arm over his crotch to drive.

Gladio gritted his teeth. “Just. Drive.” Now that the hood was down, he could see the quickly approaching herd, maybe twenty seconds away. And several trees straight up uprooted like pencils. “Get us out of here.”

Ignis nodded and put it into first gear, careful to keep his arm away.

“More gas than clutch. Slowly,” he offered. For a second the truck shuddered in a way that threatened to stall, but then they shot forward and took off. He figured Ignis would reverse after a moment, or even make a last minute turn, but then he realized, as Ignis brought it into second and picked up speed, he was heading straight into the herd.

“Are we—?” Noctis asked.

“—No freaking way—“

“Iggy—“

“—Hang on!”

In the bumpy, cramped cab, they had about three seconds to prepare. Gladio already had his left arm uncomfortably up to give Ignis room to shift and he braced himself with the other against the dash board. Beside him, Noctis gripped the seats and Prompto held on to the handle near the window.

Ignis looked forward, the epitome of concentration and calm, but Gladio knew better. His grip on the steering wheel was tight and his brow was furrowed. His ideas were always sound and calculated, and Gladio thought this plan was actually pretty brilliant, even though his knuckles were white. In the truck they were large enough to be sensed by the garula. Herds ran in a straight line, but they also possessed sensory organs that steered them slightly out of the way, if they were large enough. The flattened trees they saw earlier weren’t that reassuring, however.

Spotting an opening, Ignis steered straight into it.

They hit the dust cloud, obscuring everything and they were completely reliant on the Garulas to dodge out of the way and Ignis’ reflexes. A second after they entered, they turned left, shifting all of them. Noctis groaned as he was smashed. Then a hard right, and Gladio was the meat shield to give Iggy the space he needed to drive.

Prompto yelled hoarsely, either from anxiety or excitement, “Dude! This is like that part in that space movie where they fly through the asteroid field to evade the empire! And then the gold robot tells them the severely outnumbered odds—“

“—Not helping,” Noctis gritted.

“It’s helping me. Nervous coping trivia outbursts—” He screamed. “Shitshitshit!” A Garula sideswiped the passenger side door, caving it in. Prompto, true to his name, reflexively shot back from it and into Noctis’ lap.

“You alright?” Gladio yelled. That was a close one.

“We’re fine,” Noctis answered, pushing Prompto off him.

“Yeah you are, Mr. Safely In The Middle.”

“Just hang on,” he said, and Ignis brought the truck up to third, picking up speed as he found a rhythm in the herd to weave through. They were almost through.

“Oh man, if one of those hits us head on—“

“—That’s not going to happen,” Gladio reassured.

As if to ease them all, Ignis shifted into fourth gear. Gladio did not hide his displeasure at it though. Up until now, he’d been able to deal with the arrangement of his hand rubbing up against his dick, mostly drowned out by the adrenaline, but the fourth gear position dropped uncomfortably on him and he felt all the vibrations of the truck. Ignis, perceptive as he was, made to downshift, but as he grabbed the knob, his knuckles brushed against his balls and he readjusted his grip. The gear shift didn’t budge and the truck started to protest. Ignis tried again, struggling, and Gladio covered his hand over the knob and helped him jam it back to third.

“We’re almost through,” Ignis said. Everyone’s attention remained on the herd and the close calls that he saved them from. With one last dodge, Ignis turned sharply and they broke free of the cover of dust and the herd.

Gladio released a breath he forgot he was holding and Prompto sighed shakily, still gripping his seat. “Wow. That was…amazing, Ignis.”

Noctis ran a hand through his hair, a sure sign he was downplaying his nerves. “Yeah, Specs, it was. But please don’t ever do that again.”

Sitting back, Prompto nodded. “I don’t think our hearts can take it.” As if on cue, the truck shuddered slightly, and Ignis gave it more gas. “You think after all that, the truck can handle us getting back to town?”

Ignis nodded. “We’ll take her as far she goes.”

Prompto chewed his lower lip. “Let’s hope she goes all the way!”

“Probably best not to stop then.” He peered sidelong at Gladio, indicating this arrangement of positions would go on for longer.

Acknowledging the implication, Gladio licked his lips and turned to the boys. “Check in the glove compartment for maps.” If Noctis and Prompto noticed how Iggy’s hand and wrist rested on his crotch and that he may or may not be half-hard, they wisely didn’t say anything. And if it stayed that way, that would be great too.

Prompto was the one who had more common sense how to open an old glove compartment, but he didn’t blame Noctis’ lack of riding in the passenger seat ever. Turns out their luck was still holding out. Two folded, faded maps were mixed in with some rusty tools.

“Whoa, this is ancient. There’s towns I’m pretty sure don’t exist anymore marked on here.”

“We don’t need towns. Just havens and landmarks.”

Peering closer at it, Prompto was in awe. “I think this might even be before the Crown City was walled off.”

Noctis laughed. “Hey Gladio, you think our dads and Cor used a map like this?”

“Huh. Probably. We could ask Cor the next time we see him.” It’d be interesting to compare the old maps with now and see what’s changed in thirty plus years.

The ride was still very bumpy and it was difficult to read the tiny, faded script.

“Here,” Noctis pointed, “That look like where we’re at? There’s like an L-formation of rocks, probably what the herd hit?”

“Hrmm, maybe.” He glanced at the horizon, trying to see other landmarks.

“Yeah,” Prompto chimed in, “‘Red Finger Bluff’ kind of looks like that hill over there.”

Ignis hummed. “I’d say it’s more like a hoof but it’s something.”

Gladio compared the rock formation in the distance with the map. “Yep. Head that way for maybe like, seven miles? Then we’ll head east to a road hopefully.”

“Hopefully,” Noctis said, leaning back. “Wake me up when we get there.”

“Bro, are you seriously gonna nap?”

“You aren’t tired from all that excitement?”

“Well, yeah, but you didn’t even use that much magic.”

“Uh, consciously. I can’t control what I use when I’m anxious.”

Gladio rolled his eyes. “Maybe you both need naps. It would make this ride more tolerable.” At the same time he said that, Ignis shifted into third, speeding up towards their goal, and he had to grit his teeth again. Speaking of tolerating.

Shrugging, Noctis rested his head on Prompto’s shoulder. “Alright, but you said it, not me.”

Prompto shot a look at Gladio and he shot him back the expectant look he used to give Iris when she was little and wouldn’t take her naps. Sighing, he put the map down in his lap and leaned his head on the door and glanced out the window.

It was quiet, but Gladio heard the little snort that Ignis gave at the situation.

After about ten minutes, Ignis down-shifted into second as they headed into a patch of uneven ground, and he definitely grabbed the wrong thing at first. Gladio grunted, caught by surprise.

“Apologies,” Ignis said and moved his hand after shifting.

“No, just. Keep your hand there. I can feel it when you shift, it’s like nails on a chalkboard.” Ignis was used to cars that ran smoothly, were fine tuned, and engineered for perfection. He could understand those vehicles and how they felt, which was why he was struggling so much with this truck, but Gladio had some experience learning to drive an old relic. Yeah so maybe some experience was like an afternoon when he was nineteen, but it was enough. “Keep it on second.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I swear I’m not trying to get off or anything. Gotta keep your hand on the knob. Get a feel for the engine, so you’ll know when to shift. That’s what my dad used to say at least. These older cars are temperamental.”

Ignis put his hand back on the shift knob, his wrist resting right on his cock.

Gladio laughed to ease the tension. “Heh. I don’t know what’s worst. You cranking out the transmission or you grabbing my dick every five seconds.”

“I sincerely apologize.”

“Sure you’re not doing it on purpose?”

This time, Ignis glanced at him and smirked. “If I was, it wouldn’t be like this.”

“How would it be then?”

“For starters, those two wouldn’t be here,” he nodded at the sleeping boys.

“Yeah, well, we can’t always be so lucky.” His left arm was getting tired from being held up and he brought it down awkwardly, trying to figure out where to rest it without being in Ignis’ way. “Mind if I put my arm behind you?”

“As long as you don’t mind where my arm is.” Both hands on the wheel, Ignis leaned forward slightly to allow him room to rest his arm on the top of the seat and his shoulders.

Gladio was able to settle a bit more comfortably in the cramped quarters, slouching a bit.

“I think we’ve established that I do.”

In their new positions, Ignis settled back again, returning his hand once more to the shift knob, in the process, sliding back down to the memorized position, only since Gladio had slouched, his hand and arm slid along the length of him. Reflexively, he ground into it and gripped Ignis’ shoulder.

“Iggy,” he groaned.

There was a light dusting of pink across his cheeks and he kept his eyes smartly on the road. “Again, apologies. That was unintentional.” He licked his lips. “But I must say, I’m getting a better feel of the engine now.”

[segadores-y-soldados]

SEP: Sunsets

I wrote this based on the comic “SEP Days” that my friend @vapewraith drew - I love silly SEP and Crisis interactions between Gabriel and Jack so I loved this comic and really wanted to show how much Vape’s art and colors inspire me.

Thank you again, Vapewraith - thank you for nearly nine months of your wonderful Overwatch art!  ❤️  ❤️  ❤️ ---------

“Soldiers, line up here.”

There are tart groans and muttered whines as the SEP candidates shuffle to a stop and the group practically collapses against the walls and waist-high concrete barriers.  The exhaustion and aches are practically tangible in the air as the supersoldiers-in-training ease themselves into sitting or leaning or even lying positions - Number: 37 practically throws herself on the group even though it’s as miserably comfortable as sleeping on broken groundstone.  Number: 123 next to Gabriel rolls his shoulders, hissing every time the right one moves back too far, exactly where one of the rubber bullets had hit him earlier.  Number: 88 on the other side of Jack seats herself and then curls up into a ball, pulling the drawstrings on her hood to shut the world into what Jack assumes is blissful darkness.

They’re in one of the halls of the SEP facility - tucked away into a deep mountainside “somewhere out west,” the building is hard angles and brutal concrete and cut-steel, as soft as titanium and as gentle as the injections they get every morning and evening.  Yet even here, in “wherever’s-range,” there is still beauty: the massive windows, normally just cold, crystalline glass, are open to the sunset, bleeding colors across the land and sky, dripping into the hallway with the vibrancy of oil paints.  Reds smoke into bright, endless pinks, golds melt into bold, sunshine yellows, oranges shift into liquid amber, and at the edges of the atmosphere, velvet purples sigh into silky blues, tinting the more vivid colors and steeped clouds with the dusk of night and the emerging stars.

It’s a sight neither Gabriel nor Jack will ever get tired of -

No matter how exhausted they are.

“The doctors will see you shortly -” the SEP instructor starts to say, reappearing at the far end of the hallway, before he looks up from the papers on his clipboard and scowls at the group of crumbling supersoldiers, snapping, “Is that what you call ‘lining up?’”

“Maybe if y’all didn’t work us so damn hard,” Number: 141 growls, his voice climbing into a hoarse yell, “We’d still have the energy to fucking stand!” 

(The rest is under the cut!)

There are shouts of agreement and calls of “Yeah that!” and quiet mumbles of assent.  Gabriel huffs to himself, sliding himself onto the concrete barrier and trying his hardest not to wince as his muscles settle into a sitting position.  He’s used to hard work and even harder workouts, but today had been...brutal.  3 am running through the facility and into the mountains and back, to 10 am sparring and boxing and hand-to-hand combat, to 1 pm “simulation training” where they ran teams in rubber-bullet fire-fights, to 4 pm regulated work outs of push ups and squats and curls, to now - 8 pm - where they fall to their pieces in concrete hallways, waiting for doctors to take their biodata and continue churning them into statistics for the U.S. government before jamming more needles in their arms and sending them to brutal, uncomfortable cots in the dorms.

Jack slides himself up next to Gabriel, sighing just loud enough for his best friend to hear, “Today...was pretty bad.”

“Would’ve been easier on you if you hadn’t burned yourself out on those push ups,” Gabriel grunts back, pulling a pack of cigarettes from a pant pocket.  He taps one out, muttering with some confusion, “Why were you doing all those one-armed push ups?”

To try and impress you, Jack thinks in bittersweet, bright shades as he leans against the wall.  The haze of the brilliant colors coating the room and the world beyond is beautiful, better than the sunsets he used to see out in Indiana, and although Jack always listens to Gabriel’s complaints of “LA has better sunsets, amigo,” Jack knows Gabriel has slowly been won over by the rough, raw beauty of the SEP facility, “edgy” and hard and rough-cut like sawed-off shotguns, but watercolor-painted in the sunrises and oil-drenched in the sunsets.

And even though the barrier he’s sitting on is edgy and hard and rough-cut 

There’s something warm and smoky-sweet about this small moment of reprieve

As soft as the sunset clouds and as comfortable as Gabriel’s charming, vivid voice

Breathing colors and light into Jack’s drifting mind.

“Someone has to be the cool badass around here, Gabe,” Jack chuckles dryly, sliding his eyes shut as Gabriel teases back, “Pretty sure that’s not you, boy scout.  How are you gonna look badass if one arm is more swole than the other?”

“That’s when...I know it’s time to switch to the other arm,” Jack murmurs to the sweet sunset of Gabriel’s words, his head dipping slightly -

“I’m also pretty sure that’s not how it works,” Gabriel grins, reaching for the lighter in his other pocket as he glances at the line to his side.  It’s moving slow - the doctors are clearly taking their time with this one, but the supersoldiers aren’t...helping, per se.  No one is quick to stand back up and Gabriel is pretty certain that at least two-thirds of them are already passed out.

“I warned them to pace themselves,” he mutters, flicking the lighter before lifting the small flame to the end of the cigarette.  Gabriel clicks it back off, stuffing it into his pocket, saying quietly, “And you, Juan - you shouldn’t push yourself so hard either - you’re just gonna hurt yourself -”

He feels something solid and strong, yet warm and surprisingly comfortable slug against his back.

...The fuck? Gabriel thinks as the lump shifts slightly against him, scowling as he feels the body breath in-out, in-out, steady-steady, a rhythm like the tide and the roll of lazy summer storms, and there’s a whisper of that inhale-exhale of life against his hood -

Gabriel twists a little, turning that scowl towards Jack, as the blonde, in his haze of exhausted, drifting sleep, rests further on the warm, comfortable friend he’s fallen against -

“...Jack, c’mon,” Gabriel mutters sourly, but...not as sourly as he should, shit, he should feel more frustrated by this, he should be pushing Jack away, but the line isn’t moving very fast and Jack looks fucking worn, his friend has looked so tired the last few days, a little sleep couldn’t hurt, Jack needs to sleep more -

“Jack, man, you gotta get up,” Gabriel says, but he’s not sure if he actually wants Jack to get up, there’s something real nice about how Jack is leaning on him, about how comfortable his body is against Gabriel’s back, about how smoky-sweet the moment is - 

About how the dying sunlight catches in Jack’s hair -

About how the color graces the high cut of Jack’s cheekbone -

Nope, Gabriel thinks fiercely, taking a long pull from his cigarette as he tries to refocus on the line in front of them - why is it moving so damn slow - and nope, nope, not doing this today, c’mon, Reyes, pull your shit together -

Number: 123 looks at the two of them skeptically as Jack continues to lean further into Gabriel’s back, and Gabriel grumbles, “Don’t judge me.”

“...It’s kinda hard not to,” Number: 123 chuckles, “You’re such a sucker for him -”

“Listen, he had a rough day, okay?” Gabriel mutters, but it sounds weak and defensive, even to his own ears and Number: 123 shrugs sarcastically, replying coyly, “We all had a rough day, 127 - but he’s the only one you’ll give special treatment to.”

“...I’d let you lean on me…?” Gabriel says back, but it’s half a question too, and Number: 123 cracks up slightly, chuckling, “Sure you would, 127 - I’m gonna take you up on that offer someday, just you watch -”

Somewhere in the haze of his shifting sleep, Jack feels the rumble of a warm, strong back, smoky-sweet, steeped in sunset colors, and a voice whose laughter sings colors into his heart and -

He pulls closer.

He’d hold that voice - smoky-sweet and colorful - forever in this moment, if he could.

“Alright, asshole, look -” Gabriel starts to retort when he jolts slightly, his eyes going wide as -

An arm snakes around his waist.

Number: 123 snorts and Number: 37 on his other side even turns to look, smirking devilishly as Gabriel feels a second arm wrap around him and shit shit shit shit -

“Didn’t know you were part octopus, Jack,” Gabriel whispers rather loudly, rather sarcastically, causing several of the other supersoldiers around them to snicker and snort, but Gabriel feels Jack nuzzle his head against his back and shit -

Shit, Reyes, c’mon - don’t think about your best friend like that, don’t think about your best friend like that, Gabriel reminds himself, trying to let the cigarette calm him down, trying to ignore how Jack’s arms fit perfectly around him, trying to deny how he’s surprisingly comfortable with how Jack presses into his back and -

It’s just a silly crush, it doesn’t mean anything, you’re tired, you’re thinking too much -

“Dammit, Morrison,” Gabriel huffs, “God dammit.  Don’t do this to me, dude -” as the other supersoldiers snap a few pictures, one of them even giggling, “Jack’s gonna get a kick out of this.”

“Don’t you dare show him this,” Gabriel warns them, but they refuse to listen.

“Just lie down and let him cuddle you, 127,” Number: 123 teases him, as Number: 37 grins, “Enjoying his sweet embrace there?”

“Okay, no, now it’s starting to get kinda awkward,” Gabriel admits as Jack continues to lean into him, sleeping heavily, sleeping comfortably as -

Jack’s fingers dig into Gabriel’s side -

“Oh God,” Gabriel half-shouts, half-squirms as several of the awake supersoldiers laugh and wheeze, and the joke’s on them, because Gabriel would never admit aloud that the way Jack clings, the way his fingers tug at Gabriel’s shirt is by far

One of the best things Gabriel has ever felt.

BAIL, every alarm bells screams into his head, Dude, you’re not emotionally equipped to deal with this moment right now, bail, bail!  Get to the chopper!

Gabriel stubs out the only half-smoked cigarette and struggles to shift against the pull of Jack’s arms, the grip of his fingers, shrugging and wiggling and writhing.  But with every twist, Jack just seems to pull harder, cling more, his hands grabbing at Gabriel’s shirt, the slight slip of his skin -

Fuuuuuuuck me, fuck you, Jack, fuck everything, Gabriel groans to himself, dying slightly inside, finally feeling an opportunity as Jack grabs at the hem of his sweatshirt instead, managing to twist out of his grip, but Jack pulls harder on the cloth.  Gabriel feels the sweatshirt slip, and he -

He gives up.

You gotta lose something in the Great Octopus War, Gabriel tells himself, pulling one arm through the sleeve as he turns around, crawling off the concrete barrier, yanking the second arm through but - 

He freezes

As Jack curls tighter around his sweatshirt.

“You managed to escape!” Number: 123 chuckles, turning back to his phone and Number: 37 smirks, “Good job on getting out of that training simulation, 127!”  

But Gabriel isn’t listening to them

Because -

In the sweeping clouds of semi-slumber, Jack frowns a little to himself - that rumbling, warm strength is gone, where did it go, he wants it to come back, he wants to hold it forever, he wants to feel it laugh again, it was the most comfortable thing he’s felt but -

But there’s something soft and smoky-sweet in his arms now, with a lingering sunset warmth and the scent of something bittersweet but so nice, so nice and -

He thinks he sees Gabriel.

He thinks he sees Gabriel in bright, vivid sunset oils, reds and pinks, golds and yellows, oranges and ambers. 

He thinks he sees Gabriel give him that bright, vivid sunset smile - a grin charming and bold, happy and smoky-sweet.

Jack pulls the softness closer to him, murmuring to the dream in his mind:

“...Gabe.”

Gabriel is not listening to the supersoldiers around them

Because as Jack snuggles deeper into his sweatshirt, tinted gold in the dying sunlight, a faint smile flittering on Jack’s face, broad arms cradling hoodie and head

Gabriel knows

Gabriel knows

That he hears Jack whisper, warmly, fondly, with a bright happiness:

“...Gabe.”

Gabriel cannot deny how his heart skips a beat at that.

...Why, Gabriel thinks slowly, as slowly as the line moves, as slowly as time drifts, as slowly as Jack’s head dips further into the folds of his sweatshirt.  Why do you have to say my name like that.  Why do you have to look so content.  Why do you have to look so good like that.

His hand is in his pocket, wrapped around his phone, before he realizes it. 

...Don’t, a part of his mind cautions him sarcastically as he pulls the phone out, Don’t do this.  Be smarter than this, Gabriel.  You’re going to get in too deep.  You’re going to get your precious feelings hurt.

But another part of him -

He thinks it might be his heart -

Says back, with surprising earnestness:

This moment is yours.

In a building of edgy, hard, rough-cut walls, made of stone-cold concrete, brutal and dry -

In a program of daily runs through hallways and mountains, endless sparring and simulations, long hours of fake-fighting and sometimes real fighting and painful, bitter injections -

In a group of people being slowly, slowly - as slowly as this line moves, as slowly as time drifts, as slowly as the sun slips low - transformed into something more, something super-human, something beyond human -

In all of this -

There are still moments where Jack smiles

While saying his name

While cuddling his sweatshirt

While looking more than perfect.

Why, Gabriel thinks slowly, so slowly, yet he fears if he doesn’t take this, if he doesn’t do this now, he’ll lose this moment forever.  Why do you do this to me.  Why do you make me feel this way.

Gabriel snaps a quick picture of Jack’s sleepy, roguish grin, pressed sideways into the grey cloth of his sweatshirt.

Because being in love -

Stupid, sexy Morrison.

Is just as beautiful as the smoky-sweet sunset

And, Gabriel knows -

Often just as hard as the brutal, angular concrete.

Gabriel slots himself by the floor, at the base of the concrete barrier, as Number: 123 slides over slightly, grinning, “I can’t believe you got out of that trap.”

“You and me both,” Gabriel mutters, but there’s a wistful edge to his tone because...he’s not entirely sure he wanted to leave Jack’s arms.  He taps at the picture, setting it to the wallpaper, glancing back at his friend, still snuggling into his sweatshirt, before scowling and looking back.

Now fully prone, Jack feels something shift in his mind, and he flutters an eye open, colors swimming back into view and the light chatter of the waiting supersoldiers filling his ears.  There’s soft fabric pressed into the side of his head, and it feels so warm, so comfortable, lingering with a gentle strongness that Jack barely remembers -

Gabe.

The thought stirs in his mind and he tilts his head slightly, looking for his friend and -

Oh.

Gabriel is slumped against the floor, tapping through some pictures on his phone - images of the supersoldiers, a shot of a pier in LA, a picture from his sister showing off some drink, the usual.

But

Gabriel is not wearing his standard hoodie.

He’s muttering something to Number: 123, who’s laughing lightly at whatever he’s saying and oh lordy -

Jack grins sleepily, lazily, coyly.

The sight of Gabriel in just a tank top - broad shoulders and gilded-rich skin and the swell of the strength in his back -

Is a sight Jack will never get tired of.

Jack buries his head a little deeper in the grey fabric, nuzzling into the remaining warmth of Gabriel there, thinking smugly, Objective captured.

---------

I cannot wait for part 2!!  I’m so excited to see where this comic goes and how Jack reacts to everything.

[thebachelordiaries]

Getting Out The Campzone: The Bachelorette Season Premiere Recap

Sweet. Sour. Sassy. Classy. 

That’s our girl, Rachel.

Rachel is more beautiful than Cinderella. She smells like pine needles and has a face like sunshine.

The journey for Rachel to find a mate is officially underway and even though these men were hand-picked for her, she will still need to weed through the losers to find the love of her life.

And there are losers galore: a ticklemonster, a Whaboom! guy, an aspiring drummer and a dude named Jamey who hates women.

Some of these aforementioned were among the lucky few to get their own video packages.

-Kenny is a father to his beautiful 10-year-old daughter by day, and a professional wrestler called the “prettyboy pitbull” by night. So essentially, he barks, he bites and he’s good at cuddling.

-Jack Stone is a lawyer from Texas who has the potential to be the world’s most boring speaker right behind Ben Stein. His mother passed away from cancer when he was in high school, so he has a tragic story. The best part about him is that he has a labradoodle.

-Alex is a self-described beefy nerd. He says he likes to hit the weights at the gym but also code on the computer. He grilled some kebobs with his Russian mother, who said in Russian that he is only allowed to kiss Rachel on the cheek.

-Mohit is a startup guy, so I am assuming he must be really good at ping pong. He likes to bollywood dance with his family, and they all seemed like a fun family to be around.

-Lucas, aka Whaboom! I respect his dedication to the brand, but he’s going to have an aneurysm shaking his head that aggressively one day, and I don’t want to witness it on my television screen.

-Blake says he’s a personal trainer but his bio says drummer boy, so I already can’t trust him. Blake claims that since working out increases his testosterone, he is great at sex. I’m sorry but I don’t care about his (probably small) penis.

-Diggy is a nickname this man (I don’t know his real name) received after someone complimented his style. “Hey, I like your digs,” they said. Some may say having 500 pairs of shoes is materialistic, but Carrie Bradshaw would say it’s a lifestyle.

-Josiah probably had the most heartbreaking story. At age seven he cut his dead brother down from the rope he used to hang himself. As a troubled youth, he decided to get into crime and was arrested at age 12 for burglary. He was inspired by the people who helped him turn his life around, so he became just like them. Now he is a prosecuting attorney at the same center that helped him. How can that story not warm up your heart?

The Squad Gets Back Together

Usually the show brings in former Bachelorettes to give advice to the new one. Instead, they brought in some of Rachel’s friends from The Bachelor like Whitney, who tried to convince us that she actually knows how to speak. I for one am not buyin’ it.

The robot pretending to be Whitney said she heard the second guy Rachel met on After The Final Rose has bad intentions. It was either Blake or Greg. I am unsure.

This is Raven adorably getting emotional when discussing Rachel’s journey to find love.

Imagine Rachel did get to meet the former Bachelorettes, though? Her, Andi and Kaitlyn could all go into a corner and talk shit about Nick Viall. I would love to be a fly on that wall.

Limo Entrances

I am going to discuss ones that deserve discussing. Obviously the first person out the limo is typically a big interest of the lead and that person usually (not always) plays a big part in the season. Let’s meet first-out-the-limo guy and everyone else worth talking about:

Peter, aka “Daddy,” was first out the limo. I normally wouldn’t like a guy wearing an outfit that belongs on a waiter in Las Vegas, but Peter can wear anything. I just want to thank him for existing.

He looks like a movie star from the 1940s. Is this love at first sight?

Bryan went up to Rachel and started speaking Spanish. Apparently he’s a Columbian guy who called himself “trouble.” I’m into it, and apparently so is Rachel.

Will came out the limo as Steve Urkel, slipped on the ground and said “Oh, did I do that?” He ran back into the limo and came back out as Stefan Urquelle. It was probably the most creative limo entrance ever. Rachel got the reference right away because she’s Rachel. Will is probably already in love.

Fred had the most hilarious entrance I’ve ever seen. Rachel was his camp counselor 15 years ago, so he brought out a yearbook and showed old pictures of him and Rachel. Rachel said Fred was a bad kid growing up. Most people get friendzoned at some point in their lives. Some even get sexzoned. Fred, however, got campzoned. What will it take to get Fred out of the camp zone? Stay tuned...

Jonathan, in typical ticklemonster fashion, tickled Rachel. Apparently he is a doctor in real life. I feel like tickling someone is some sort of violation. Like I said earlier, we will see this guy on the sex offender registry in due time.

Alex came in with a vacuum and I literally JUST understood his reference as I am typing it out. His entrance was an homage to Rachel dancing while vacuuming in her video package on The Bachelor. Well played, sir, well played.

Matt wore a penguin outfit and was quite adorable. He explained that penguins mate for life, which is what he says he wants to do. He said he’s gonna “waddle right into her heart.”

Mohit used the most basic best man wedding speech in existence as his opening line. If you didn’t work at a wedding hall for three years and haven’t heard this at basically every wedding ever, let me explain. Almost every best man at a wedding has the groom put his hand over his wife’s hand. He then says “This is the last time you will ever have the upper hand in the relationship. Enjoy it.” Negative 10 points for originality.

Lucas, the Whaboom! guy, was all sorts of extra. First he rolled down the window with a megaphone and did his best Bruce Buffer impression. I didn’t want to know that Lucas has one testicle bigger than the other, but now I do. What will I do with this source of information? Suppress it, probably. Lucas then shows us what Whaboom! really means, and it’s not pretty. Let’s just say there’s a reason why Lucas looks like he is recovering from a stoke. Whabooming! is a violent activity.

My reaction after witnessing what a Whaboom! is.

The Goings On In The Mansion

Some worthwhile observations...

Blake is clearly this season’s villain and Whaboom! guy is the token weirdo for the first few episodes. Blake’s presence already annoys me. He’s no Chad. Chad was at least funny.

Mohit took one for the team and was the one who got completely hammered on night one. He was so drunk that he grabbed someone else's drink out of their hand and started drinking it.

Josiah, Alex and DeMario have already developed a friendship. I hereby name them the “Goon Squad” for being a bunch of clowns. DeMario keept calling Rachel his future wife and Josiah was announcing that he probably will get the first impression rose. I believe at one point Josiah asked, “Who has had time with my wife?” Alex is just guilty by association.

Fred by far had the best interaction with Rachel: 

Rachel: “Frederick. I can’t”

Fred: “Yeah, you can.”

Rachel says she knew Fred as a third grader and can’t get past that memory. If the guy is hot enough, I think she could do it. If she can’t get past it, that probably means she’s not interested and Fred will remain forever in the Campzone.

Bryan pulled Rachel to the side to have a private talk. Right out the bat, Bryan tells her he is 37 years old, wants something serious and doesn’t want to waste her time. Oh, he also says “I’m good with my hands.” Ya know, because he’s a chiropractor. 

Just showing some appreciation for Bryan’s face.

The two were flirting back and forth. It felt really genuine like they met at a bar or something. Bryan just went for it and grabbed her face to give her an aggressive face readjustment. A+ for grabbing her face like that. You go, Glen Coco.

Peter said in an ITM that he likes Rachel because they both have a gap in their teeth and honestly that is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. He brought chocolate from Wisconsin for her and she confessed that she didn’t like chocolate but said she would eat it anyway. Why? Because Peter is fine as hell so you gotta do what you gotta do.

I also observed that Kenny is hilarious. For example, this line: “If she chooses Whaboom! guy, we need to re-examine what we think is fly.”

When the time comes for Rachel to give out her first impression rose, she doesn’t give it to the over-confident Josiah, she gives it to Bryan. They kiss again with a hammered Mohit accidentally witnessing the entire thing. 

Here’s a shot of them kissing that didn’t look like Bryan’s tongue was searching for the Chamber of Secrets down Rachel’s throat.

Good thing Mohit was blackout drunk so he was likely physically incapable of snitching. Too bad Bryan later snitches on himself on the Ellen date. 

Rose Ceremony

The first rose is always super important. That person usually plays a big part in the season.

Peter got the first rose. This, on top of him being first out of the limo, is pretty big. Producers are pushing Peter on us hard. 

Will aka Stefan got the second rose. Soft-spoken Jack Stone got the third. I think Anthony, the deep-thinking bald guy, got the fourth rose.

Producers picked Whaboom! guy to stay to 1. entertain us and 2. piss off Blake. I’m just scared Lucas is going to hurt his neck Whabooming! At least Bryan will be there to work his chiropractor magic if need be. Imagine getting adjusted by Bryan? There is no way I’d be able to relax. 

By the time several of the guys get eliminated, it’s daylight outside. It looks like it’s around noon. 

Blake K. the hot asian went home. Apparently he asked to leave early because his grandfather is sick. Dammit, ABC, put him on Paradise. He might be too good for the show, but I still need to see more of him.

Grant, the ugly Dan Humphrey also went home.

Follow me on twitter, @thebachdiaries 

Another eliminated guy cried about how he spent so much money on outfits and now no one will be able to see them. It was kind of funny but, I hate that I was able to relate to this so much.

So there you have it folks. The real fun starts on Monday once the group dates are underway. I also promise the upcoming recaps won’t be the length of a short novel. I need to get back into my blogging groove.

Prediction Corner: Top 5

Peter

Bryan

Kenny

Will

Jack Stone

Who do you think will get the 1-on-1 next week?