#the captivity-torture chapter is over! time to move on to weird-fucked-up-torture now

[whump-captain]

No. 14 - Die a hero or live long enough to become a villain

Desperate measures | Failed escape | "I'll be right behind you"

1400 words | OC: Kintsugi

Taglist (feel free to ask to be added/removed!): @thatsgonnaleaveamark

ok so this is the Plot Twist Episode. i know ive been posting this entirely out if order but i do recommend reading this as like, the last in order of all the kintsugi stuff - you can find it all in the tag here. this also follows on directly from this prompt, like literally 5 minutes later. im excited for this tho, i finally get to push the story along 👀

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CN: gun use, theats of death, gun to head, murder, major character death, gore, mentions of past torture

---

It was the cold wind that whipped consciousness back into Ethan's hollow mind. His legs were moving, carrying him in the direction that the shoves to his back were setting - but he had no control, he simply stumbled in a desperate attempt to keep upright. His whole body was aching, he couldn't feel his fingers, and white hot pain pulsed on the side of his neck where the newly burned skin had distorted and tightened.

The light outside seemed blinding, even though it was twilight and the flood lights were dimmed by fog. Ethan didn't dare to lift his head to look at the white-walled buildings and shipping containers; he kept his eyes fixed on his own shambling feet, on the snow swept across the concrete. A pair of boots appeared in his field of view, marching steadily alongside him. His breath caught and he had to set his teeth tight to stifle a useless plea. Linde wouldn't listen. He never listened. He just smiled and questioned, and grabbed, and punched, and burned, and Ethan couldn't breathe just looking at his shoes; just knowing that he was close. Cold terror gripped his lungs like a strangling fist.

A few more shaking steps carried him forward until he realized the next shove never came. He stood hunched over, huddled around himself against the wind and the waves of nauseating pain. Two pairs of footsteps behind him stopped as well.

Slowly, he risked a glance over his shoulder. Tears stung his eyes and dulled the lenses of his glasses as they froze into stains of frost. Hazed and swaying, the two figures behind him were little more than blurs of shadows on the snow.

But one of them moved and in the glint of light Ethan recognized the barrel of a gun.

"Alright, mate," said the female guard. "Last chance."

Ground fell away from under Ethan's feet. He whipped back around, buried his head in his shoulders, but the image was still there, embedded into his mind. He could feel it. The gun was inches away from him, it was hot, it burned through the air between them and fused itself to him.

It was there. It was right there, it was loaded, he could see it even though he screwed his eyes shut. Oh, God, it was right there and she was going to kill him, she was going to kill him.

"Please," he choked out. "Please, don't do this." He held his arms in the air, even though the left one hurt so much it made his knees wobble. This was it, this was the end and this pain would be the last thing he'd ever feel; it would swallow all he had ever hoped to be, it would shred and erase his future, end him right there and then, even though he had so much he had wanted to do, he- "I can't- die here," he begged. "I don't want to die here."

"Then you better start talking, innit?" The woman pulled back the hammer and the gentle click stabbed into Ethan's mind like a blade. "Give me the truth," she said.

"I'm not a spy!" he cried out. "I'm not anyone! Please, please believe me." His voice hitched and dissolved into sobs. "Oh, God, please, don't do this."

Violent shivers overtook him and his legs barely held him. Everything blurred, he hung in a void as white as the snow and unbearably, nauseatingly cold. Somewhere far away burned anger but it seemed to be someone else's. Ethan couldn't find the strength to feel it. The only thing his desperate mind knew was fear and pleading, and the constant, icy presence of the gun pointed at his head.

The hands holding that gun were steady. Lucy stood still like a block of ice, planted steadily into the frigid ground. But her thoughts raged like flames, flicking in and out of existence, too fast and too foreign for her to make sense of. What was she doing? Why was she here, with a pistol that didn't belong to her; why did she leave her rifle and follow Linde out to the back of the storage wing? All she had wanted was not to have to watch him murder someone.

How the fuck had she ended up aiming a gun at someone again?

I could put him out of his misery, she thought, watching Lythmer cower before her. It would be a mercy to shoot him - a simple, instant end; too fast to cause him any pain.

But she couldn't forget what he'd said. How he had told her he'd be out of here, surely, because he still had a future to witness. Those words had stuck with her, etched into the back of her mind and the burning echo of them was overpowering. Through the cacophony in her mind, she couldn't recognize the feeling as envy.

Linde was watching her, with an infuriating smirk curving his mouth again, as if he was catching her out on a mistake. She couldn't care less what he thought. She herself had no idea if what she was doing was right.

But she did know that she hated him.

Hated him for his obsession; for his twisted hunger for power. For his unchallenged willingness to torture and murder just so he could feel like a soldier again.

With all the blood on her hands, she should have felt like a hypocrite for that hatred but she didn't care. Her own past didn't matter now. Nothing mattered apart from this frozen moment in time, from the weight in her hand and the two men stood out here with her in the fog - the one before her, and the one behind her.

Only one of these men had a future. The other one had her gun to his head.

The thought of that lit a blinding, cavernous rage so brightly inside her heart that it spilled out into her lungs and then corroded her from the inside. Her hands shivered and she gripped the pistol tighter.

She only knew one way to deal with anger like this.

And she no longer cared if it was the right thing to do.

"That's your final word?" she asked, voice low.

Ethan Lythmer curled into himself tighter, his hands trembling. "Yes," he whispered. "Please."

"Alright."

Lucy spun around and shot Linde in the head.

The gunshot struck like thunder. Linde's skull exploded in a burst of blood and shattered bone and his body dropped like a sack of bricks. Ethan cried out and collapsed too, shielding his head with his arms.

Lucy holstered the gun and ran to the corpse. It cooled quickly under her hands as she rummaged through its pockets - she took a lighter, a personal first aid kit, an identity card. Her ears rang. She couldn't tell if it was the echo of the gunshot or the whiplash of sudden, absolute silence inside her mind.

All thoughts were gone. Her motions were mechanical, instinct pushing her through step after step of damage control. Double-check the kill. Search body. Take anything useful. Cover tracks.

Regroup.

She tore the jacket off of Linde's stiff shoulders and took the cotton bandanna from his neck. Then she ran back to Ethan's side.

"Get up," she barked, grabbing his good elbow. "There's no time."

He flinched at the touch. She held tight, but let his wide eyes search her face before she moved again. Terror fought with confusion in his expression, she could almost see his thoughts racing.

"Come on," she rushed him.

She pulled him up, slipping her shoulder under his arm just in case. But he managed to get his feet under him and stood uncertainly, shaking all over.

Lucy held Linde's jacket out to him. His face turned grey and he flicked a gaze towards the corpse in the snow. For fuck's sake, there was no time. She took off her own jacket and shoved it into his hand. "Put it on," she ordered.

She put the stolen jacket on herself. Then she drew her gun again and pointed out into the fog.

"We're going to the fence," she said. "Fast, but don't run. There'll be a service gate further left."

Ethan hesitated, drawing the jacket tight around himself.

"We have to go!" Lucy shouted.

He flinched again. But then he set his jaw tight and gave a small, trembling nod.

"Okay," he said, voice strained. "I'm right behind you."

[ghostpeblewrite]

Paradoxical - Chapter 5

~~~~~~

Ghost knew deep down that walking out on Toast right then was a bad idea. However, he didn’t know how bad of an idea it actually was.

Only now he realizes that, his head pounding and his wrists tied behind his back. As he comes to his senses more, he realizes he has a blindfold over his eyes. He’s also tied to a chair.

And he can also hear sound in the room he’s in. Quiet whispering to his left. The voices almost sound familiar to him. Hey, maybe if he knows them, they won’t kill him!

“Hello?” he groans. Maybe he can talk his way out of this.

He can hear a gasp followed by a quick, shrill, “He’s awake!!” Two sets of footsteps approach him. One stops to his left, the other directly in front of him.

“Oh, please let me take his blindfold off!!” the shrill voice says, sounding almost like a begging kid.

“I’m not letting you do it,” a deep voice says. It has a weird accent, almost like a mix of southern and British- Wait a fucking minute.

“Oh, you mother FUCKER!” Ghost exclaims. He’d know that fucking voice anywhere. “Gavin you piece of shit!”

The man, correctly identified as Gavin, chuckles. The shrill voice laughs as well, a disturbing cackle that chills Ghost to his bones. “Long time no see, Ghostie.”

Ghost’s blindfold is taken off his head, and he’s face to face with the twin brother of his best friend.

Despite being identical twins, many things help differentiate the two brothers. First of all, Gavin doesn’t have the same baby blue eyes as Toast. His eyes are instead an abnormally vibrant green colour.

Another thing is the scar on the left side of Gavin’s face, stretching from his jaw up to the corner of his eyebrow. Gavin also has a few face piercings, one of them being on his eyebrow, another on his lip. He also does his hair differently than his brother’s.

The easiest way to tell though, is Gavin is a total dickhead, and Toast isn’t.

“What was even the point of the blindfold??” Ghost huffs, glaring at him.

“So you didn’t see him,” Gavin says, backing away from Ghost as he motions to the other guy in the room, presumably the owner of the shrill voice. Ghost freezes when he sees him.

The man looks a lot like Ghost, like he could be his brother or something. However, the man has shaggy nearly black hair that hangs into his face, red eyes, and more scars than a tortured war hostage. The guy’s face splits into an eerie smile, his cracked and scarred lips twisting, forming into something almost inhuman. He has sharp canines.

Everything about the man unsettles Ghost, and he hates to say he knows exactly why.

“We meet again, Ghost!!” The guy says, then lets out a chilling cackle, the effort from it shaking his entire body.

Ghost squeezes his eyes shut. He thought he was finally rid of this parasite, but his cackle drives its way deep into his brain again. He hasn’t seen him since the incident. He never wanted to see him again.

Yet there he stood, in front of him. His parasite. The thing he got ripped from his skull.

Jimmy Casket.

---

“Good morning,” Toast greets. His voice is tense, and he looks like a complete mess.

Spooker, who had just woken up after staying the night at the HQ by accident, blinks in surprise at Toast’s appearance. Toast never looks like this.

“Hi…” Spooker says slowly, “did you sleep?”

“Er, no,” Toast admits, seeming to shake a bit as he goes to grab his mug off the table. “But it’s fine. Have you seen Ghost?”

“Not since yesterday morning. Why?” Spooker raises an eyebrow. “Is he not here?”

“No. He’s not. And he didn’t bring his phone with him. And this isn’t like him,” Toast says quickly, shaking a bit as he takes a sip of whatever’s in his mug.

“Well, I’m sure he’s alright!” Spooker says, putting a hand on Toast’s shoulder. Toast just sighs.

“I don’t know. What with all this … Paranormal stuff going on, I’m worried. This isn’t like him! He always comes back- It’s been 24 hours maybe I should report him as missing?”

“Cmon, Toast! He’s a 30-year-old man, he can spend 24 hours on his own, right?” Spooker says, smiling at him. Toast thinks about that.

“I… I suppose you’re right,” Toast sighs, looking down.

“Yeah!” Spooker nods. “Anyway, Colon and I are gonna go somewhere today. You’ll be okay alone, right?”

Toast looks at him, in such a state that he is most definitely not good to be alone. He nods. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. You two have fun.”

“We will!!” Spooker says as the two head out the door.

Toast watches them go quietly. As soon as the door closes, he feels the weight of being alone settle on him. He can’t stand being alone. It reminds him too much of that dark time of his life.

He can barely remember any of it, really. Just the feelings he had. He remembered the apartment he and … she used to share, once a bright place full of laughter and love, turned to a dark blur in Toast’s memory. He still hasn’t quite forgiven himself for it, but he’s moved past it with Ghost’s help.

Ghost.

His childhood best friend. The memory of Ghost is the only thing that pulled him out of that place. Lead him all the way back to America. All the way to Ghost’s front door. He barely even remembers the first few weeks with Ghost. Ghost doesn’t bring them up either. All Toast can remember is a few blurs of the bottom of the bottle, an overall feeling of shit, and Ghost’s face when he found Toast unconscious on the floor of the kitchen. He had slapped Toast awake, and the face Toast saw when coming to consciousness was one of fear. Sure, he’d seen Ghost afraid before, but nothing like that. It was pure panic, fear from worry. It hurts Toast’s heart to think about.

He remembers Ghost yelling, but none of what he said. He was too captivated by him. Ghost was his own guardian angel back then, always there for Toast whenever he needed him. Toast was there for Ghost too. They sort of relied on each other, both coming out of dark times in their lives.

But now, remembering Ghost’s face the last time he saw him, the anger there. Toast sighs, looking down at his mug of coffee. He hates coffee, he could never understand how Ghost drinks it. He thinks he can understand now.

Part of him thinks he is overreacting. Ghost is a grown man. He can do what he wants, he doesn’t have to stay with Toast. It’s just odd. They’ve always been there for each other, always right nearby. It’s not like Ghost to be gone for so long.

Toast thinks about Ghost’s incident next. It’s barely been a month since it happened, and it’s been a relatively smooth road. Sure there are moments like these where Ghost would get irritable for no reason, but Toast just brushed it off as him adjusting. Maybe he shouldn’t have.

He can still remember the day he found Ghost. He’d been missing for a whole day before Toast finally tracked him down. He had found him in an old warehouse where Gavin resided, a place off the grid and abandoned, but big enough for all of Gavin’s needs. Gavin had stopped him near the entrance, trying to hold him back, saying how Ghost needed time to adjust. Toast had no idea what had happened, or how Gavin was involved. He just knew he needed to get Ghost out of there.

Toast had pushed past Gavin, into a room where there were two cots laid out, a body on each. Both looked similar to the other, with similar body types and faces. However, Ghost had redder hair. That’s how Toast recognized him.

Not to mention, the other guy had way too many scars to be Ghost.

Ghost later explained to Toast what had happened. How Gavin had contacted him, told him he had a way to solve his problem. Toast knew his brother could use magic, but he still does not know to what extent. Apparently, it was enough to extract Jimmy from Ghost’s head though.

Toast shudders at the memory. Knowing that the body on the other cot was Jimmy. He’s done his best to memorize that face, in case he ever sees him again. But he hasn’t seen him since. What’s shocking though is the fact that despite keeping an eye on murders in the area, Toast’s seen no change. Knowing Gavin, he’s probably got Jimmy locked up somewhere so he can’t draw attention to himself.

Toast goes to take a sip of his coffee, gagging a bit when he realizes it’s cold. How long has he been sitting there?

He sighs, standing up to go pour the coffee out. He’s probably had too much anyway.

~~~

haha evil men

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Please Don’t See Me - Chapter 1

Ugh. Stan’s whole body felt like lead. The thin layer of straw beneath him was tickling his nose and poking in places he really didn’t like being poked, but he didn’t care enough to move. At least he had space to lay down. He’d spent enough nights crammed into his car, unable to stretch out or move his cramped legs, to appreciate having some actual space. Even if that space was covered in annoying straw.

He let out a heavy sigh and the room suddenly got quieter – he hadn’t noticed the soft, steady scraping of a pen on paper until it paused, and now his ears pricked up to search for it again. (Ears? He hadn’t slept while Shifted in ages). The scraping continued a moment later.

For a moment Stan was transported back to his teenaged years – flopping in his bed, exhausted after a tough boxing match, and being lulled to sleep by the sound of Ford quietly writing into all hours of the night. Except back then Stan wasn’t in the form of an oversized canine, and he’d been well-fed, and it was Ford there instead of some stranger, and Stan could actually remember where he was and how he’d gotten there-

Wait.

Stan cracked open one, a few motes of dust filling his vision before he blinked and they cleared, allowing him to see the stupid hay right next to his face. Hay – why was there hay? Where was he?

He forced his groggy head up to take stock of his surroundings – iron bars every which way. A cage. He was in a cage. It was in the middle of what looked like a dusty shed, smaller cages and other tools hanging on the walls and oh god he hoped they weren’t torture devices. Who would want to torture a wolf anyway? Evening, or maybe early-morning, light streamed through a high window and lit up a small square of floor, where a person was sitting cross-legged a safe distance from the cage.

Person – person, cage, danger. A low growl rumbled through Stan’s chest and he bared his teeth in a warning. The guy had better not get any closer, or he would be down an arm. And maybe a throat.

The person froze at his growl and looked up from writing in some book, glasses flashing in the weak sunlight and making Stan flinch – before he recognised the face behind them and his growl petered off into stunned silence.

Holy shit. Ford?

It couldn’t be Ford, but – but it had to be, with that undisguised curiosity written across his face, unruly brown curls, and – yep, that cinched it – the six-fingered hand holding his pen.

Ford was there, and Ford was staring at him, and Stan was still in wolf form in this stupid cage. He couldn’t help but stare back. It had been years since he’d seen his brother. Ford was less twiggy than he used to be. His shoulders had filled out and his jaw was squarer than it used to be.

Well, Stan reasoned, it had been… what, seven years? They had both changed. Some more than others.

“Morning.” Ford’s voice broke them out of their unintentional staring match. He recommenced writing in his journal – writing or sketching, Stan had no idea. “I suppose you’re a bit sore, which is understandable after the night you had. You’re lucky I convinced Dan not to beat you to death.”

Who the heck was Dan? And why was Ford talking to a wolf? Fuckin’ nerd. Stan opened his mouth to ask some of the questions burning on his tongue, but they came out as a doggish huff. Oh right, the whole wolf situation.

Stan carefully rose, testing out his bruised and battered body. He ached all over but he didn’t think anything was broken. Thanks, luck, for not totally screwing him over. His left shoulder, in particular, was burning – he must have strained something. Now Stan could vaguely remember the events of yesterday; mostly, his car breaking down in the middle of nowhere. He’d been starving, he had to eat something, had to hunt, so he’d Shifted and gone in search of prey. He’d hurt his shoulder making a sharp turn while trying to catch a deer.

He kept chasing it until he’d gotten kicked, ended up somewhere that wasn’t the forest – a barn house maybe, but all he could focus on was the tiny animal in the front yard. That tiny, stupid dog. It had been yapping at him furiously like it could take him in a fight and he’d been so hungry.

And then there was yelling, and steel-capped boots and a heavy stick (holy shit was that a shovel) and he was too weak to put up much of a fight.

Stan’s lip curled in disgust. He hadn’t even managed to take a bite out of that stupid Chihuahua. There was the good old Stanley Pines luck rearing its head again. Well, he wasn’t dead yet. He had that going for him.

Ford was glancing up at him occasionally with calculating eyes. Stan sighed and settled back onto the floor. He didn’t have the energy to force a Shift right now, and there was no use scaring the nerd. Ford blinked at him before mumbling to himself, pen never stilling.

“Hmm. I thought you would have been more… concerned, to be in captivity. Perhaps you’ve had contact with humans before. Of course, it’s illegal to keep wolves as pets, but this is Gravity Falls.”

Gravity what-now?

“And you’re certainly not an ordinary wolf.” Ford continued thoughtfully. “Far too large, and your proportions are off. I wonder if you’ve been affected by the natural weirdness of Gravity Falls? The size-changing crystals may have played a role in… hmm…” He went back to scribbling in his book.

Great. Now Stan was just another science experiment. The sooner he could Shift and tell Ford who he was, the sooner…

What? The sooner Ford could kick him out? Stan had ruined his entire future, there was no way Ford would be happy to see him.

In a twisted way, Stan might be safer as an object of study rather than a potential enemy. Besides, he didn’t think he could face Ford’s ire. And if there was a chance Ford would find out who he was and keep him trapped anyway… a specimen to study… no, he wouldn’t take that risk.

Stan would just have to escape when the chance presented itself. Until then, he could play the part of the wolf.

A nice wolf, obviously – no fucking way was he gonna attack his own brother. No matter how much of a dipshit the guy was being.

Mind made up, Stan went back to napping. Or pretending to nap, because he couldn’t exactly relax with Ford’s eyes constantly on him. He must have drifted off at some point though because he awoke with a start at a very close scrape. Immediately Stan’s fur stood on end.

Ford had slid something into the cage. Stan was resolved not to take any handouts until the scent of raw meat hit his nose and he forgot that he was supposed to be a human at heart.

He snapped up the slab of meat in slavering jaws, shivering when the savoury-salty-metallic-food taste of blood burst across his tongue. He hadn’t eaten in so long.

All too soon the food was gone. Stan licked his chops and couldn’t hold back a pitiful whine.

“Still hungry?” Ford called from across the shed, where he was digging in a fridge Stan had missed before. “No wonder; I can see your ribs from here. You’ll have to wait for me to get more though.”

Ugh, Ford was taking so long. Stan nudged the food bowl with his nose, pushing it out of the cage with the hope that getting the dish back would speed things up. Ford sent him a weird look but Stan didn’t care as long as he got more food.

 The creature was certainly not an ordinary wolf.

It didn’t take an expert eye to see, either. Its – his? ­– shaggy fur was matted and clumped, a far cry from the sleek coats Ford had seen in the wolves native to Oregon. Its claws were a little too long, its fangs a little too jagged, its form too barrel-chested and shoulders too hunched and hulking – and the creature itself was much larger than any wolf Ford had seen. When standing, its back might reach as high as his waist. Ford was sure that the only reason Dan had managed to subdue it was the pitiful state it was currently in. At peak health it would surely be a formidable beast.

And there was something intelligent in the gleam of those amber-yellow eyes. Something… considering.

However, the creature was was much more well-behaved than the usual specimens Ford managed to obtain. It lay quietly in its cage, occasionally getting up to stretch before lying back down. After the first incident it made no attempt to growl at, attack or otherwise threaten him. It had even returned the food dish every time he fed it.

Ford couldn’t make any conclusions until he had more evidence, but the data he currently had strongly suggested that the creature had once been domesticated. An escaped pet, perhaps? He decided to test his hypothesis.

Once Ford finished his sketch he stood by the cage, treats in his pocket (borrowed from Dan). The wolf cracked open one eye to watch him warily, as it had been doing when Ford moved.

Hmm, where to start… probably with the more common commands. If the wolf had been domesticated it would probably have been taught some basic commands at the least. Ford waited until both its eyes were on him before lifting a hand and saying clearly, “Sit.”

The wolf continued to look at him.

“Sit.” Ford tried again, with no luck. The wolf was paying attention to him but it made no attempt to follow his orders. He sighed. “Come on, work with me here.”

The wolf blinked slowly.

Ford reached into his pocket and pulled a treat out of his pocket, rolling it in his palm. The wolf’s gaze seemed to have a lot more weight behind it now. The creature seemed to be considering.

“Sit.” Ford said again and, with, a huff, the wolf picked itself up off the floor and sat on its haunches.

Ford gaped.

“You actually know the command. Oh gosh, you must be domesticated! I wonder how many of your kind there are. A whole new species of wolf? Wolf-mutt? What other commands do you know? Do you lay down too? Lay down!”

The wolf shot him an eerily intelligent look – a look that clearly said ‘you want me to cooperate, you’d better pay up’. Ford sighed and tossed the treat into the cage, where the wolf attempted to catch it, only to have it bounce off its snout and roll out of the cage again.

Ford picked it up and tried again. This time the wolf snapped it out of the air with an audible clack of teeth. Sated, the creature settled back onto its belly.

“Is… is that you obeying the previous command? Or just lying down?”

It put its head down and closed his eyes, so Ford assumed it was the latter. He sat back and picked up his journal, hands buzzing with excitement. So his initial hypothesis had been correct; the creature had belonged to someone. It evidently hadn’t been cared for for a long time though, given its current state. Was it a pet that escaped? But if it had run away from its owners, Ford doubted it would be listening to his commands – however reluctantly – as it was doing now.

A loyal pet, then, but one that had not been taken care of for a while. Had it belonged to one of Gravity Falls’ supernatural inhabitants? That would explain its… abnormalities.

A sudden thought hit Ford suddenly, and he squeezed his pen tight.

“I wonder… there are countless incidents of people adopting young pets, only to abandon them when they get bigger or… odder. Are you one of those?”

The animal’s ear twitched. Apart from that, it gave no sign that it was listening. Ford bit his lip.

“Maybe that’s why you have no home. You were good, and they still tossed you away because you weren’t normal.”

Now the wolf lifted its eyelids to gaze at him; a heavy, thoughtful stare. Ford sighed and chewed on the end of his pen.

“Well, wherever you come from, I can’t keep calling you ‘wolf’. You need a name. I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”

The wolf yawned and stretched.

“I thought not. Let’s see.” Ford hummed to himself. “Something’s wolf-like? Lupus? Lupin? No, that’s silly.” The wolf was watching him judgmentally and Ford frowned. “I don’t see you offering anything better. Well… you are quite the mystery – an enigma, if you will. But that’s a bit too obvious, isn’t it? Not a very good name.”

The wolf snorted. Ford ignored it.

“A… a mystery, a puzzle, a… rebus!” He jumped up excitedly. “A rebus! It’s a puzzle! And it sounds similar to Remus, a figure from Roman mythology who was said to have been nursed by a wolf. See, it has layers!” He pointed out gleefully to the wolf, who did not react, because it was a wolf.

Ford deflated.

“Maybe Fiddleford is right and I should start talking to other people.” But… “I don’t have time right now, I have research to do! I’ll talk to people next week.”

The newly christened Rebus closed his eyes again, apparently content to ignore Ford’s presence when there wasn’t food or shouting involved. That was all right. Ford had plenty of time to win his trust! With the recent roadblock he’d hit in his studies Ford had been planning to hike to the caves in the nearby mountains, to see if they held any clues or answers. But he supposed that could wait until he figured out this new mystery.

[boba-xing]

Captivating {Chapter 7}

Fem!Reader x Werewolf!Choi Seungcheol (SVT)

Warnings: swearing, dark themes/mentions of torture

Tagged: @suhappysuho @captain-brie @seekerbabygirl @moon8894 @yippee-kay-yay @sehunnies-hunnie96 @lovinggalaxies @brokenbutchocolate @amixoferrthang @onewoowonderboy​ @hhhhwww7 @9rachacha @sksk-x @haluim17 @jelly-fishy-babie @sakura-uji @psshwa​

-

You’re sitting on Seungcheol’s bed, a glass of water in your shaking hand, barely able to speak. Your mind is flooded with a mixture of fear and wonder of what is happening downstairs. Since Seungcheol carried your frozen frame upstairs a silence has passed over the house.

Said man is currently sitting opposite you, at the end of the bed, clearly concentrating hard on what he should say. After what feels like hours of waiting he finally speaks, “You said you were interested in mythology...vampires and stuff like that.”

He’s looking at you now, analysing your fearful expression as you nod.

“Well, vampires don’t exist, of course.” he nods, “But, werewolves, well, they d-”

“You’re telling me that was a werewolf?” you breathe,

“Y-yes, yes it was.” 

“In your living room?”

“It’s more complicated than that though.” he scratches the back of his neck, “You see, it’s kind of hard to say. I’m not sure if you’re going to believe me.”

You just stare at him.

“Well, me and the boys, we’re a pack...um, a pack of werewolves. We can turn into them, it’s just, well, that really.” He bites the inside of his cheek, blinking at you,

“What?”

“We’re werewolves.” he repeats, “I’m the leader of the pack, I’m an alpha and that’s why I have such authority over the others. And the blood on the shirt you saw on the first night you came here, that was from an attack...another pack.”

You look at him for a moment, taking in everything he’s saying and trying to understand what you think.

It’s bullshit.

You slam the glass down on the bedside table before storming out of the room and down the stairs, Seungcheol following close behind you. You turn around once you’re outside the door. “I’m not taking part in your sick fantasy! What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Is this some kind of furry convention or something?”

“___, I swear to god I’m not making this stuff up! I’m being serious.” he says, clearly frustrated. 

Instead of answering him, you scurry down the driveway. You have absolutely no idea where you’re going to go considering you’re basically surrounded by woods with no transport. You pull at your hair, arm forcefully grabbed by Seungcheol to pull you back in his direction.

“For fucks sake, ___, I’m not playing. I know this is hard to believe, but don’t you feel bad for me? Even a little? I can’t help being like this. The boys can’t help being like this! This is just how we were born.” His eyes are wet with tears, “Please, just hear me out. We’re not going to hurt you, I’d never hurt you, you know that!”

“You’re crazy!” You rip your arm out of his grasp and rush away, legs carrying you as fast as you can down the driveway. You manage to pull your phone out, slowing down as you realise Seungcheol is no longer following you. You call Jihyun, your friend from work, and she kindly agrees to come pick you up.

You can feel Seungcheol's eyes on you as you wait for her to arrive and you already know he's going it'll only be a moment before he comes over.

And it is.

As he draws closer you see the tear stains on his cheek, and the determination on his face to pull himself together. "___, please listen to me. I would never lie to you. And I'm not crazy, even if I am, at least I care about you."

You look away from him.

"I know it's hard for you to understand, but I just want the best for you, I want you to be safe. I want you to be loved, and happy, and with me. I care about you, so much, please don't cut me off because you don't understand something." He begs.

Headlights drawing near catch your attention and you stand up as the car approaches, Jihyun's friendly face appearing in the window.

"Bye, Seungcheol." You say quietly as you get in the car.

---

“Please, please, let me go.” You beg, arms yanking at the handcuffs in hope you’ll somehow break free,

The dark figure in front of you just laughs, completely warped and unrecognisable.

“Please.” You cry, hot tears streaming down your cheeks as you pant, breathless, “I’ll do anything, whatever you want! What do you want from me? Please!”

“Maybe you should’ve listened to him.” the voice cackles,

“Listened to who?” You sob, letting your head fall down to face your shaking legs,

The voice doesn’t reply and instead you hear heavy footsteps drawing closer. You jump as a hand finds your neck, gripping it tight and squeezing, squeezing until all the air has left your lungs.

You wake up drenched in sweat, body shaking as you try to calm your breaths. Taking a moment to pull yourself together, you sit up and glance around the dark room. 

You don’t like the dark.

With a sigh you make you your way to the bathroom and wash your face with some reluctance. Although startling, the cold water clears your lungs and calms you down.

You draw yourself over to the kitchen, grabbing yourself a glass of water. You only take a few sips before placing it down on the counter, realising you forgot to close the curtains. A chill runs up your spine. Someone could easily be watching you right now.

You hesitantly make your way over to the window, glancing down at the street. There’s one car you recognise, and as your eyes meet the driver you realise he was already looking at you.

Slipping on a coat and shoes, you scurry down as fast as you can, rushing over to the car as soon as you’re out of the building.

“Joshua?” you ask,

“Get in.” He says after rolling down the window, “Not to go somewhere, just to talk.”

You nod, hopping in the car and shutting the door securely. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching.” he looks at you, somewhat serious, “In case anyone tries to get to you again.”

“Let me guess, Seungcheol sent you?”

“Well, yes, but I’d like to think I would’ve done it anyway.” a small smile forms on his face, “We’re friends.”

You nod, glancing down at your hands.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” he asks with a frown, “Not tired?”

“I slept terribly.”

“I don’t blame you, after tonight I wouldn’t sleep well either.”

You rest your head against the headrest.

“Listen.” He begins, “I know you don’t want to believe it, but the whole werewolf thing is true. And if you just gave us a chance, maybe you would realise we aren’t the man-eating monsters everyone makes us out to be.”

“Werewolves aren’t real.”

“It doesn’t matter whether you think they’re real or not, you like the fantasy, that’s why you drown yourself in fairytales and folklore. Sure, it’s not as scary, or as sweet, as it’s made out to be. But how can you run away from something you’ve dreamed of?”

“I watch horror films, that doesn’t mean I want to be in one.” You sigh,

“It’s not like a horror film.” he groans, “Sure we turn into big, dangerous wolves, but we’re still human. We’re still people.”

You look up at him.

“What is it you’re afraid of?”

“I don’t know any of you, like really know you. I’m supposed to be staying in a house with a bunch of men, who are apparently werewolves, with a...I guess...boyfriend? Who scares the living shit out of me when he gets mad and apparently knows exactly where I am all the time. It’s weird?! What part of that sounds appealing to you?” you explain, “And to add to that, I’m being stalked by some creep who drugs people close to me.”

“I know. But ___, just give us a chance, okay? Seungcheol really cares about you and he only wants you to be safe and happy. Come back home with me, and we can sort things out.” he pushes, knowing his next sentence would have him thoroughly beaten if Seungcheol knew he said it, “If you go a week and realise you don’t want to be around us, that’s fine, you can leave.”

This whole situation is crazy. You never signed up for this. You want to go back to your life before this, curled up in bed, single and eating pringles, but you know you can’t....and there’s a small spark of hope in your heart that maybe, just maybe this whole situation could work out? Maybe Seungcheol could be the one for you, and maybe this whole werewolf situation is real...but safe? You know you won’t be able live with yourself if you don’t follow this path. You need to know what happens.

“Please?”

“O-okay.” you nod, Joshua instantly beaming at you, 

“Thank you!” He laughs a little, slamming his hand down on the steering wheel,

“I’ll be back in a second, I’m gonna go and get my phone.” you say before moving swiftly out of the car.

You make it back up to your apartment, rushing to your bedroom to grab your handbag and phone before scurrying back out to Joshua’s car. Of course, you fail to notice the previously full glass of water you left on the counter is now empty, and your purse is home to a small, bitter note.

[shannygoatgruff]

My Brother’s Keeper - Chapter XIV

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Rating: MA+18

Overall Warning:  Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia, and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.  

Chapter Warning: Nervous breakdown. Mention of captive.

Summary: Mama always said to be their brothers’ keeper. Now there is absolutely nothing these two won’t do for each other.  Boys will be boys…

A/N: So my little Hvitserk is losing it.  He’s all over the place.  Please bear with him, trust me there is a method to his madness.  All will become clearer in the next 2 chapters.  This chapter might be hard to read because he’s bouncing all over the place.

Chapter XIV

The words catch in my throat as soon as I try to force them out.  Shit, not another night where my dreams rob me of the ability to scream, breathe, and move.

At least my eyelids will open. They about the only thing on my body that seems to work, I’m not sure if I’m holding my breath or if my lungs have just given out, but until I can breathe I have to lay here staring at the ceiling.    

Normally, this paralysis only lasts a few seconds, but it still feels like an eternity. As long as I keep calm and try to take shallow breaths, I can get through this. Everything will come back to me slowly. Like now – there’s a slight twinge in my big toe. It’s not enough to move my entire foot, yet, but it’s some improvement. 

I bet if I concentrate on something smaller like getting my eyes to move I’d have better luck. I’m thinking if I can get those to work, then my lungs will follow suit.

That’s it.  Just focus. Good. It’s all slowly coming back. Now, if I could just take a deep breath it should slow down my heart. Relax.

How can you have night terrors when you’re not afraid of your dreams? It’s not like they’re nightmares – well, not in the traditional sense of the word. They’re more like really weird vivid dreams filled with shit I don’t want to see or hear.  

Most nights I can’t remember the entire dream, but tonight it just keeps replaying in my head. There are still a few bits and pieces that are foggy, but all of the important parts are there. Like, I can’t really make out where I am, but I know I’m walking down a hallway. And they’re there; all of them.  

I remember their faces so clearly and the ones whose names I couldn't remember were wearing name tags. A few were chained, some just pinned down…They all look like they did the last time I saw them. And it felt so real like I could feel their presence and their cold, dead fingers touching me. I could still see the longing and desire in their eyes. It was haunting and kind of beautiful.

That’s why I wouldn’t consider it a nightmare, exactly. It was honestly a little bit comforting being surrounded by all of my friends. But, it was still a scary dream, only they aren’t what scared me. What scared me was them telling me that I'm not done; that I never will be. 

They kept begging me to take them and I got scared because I wanted to. Even now I still want to. If I could close my eyes right now, and force myself to pick up the dream where it left off, somehow control it so I could make it go how I wanted to go, I’d take each and every one of them. Knowing that is enough to scare the shit out of me. That qualifies it as a nightmare, right?  

I swear this is fucking torture – night terrors, sleep paralysis, cold sweats, shaking like a drug addict. What the fuck is wrong with me?  Ivar would know what to do. If only he were speaking to me. 

I don’t know what’s going on with him right now. I don’t think he’s mad at me. It’s more like he’s super disappointed. Instead of hugs and kisses, he gives me these sad smiles and disapproving head shakes. Sometimes he chuckles to himself when he walks past me… like there's some damn inside joke that I don't know about.

Maybe he’s trying to teach me a lesson. I don’t know what the fuck it is, but I’m learning it. I need to get away and clear my head. Being in this house, this room is suffocating me. I need to see something else besides my bedroom’s black walls and dark furniture. I used to love that it looked like a dungeon in here, now it just reminds me that I want to do something bad in the dark. Like I’m bad and dark.  Why do I always have to hide?  Even in here, I have to lock the door, make sure the light canceling curtains are drawn…I always have to do all this shit to keep my secrets. Who the fuck am I keeping them from?  Myself?

Ivar doesn’t know what it’s like to afraid of every fucking thing, including yourself. He doesn’t know what’s like to have secrets or having to lock yourself away from the rest of the world to keep them safe. He just doesn’t care. He does what he wants, when he wants to, and doesn’t feel anything about it later. 

God, I wish I knew what that kind of freedom felt like. I wish I could be more like him.

Ivar’s boots are at the front door. I didn’t even know that he left let alone came back. Where does go when I'm not with him? Did he make new friends already? Did he find new people to party with? Does he like them better than me? Are they more fun? There used to be a time where we were inseparable. Now it's like living with a stranger - one that gives me disheartened looks all the damn time.

It hasn’t quite been two weeks since Aud cured me and already I'm second-guessing everything. Rationally, I know Ivar's not going to find a new group of friends. Even if he did, he's not going to replace me; I’m his brother. At least, I hope he doesn’t replace me. But still, we have other brothers. Oh God, what if he replaces me with one of them? What would I do? How could I survive? They don’t love him the way that I do.

Stop it, Hvitserk! You’re being paranoid.

He’s not going to stop loving me. He can’t. He promised me. Right now, he's just upset about my decision to marry Thora. It'll blow over and he won’t abandon me. He'll make room for Thora and our family in his heart because he loves me.

Why do I keep forgetting that?  Ivar loves me. If nothing else is true in this world, that is. I don’t even know why I think that’s he’s acting differently. He told me how he felt, and I got sensitive. But, Ivar’s not spiteful. That’s me, projecting my feelings onto him. I’m so fucking stupid! 

All week, I’ve been blaming him, but it wasn’t him at all. I’m the fucked up one that can’t control his emotions. I’ve been the one creating distance between us. Subconsciously, I must have been pulling away in order to prove to him that this is what I want.  I’m so fucking childish.  

All this time, I’ve been acting like a little bitch around him because I think I’m afraid that he’s going to talk me out of it. But he can’t right?  He can’t change my mind because I’m cured.  It was a fun run, but I’m getting married and my life with Thora will be forever.

Still, I don’t understand why every time I say the words I’m done, I get these cramps in my stomach and my eyes won't focus. I feel like I'm dying. Either that or I'm losing my mind. Maybe this is just the grief process. I never really said goodbye to that other Hvitserk. Maybe in my haste to start over, I never grieved for the person I was. How do you grieve for yourself? 

Maybe I should just call Thora. Lately, she's been the only thing keeping me remotely sane. I swear, I didn’t need to concentrate on her instead of what I’m feeling, I’d be worried about us both.  Am I going to have to be around her for the rest of my life just so I don’t have to feel this way? 

Without thinking I fish my phone out of my pocket and start dialing Thora’s number. Who cares if it's three in the morning, I need help and someone is going to give it to me. If I have to spend the rest of my life taking care of her, it’s the least she can do for me. Ivar thinks she’s worthless – she’s got to prove him wrong. 

Please God, prove him wrong.

"Hello?" She clicks the answer button on the FaceTime call, but she doesn’t open her eyes. Just seeing her sleepy face is pissing me off. I know she’s got class in a few hours, but that doesn’t trump the crisis I'm in right now. Fuck her class and sleep and shit. I'm about to lose my goddamn mind and she has the nerve to be taking a fucking nap?

Why is she snuggled in that pink blanket with that fucking revolving stars and moon lamp spinning around the room? God, I hate that she’s fucking childish sometimes, "Hey."

"Hvitserk? What time is it?" Normally, I'd feel sorry for waking her but fuck that. The only person I feel sorry for right now is me. And what's with that question? What time is it? Not what's wrong or are you alright? Like what I'm going through right now is secondary to the fucking time. Who in the fuck does she think she is?

This was a mistake. I shouldn't have called her. She's not responsible enough to take care of me. And after listening to her, I don't think she could handle it. She just proved with that one question that she'll never know all of me. She doesn’t fucking deserve to. "It's late. Go back to sleep."

She finally cracks her eyes open to look at me. "Is everything okay?" I guess I’m finally worthy of a fucking glance.

No, nothing is okay. And it’s about fucking time you thought to ask. What clued you in? The fact that I'm calling in the three in the morning, or is the frantic sound of my voice a dead giveaway? Could be it the fact that I'm fucking salivating like a rabid dog or maybe it’s the ice water running through my veins making my teeth chatter? 

Hmm, let's see...could it be me sweating like I'm in the fucking Sahara desert? Stupid bitch. Do I look like I'm fucking okay to you? "Yeah. Everything is fine. Good night." Hitting the end button on the phone but keeping it to my hand, all I can hear is the sound of my own ragged breathing.

My eyes lift to see Ivar's smiling face and raised brows as he walks past me. Where the fuck did he come from? He looks like he’s up to something. “You look like shit, Hvitserk. You should get more sleep.” 

That’s it? That’s all he has to say to me? He knows I’m fucking dying inside but that’s what he says? And he called me Hvitserk. He almost never calls me that.

He didn’t even ask me what’s wrong. He hasn’t made one move to come over here to hold me and try to make it better. He is punishing me. Why can't he just yell at me like a normal person? At least that way after a fight, we could make up and he could help me through this. Fucking proving a point shit...

I know him and he won’t come to me. He’ll let me break until then when I really can’t take anymore he’ll make me come to him. Well, you know what? Fuck that. I'm not giving in. 

He only stands in the kitchen long enough to shrug his shoulder before he turns to walk up upstairs. Why is he doing this to me? Is this what our company feels like when we’re partying with them? Is this what it’s like to be on the receiving end of his torture? Okay, well I get it now. Lesson fucking learned. I can’t live without you, Ivar. Is that the fuck what you want to hear?

All I want to do is get married, not sever our relationship. Why can’t you understand that I can't spend my whole life taking care of Thora without somebody taking care of me? That's your fucking job. My job is to be the needy, screw up, and your job is to make it all better. So do your fucking job and stop fucking around. I’m fucking begging, you bastard - only I can’t make my lips say the words. No matter how bad I want to, they just won’t.

Ubbe was right – he always said I was weak. I’d rather sit here and suffer in silence, then admit to him that I can’t do this without him. If that’s not weak, then I don’t know what is and I should know because I've seen people at their weakest point and they don’t look like I do, right now. In midst of not knowing if they’re going to live or die, with sheer terror in their eyes, they still have their self-respect. Well, I don’t.  

I mean, sure they begged and screamed, but they didn't completely lose it. They were stronger than me. Every one of those weak motherfuckers was stronger than I am. I'm slowing dying and could give a fuck less about my dignity. I just want someone to hear my screaming without having to reduce myself to actually doing it.

I hate myself and everything in my life. I hate Ivar and the way he's acting. I hate Thora and her perfect innocence. I hate this fucking house, for trapping me in it. This fucking kitchen and this neat ass house. And…

When the hell did he replace the wooden cabinet doors with glass ones? Do we really need to see our dishes? I'm having a fucking nervous breakdown and he's being Jonathan fucking Scott. But that's typical Ivar. 

I do one thing he doesn’t like he’s making me pay by taking everything comfortable away. Nothing in here is goddamn place is mine anymore. Everything from the neutral colors, to the Tonka & Oud scented candles is Ivar. I've been here for five years and in ten days he's managed to get rid of me. There's no trace of me anywhere. I've fucking vanished from the one person who actually saw me. 

“If you don’t want me here, fine.  I’ll fucking leave,” I say to the empty room.

Maybe I should just go to the cabin and talk to Aud. She’ll understand. She always listens to me. She still thinks I'm strong and powerful. Plus, she'll make me feel better with all that fear still etched on her pretty face, even if she won’t cry for me anymore. It’s not really even about that though. I just need a little more of her healing. If she can cure me again, I know it'll stick this time. 

I’m just not sure that’ll do it again. I think she’s afraid or disappointed or something because she’s becoming distant, too. She doesn't put her arms around me anymore. There's no more warmth in her touch. I can't even smell her innocence. She's hiding from me because she knows that's what I need from her. Now, she just sits in that closet and looks at me with those huge eyes, but there's no emotion behind them.

Why is everyone is turning on me. Well, you know what? Fuck them. I don't need any of them. I'll do this on my own.

Turning off the kitchen light, I notice that Ivar left the one in the basement. I hate the basement. It's so cold and damp. I know it sounds stupid from a guy that hangs out in abandoned buildings, but the basement creeps me out.

Bad things happen in our basements. They always have.

I won't even go down there to do laundry, Ivar always does it. The only time I ever step foot down there is to get the Christmas decorations and Ivar is always with me. He usually laughs, then kisses my head before taking my hand and leading me downstairs. He always walks in front of me to make sure that everything is safe. Then he sits at the foot of the steps and watches me while I rummage through the boxes. He never leaves that step until I'm ready to come up.

My lips twitch in a smile at the memory but that's suddenly replaced by licking them to ebb the fear. Why can't Ivar protect me right now? I'm sick, scared, and alone, but there's a clinking sound coming from down there that I can’t quite place.  

I swallow hard before I take the first step down as my sweaty palm glides along the wooden banister. My feet touch each step softly like I'm going to creep up on my fear or something. But as scared as I am I’m more interested in hearing that sound again.

You know those clouds of aroma that drag the cartoon characters around by their nostrils? I’m not even halfway down the steps yet, but I can hear something else that feels like I’m being lead the rest of the way down like that by that sound. I have to admit, it’s making me a little excited…my thighs clench involuntarily…there’s a tingle in my nuts…

As more of the room comes into view the anxiety mounts. The symphonic melody is getting louder and more sporadic. I don't know what it is, but it’s fucking beautiful. It’s like scurrying…almost like something is trying to get away from me. The more it needs to retreat, the more I need to find it. "Hello?" 

Stepping onto the last step, I stare at the sight in front of me and feel my heart race. A cage, like the ones that you train dogs in. Only, we don’t have a dog. But that's not what has my feet glued to the spot. The thing that has my muscles refusing to move is the woman inside of the cage. 

God, she's a sight for sore eyes.

She's huddled in the corner dirty, tatter, gagged, and hands tied. She's terrified. I can smell it from here and it's the most beautiful smell in the world. The adrenaline is pumping through my body to the point that I have to grip onto the banister not to advance.

What do I do? She wants me. She's beckoning me with those tears, and teasing me with the way she's squatting trying to crawl away from me. She wants me to play the game. She wants the chase and to have me take her. She's practically begging me. The thought of what she wants me to do makes me smile. Suddenly I don't feel sick or crazy anymore. 

I have to make a choice. Should there even be a choice? Maybe I could give in just this once and it'll be easier afterward. But I've come so far. It's been almost two weeks, so there’s no guarantee that this going to make me feel any better. But after all this time I should be rid of the urge, right? I shouldn’t still think about it every waking moment of the day? 

Seeing a woman in a cage in my basement shouldn't make me feel sane, but God knows it does.

This is supposed to be wrong. At least, I should feel like it's wrong. "I don't need this. So stop fucking asking me." I hear my voice and look around to make sure that she understands that what she’s asking me to do isn’t right. 

I hear Ivar coming down the stairs from the second floor to the first. Out of instinct, I turn around and head back up myself. I don't want to leave her with her fear all alone. Someone should be there to watch it. But I know I can't stay here without giving in. I can't take the temptation or the way she's looking at me. She wants me so bad, but I can't. At least I shouldn't want to.

I don't make it very far, only back to the kitchen. I close the door behind me and slide down it until I'm sitting with my knees against my chest. I don't know what to do. 

What's more important, my wants, or my needs? Not that it matters because right now, I want what I need and need what I want. And they're both her.

I thought I could push away the hunger, but I was so wrong. And the scariest thing about it is I know that if I don't feed it soon, it's going to eat me.

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[mythologyfolklore]

Ares and Athena through the years - Ch. 07

(A/N: trigger warning for mention of extreme torture and gore, plus mention of rape and child rape. Don't read further, if this is too much for you. Oh, and excessive use of the f-word. Also, Eris speaking with a weird accent, because she does what she wants.)

Chapter Seven: Captured and broken

.

Ares had gone missing.

At first no one had really minded, it had been wonderfully quiet without that noisy maniac.

In fact, had it not been for the circumstances, they would have used this opportunity to relax, but there was no reason for relaxation.

Olympos was besieged by two adolescent Gigantes, the Aloiadai. They were attempting to pile up a mountain, so they could take over the home of the gods. They threatened the Olympians and on top of that were harassing Hera and Artemis.

Ares had had enough of their nonsense and had gone to face them – despite having a bad cough, that idiot. But he still hadn't returned.

Which was bad, because now they had a gap in their defence, should the twins succeed in reaching up to the heavens.

And it was slowly, but surely getting too quiet.

Hermes and Apollon had admitted to missing their older half-brother's constant teasing.

Athena was growing more and more tense. She could have kicked herself for not knowing how badly she needed the annoying idiot. She missed the constant fighting. With Ares things never got boring, he was her adversary, someone to let steam off with. The blue-eyed goddess was getting seriously bored, restless and (not that she would ever admit it) worried for her half-brother.

Where was he?

Hephaistos suggested that something must have happened to him, because why would he go off, fight two Gigantes and then stay away for a year, not letting his family hear anything from him?

Aphrodite had turned into a nervous wreck and was constantly fearing the worst, which made her spiral into panic attacks every thirty minutes.

Eileithyia and Hebe were concerned too.

Even Zeus and Hera seemed to be worried.

The King of the Gods was constantly wandering to and fro in his office and the Queen was ruffling her hair in stress.

Since she and Artemis both were being harassed by those overgrown brats, they even had put aside their quarrels and could sometimes be seen sitting together at Hestia's hearth, talking and bonding over the ridiculousness of the entire situation.

.

To everyone's surprise Hera also turned out to be a stress baker.

So it came, that one evening the Olympians sat together in the assembly hall in a low mood, munching cake.

Finally Dionysos spoke up: “Who wants to get shitfaced?”

But before anyone could take the invitation, Zeus shook his head. “This is no time to get drunk”, he chided the youngest god and poor Dionysos lowered his head in shame. “If my son returns home in good health, that will be a reason to celebrate.”

Athena really didn't like the way her father specified “if he returns in good health”.

Zeus knew the future; Apollon had got that from him.

And whatever Zeus was seeing, it had to be bad.

Even though he appeared calm on the outside, the weather gave away, that he wasn't; his anxiety had manifested in a never-ending rainstorm, that had flooded all the lower areas of Olympos (the gods couldn't leave their palaces to walk on the pavements, without being knee-deep in the water).

After Zeus' statement, no one spoke another word.

Aside from the heavy rain and howling wind, there was just icy silence.

Finally, it was Apollon, who couldn't take it anymore.

“Father, how much longer do you want us to sit here?!”, he snapped, “It's been more than a year already and he's still missing! We have to do something! Ares may be a stupid jerk, but he is still one of us! They must have captured and imprisoned him somewhere, that's the only logical explanation for why he is still gone! What if those gigantic brats overwhelmed him and are torturing him in their evil lair?! What if they chained him up and are now doing unspeakable-”

“SHUT UP!!!”, Aphrodite shrieked all of the sudden and burst into distressed sobbing.

Hera went to pat her shoulder comfortingly and then proceeded to glare at her step-son.

“Way to elevate everyone's morals, Latôios¹! If you were as tactful as-”

“Enough!”, Zeus barked and everyone fell silent. “We will find him and until then-”

Right in that moment Iris burst in and announced a visitor.

Athena blinked in confusion.

Who could possibly have shown up here, on Olympos, in this weather?!

.

Eriboia was at loss as to what the Erebos that abnormally large bronze jar was doing in their cellar, why her step-sons wouldn't let her near it and what the heck they were doing in the cellar so often to begin with, when they weren't piling mountains on top of each other.

The overgrown youths were constantly bugged with these questions: “What is that ugly, huge bronze jar doing downstairs?”, “Why won't you let me go near that thing?” and “What the Hades are you two doing so much down there?”

After months of prying, it was Ephialtes who finally caved: “Alright, alright, shut up, I'll tell you! We caught the son of Zeus!”

“Which one?”, Eriboia deadpanned, “Zeus must have fathered at least ten percent of the population of Hellas. Be more specific.”

“Well, Ares! The god of war! You know, the only legitimate son?”

Oh no.

“Anyway, we caught him and wanted to use him as hostage, but Zeus hasn't reacted so far, and now that damn war god won't stop struggling, screaming and trying to free himself. But he can scream and struggle all he wants, because we bound him with extra strong chains! They're magical, you see, they grow tighter every time the captive moves. If we keep that loser down there long enough, they'll crush him! And until then he's a fun toy to play with, when we're frustrated or bored!”

Holy goat!

“Ha! It's like he wanted to be played with! He seriously took on us both and thought he could beat us all on his own! Now no one can bring us down! Soon we will conquer Olympos and all the gods and then-”

A piercing scream came from the cellar, cutting Ephialtes' boasting off.

As they looked into the room, they could see the ugly giant jar was quaking.

Eriboia was just a normal human – maybe that was why she felt the uncanny vibes coming from the jar so intensely. And it would have put her off, but the screams of agony appealed to her conscience way too much.

The teenage giant only smirked, before turning back to his step-mother. “Right then, we're off. Gotta pile up more mountains, so we can reach Olympos! Don't let him out, mother!”

With that he was gone.

Now Eriboia was entirely different in character from her step-sons, nor did she share their way of thinking. She had nothing against the gods and definitely didn't condone hubris – that and the way Ephialtes had just called the god of war a toy was beyond creepy.

Gingerly she approached the jar and pressed her ear against the bronze.

Now that she was close enough, she could hear the war god's faint voice whimper in agony.

“Help …”, it rasped, “Help … please … let me out … let me out …”

Her heart twisted painfully and she really wanted to help. But she wasn't strong enough to topple over that huge metal jar and maybe it would have hurt the captive too. So she knocked against the jar to show him, that she had heard.

“Hey”, she spoke, “Don't worry, I don't want to hurt you. I'm a mortal human, who wants to help. I'm not strong enough to get you out of there, but I will get help as soon as I can, okay?”

For a moment, there was silence.

Then a strained voice answered: “Thank you … please hurry … please.”

She frowned; it sounded so fragile, broken and weak.

Can the Deathless Ones die after all?, she wondered.

There was no time for long pondering, though.

She disguised herself and took off to Olympos to tell Zeus, where his son was.

Alone, there was a problem: how would she, a mortal, ever reach the Heavens?

.

Ares had never been so glad to hear a mortal's voice.

That woman – he just assumed it was one, judging by the voice – was his only hope.

The chains were cutting deep into his flesh and many of his bones had already broken under the pressure. He sank onto the side. The movement caused the chains to tighten even more, which caused him to cry out in mortal agony.

Ares was dying and he knew it; not only was he being crushed, he was also starving, dehydrating … and the Aloiadai had inflicted the worst kinds of torture upon him. He couldn't breathe. If someone didn't get him out of here soon, he would perish.

As much as he had always wanted to believe, that his immortality was absolute and that nothing could truly destroy him, he knew that Ephialtes was right. It would happen, if-

“Ares?”

The oh-so-familiar voice of the Messenger of the Gods nearly made him cry, but he had no tears left.

“Ares! Ares, where are you? Answer!”

He could only cough weakly.

Looking up, he saw Hermes' face come into view and peek into the jar.

“Oh, finally, I found y-HOLY FUCKING SHIT, IS THAT YOU???”

Ares let out a laboured chuckle: “Took you long enough, squirt.”

“Holy shit, what the Tartaros, what the fuck-”

“Just get me outta here!”, the war god croaked, “But careful, these chains are-”

The rest of the sentence died in the coughing of Ikhor.

.

Hermes shook his head and pulled his half-brother out of the accursed jar as carefully as possible. Then he picked him up bridal style and carried him back to Olympos as fast as his winged sandals could carry him.

He was flying at the speed of the wind, but the flight still seemed endless. Especially when the Messenger noticed, that Ares was starting to pass out.

If he passes out, he might never wake up!

“Ares, you have to stay awake! Do you hear me?!”

“Dunn' think I can – ngh!”

The war god grunted in pain and spewed more Ikhor, as his chains grew even tighter.

Hermes felt sick at the sight, but he had to keep him awake.

“You can do it, man! We're almost there! Here, we just passed through the gates!”

“… What's with the weather?”

The messenger cringed. “It's been shitty ever since you disappeared. Dad has anxiety.”

Ares grinned weakly. “Hey, the wind 'n' rain … feel good … nice 'n' cool …”

Oh no, he's falling asleep!

“Hey, Ares, look! There's Hephaistos' forge! Remember the incident?”

The response was a weak glare.

“Okay, sorry, sorry! Remember the Gigantomakhia? We all kicked arse and you killed Ekhidnades and Mimas?”

“U-huh.”

“And how father clapped your shoulder and said 'Well done, son'?”

A rattling laugh: “How could I … forget? Best day of … my shitty life …”

The older god's ribs and sternum broke with a nasty crack and he spat more Ikhor.

Hermes cringed at the sight more disturbing than anything he had ever encountered in Hades' domain.

“Okay, Ares, hang in there! There is Athena's olive garden! And there are Hera's apple trees and pomegranates!”

It didn't help; the other's red eyes were closing.

“Hey, Ares, don't pass out! You've gotta stay awake! Think of your family! Your kids!”

Ares smiled faintly. “My kids …”

“Yes, yes! They need you!”

“M-hm. Hey … how long was I …?”

“Thirteen months. Today it's the 3rd day of the Gamelion²”, Hermes supplied.

Ares groaned in despair: “I missed everyone's birthdays!”

Hermes was surprised, but also felt compelled to make the older feel better.

“When I visited Harmonia in Elysion last year, I wished her a happy birthday from you.”

“Good. Can you do it … tomorrow night too? Today … it's her birthday. And … bring her roses … I promised her … flowers from here …”

Hermes smiled: “Doing it still today.”

Ares forced a smile. “Thank you …” And promptly passed out in his half-brother's arms.

“No problem and-ARES?! OH NO, BY KHAOS, PLEASE, NO! WAKE UP! YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP! ASKLEPIOS! APOLLON! ATHENA! HEPHAISTOS! FATHER! ANYONE! HEEEELP!!!”

.

The chains were even darker than the gods had feared at first.

They couldn't even be removed normally, someone needed to neutralise the dark magic. Only one goddess was capable of this and thus Zeus sent for Night-Wandering Hekatê. And indeed, with powerful ancient spells the ever-shifting Titanis made the chains release their hold on their captive.

Now the healing deities could finally take the war god to the sickbay, where he was laid into the Pool of Paiôn³. Apollon himself, Asklepios and his wife and daughters had all come together and poured their entire healing powers into the water non-stop for three days.

But his injuries (both external and internal) were so grave, that he would be in the Healing Coma for at least another year.

Later that night, the Olympians held council and listened to the reports of the divine doctors and of Hekatê.

“The number and kinds of injuries we found on him is truly disturbing”, Asklepios stated, “His inner organs all crushed, not a single bone unbroken and … and …”

He hesitated.

“Go on”, Zeus urged.

Only, the son of Apollon was obviously unsure of how to put into words, what he really wanted to say – it took him a while to find a way to put it into words.

“Well, my wise king, it seems like the Aloiadai … uhm, used him to elevate their boredom.”

Zeus tensed up and the air suddenly became extremely heavy and charged.

“What?”, he asked slowly.

Asklepios swallowed, before he continued: “Apart from the wounds and bruises inflicted by the chains, we also found scratch marks and hand imprints all over his body and … injuries between the thighs.”

The meaning of that was obvious.

For a moment everything was quiet … too quiet.

Then, all at once, the wrath of Zeus was unleashed in a thunderstorm of mythological proportions.

.

Deep down in the underworld, a loud rumble was heard and the inhabitants trembled in fear.

Persephone looked up from her work. “What the here is going on up there?”

Hades shrugged: “Probably your father throwing a hissy fit or something.”

.

Finally Zeus calmed down enough to dial it back with the lightning and thunder and cleared his throat: “Ahem. My apologies. What were you saying?”

Poor Asklepios (who wasn't remotely as used to Zeus' temper tantrums as everyone else) stuttered the rest of his report: “Uh-uhm … h-his injuries a-are nothing my ch-children and I c-can't fix, b-b-but his soul … he-he'll be traumatised.”

Zeus took a deep breath, before he could unleash another European hurricane, and nodded. “Thank you, grandson. You may go.”

Asklepios left the hall as quickly as was appropriate, obviously relieved to no longer have to be in the enraged sky god's presence.

Zeus sighed and rubbed the back of his head.

Then he turned to Hekatê and asked for her report (ignoring the eyes floating in the air around her head and upper body as far as possible).

“I have wandered the earth ever since I could walk”, she lisped. “But never have I seen anything so sinister. More so I'm puzzled, that the Aloiadai even got their hands on these. If you would come closer, so I can show you what I mean?”

The Olympians all came closer and surrounded Zeus and Hekatê.

She placed her hands onto the metal and eldritch symbols began to show.

“As you can see, ancient and powerful magic has been woven into them. This”, she pointed at a certain line of symbols, “Is a tightening spell. It detects the slightest movement and causes the chains to constrict in response. Of course Ares would have tried to free himself and inadvertently made it worse.”

She pointed at another row of symbols.

“This is the curse of mortality. Every divine being's essence is encompassed by a thick shell and that's our divinity. But these chains infiltrate the protective shell and pump the impurity of mortality into your very essence.”

Hera gasped: “Does that mean my son is now a mortal?”

“No. Fortunately, Hermes found him just in time. But one more day and it would have been too late. You have seen how faint his divine aura was.”

The Titanis sighed and went on: “This spell here is the worst. It drains the life out of the victim and transfers its life force onto the person holding power over the chains. In other words, while Ares was their prisoner, the Aloiadai grew stronger at his expense. They fed off his very life force, like parasites. Although I don't think they were aware of it, considering their age.”

Now it was Athena, who cried out: “So, even if he hadn't succumbed to his physical injuries, he would have wasted away, until finally all of him was drained, leaving him a lifeless husk?!”

“Yes.”

“But this is awful! This is evil! How- they're only Kouroi⁴!

“Indeed”, the Titanis agreed. “But watch, it gets worse – step back, everyone!”

They did and Hekatê sang another ancient incantation. The eerie glow of the shackles intensified, grew darker and darker. Then Hekatê suddenly leapt back and not a moment too soon; a substance began to ooze out of the metal like wafts of black mist.

There was a collective gasp and several of the attenders fainted.

Poseidon's and Zeus' faces turned ashen and their black eyes widened with horror.

“No!”, Zeus whispered, “It can't be … this is impossible!”

“But … but how???”, Poseidon screamed, “We sealed them away, they shouldn't have-”

“Father, uncle”, Athena spoke up, “I beg you, do not withhold this from us – what is this?”

Zeus squeezed his eyes shut and took a breath to compose himself.

Finally, he revealed, that those were the chains that once bound the Elder Kyklopes and the Hekatonkheires⁵, who were first imprisoned by their father Ouranos and then by Kronos.

“They were forged from the pure darkness of Erebos and the baleful essence of Tartaros. For the Titanes, we used different bonds, as we didn't want to use the terrible old ones. My siblings and I collectively decided, that something so appalling must never be used again. So we hid the chains, where no one would ever find them – or so we thought.”

He turned back to Hekatê. To his dismay, she was weeping from her floating eyes.

“Do forgive me”, she apologised. “The horror of this whole situation just breaks my heart.”

Zeus nodded. As king he couldn't weep, but the awful weather on Olympos spoke volumes.

“We all feel the same way. Anyhow, now that this has been done to my son and heir, I decree, that we must make sure something like this can never happen again. Sealing these chains away obviously wasn't enough. Hekatê, can you destroy them?”

“No, I'm afraid that's not within my power. I could break them, but destroying them completely would require the power of one of the Protogenoi.”

The Olympians exchanged uncomfortable glances.

The Protogenoi. The Firstborn Ones.

Which of them could they summon?

Athena addressed the problem: “We have to make a choice. On one hand it would be wise to call upon Nyx, Erebos and/or Tartaros, as their essence is the main component of these chains. On the other, it would make sense to summon the Protogenos, who made them.”

“That was my father.”

Everyone stared at Aphrodite, who had just woken up and was standing up.

“I was born from the essence – hold your tongue, Poseidon – of Ouranos, the Sky. He is the one who made them, as Zeus already said.”

“Can you summon him?”, Athena enquired.

“I can try”, Aphrodite replied, “I can speak to him, but I'm not sure, if he will actually help us.”

“Do try”, Zeus requested. “You are the most beautiful of his children. If anyone can convince him to destroy these disgusting things, it's you.”

Aphrodite consented, but declared crossly: “Mind you, everyone: I'm only doing this for Ares! This is my father's fucking fault! These fucking chains did this to my love and I will not fucking rest, before they've been fucking obliterated!!!”

Then she stomped out into the rain.

It seemed like an eternity, until Athena noticed, that her father was growing uneasy.

“He's coming”, he informed everyone. “I can sense a supernatural shift in the atmosphere.”

And sure enough, Aphrodite returned with a majestic looking man of lofty stature, clad in a long robe covering his entire body.

His skin was the night sky, his hair and coat resembled the thunderclouds outside (in fact, his hair seemed to be composed of the clouds outside). He radiated the sheer primordial power and very essence of the holy heavens.

So this is Ouranos?

There was something about him, that made Athena's very flesh crawl. His face was void of all emotion, his silvery eyes were cold.

Psychopath, was the first word that came to her mind.

“Welcome to my home, venerated forefather”, Zeus greeted the old god with ostensible calm.

“Thank you”, the Sky replied coolly. “Now, why have you dared to summon me? My daughter here told me, that it is important, otherwise I would not have come.”

“Yes, indeed it is. I reckon you remember these?”

He pointed at the broken shackles, still lying on the floor and oozing darkness and bale.

The Sky stepped closer to examine them. “Ah, yes. It was I who made them.”

“We know that. Now, if you could-”

“Why did you free the Kyklopes and the Hekatonkheires?”, Ouranos demanded to know. “I sent them to Tartaros for a reason.”

Suddenly Athena felt a surge of rage. And she wasn't the only one.

Zeus' coal black eyes grew hard. “You imprisoned your children, because they weren't graceful and fair-faced, like the Titanes. My siblings and I liberated our uncles, because they were talented and useful and never hurt anyone, unless we asked them to.”

His passive-aggressive outrage caused more lightning and thunder outside the hall and in Ouranos' cloudy hair. As response it waved in what was probably irritation.

“You're the son of Kronos and Rheia indeed”, Ouranos remarked scathingly.

Athena intervened: “Do forgive us, Dome of Heaven. Surely you must know, what these chains have done to a god, who despite all differences is one of us. So you need to understand, that we're quite … on edge.”

Understatement of the millennium, but whatever.

Ouranos turned and looked the bright-eyed goddess up and down.

“You're the granddaughter of Okeanos, the only honourable one of my sons. Yes, I see him and your mother in you. Well then, for your sake and that of my daughter Aphrodite, I will forget this argument ever happened.”

“Thank you, honoured forefather”, Athena said politely. “Anyway, us gods are in agreement, that such dangerous means of confinement should never be used again. We couldn't possibly imagine anyone more capable of preventing another such tragedy, than you.”

“I understand”, the Sky nodded, “You want them to be destroyed completely. Hmm …”

He picked the adamantine chains of darkness up effortlessly, but frowned, before continuing: “Something has been done to them, that wasn't my work. I remember each component that I used to create these. The parasite spell and the mortality spell were not among them. These two must have been added by the Titanes, I can't think of another explanation. The only other Primordials, who could have done this, wouldn't have.”

Ouranos grimaced. “I agree with you, these things are really disgusting. Something so hideous must not be allowed to exist.”

His hands began to glow as bright as the sun, countering the dark essence of the chains … until eventually the chains just faded into thin air. He informed the gods, that whatever of this evil had remained would be erased by the holy essence of Great Khaos itself, then proceeded to strut out of the palace to become one with the Dome Above again.

.

A few moments later Zeus groaned: “Oh thank the Moirai, he and the grisly chains are finally gone!”

Upon hearing this, the other gods returned to their seats and allowed themselves a moment to let the tension seep out of them.

For the first time that night the (still heavy) rain and howling wind actually felt … relaxing.

After an uncertain amount of time, Hekatê asked: “May I go home?”

Her vibrant violet hair had greyed and she had rapidly aged throughout the night; she had arrived a little girl and was now a crone. A sign, that it was almost dawn.

Zeus allowed her to go and thanked her.

She smiled: “Don't mention it. I like to help.”

With that, Hekatê took her twin torches back from Hestia, said goodbye and vanished into the dead of night.

Once she was gone, Apollon sighed and rubbed his temples. “Shit … is it really morning already? Man, I haven't slept in days, putting my healing energy into the Akesian Sleep⁶ has completely drained me and there is still so much to do! This will be a long day …”

“Don't worry”, Hera muttered, “I'll make a few calls for today, so you should have less duties to attend to. Consider this a sign of gratitude for helping my eldest son.”

“Much appreciated”, the younger god thanked her. “And you're welcome.”

Zeus stood up. “I think we all need sleep. It will do no good to any of us to have no rest.”

“Wait, father! We're not done yet!”, Athena claimed and everyone sunk back into their seats with a groan.

The King of the Gods frowned. “What's the matter, my daughter? What did we forget?”

“Getting rid of the chains was only one part of the problem”, she pointed out, “We still need to take care of the other part: the Aloiadai, who did this to Ares.”

“Yes, but what shall we do? What if another of us goes to face them and is captured as well? You've seen, what they've done to Ares. What if they have more of those chains?”, Hephaistos worried.

“I don't think they do”, Athena replied, “I don't think they even knew what the chains were. Anyway, we need to dispose of them, before they can kill us all and force Hera and Artemis to-”

“I say we vaporise them!”, Aphrodite hissed, “Reduce them to ashes, like my father did with the chains!”

“And how exactly do you plan to do that?”, Athena questioned. “Remember how Ares' immense power didn't impress them at all? We need to-”

“I DON'T FUCKING CARE!!!”, the goddess of love shrieked and began to glow red with rage, “I DO NOT FUCKING CARE, PALLAS ATHENA!!! LOSING MY DAUGHTER WAS BAD ENOUGH, NOW I NEARLY FUCKING LOST MY LOVE AND THE FATHER OF MY DIVINE CHILDREN! WHAT DO YOU FUCKING EXPECT ME TO DO??? SIT IDLY BY, AS THEY GET AWAY WITH ALMOST FUCKING TORTURING HIM TO DEATH?! I DO NOT FUCKING FORGIVE AND FORGET! EVERY FIBRE OF MY BEING CRIES OUT FOR REVENGE! I WANT THEM TO FUCKING SUFFER, LIKE THEY MADE ARES SUFFER, IF IT'S THE LAST FUCKING THING I DO!”

“SHUT THE TARTAROS UP!!!”, Athena roared, losing her last shred of composure. “WHAT MAKES YOU BELIEVE WE'LL LET THEM GET AWAY WITH IT?! WE ALL! WANT! REVENGE! THEY HARASSED HERA, EVEN THOUGH SHE IS OUR QUEEN AND ARTEMIS, EVEN THOUGH SHE'S A VIRGIN GODDESS LIKE ME! WE ALL WANT THEM TO SUFFER AND BY STYX, THEY WILL!!!”

“Ahem … excuse me, ladies?”

The furious goddesses blinked and turned to Zeus, who was looking slightly unsettled.

He sighed: “Calm down, both of you. You're scaring everyone.” And gestured towards the table with his thumb.

Athena and Aphrodite sweatdropped, as they spied the other Olympians hiding under it, huddling together, whimpering and shivering in fear. The two disputants stuttered an awkward apology and helped their fellow Olympians to come out.

Hera, first to recover, addressed Aphrodite: “Next time you get angry, please tone it down with the F-word. It's unbecoming for a member of the Dodekatheoi⁷.”

“I'm sorry for that”, the older goddess apologised, “I don't know what came over me.”

“Anyway”, Athena groaned, “We need a plan. Raw violence didn't help Ares and it won't help us. We have to be more cunning than this. Besides, his state is partly our fault, as we failed to rescue him for more than a year. We're all upset and out for blood, so does anyone beside myself have an idea how to get rid of them?”

Artemis raised her hand. “I do. And I'm confident, that it'll work. It involves you and me and the help of discord-sowing Eris.”

.

Ares remained in the Akesian Sleep for longer than Asklepios had predicted.

During that time, everyone who cared came to check on the unconscious god.

Athena was surprised by how many people that were, and even more surprised that she was among them.

One day she saw Hera crouched against the glass of the healing tank, weeping bitterly.

“My son, my little boy, my champion, my little whirlwind …”

It had been many thousand years, since Athena had last heard Hera use those nicknames for her son. It reminded her that, deep down under all her cold and queenly exterior, Hera loved her children, even though she had the worst ways of showing it sometimes.

Sometime later Athena saw her father Zeus and Hera stand in front of the healing tank together. He was holding her in his arms and she was crying into his chest. It was a rare moment of harmony between the two and Athena couldn't help, but smile.

Of course Aphrodite came a lot too. Day after day she lingered by the tank and prayed to Khaos, that Ares would get better and back to his old self. But other than that, she never wept. Like Hera, she stayed strong for her children, which was quite admirable in Athena's eyes.

Ares' children too came every day.

One evening, Athena found the twins Phobos and Deimos snoozing against the glass, apparently they had fallen asleep waiting for their father to get better. Instead of waking them up, she had just carefully scooped them up and carried them back to Aphrodite's house. Their mother had smiled at the sight of Athena carrying two pre-teenage boys in her arms, but had allowed the younger goddess to help her tuck them in.

.

Hephaistos too came to check on his older brother.

The sight was painful.

Ares was floating in the Pool of Paiôn unconsciously, just skin and bones, paler than Hades and covered in wounds that were healing way too slowly.

“Dammit, Ares”, he grumbled, “What were you thinking? Taking on two Gigantes by yourself! You fucking idiot.”

He pushed his wheelchair next to the glass.

“You know, if someone had told me fifty years ago, that one day I would be visiting you in sickbay, I would've called them mad. I'm just glad that you and I got to reconcile, before this shit happened. One regret less I would've had, if you had actually died.”

He couldn't help but wonder, if the Akesian Sleep was dreamless or not. He hoped it was, because if not, Ares would certainly be trapped in unending nightmares about what he had gone through.

“You probably can't hear me, but … we're missing you. Hard to believe, huh? But it feels kinda too quiet and empty without you. Maybe you won't believe it, but we care about you, deep down, even though you're a prick.”

He chuckled bitterly: “I know exactly, what you would say now: 'If you care, then why did it take you over a year to find me?' Well, and you're right. I guess it took this crap for us to realise. Don't get me wrong, we still don't like you. And as soon as you recover, you'll probably still be a huge prick, albeit one with major issues and traumata. So that'll be a thing.”

With a last sigh, he turned his wheelchair to leave.

“Get well soon, okay?”

.

In a rare fit of generosity Zeus even allowed Ares' best friend Eris to visit, on the condition that she and her kin wouldn't wreak havoc.

Eris was sour about the condition, but agreed.

So she, her children and the Keres were uncharacteristically quiet, as Asklepios allowed them in one by one.

Eris was the last in line, letting her children and sisters go first.

They left Olympos right after making their sickbed visits, knowing better than to overstay their welcome.

But Eris lingered. She couldn't just leave a postcard and go, not with Ares.

.

It was almost nightfall, when Athena found the Mother of Woes still stand in front of the healing tank.

The abhorred daughter of Nyx looked oddly subdued. Her mane of tousled black and white hair and her black wings were drooping.

As Athena was about to make herself known, Eris spoke: “He was me charge, back when he was a wee kid.”

“I know. Hera told me, that you were his nurse first and then his guardian”, Athena answered softly.

“Did she also tell ya, why I became his guardian later on?”

The younger goddess had to admit, that Hera had left that detail out.

“He an' the Horai were born still durin' the Titanomakhia. Everyone says it lasted ten years, but that's Olympian Years. An' despite all the commotion, Zeus still had time ta fall for and marry first yer mother, then Themis, then Hera, who is now his queen. Mortals an' younger gods think it 'appened later, but they're wrong.”

One Olympian Year was a mortal decade, Athena knew. So the war had actually lasted a hundred years? And why was Eris telling her this?

The personification of strife chuckled: “Neanderthals and mammoths an' such were still around. Ares loved playin' with 'em. Ye know, when I first met 'im, he was such a wee laddie, he didn't even reach up to me hip.”

That was hard to imagine; Ares was a quite tall man and had been lanky even when Athena had met him as a preteen. Eris was rather slight and dwarfish in comparison.

“He was, like, seven. I found it a bit weird, 'cuz I already had been his nurse before. Bu' when Hera told me the situation, of course I said aye.”

“Why did Hera make you his guardian?”, Athena finally asked.

The Daimona scowled: “She tol' me he'd been kidnapped by Kronos an' his cronies. They did sum' really sick shite ta him, if ye know what I mean.”

Suddenly the goddess of wisdom felt like she was going to puke.

Eris sighed: “'Course he was traumatised. An' ya know yer father's attitude about that shite.”

“Yes, I do”, Athena nodded soberly. Zeus was the biggest arsehole in that regard (and a lot of others, but that was irrelevant right now).

“Anyway, Hera could nae 'andle him, so she gave 'im back into me care. She knew he'd be safe wi' me. No one likes me, so they would nae come ta me lookin' fer him. Turned out he still remembered me; always had a really good memory, he had. Leapt right into me arms. I took care o' him fer three years, then Eileithyia was born an' he wanted to go back. I helped him cope wi' the trauma an' taught him how ta fly an' deal wi' the voice in his head.”

So she knows about it too.

Eris finally turned to face Athena.

Her ghostly white face was grim and her gleaming red eyes were hard. Her spidery claws balled into fists.

“Listen ta me, Daughter o' Metis. Ares is like a son ta me. When ye asked me help to put down the Aloiadai, I asked fer nothin' in return. Tartaros, if I was as strong as ye, I would've ripped them apart with me bare hands.”

Athena nodded, knowing what Eris was going to ask of her.

“Ye know exactly what I want from ye. Don't evah go easier on 'im than ye did before and don't evah mention, what I just told ye. But promise me this: whether ye hate him or nae, whether ye two are allies or adversaries, I wan' ye to prevent this from e'er happenin' again. Keep an eye on 'im, lassie, aye?”

Athena nodded solemnly.

“By the waters that drip from the river Styx, you have my word.”

.

---

.

1) Latôios: "Son of Leto", one of Apollon's epithets 2) Gamelion: the first winter month in the Attic calendar (Januar/February), dedicated to Hera. At the end of this month, the Hieros Gamos was celebrated, in honour of Zeus' and Hera's marriage. 3) Paiôn: "The Healer", an epithet of Apollon and Asklepios. 4) Kouros: an early to mid teenage boy. 5) Hekatonkheires: the "Hundred-Handed Ones", three giants with a hundred hands and fifty heads each. They were imprisoned in Tartaros by their father Ouranos after birth, much to the outrage of their mother Gaia. Kronos later freed them, but re-imprisoned them, after finding them no longer useful. Eventually they were freed permanently by Zeus and in return helped him defeat the Titanes. 6) The Akesian Sleep, or sleep of healing, is my invention. It's a reference to the Stygian Sleep, but a healing sleep instead of a sleep of death. 7) Dodekatheoi: Twelve Gods, another name for the twelve Olympians.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Infinity War (5)

CHAPTER 5: RAGE

Loki & The Avengers

Summary: A work inspired by @queencfthestarsdrfoster ‘s post of the universe where Loki is alive and Thor is avenged.

Series: Will contain all- and more- that we saw in Infinity War. Will not contain smut and fluff for obvious reasons. Might contain weird humor though.

Chapter content: Something I wish I could’ve done to them through the screen

Warnings: …blood. Icky. gooey, blood. Magic.

Word count: So my workplace shifted again. It’s...okay. Yeah, that’s it. Just okay. I mean partially it’s on me for not taking breaks and just keeping myself busy because I just cannot sit free, man. I can’t. And then by the time it’s 4pm I am exhausted as fuck and have to just keep it together till I can find my way out. Why am I like this? But I have to say, it kinda lifted my mood when I thought about my new radiant friend.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

Ebony Maw doesn't believe in violence of the mind. He does not believe one needs to boil one's insides just because some petty creatures with no real destiny in this universe have made a feeble decision of taking what is rightfully his master's.

Their death would be a small price to pay for the delay they have caused in me helping the Titan fulfil his destiny.

The periodic bloop on his ship's radar brings him to a rough terrain that is being tormented by the fresh blanket of snow piling over it. The winds are showing no mercy as they hit the transparent shield of his ship, illuminating the collision spots with a hue of gold and blue. How fascinatingly dull, this planet Earth, Maw coos to himself before landing his ship and walking towards the entrance.

Much to his surprise, he does feel a shiver through his adequately armoured body as the raging winds seem to be coming at him with impure intentions. And so, a tsk under his breath is followed by modestly twisting his hand to create an air barrier around him, keeping those vicious microscopic ice shards away.

The crunch of fresh cold powder under his feet is somehow welcoming to the symphony of havoc he plans on bringing to the ones who slipped through his hands. To the ones who do not have pure intentions for the infinity stone in their grasp.

There is a ripple he feels from somewhere behind him, tilting on one limb and taking a gentle swerve as an icicle misses him by centimetres. No time is wasted to pull that very icicle from the air and turn it around to throw it in the direction it originated from. And while that icicle travels back, snow is raised from the ground to be compressed into more. Those stubborn steps do not retreat as icicles find their target, only coming to a halt when those piercing eyes see for themselves Loki's figure lying in the snow, struggling to breathe.

Those piercing elements of snow have found all the vital points over the God's body, not surprising the Child of Thanos.

"You are supposed to be dead Asgardian," Ebony declares with a soothing yet eerie tone, his stature never faltering even as he looks down at the body writhing in pain, "you should stick to being dead."

Green eyes drowning in pain look up at him; same eyes he had once drained all hope out of. Such powerful techniques of purification were wasted on such frivolous being that day.

"But..." Loki struggles with the pain surfacing on his face, "b-but I'm not the one who's-"

It takes just one slight shift of Maw's posture. Just a single tilt towards Loki to hear what the dying alien has to say. And just as he does, a streak of blazing fire takes the master of torture with him, leaving Loki to complete his sentence, "-dead," before disappearing with hues of gold and green.

The snow feels harder on the skin than it looks, almost making Maw grunt. He thinks he misses the punch from the man clad in iron he thought he had left behind, but the hit to his skull sends a blaring pain, unbalancing him for a few seconds.

"Told you earth was closed, you dipshit!" Tony's voice resonates through the suit.

Maw feels the rising bitterness grind between his teeth before he slides away from another punch and sends ice shards towards Tony followed by a rumble under his feet.

"What the- is he trying to bring an earthquake?" Tony rises in the air to dodge the attacks coming his way.

The claws which are targeting the ground seem to be the epicentre of the rumble- focused on ripping the rocks lying somewhere under that blanket of pure white- feel themselves being wrapped by a stringed glow that yanks those arms, disrupting whatever power Maw possesses to move the elements around him.

"You really should get a hobby."

Maw knows that voice too well.

The magician.

When the supreme torturer tries to wrap the enchanted magic strings around his arms to pull Strange towards him, the latter moves his hands to convert those strings into handcuffs, freeing himself to create three more elemental circles and call forward blasts of pure energy aiming at his could-be tormentor.

Ebony dives away, calling forward more shards to break him free of those cuffs, taking the first chance his hands get to call up the already cracked rocks to target the sorcerer.

The first one is missed. The second is dodged. The third is barely tackled by his magic. The fourth one gets him. So does every other boulder that comes flying his way.

Strange is surrounded with boulders from every side, all of them aiming to crush him where he stands. While he is trying to protect himself- and the fate of the universe wrapped around his neck- he doesn't notice the slithering pieces around him, too wrapped up in fear as the rocks finally close in on him with a thunderous rumble breaking the air on their collision.

"Strange!"

No one knows where that cry comes from as clouds of dirt and smoke hide the point of impact; the crime scene.

Ebony Maw does not move a muscle from where he stands, his hands clasped on to each other with a watchful look, satisfied with himself.

"You critters should have given up these futile attempts when you had the chance."

His voice has a chill that echoes through the mountains. Even the wind seems to fall silent.

"You picked the wrong people for that intention, Voldey."

If Maw had brows he would have raised them when he turns around to look at a faint glow- a few feet above the ground- rise further. It's only when the clouds of unrest begin to lower the haze does the shadow of something fluttering around that figure comes to light.

How did he-

Every scenario is running through his mind to figure out how that magician escaped, cracking the glass walls of restraint inside him. The smokiness in the air takes its sweet time to reveal the shadow of the figure, the chest lit up in a warm blue glow while the arms rise from either side to mirror that very glow in Maw's direction.

"Light's out, you son of a bitch," Stark announces, already witnessing heaps of ice shards rising from the ground. The cloak of levitation readies itself to protect Stark while a grunt rises from Maw's throat as he changes the direction of the shards to point at Tony. Pulling himself back to gather as much potential, Ebony Maw is about to push them towards the man when piercing noise followed by something sharp jabs him like a thousand needles in the back.

"Now!" Tony shouts at the top of his lungs.

Within seconds a streak of green comes running on the snow- melting it where it touches the cold, cracking the ice till it reaches Maw to surround him in a circle marked with a Nordic enchantment.

Before those beady eyes can make sense of this intricate entrapment surrounding him, the cluster of boulders meant to kill Strange break with a crackling sound to reveal the Sorcerer Supreme clad in the Iron Man suit, his hands ready with burning rings that are fired at the tormentor, cuffing him while merging with the Nordic circle of magic, trapping his limbs.

It is unreal; the scream that leaves Maw's throat. The menacing cry is not for the pain but the pride that has been marred by humans and the God that is on one knee, keeping his magic strong and his eyes on the one who tried to take his light away not too long ago.

"YOU WILL ALL DIE! YOU WILL DIE THE DEATHS OF ROTTEN SWINE CRAWLING WITH MAGGOTS ALL OVER YOU! YOU WILL ALL WHINE BENEATH MY FEET!"

Stark and Strange walk towards the creature who roars while on his knees, their armours being exchanged without a word, looking at the dull alien yanking at the illuminated golden and green chains holding him down.

"Oh you coward," Maw hisses at Strange before turning to Stark, "using a shrewd God to capture me? Do you not know the likes of him? His silver tongue has a purpose. A purpose to fulfil his means. Once he is done you lot he will throw you to the black holes and move on to someone more powerful. He only fends for himself. I know because I have been inside his brain. His darkness eats him alive and soon it will eat you all!"

A huff of air leaves Tony's lungs when he shares a look with Strange. Their lungs slowly come back to ease. Their shaking hearts have found solid ground. Their doubtful eyes now look in the direction of the figure walking towards them, its hands illuminating green with an increasing density.

"They see through you, Asgardian!"

All the rage collected on Ebony Maw's forehead wants to launch at the God walking in his direction in any way it can find. But that rage seems to come to a standstill when it sees the figure emerge from behind the fog; concentrating on those lines running up and down the blue skin that is too flawless to belong to a mere animal. The rage resting on Maw's forehead starts taking a few steps back when it locks its beady eyes with the red that sears through his very soul.

"You're wrong, Maw-" Loki comes to stand right outside the glowing circle keeping his punisher captive- "they do not see through me."

A flick of Loki's wrist and the chains are pulled into the ground, making a reluctant Maw bow down to get them back up.

"They cannot see anything."

Maw tries to but he cannot break his gaze from those eyes carrying the colour of blood as they're looking down on him with unspeakable emotions; seemingly blank stare ripping his insides with every drop of volcanic heat leaving them.

"You did not leave much for them to see last time, did you?"

The icy chill from Loki's hand as it wraps around his throat to make him stand and face him with the roles reversed sends poisonous shivers through his existence.

"Don't worry-" Loki whispers too close to him; close enough to make sure he can be the first one in this universe to smell Maw's fear but not close enough for Maw to get his teeth in him. His free hand conjures a four edged dagger glistening with the glow from the snow. "-unlike you, I won't make you wish for death."

The strike is smooth. The blade goes inside his abdomen in one go, puncturing his vital organs with that very strike. Maw does not even feel it; something that brings a smile on Loki's face. "I will make you live death."

The blade comes out, bringing with it the spoils. Black insides slowly spill. This is the first time Maw feels something tickle his abdomen. The itch increases into an unbearable agony and he is trying to clutch to the wound to make that burn stop.

And the blood does stop. The wound heals back, leaving a blue bruise-like stain on that grey skin. The heavy breaths of relief slowly turn into wheezing. The eyes filled with three-seconds of reprieve go wide in horror. The murky, black blood-stained hands turn into claws to rip apart the very skin that healed a few moments ago as the throat breaks into an agonising shriek.

The poison on the dagger has done its job well. It coagulates the blood and regenerates the tissue to seemingly heal the wound but burns the coagulated blood and new fabrication of the tissue to the point that the animal would rather tear its skin apart than have that thing inside it for one more second. And when the freshly healed wound is exposed to the nitrogen in the air, it catalysis the poison to spread further into the body, making that animal a writhing howling mess on the ground.

Ebony Maw experiences the same fate. The shrill screams breaking the air come out for a few more seconds before he has gnawed himself inside out. All that is left of this child of Thanos is the goo its desecrated body lies in.

It does not take a genius to figure out how much thought Loki has put into Maw's extermination; something that makes Stark wonder what had Squidward done to Loki to call for such a gory end.

"Great," Strange snaps Tony out of his thoughts, scrunching his nose at the remains of the grey villain, "one down. How many more?"

"We took down the strategist," Loki announces, sending his dagger back to his pocket dimension, "it should be easy to take down the rest of the...children."

"Great," Tony mentions with a slight groan, "Alexander is dead. Loki's actually a-" he gestures at the Frost Giant, looking him up and down- "a teen girl's dream smurf and I just got a call from Banner telling me Cap met another of these deranged kids.” He groans. “Exactly how I was planning the day to go."

[let-it-raines]

Not Your (soul)Mate {15/16}

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused.

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate.

He’s screwed. And not in the good way.

Rating: Mature (and more than just dirty jokes this time)

A/N: So, this is officially the final chapter of this story. We’ve still got an epilogue, so there is a little bit left, but this slow, slow, slow burn is coming to its conclusion. I finished writing this weeks ago, which is weird for me, but honestly, I have had the most fun posting this story. I personally love it and am super proud of it, but I also love how much you guys have enjoyed it since the very first chapter. Something that started off as being fun and silly as turned into one of my very personal favorites. So thank you❤️

And another gigantic thank you to @captainsjedi for absolutely capturing the essence of this story in every pic set she’s made for me. I wish I could have her do this for me all the time! And thank you to the organizers of @cssns for putting together this awesome event💕

@wellhellotragic you can read it now!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @xellewoods @effulgentcolors @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @idristardis @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @emmas-storybook @searchingwardrobes @spartanguard @ultimiflos @jamif @initiala @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @xellewoods  @cssns

-/-

The words hit him like a ton of bricks, pushing him down and crushing him under the weight so that he can’t breathe, so that everything is blurred and confusing and utterly heartbreaking.

Is his heart even beating right now?

He thinks that it is. It must be. And if it’s not, he’s in a hospital. They can fix that, right?

Right?

How is he being so sadistic right now?

Probably because he feels like his world is crashing down around him, that this good thing he had going for him is falling away and disappearing from his grasp before he ever even had time to hold it.

To hold her.

How could Emma ever possibly think that she is not his soulmate?

And how could it matter to her when he is so in love with her and would never in his life consider another woman, not when he knows how her kiss feels, how her laugh sounds, what it’s like when she smiles. She lights up his life like the constellations do in the night sky, and that light doesn’t diminish when the sun rises.

If anything, it becomes brighter.

“W-what are you talking about?” he stutters, his voice struggling to stay steady. “What do you mean we’re not soulmates?”

Killian watches as Emma’s bottom lip quivers, her fight between being angry and upset consuming her, and if he didn’t think he’d be pushed away, he’d wrap his arms around her shoulders and hold onto her, let her know that everything is okay. He wants her to always know that things are going to be okay.

“Killian”, she whispers, the quiver of her lips matching the shake in her speech, “I’m terrified right now because I don’t think we’re soulmates. We were idiots to think that, to think that we had a sign, and now we’re both  going to get hurt again because of it. And everyone will know, and it’ll be poor old us again that everyone pities.”

Bloody hell. What is going on?

“I still don’t understand, love.”

She nods her head and wipes at her eyes even though there are no tears falling.  “I don’t...when you speak, I don’t get turned on anymore, not like I did. You haven’t noticed?”

Bloody hell. He knows exactly what’s going on.

Killian smiles, something that stretches across his entire face, before stepping forward and cupping her cheeks, feeling the smoothness of her skin under his rough fingertips. She has no idea. Absolutely none. And he’s not sure if he’s frustrated with the whole situation or relieved that he can ease some of her fears, even if he can’t take back the fact that he told his brother. He knew that he was taking a risk in doing that, knew that it wasn’t what she wanted from him, but he has to trust that Emma will forgive him. They’ll have to learn to do that if this is ever going to work out between them, soulmates be damned.

But not his.

She’s wonderful and captivating and the absolute love of his life even if she doesn’t know it.

It’s likely time that she knows that he would make the choice to love her no matter what. This has always been about choice even when he didn’t realize it.

“You wonderful, oblivious woman,” Killian laughs, rubbing his thumb over her cheek to wipe away the real tears that have finally fallen. “The more I have fallen in love with you, the more I have become attracted to you and the soul that resides within you. Our idiotic sign has faded away as we’ve gotten to know each other, as we’ve fallen in love. It’s never been as intense as it was on the day that we met. It’s diminished with every conversation we’ve had. Don’t you see? This is how soulmate signs work sometimes, but we didn’t realize it because we were too caught up in the game. Sometimes they’re simply there to help two people find each other, and the rest is up to us. We had to make the choice and the effort to love each other. It didn’t force us into it, into this. And just because the arousal is gone doesn’t mean that we’re not still connected. If anything, it means we’re more connected.”

Her lips part and then close again while her long, dark lashes land against her cheeks, little flecks of mascara falling there. “How do you know any of that?”

“When you love someone, you know.”

Emma chuckles, even though it’s more of a hiccup, and he joins in, an over-exuding joy washing over him even as his heart still beats at a quicker rate, one that really should put him in a hospital bed

He has got to stop thinking that.

He should be focused on what’s happening at this exact moment. Emma isn’t running away. She’s listening to him, understanding their connection, and that’s what he needs right now.

That’s what they both need as the final puzzle piece clicks into place to make the story whole.

“I’m terrified,” she whispers as her hands come to clutch at his arms, nails digging into his jacket. “You terrify me because you are kind to me. You understand me. You…you get me, and that scares me because that’s never really happened to me before, not like this. No one else in my life would have ever made the effort that you did to get to know me. Our bodies were literally commanding that we sleep together, and we haven’t. I mean, I know there have been some close calls and that we’ve tortured each other this whole time, but you’ve gotten to know me for something other than my body when I could have easily been a quick fuck to scratch an itch. We could have read a freaking phone book to each other for foreplay.”

Killian barks out a laugh, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers, his heart finally calming down, finding peace.

“We can’t do that anymore.”

“No, I guess not…I understand why you told Liam,” she says, shocking him. He guesses that she’s calmed down, that his words have reassured her and assuaged her fears. Everything is such a blur except for Emma. They could have been in this hallway for minutes or hours. He wouldn’t know. “I haven’t known how to handle any of this either. It’s overwhelming and terrifying, and you obviously have a clearer mind than I do because I’m kind of freaking out right now.”

“I know, Swan. I know.”

“I don’t know how you’re so sure of everything all the time. How can you be so calm?”

She obviously couldn’t feel how fast his heart was beating two minutes ago.

“Don’t you know Emma? It’s you,” he whispers, pressing his nose into her cheek so that his lips brush over hers, too light to be a kiss but too close to be nothing. “You, even in your confusing madness, make me sure of things. Like you said, I’ve never had someone know me, understand me, like you do. I’ve never had someone choose me like you have. I have never loved someone like I love you.”

For a moment he wishes that he was like Liam and Elsa so that he could hear Emma’s thoughts, so that he could know how she’s feeling. He’s laid his heart on the line right here. He’s taken the leap of faith without knowing if there’s going to be a soft landing, but he guesses that’s the entire point of believing in something he doesn’t know.

It’s all in the possibility.

“I – I love you,” she says on a whisper, her grip tightening on his arms while her lips very nearly press into his, her eyelashes brushing over his. “I don’t know when it happened or how but I love you.”

“That’s all that matters to me, my love.”

He lets Emma make the choice to press up on her toes and slide her lips over his, connecting them in the way that he’s longed to ever since they were standing in a treehouse with fireworks exploding behind them. He gasps at the softness or her lips, of her body, pressed into him, and his hands slide into her hair so that he can grab onto her roots, holding her to him as her hands move to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, making vibrations travel down his spine.

It’s everything and nothing all at once because it all feels brand new and yet exactly like coming home to the place that he’s always known.

Emma smells like she has all night, the vanilla overwhelming his senses, and she makes this little noise when he runs his tongue over the seam of her lips that he’d like to memorize. Or, really, he’d like to elicit that noise out of her every day for the rest of their lives so that he never has to go a day without having her be with him like this.

He’d like to kiss her like this, their lips tangling together in a mess of heat and love and everything he’s ever wanted in his entire life.

She’s everything he’s ever wanted and more.

“You taste like poptarts,” he speaks into her mouth, backing her up against the wall as her leg hitches up over his thigh and he rolls his hips into her, his arousal quickly appearing. He’s already half hard against her, and he’s never wanted her more than he does right now.

That is saying…a lot considering their history.

Emma loves him.

She clutches at his hair as she gasps, canting her hips up into his as she quickly brushes her lips over his once more, this time desperate yet light, a contradicting mess that he thinks describes Emma pretty well.

“I bet you like them now,” she giggles when his lips trail away from hers and starts working at the skin at her jaw, making the giggle turn into a gasp.

“The sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

He keeps kissing along the underside of her jaw, keeps tracing her skin with his tongue, and he wishes there weren’t so many clothes between them, wishes that she didn’t have on this jacket and this sweater, especially as his hands move down the curves of her body until they’re snaking up underneath her sweater to feel the soft warmth of the skin at her stomach. He’s so distracted by how she feels, by how she tastes, that he doesn’t even notice that Emma’s hands have made their way to his ass, tucked neatly into the pockets of his jeans as she squeezes.

Damn.

“Are you still going to answer to asshole when I call you that?”

He bites down, hard, on the juncture between her neck and her shoulder, and she moans, the sound shooting straight to his groin. “I’ll answer to anything you call me.”

“Brother.”

“Except for that.”

“That wasn’t me, Killian,” Emma whispers, tucking her face into his shoulder, her nose brushing into his skin as her hair tickles under his nose all the while he realizes that it was Liam that just called his name.

Liam.

Holy shit.

His brother just caught him making out with a woman in a hallway like he’s a teenager again.

“Bloody hell,” he groans, stepping back from Emma and hoping to everything good in the world that his jeans can loosen a little bit. The loss of heat from Emma’s body is immediate, the distance between them vast, but then she intertwines their fingers and squeezes, grounding him again as he tries to catch his breath.

This night has been a whirlwind. He’s still not entirely sure that it’s real.

“Ah, sorry to interrupt and to…sorry about earlier,” Liam apologizes, rubbing at the non-existent scruff at his chin. “Emma, I hope you understand that I – ”

“It’s fine, Liam,” Emma promises, resting her head against Killian’s shoulder while he pulls their joined hands up to kiss her knuckles, thankful for her forgiveness of both himself and Liam. “I…I know neither of you meant any harm.”

“Aye, lass, I’ve just, well, I hate to interrupt this very public display of affection, but Eric’s just texted to say that Ariel is going to be in labor for quite some more time. They’ve pretty much commanded us to go home, and I’d kind of like to go tuck my kids into bed.”

“Are they sure? We can stay.” He knocks his hip into Emma’s then because as much as he would like to stay sitting in that booth with Emma and his brother, he’d really rather take Emma home. “What?” she laughs, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. “We can stay if we need to.”

“I know, but if Eric has given us permission to go – ”

Emma presses up on her toes to whisper in his ear, her breath warm on his skin, her voice dark. “Be patient.”

“I have been for bloody months now.”

Liam is watching them, even if he’s mostly glancing away, and he takes that as a sign that they need to get out of this hallway and move on with their lives, move on with each other. Tugging Emma along with him, they make their way back to the main parts of the hospital’s first floor, going back to the cafeteria to grab their things before they all go upstairs to wish Ariel and Eric goodnight and good luck, promising to come back after they’ve had enough time to love their child without the prying eyes of friends and family. He’s practically vibrating out of his skin every second that he lives, and as on edge as it’s making him, he never wants it to stop.

The woman he loves, the woman who loves him, is standing next to his side without hesitation, and he cannot think of a single moment in his life where he has ever been happier.

Yet he hopes that he will still have happier moments than this, happier moments with Emma.

After they wish Liam goodnight in the parking lot, a knowing, obnoxious smile gracing his brother’s face, they load up into his jeep. He doesn’t ask Emma if he should take her to her apartment or if they should go to his. He knows that she’ll tell him if she doesn’t like his choice. And honestly, he’s not focused enough to let himself overthink things.

The drive is somehow longer than the drive to the hospital, everything feeling much more urgent, and it doesn’t help that Emma, the minx, keeps tracing her nails higher and higher on his thigh, palming his erection through the material of his jeans. It’s madness, utter madness, and it takes every bit of strength in him not to pull over to the side of the road and have her in the backseat.

Or the front seat.

He’s not particular. Except he absolutely is.

“Darling,” he grits, glancing over her as he takes a right past Granny’s to ride down the street that will eventually take them to his apartment, “as much as I appreciate what you’re doing right now, it’s either going to end with us crashing or me fucking you in this car.”

“I like one of those options.”

“I’m sure it’s us crashing since you’ll have to do paperwork over it.”

“Not with our new electronic system, I don’t.”

He chuckles, unable to help himself or complain about the lightness that he feels, before reaching down to grab her hand, threading their fingers together before he brings her knuckles to his lips, kissing the soft skin.

“You and that paperwork.”

“It’s the worst.”

When he pulls into his apartment, he nearly misses his stop, slamming down on the breaks and sloppily pulling into his spot before undoing his seatbelt and leaning over to cup Emma’s cheeks in his hands and lick into her mouth, a flash of warm heat simmering all the way down his body. She’s barely spoken, and he’s losing his mind.

He’s never been so thankful for the two of them to be able to do this normally, to be able to do this right.

“You want to come inside, right?”

“I want you to come inside.”

“Dirty.”

“I know,” she laughs, kissing him once more. “Of course I want to go inside. I’ve never seen your apartment, and I have all kinds of questions about it.”

“Like what?”

“Currently? I just want to know if your bed squeaks.”

“I can promise you that it doesn’t, but we can test it out.”

The walk up to his floor is oddly calm, even with the underlying tension and heat between them, and he manages not to do something that’ll get him evicted from this place. But then he’s unlocking his door, opening it to let Emma step in before him so that he gets a delicious view of her ass while he can tell she’s taking in his apartment in the same way that he took in hers when he last visited.

“So the bedroom is just back there then?” she gulps, shrugging off her jacket and tossing it on the couch.

“It is.”

“Good, she smiles, twisting around and wrapping her arms around his neck before kissing him with absolutely no preamble to her tongue tangling with his and her teeth hitting against him, sloppy and wet and just about everything that he needs to make his knees go weak.

Damn.

He knew how she kissed, but it’s never quite been like this.

Unable to wait any longer, he starts walking her back to the bedroom, his hands on her hips as hers start unbuttoning his shirt. It’s not graceful, not in the slightest. He’ll likely have a bruise on his thigh from where he ran into an end table, but none of that matters when Emma’s laid out on his bed, her hair a halo around her head, and her smile as bright as he’s ever seen it.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs as he shrugs off his shirt and his jacket, letting them fall to the floor, and climbs over her as he starts to roll her shirt up so that he can see the firm muscles of her stomach, the ones that are currently twitching with every touch of his lips and press of his hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as beautiful as you.”

“That’s saying a lot for someone who has lived as long as you have, old man.”

He bits down on her skin in response, not bothering to have a comeback of words. He’s still got so much to learn about Emma and how she functions, so much to learn about her tendencies to make jokes in serious conversations and talk over characters in movies, and he finds that he wants to learn it all just as he wants to learn every inch of her skin. He wants to map out the freckles and scars, the firm muscles and soft curves, everything.

When he gets her shirt above her breasts, which as encased in a lovely black sports bra with far too many straps and cutouts, she rises from the bed to take her shirt off for him, grabbing her bra along with it, so he’s left staring at round breasts with firm pink nipples that very well may have taken all of the words out of his mouth.

Imagining them after they spent that day in the water with Emma in a bikini is nothing compared to the real thing. He looks up at her for a moment, looks at the way she’s got her bottom lip between her teeth and her eyes widened, and it’s that fact that has him pressing up against her, her breasts pressing into his chest, and softly gliding his mouth over hers, slowly, gently, deliberately devouring her as she does the same to him.

As much as he wants to take his time, to savor this, to do this properly, he is but a man who has been so in love with a woman for a long time and can’t help himself from kissing back down her neck, lingering around her clavicle, before taking a pointed pink bud in his mouth and reveling in the moan that escapes Emma. Every sound is so similar, yet, so different, and he still finds that he wants to know them all even as his thoughts get muddled with the pleasure inching its way down his spine as all of his blood is rushing to his groin.

“Huh,” he whispers as he finally tugs her jeans down, kissing along her stomach and her hipbone to reveal a pair of navy blue underwear that have lacey edges. His chain falls onto her skin, his mother’s ring landing there, a silver glow against pale skin. “So you do match your underwear as dreadfully as you match your socks.”

“I wasn’t planning on anyone but me seeing it today.”

“I like it,” he promises, brushing his lips above the line of the material. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispers, reaching forward to run her fingers through his hair and tug him up. “Is that kind of insane to say?”

“Love always is.”

“You sound like a weird philosopher.”

“I very well could be.”

“Take off your pants, you dork.”

“So demanding,” he laughs, fumbling with his belt and his zipper until he gets them undone, shimming out of them until his jeans and his boxers have joined the pile of clothes already on the floor. “I kind of like it.”

“Good. Lie down on your back.”

He raises a brow at her, but does what she says, will likely always do what she says, and he cannot help the groan that comes from the back of his throat as Emma’s nail traces down his chest, leaving a path through the dark hair that resides there, as she’s kissing his trembling inner thigh.

He wants her so much that it physically hurts.

Mesmerized as he is, he watches Emma pump his cock, once, twice, three times, running her finger over the tip, before she’s leaning back and taking her underwear off, exposing her to him as completely as he is to her.

There are no walls, no barriers, just them.

She climbs back over him, brushing her wet core against him, and he nearly dissolves right there knowing that he did that to her, knowing that this is real. She rolls her hips, making him brush over her again, and she leans down against his mouth, kissing along his jaw and whispering in his ear, her voice as broken as he knows his is.

“Do you have a condom?”

“Aye, in the drawer.”

She nods her head against his before leaning over, quickly opening up his bedside drawer, lingering there for a moment before she’s hurrying back down her body and rolling the condom down his length, her touch electric, all-consuming, everything.

Before he can even fully comprehend what’s happening, Emma has her hands propped up against his chest, her nails curling into his hair, and she’s slowly sinking down into him, her warm walls overwhelming and just right all at once.

“Fuck, Emma, fuck,” he grunts as she starts to roll her hips against him, not wasting any time in trying to set a pace that works for her, for him too. She’s mesmerizing, her hair falling down her back in waves as the moonlight shines into his bedroom, casting her in a soft glow. Her breasts bounce with each move of her hips, and he leans forward to grab her hips, to feel her flesh, and help guide her in her movements while he brushes his lips over hers, letting every inch of their skin be touching. “You feel so good, love. So damn good.”

“Killian,” she gasps, something he captures with his lips and curls away with his tongue. “Killian, just like that.”

He grunts in response, the words escaping him even when he knows that he finally has the chance to use them, and then thrusts his hips up into hers, their skin slapping together while his breath becomes labored and sweat begins to form at his hairline, down his back. Being with Emma is everything he ever wanted, everything he ever dreamed of, and yet nothing at all like what he imagined.

Nothing at all.

Better. Infinitely better.

With less grace than he wanted, he turns them over so that Emma is pressed into the mattress as he fucks her into it, picking up his pace while she hooks her ankles over his ass to allow him easier access, to let him go in deeper. He can feel her nails digging into his back, likely leaving marks, and that spurs him on further as things speed up, the slow, melodic pace no longer anywhere to be seen. Emma’s breaths are shorter, less frequent, and he moves his hand from the sheets to where their joined, rubbing fast circles that make her gasp as he keeps on encouraging her to let go.

“Come for me, my love,” he mumbles against her neck, the cold press of his chain in between their bodies. “Such a good girl. Just like that. Keep feeling just like that.”

Her walls flutter around him, but he mostly knows that she’s falling apart from the sound of his name in his ear, from the sound of her love for him following it. It may very well be the most wonderful words he’s ever heard, even if he’s already thought that multiple times tonight.

No part of him cares.

His hips rock faster and faster into her until he feels his own orgasm on the edge, curling over him and consuming him until he falls into Emma, all of the effort and exertion and love coming to head all at once until he falls on top of Emma, trying not to crush her with his weight but unable to fall onto the mattress.

“Why the hell did we resist that for so long?”

He barks out a laugh as he kisses her neck, rolling over onto the mattress and onto his back, before getting up to deal with the condom and a bit of clean up all as he still chuckles at Emma’s joke. When he turns back around to answer her, Emma’s still laid out on the bed, her legs spread apart, and she’s got this goofy little smile on her face that mixes in with the flush that still covers her entire body.

“Because,” he starts, climbing back onto the bed and under the covers, encouraging Emma to join him and tuck herself under the covers and under his arm, her leg pressing between his as her arms wrap around his waist, “you were the teeniest, tiniest bit stubborn, and we resisted the urge even though there were times where I was convinced that we were going to go at it in the middle of the street.”

“Me? Stubborn? Never.”

Killian lifts her chin up to look at him, thumbing at the indent before pressing his lips to her forehead. “Always, darling. I’m glad we waited anyhow.”

“And why’s that?” she asks, toying with the chain around his neck as he runs his nails up and down her spine, still trying to learn all of her curves. They’ve got the time.

They have all the time in the world.

“Well, if I’m honest, it’s because now, how we are now, I know that I want to be with you because it’s what my heart wants, not just my body.”

“Such a way with words. Speaking of that,” she sighs, slapping his chest as a playful smile forms on her lips, “you keep my letters in your nightstand. I saw them when I was getting the condom.”

Blush rises to his cheeks even though no part of him is ashamed of that. No part of him at all.

“And what of it?”

“I think it’s romantic is all. I keep your letters in an old purse in my closet.”

“Hmm,” he laughs, dipping his head to kiss her again, knowing he isn’t anywhere near having his fill of her tonight, possibly ever, “well, that doesn’t sound nearly as romantic.”

“I don’t think I’m going to ever live up to you. I’m too quirky for that.”

“I like your quirks.” He bops her nose, making it scrunch up. “I mean, how could I not like them when you’re someone who has literally never matched her socks in her life.”

“That’s not that weird. They even sell mismatched socks now.”

“Do you buy them?”

“No.”

“Exactly, Swan.”

He scoots down a little further into the mattress so that his cheek rests against the pillow and Emma’s nose brushes against his, the two of them exchanging soft caresses of lips as his hands traces the curve of her hips, occasionally dipping his hand between her thighs and teasing her. It’s wonderful, all absolutely wonderful, and even though he knows that Emma doesn’t like the word perfect, it may very well be that.

But a broken kind of perfect, a better kind.

One day maybe the word won’t have such a sting to it.

They fall back together, slowly, gently, all at once. He lifts Emma’s leg over his hip and slides into her, slowly rocking into her as his tongue curls into her mouth, the heat overwhelming. They take their time, neither of them in any hurry as the rush of heat doesn’t seem to be demanding, until all of the sudden it is and they’re both calling out each other’s names.

The best part about it, though, he thinks, is that Emma holds onto the scars on his wrist, and keeps a hold of them, treasuring him for who he is, scars and all.

He and Emma talk, really talk for the first time, and it’s glorious. They get out of bed, if only because his apartment is cold and Emma wanted a t-shirt. He’s trying to hand one to her when she sees the ugly floral nightgown hanging in his closet, and she laughs so loudly that his neighbors can probably hear her. And when she puts it on, tying the band around her waist, he laughs too, especially at the way that she proudly walks around the room, her hair a tangled mess and her body enclosed in his one night stand’s mother’s bathrobe.

Only the two of them could have something like this.

He fixes them another cup of coffee, figuring tomorrow doesn’t have to be a day where they stay awake, and Emma sits on his countertop asking him about the books on his shelves, the ones that are his favorites and asking if there are ones that are there purely for looks. She giggles when he tells her that Liam has an entire shelf in his home full of books he’s never read, and he steps into her space, letting her legs wrap around his waist and her arms wrap around his neck. Her hands play with his hair, and he quite likes that she does that.

He quite likes a lot of things that she does.

Rather, he loves them.

He loves her.

“What is the chain around your neck for?” she asks, yanking it up before she runs her fingers over the cool metal. “You nearly always have it on.”

“So you’ve been watching me, love?”

“Absolutely, I particularly like your ass.”

“Funny, I like the same thing about you.” Kilian dips his head down to kiss her collarbone, running his tongue along the crevice. “The ring is my mother’s wedding ring. It’s not – my parents didn’t have a happy marriage, but it was my mum’s, you know? And Liam didn’t want it, so I took to wearing it when I could. It’s a nice reminder of her and how much I loved her.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma whispers, dropping the ring and running her hand up and down his arm until their fingers are interlocked, her hand soft and warm against his as they fit together. “I bet she was wonderful.”

“Aye, she was the best.”

“Will you tell me about her?”

So he does. He tells her about how she loves to read and dance and bake, how she loved the ocean nearly as much as she loved her children and how she always told him that the blue of his eyes came from the sea. He always knew that it wasn’t true, but he likes hearing the story regardless. It’s been so long since he talked about his mum, and it’s a breath of fresh air to get to talk about it now.

Emma is a breath of fresh air.

She’s a breath of fresh air who he takes over the back of his couch, fulfilling that fantasy before they curl up on the actual couch, and watch a documentary on World War One, undoubtedly the most romantic thing to watch. But then again, Emma does have a fondness for history in the way that he does. After a while, sleep begins to call to him, to both of them, but he’s not entirely sure that he wants to succumb, not when he is having a night that he knows is going to be one he remembers forever.

How could he ever forget?

At five, Killian’s phone dings, and he leans over the bed they’re now laying in to grab it, the screen bright in his face as he reads a simple text from Eric saying Lyla Fisher was born an hour ago and that she and Ariel are both very happy and healthy.

“You know, darling, I’ve just realized that we can always remember the day we first made love by little Fisher’s birthday. That’s a story I can’t wait to tell her when she gets older.”

“You will scar her for life,” Emma laughs, twisting in bed to sit up on the mattress, the sheets falling around her waist so that her hair barely covers her breasts. “Please do not do that.”

“Oh no, I definitely am.”

“You’re disturbed.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

He reaches forward to pinch her side before pulling her onto his lap, kissing all of the skin that he can reach. “Well, that depends on who you ask because if you ask me, I would say that it’s a very fortunate thing to love me. Really, you’re the luckiest woman on the planet, and I – ”

“Killian?” she groans, pressing her finger to his lips. He kisses it, obviously.

“Yes?”

She smiles softly at him, one that he thinks…no, that he knows, means she loves him. “Please stop talking and kiss me.”

He smiles that same smile back. “I could talk to you forever, my love.”

[stusbunker]

Known: Hunters

A Supernatural Dark Fan-fiction

Featuring: Dean Winchester x Female OC, Dean Winchester x Demon!Reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: With respect to my readers’ devotion to the show and its story lines, I have included dates relevant to air dates for reference points. I try not to repeat information you already know, but please ask if something doesn’t make sense! xoxo Stu

Warnings: Physical and Emotional Torture, captivity, blood, demons, Hell, Leviathans, show level violence, Slow Burn. More warnings to come. Each chapter will have its own warnings.

Earth Date: November 7, 2011

Location: Rock Port, Missouri

There were things she had seen that could make a military general shit his tighty whities, but never had Chloe Collins seen the unparalleled shift from one being into another. Werewolves, Skin-Walkers and Shifters, none phased that seamlessly. The man took one look at Reynolds, a burly backroad hunter, and instantly took him down with a sleeper hold. And then he WAS Reynolds: voice, gait, everything a complete replica.

“Ah, come on CC, you know he’d been dying for a taste,” the thing looked down at her partner on the case and stepped pointedly on to his neck. “I guess he died for me to have a taste.” Her stomach lurched as it approached her.

Things started falling into place in the panicked walls of her mind. The weird economic booms, the smarmy politicians and their inspirational press conferences. The fact that civilians kept getting dumber by the day. These things were behind it, she wasn’t sure how or why, but there were too many coincidences to ignore it now. Chloe braced herself to square off with an attacker that had half of a foot and fifty pounds on her.

‘Another fucking Apocalypse’, she internally cursed. The unnamed beast reeled back, and its neck opened to reveal rows of teeth and a putrid tongue. Chloe stabbed with all her strength, her signature ceremonial dagger sank into its chest. It swung back, unaffected by the wound. She jumped back, trying to shake off the blow to her head, the one-of-a-kind weapon lodged in the beast’s torso. As she grabbed for the pistol in the waistband of her jeans, deep voices called for her to duck. Surprisingly, she listened, leaving the vision of Sam Winchester a clear shot to douse her attacker with a healthy cascade of industrial cleaner before Dean removed its head.

She had died, this was it. She died with the idiotic hope of a rescue; her memories threw some unexpected pair to her thoughts as her brain started to short circuit. CC closed her eyes and smirked at the way phantom-memory Dean’s lips had curled as he sliced through that black-oozing-shifter with a solid machete stroke. ‘Yeah, at least I wasn’t the only one who went down swinging,’ CC thought as she fell unconscious.

The familiar weight of an old quilt pinned her to the bed. A musty pillow case cooled her cheek as she rolled over, ignoring the world around her until the last moments of her consciousness slammed into focus. Chloe sat up, scrambling for her dagger and her gun. They were waiting for her, cleaned and within arm’s reach on the nightstand. The worn wooden floor led to a large open cabin where her rescuers were casually watching soap operas. It was all too neat and so glaringly wrong at the same time.

The super-shifters had been throwing the Winchesters under the bus for the most public and absurd crimes. They wouldn’t keep her alive, unless they needed her. She tried to justify their use of dead hunters’ faces for their vendetta, but it only resumed the throbbing in her skull. She fell back on the bed, the old mattress bouncing enough to draw the well-trained ears of the man-shaped beasts across the room. She had her weapons in her hands and perched on her knees as Sam stood to approach her.

He raised his massive hands in surrender, “CC, hey, it’s okay. It’s us.”

“Sure, it’s you,” she snarled. “Weird place for a couple of mass murders to be hiding out. Whose place is this? Why are you wearing my friends?”

“Chloe,” Dean’s deep voice caused her to blink, his hands mirrored Sam’s. The concern and honesty defying her fighter’s instincts. “Come on, sweetheart. We’re not Leviathan. Those sonofabitches are really bad for business,” his voice trailed off to Sam, who only shrugged.

Dean stepped closer and she cocked the hammer. “Why would we gift wrap your weapons if we were monsters?”

“Obviously they don’t do much to you, but all I need is to slow you down.” She threw her knife square at Sam’s chest, he barely spun in time, as Dean charged her gun hand. He shoved her hand up. CC got one shot off through the ceiling before Dean fell hard against her atop the bed, wrenching her arm back forcing her to finally drop the weapon.

“It’s us, CC, I swear. Let us show you, please?” Dean’s voice was tired, the last word said on a whisper. Sam stood back, playing with her knife between his long fingers, admiring the runes. His brow was pinched and his chin out, not sure what to say to make her see them in a better light. She nodded, frustration and confusion winning over their insistence.

The man rolled off her, letting her hold her weapon as they talked. Her eyes kept moving, checking the windows and furniture for quick escapes. Something she couldn’t shake was how he even smelled like Dean. They dosed themselves with her Holy Water, salted each other and even cut themselves with both the silver and iron edges of her treasured blade. Their final test was new, they assured her that it was for them, the Leviathan, and nothing happened once Sam and then Dean sprinkled a type of detergent over their opposite hands.

“Okay?” Sam offered, his big puppy dog eyes waiting for her to process it all. She shrugged, holding her gun over the pillow clutched to her chest.

“To answer your question, this was one of Rufus’ safehouses. Bobby brought us here once and when we had to go deep cover--” Dean leaned with his elbows on his knees, trying to remember the last time he had seen her. The past few years had been such a whirlwind, he had barely kept his head up for air.

“Wait, Chloe, let’s say we’re not Sam and Dean, or at least the Sam and Dean you know—”

“Sammy?” Dean’s groaned, rubbing his eyebrows.

“No, Dean, listen. Chloe, why is it so hard for you to believe us?”

She looked at Sam through squinted eyes, his soft tone just like the one he would use on victims’ families. Wary, yet not as distrustful as the first few minutes of their conversation, “because the Sam and Dean I know, are dead. They died stopping Lucifer and the Angels from frying the planet.”

That got their attention, Dean and Sam shared a look, Sam’s eyes brightening with the turn of events.

“Who told you that?” Dean’s voice was brass, obvious with disbelief.

“Bobby Singer.” Chloe spat, her head rolling a little with her certainty. Dean laughed, while Sam paused, but thought it out. She continued, “he said Sam had taken Michael and the Devil to hell himself and Dean—”

“And Dean what?” Sam drew a chair from the breakfast table and sat backwards on it, listening intently.

“was gone,” she finished on a rattled breath.

The brothers shared another look, while the woman stared at them, really and truly taking them in. They had aged, Sam was leaner, Dean’s eyes more lined. Monsters would have taken them as they were, not able to replicate something as unique and unpredictable as human mortality. “Well, it wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, sweetheart.”

“I was in Hell, but got brought back,” Sam started, letting it sink in.

“And I left hunting, or tried to, had a bit of a domestic hiatus, you could say.” Dean shrugged, the softness of his smile warming the thick block of ice that had settled in her stomach.

“But, why didn’t Bobby tell me?” Chloe countered, trying to out logic their explanations.

“Bobby kind of has a soft spot for us, I think he wanted Dean to have a normal life and, well, I spent a year without a soul. He was protecting his own.” Sam offered, an apologetic grimace on his face.

“Yeah, let’s just be grateful you didn’t meet that Sam. Him, you wouldn’t have believed.” Dean muttered, getting up with a soft pat on CC’s knee. He went to the fridge for a beer.

“Dude!” Sam chastised him. “What is it 10 a.m.?”

“You want one?” Dean offered to Chloe, ignoring his brother’s judgement.

“Got anything stronger?”

“You know it.”

Earth Date: January 13, 2012

Location: Hell, A Never-Ending Hallway

This was worse because it was all an illusion. There was no end in sight, just enough progress to keep that minuscule drop of hope alive. You had to hand it to the king, this was a much more effective and hands-free form of torture. You patrolled the corridor, eyeing the prisoners, souls in every hue and stage of damnation. Your scaled flesh caused many to shudder as you approached; showing your true form was cathartic now. The years as one of the tortured long behind you as you suffered alongside the helpless masses as one of the enforcers.

It was still Hell, but it had grown on you.

Earth Date: August 20, 2012

Location: Odell, Oregon

The call rang on until the clipped voicemail message greeted Chloe, again. She angrily ended the call, biting back the curses at the stubborn man. If the phone had been ditched, it would have gone to voicemail instantly, or to an outdated disconnected message. No, Sam had kept his phone charged and on, he was just choosing to ignore her calls. They had never been close, but his blatant disregard ruffled her sense of mutual respect held amongst hunters. He needed a good head smack. Among other things.

What would Dean say about his little brother’s lack of manners? God only knows, Chloe thought as the familiar clutch of grief writhed within her chest.

 Earth Date: February 25, 2013

Location: Lebanon, Kansas

 “No.”

“Please? Just close your eyes, it’s a surprise.” Dean’s eyes widened, looking like a hopeful third-grader instead of a middle-aged scruff covered hunter. Chloe crossed her arms and shook her head. “Just turn off the huntress-ness, for like three seconds. Help a guy out here?”

“You’re not as cute as you think you are,” she muttered, closing her eyes dramatically as Dean rushed to slip the ornate key into the large metal door. She held out her hand and cleared her throat, expectantly. Sam chuckled beside her and she elbowed him. A warm calloused hand took hers, while the other gathered her at the small of her back.

“Alright, CC, welcome to our new place,” Dean, both proud and excited. She gaped, her mouth open in genuine shock. She looked at Sam, who seemed sick as a dog and then back to Dean who was grinning like a fool. Sam just shook his head, his hair fluttering as the door closed behind him.

“Ready for that tour?”

“Why are you even on this side of the country?” Sam asked as they waited for Dean to bring out their plates. He had insisted on playing host, another surprise for Chloe or just general hospitality from a man who had never had a permanent home? It was quite the coin toss.

“Honestly?” Chloe sighed, resting her feet on the chair next to her at the library table. “A cryptic message from Garth and boredom. Been trying to stay off the ol’ Angel radar, because, no thanks.”

Sam nodded, holding up his hands half in a shrug, half in dismay, “Yeah, tell me about it. Unfortunately, we don’t have that sort of luck.”

“Or good sense,” she added, giving Sam her questioning eyebrow.

“Fair enough. But, uh, you look good, everything going okay otherwise?” Sam cleared his throat, changing the subject from the Winchesters’ poor life choices. Chloe let it slide, ignoring the compliment and sidestep with a generous swig of her beer. She nodded, but before she could reply an exuberant Dean burst from the kitchen with two plates overflowing with homemade potato wedges and bacon cheeseburgers.

“Oh, he cooks too? I’ll take three, please,” she cooed underneath her breath, knowing full well Sam heard her. They ate quickly with large gulps surrounded by appreciative groans. The burgers were mouthwatering, and the fries seasoned to perfection. As Chloe played with the last of the ketchup on her plate, the boys debated their next move. Lots of big talk about Gates of Hell and Trials, she got the distinct impression that Dean was not so pleased with Sam bearing the brunt of the upcoming uncertainty. The Winchesters had always been on a higher echelon of hunters than CC or even most she had ever worked with. But this was big, after everything they had already done, she wondered if their mission had become another crusade. Perhaps that drive is what made them great, perhaps it is what cost them a majority of their friends and all of their family.

It was most definitely the thing that drew her to them since they saved her from that Leviathan. And it was the second most terrifying thing about them that left her questioning her sanity.

Earth Date: March 30, 2013 (Just before the episode Taxi Driver)

Location: Hell, Outside Bobby Singer’s cell

“You’re certain?” You asked the guard in a demonic dialect before peeking through the decorative metal inlay of the unlocked door, having grown over the years, your height allowed you easy access to loom around the bend.

“Everyday. They send someone in with a glamor to confuse the old coot. It’s always one of two brothers. Sam Winchester,” the growl in her voice broke off into a purr. There was still much trepidation over the true vessel of Lucifer, even demons had their kinks. “Or Dean.”

A name that had been barely a rumor over the last centuries, especially the years since the fall of Lucifer’s acolytes Azazel and Lilith and the rise of Crowley. Yet a name you would never forget. The king was a known consort of all manner of beings, from heaven to the scum of humanity. But to have a version of Dean Winchester in Hell where you could see him again? The prospect was overwhelming, even if it was a torment-intended simulation. You hurried back down the row of high priority souls, prisoners that had been won or stolen from Heaven. Souls that had done the most damage to the armies of Hell during their living years. Their pain resonated through the stone walls, sickly sweet.

Over the following months you left your patrols earlier and earlier, escaping to the dungeon that housed the humanly mentor of the man that had irreparably changed you. And each day you watched the various exchanges, smooth and cavalier Dean attempting to rescue Bobby Singer, desperate demonic Dean thirsty to spill the old man’s blood or broken and sobbing Dean begging Bobby to end him. If you weren’t so biased, the Sam illusions would have been equally as moving, Demon-blood strengthened Sam claiming he had found his true family, a preteen Sam begging Bobby to teach him how to shoot only to have his eyes darken and turn on his teacher or a Red-Eyed Sam, a poor rendition of Lucifer, but effective against the soft insides of their paternal figure.

You learned much in your time watching the torture of Robert Singer. He was an impressive soul, even after decades of torture he routinely told the imposters to stick it where the sun didn’t shine. Like any parent, he had a favorite, no matter how he tried to hide it. He preferred Dean, but that was because he saw his own emotional vulnerability in the young hunter. Sam was more like John, with whom Bobby routinely butted heads. His love ran deep, no matter who was favored or understood best. Which was why it was so easy to maintain the doubleganger inflicted agony. And your misery loved their company.

One evening, having missed a turn due to overly flustered messenger demons, you were later than normal to escape your duties and relish in the vision of Dean. The King was not pleased and therefore everyone worked to keep their heads down, patrols were increased, any charge was overly-minded. When you rounded the corner, one of the Sam Winchester doubles was barking at the soul of Bobby Singer and another was screaming that the other was not real. Well this was a twist, but then you saw them, bodies of your fallen brethren zapped from their human meatsuits. It was the real Sam Winchester, as you watched the hunter and the old man run away, you stood frozen. There was no way to salvage this without going toe-to-toe with Lucifer’s vessel who was also the only being Dean would do anything for. You let them go, hiding in the shadows, knowing there was something brewing above.

With the loss of your daily reminder of him from Bobby’s enforcers, your hunger for Dean only intensified.

tags: @dontshootmespence @because-imma-lady-assface @mrswhozeewhatsis @smi727 @sassykayla255 @dxr-supernatural-fanfic @supernaturalboi @dumbthotticus @eve05glee @veroinnumera @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @forgettingthoughts @shokushuhime-stuff @fanfictionrecommendations-com @soullesscollection-world @igotdressedthroughthemess @thoughtslikeaminefield

Next Chapter: Topside Turvy

[shan282-ao3]

The Devil Has Come Ch6

Originally posted on Archive of Our Own [x]

Chapters: 12/? Fandom: Far Cry 5 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed Characters: Original Female Character(s), John Seed, Jacob Seed, Joseph Seed, Faith Seed, Staci Pratt, Nick Rye, Sharky Boshaw, Female Deputy | Judge (Far Cry), Original Male Character(s), Kim Rye, Boomer (Far Cry), Joey Hudson, Earl Whitehorse Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Torture, Fluff, Minor Character Death, Recreational Drug Use, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Character Death, Slow Burn Series: Part 1 of Bottom of The River

Summary: They should never have been there. Whitehorse and Pratt were right when they spoke against going to Eden’s Gate. They should have left The Project alone. They’d started something and there was no going back now. The lamb had broken the first seal and the deputy had been helpless to stop her.

Read below:

Hope County had been hit with a heat wave, the last two days had been passed in agony with the air-conditioning inside whatever car they traveled in. The only sound inside the pickup was choir music drifting softly through the radio. Sarah sat in the passenger’s seat counting ammo and reloading her weapons as well as Rook.

She’d told Rook about John when she’d gotten to the Rye's. Thankfully she’d still been there so Sarah had been able to pull her aside and tell her everything. Well not everything, she’d left out the weird baptism and the softer details from her two encounters with him. She’d had been rightfully pissed off that Sarah hadn’t told her sooner, but aside from that, she didn’t seem too worried. She had, however, decided that they stick together from now on if they went out to do something for the resistance they went together.

So they now found themselves sitting in the car on the side of the road waiting for a fuel truck to drive by. Falls End was running low and Mary May had tasked them with bringing some tankers back. Of course, that was easier said than done.

“You ready?” Rook asked and pointed down the road to a fuel tanker driving slowly towards them. Sarah nodded and loaded the clip into her sniper.

She grabbed the outside of the car and pulled herself out of the car so she was sitting on the open window, her shoes leaving boot prints on the seat. She twisted and raised the scope to line up her shot. She took a breath as she centered the crosshairs on the driver’s chest. Normally she would go for a headshot but if she did that they risked the tanker careening off the road and crashing into something.

She held her breath and fired, watching through her scope as the bullet impaled the man. The brakes squealed and it veered towards a ditch on the side of the road but came to a halt before going over. Sarah finally let herself breathe.

She dropped back into the car as Rook drove towards the tanker. They stopped next to it and Rook climbed out. Sarah waited in the passenger seat with her AR-C trained on the road in front of them in case some cultists decided to crash the party.

Something caught Sarah’s eye near the truck, Rook was dragging the dead Peggie away. Sarah jumped out of her seat to get closer, unsure of what it was she’d seen. When she got close to the tank she gagged, the smell of gasoline was sickening. Her eyes widened when she realized what it was she had seen. A stream of flame was shooting out from behind the driver’s seat, her bullet must have gone through the guy and into the tank. She hadn’t switched out of the armor-piercing bullets.

“Run!” Sarah shouted at Rook, turning on heel and sprinting back to the car and leaped into the drivers. She flipped it into reverse and skidded backward, stopping long enough for Rook to get in.

“What the fuck is going on?” Rook’s voice was frantic and demanding.

“I shot the tanker. When I shot the Peggie I hit the tank and ignited the gas.” Sarah craned her neck to look behind them as she reversed away.

“What?” Rook shouted, panic and anger coming across clear. “How the fuck?”

Sarah didn’t answer, a Resistance car drove past them towards the tanker. They both watched helplessly as the car got closer just as the tanker blew. The women screamed as the force of the explosion caused their bones to rattle.

Sarah couldn’t hear anything and there was a massive spot in the center of her vision. She fumbled around until she grasped the door handle and pulled it. She tumbled out of the car to the hot asphalt below. She swore and rubbed her head as she sat on the ground.

Rook stumbled around to the driver’s side and grabbed Sarah’s arm, yanking her up and pointing in the direction of the Resistance members, she was saying something that Sarah couldn’t hear. The van hadn’t exploded in the blast but a thick black smoke was pouring out of the engine.

Sarah followed behind Rook, trying to keep her bearings as they got closer. The vehicle’s occupants were passed out, Sarah followed her partner’s lead and opened one of the doors to drag someone out. The engine caught fire and Sarah tugged harder on the woman in her arms, there were still two people left inside, one in the passenger’s seat and one more in the backseat. She pulled the woman to safety and took a few steps towards the van again.

The explosion that followed sent her flying back onto her ass. Her hearing had been starting to return, extremely muffled but it had been coming back. Now the only thing she could hear was a high pitched ringing. Her head screamed at her to stay down as she shoved herself into a sitting position. The bright spot in her vision was worse now, she could see it every time she blinked.

Somewhere deep down she knew she should check the van, see if anyone survived. She should look for Rook, should check on the woman she’d pulled out. Yet once she’d pushed herself to her feet she found herself stumbling away from the explosion down the road. All other thoughts gone from her mind, she dragged herself past the car chasing safety, home.

It wasn’t long before cars rolled up. Sarah wasn’t surprised, she barely blinked an eye at the white trucks with the Eden’s Gate symbols painted on their doors. Someone tugged on her arm, hazy, confused, shocked, Sarah turned painfully slowly and made eye contact with Rook. She was saying something, Sarah just shook her head and pulled away to resume her walking.

A Peggie jumped from their car and walked towards Sarah, she stopped and looked down at her gun, safely tucked in its holster. She could draw it, she had time. She didn’t, just stopped moving and watched the man as he got closer. He grabbed her and slammed her against a nearby truck, she was numbly aware that it hurt. The barrel of a gun pressed against her neck and she took a sharp inhale if this was how it ended then so be it. She pushed against the gun and felt hesitation in the man.

Pain enveloped her chest and she looked up, past the man with the gun at her throat, to see another had shot her. Rook lay on the ground not too far away. Star and sparkles swam around her vision and the ringing in her ears got softer. Bliss bullets. Sarah closed her eyes and breathed as the bliss took over and she collapsed to the ground.

“Why the hell is she here?” Someone shouted and the sound of something breaking drifted through the doorway.

“She was with the deputy, I thought—“ Another voice, it sounded scared.

“You thought? You thought?!” Sarah groaned, the voices assaulting her ears made her headache worse. “I ordered everyone to leave her alone. You were just supposed to take the rookie not her.” Someone cried out in pain, Sarah tried to care but she couldn’t find the effort in her.

She opened her eyes hesitantly, grateful for the shitty lighting in the room she was in. It was dark aside from the few dim yellow lights hanging above, it was supposed to be menacing she was sure, but to her just felt comforting in a way. There was no one else around, she was finally alone. Except she wasn’t.

Someone cried out to her left, frantic and muffled. Sarah looked to the source, her eye’s fixing on Hudson who was tied to a chair in the corner of the room. She opened her mouth to say something but found she couldn’t, her mouth was taped shut. A touch of panic set in, Sarah looked wildly around to get her bearings, the binds on her wrist cut in every time she moved. Groaning from her right alerted her to Rook’s presence in the room.

The sound of metal squealing caught Sarah’s attention and she watched the door closest to Rook swing open. John stepped through, violence and rage painted on his face and obvious in the way he stalked into the room. Hudson was screaming, Sarah wanted to tell her to shut the fuck up, it was hurting her head.

John paused by Rook who was only now starting to stir but continued on until he stopped in front of Sarah. He grabbed her chin with a grip much harder than she was comfortable with and forced her head up to look him in the eye, turned her this way and that as his too blue eyes looked for something. His body language threatened cat violence, cruelty, all the pain to come, but the eyes that looked with her for a moment betrayed a certain softness, maybe even a bit of regret. It was gone as soon as she saw it though and he let her go, shoving her back a bit.

He bent down and picked up a toolbox of some sort before talking towards the workbench across from her. He dropped something onto the table beside Rook, who was now awake and obviously a little in shock at their situation.

John walked like he had an audience, his movements emphasized and drawn out. It worked to his advantage, all three of his captives watched intently. He stood still for a few seconds, Sarah wasn’t sure why. Hudson had stopped watching him and instead looked down submissively at the floor. He finally pivoted towards Rook and started to speak.

“My parents were the first ones to teach me about the Power of Yes.” He drew the last word out, there was a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “One night, they took me into the kitchen, and they threw me on the ground,” He wasn’t looked at Rook anymore, he had his back to her and was stapling something that looked like skin to his bench, “And I experienced pain after pain after paid—“

His stapler slammed onto the bench, everyone in the room jumped. For the first time, Sarah felt genuine fear when she looked at him. Before it had only been momentary panic or a sense of unease, but now, rage and cruelty lacing his voice and actions, she could barely breathe. She felt like a cornered rabbit staring down a hungry cougar, her instincts screaming at her to run but her body trapped against her chair.

“And when I didn’t think I could take anymore, I did.” His eyes darted to Sarah for a second as he walked towards Rook. “Something broke free inside. I wasn’t scared. I was… clear.” Sarah watched his every moment, partly out of fear and partly out of some sick fascination. He sounded so at peace, and somewhat cocky, as he continued. “I looked up at them and I started to laugh. All I could say was… Yes.” Again he drew the word out and Sarah finally understood what Nick had meant when he said John Seed probably had a ‘yes’ kink.

Sarah kicked against her bounds and John looked at her sharply before continuing his little speech. Sarah had stopped listening, she tried to block him out and looked around the room, searching for some way out.

“Giving takes courage. The courage…” He stepped away from Rook and walked back towards his bench. He held eye contact with Sarah as he continued. “To own your sin. To etch it on to your flesh and carry its burden,” He turned his palms up in some guise of holiness and directed his attention back to Rook. “And when you have endured— when you have truly begun to atone— to cut it out like a cancer and display it for all to see. My god that’s courage.” The image brought bile to her throat. He grabbed a screwdriver and stalked towards Sarah. There was a purr in his voice as he stalked towards her. “I’m going to teach you courage. Teach you how to say ‘yes’ so you can confront your weaknesses.” There was a manic excitement in him and he turned back around, his focus darting all over the place as he continued his rant and he voice got louder and louder. “Confront your sin. You will swim across an ocean of pain and emerge… free. For only then can you truly begin to atone.”

He stopped in front of his bench and leaned back against it, screwdriver held like a weapon. His arm tattoos were on display, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. “So. Who wants to go first? Hm?”

Rook and Sarah looked eyes, Hudson refused to look at anyone but the wall behind Sarah. No one said anything and John’s anger bubbled. “Which one? Hm?” Nothing. “This is lesson number one.” Hudson whimpered and struggled against her bonds, Sarah didn’t break eye contact with Rook. “Someone’s got to choose.” His voice was strangled, drawing Sarah’s attention. He looked at her with a mix of violence and what might even be fear. She said nothing, just watched him.

John’s patience broke and he turned around faster than Sarah had expected and threw the bench backward. “For fuck's sake we’ll start with you!” He practically screamed and walked menacingly towards Rook. He sounded so happy and at peace before he grabbed Hudson. He pushed her towards the door behind rook, she let out terrified shrieks as he told Rook about what he was going to do to her.

All Sarah could do was watch helplessly, her blood cold with terror. Someone came into the room and took Hudson’s chair out the room while she kicked at her bindings and screamed. “We can’t forget about our other deputy.” John pivoted and grabbed her chair, pushing her in front of him towards the door out. “I’ll be right back.” He told the Rook as he passed, he was practically squatting as he pushed her chair.

John didn’t say anything for a few minutes and Sarah didn’t bother struggling. Hudson’s faint cries could be heard carrying down the hallway until the eventually stopped and the only sound left was air hissing through vents above.

Sarah let her eyes wander, taking in the halls that John pushed her down, as she tried to sort out her thoughts. She was terrified, that was a given, but a small part of her deep, deep down knew that she’d be fine, she’d make it out of this relatively fine. Above the pain, she felt anger, anger at the cult and John. Not sure because he was planning to torture her, but also because he’d kidnapped her. Barely three days ago he’d promise he wouldn’t force her into confession and yet here she was. She shouldn’t have trusted him, she was an idiot.

“I’m… they weren’t supposed to take you.” John finally broke the silence when he’d pushed her into a room and closed the door behind them. He pulled the tape from her mouth and Sarah squeezed her eyes shut as is pulled at her skin. “I meant what I said last time.”

“Fuck off,” Sarah swore, struggling uselessly at her restraints for a few seconds. Her hair was in front of one eye and he moved his hand to brush it away. She flinched back like she’d been attacked. “Don’t fucking touch me.” She practically spat, struggling again and her chair moved back away from him, she felt a small bit of triumph.

John looked a little hurt and pretty offended, but his anger quickly came up to mask it. He clenched his fist and kicked her chair away, it spun and banged against the wall. She had to physically spin herself back around to face him. “I’m trying,” He was practically seething, “to help you.”

“Help me?! You said this was my decision! You said I didn’t have to atone until I was ready!” Her voice rose with every word and she glared daggers at the man who she’d only days ago shared pleasant conversation.

“I know what I said.” He snapped and pulled the sunglasses off his head to run a hand through his hair, it left it looking disheveled. “There’s nothing I can do about it now.”

“Nothing you can do? You can let me go you asshole.” She wished she wasn’t tied up right now so she could punch his stupid, beautiful face.

John looked at her with almost sad eyes and pulled her chair close again. He crouched in front of her and rubbed her wrist with his thumb. “I can’t, word has already spread that I both deputies. If I let you go, Joseph would know and he…” He trailed off and Sarah felt the fight in her die.

John looked absolutely terrified at the mention of Joseph. She remembered a conversation she’d had with Rook about the first time John had grabbed her. She’d mentioned that when Joseph had shown up John had looked about ready to piss himself. Sarah’s heart broke for him, his life had been shit enough without Joseph adding to that.

“John?” Her voice was soft, almost maternal, and she wished she wasn’t bound so she could comfort him in some way. He looked up at her with what seemed like disbelief, why would she suddenly be nice to him? Sarah wasn’t sure why, but she leaned forward as far as she could and bumped his forehead with hers. “John?” He didn’t say anything, just pressed against her and just breathed for a few minutes.

Sirens shattered the silence and John shot away from her like he’d been burned. He looked wildly between her and the door before bolting out, radio in hand.

“The deputy escaped.” A voice crackled through the window and carried through the partially open door into Sarah’s room.

“Which one?” John’s voice was frantic and furious.

“Not Hudson.”

“Dammit! Find her!” John’s stomping footsteps carried down the hall and Sarah looked around for something to help her get out. She resorted to pushing herself slowly towards the door, it was a tiring process but soon she was at the gap. Except it wasn’t open far enough for her to get through and she couldn’t shove it open like that, the thing was fucking heavy.

Familiar panting hit her ears and Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. “Rookie? Tessa?” She called out the gap and soon her savior stood in front of her and shoved the door open. “Took you long enough.” Sarah quipped half-heartedly as Rook cut her restraints.

“Sorry, I fell down some stairs.”

“Why?”

Rook gave her a deadpan look. “It seemed like something fun to do before leaving the torture bunker.” Sarah hummed in mock understanding and rubbed her wrists. “Did you see where Hudson went?”

“Nope.” Sarah shook her head and Rook swore. She handed Sarah her knife and the two went out into the corridor, running towards hopefully an exit.

[noodlecupcakes]

Nothing More Contagious Than Laughter - Chapter 22

Warnings: Language, Murder, Blood, Gore, My poor writing, These last few chapters are really something awful 

Shout at me if you want to be added to the taglist :)

Help a writer out and reblog their work 

Chapter 22

Emerald’s P.O.V

Eddie was kind enough to let Oswald and I sleep in his bed while he took the couch. Oswald and I slept with Oswald clinging to me so much as if he let go I would vanish into the night. Eddie was so kind and sweet, a little quirky but I guess it added to his personality. Although I felt a little stupid every time I failed to answer one of his riddles correctly. And it happened a lot. Ed didn’t seem to mind however; he would explain the answer to me so that next time I would get it right.

Tonight was the night that we planned on making a move on Galavan. Oswald had formed a plan, now we just had to wait for Detective Gordon to get on board. Apparently he knew what Galavan was up to and being the good little cop he was wanted to put a stop to it. Zsasz brought him in unconscious and being in the good mood that I was I decided to clean off the blood on his face. I sat by him, waiting for him to wake up. Although I’m sure prodding him would speed the process along.

“Wakey wakey Jimmy,” I spoke, prodding him hard in the ribs. I smiled as his eyes opened and he scrambled away from me. He looked around the room confused, his eyes falling on Ed and Oswald who were over by Ed’s piano. “What’s going on?” He asked. “About time you woke up James, we have work to do,” Oswald spoke. “I have to find Bruce,” Jim spoke more to himself than us. “No, you have to give me Galavan.” Jim began to explain that Galavan was part of a group that wanted Bruce Wayne dead. Seriously when was that kid gonna catch a break? It seemed everyone wanted him dead. Apparently they had Bruce now and we had to go now before they could kill him.

I turned to Oswald, waiting for his say. The sooner Galavan dies the better in my opinion. Oswald took a seat and asked Jim to explain his plan. Jim did so, apparently most of the GCPD were behind him which would help with manpower as if Oswald’s men weren’t enough. Once a plan had been formed which was for all of us to head to the place Bruce was being held captive and obviously save him before taking down Galavan. Although if that went south he would probably head back to his penthouse before fleeing the city so Oswald and Jim would corner him there. I cleared my throat at this and Oswald smiled.

“Emerald comes too no questions asked,” Oswald spoke. Jim turned to me then back to Oswald and shrugged in agreement. Good. Even if I wasn’t the one to pull the trigger I still wanted to watch. Maybe then I could move on. “Can we go? I’ve done enough waiting,” I interrupted. “Patience dear, we have to make sure Detective Gordon is one hundred percent on board,” Oswald replied. “I am,” Jim spoke. “See Ozzie, now let’s go.” Oswald got to his feet, leading Jim out of the apartment. I turned to Eddie and went over to him, pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you for all you’ve done Eddie, you're more than welcome to come visit us anytime,” I explained, before kissing his cheek. “And you are both welcome back here anytime…as long as Oswald leaves me some food in the fridge next time.” I left Eddie’s apartment and skipped down the stairs before getting into Oswald’s car. There was a shotgun on his lap and a bag of various other guns and ammo on the floor by his feet. The car journey wasn’t that long and we soon pulled up to find various other people waiting for us. I spotted Bruce’s butler amongst them and he spotted me, he did not look pleased to see me. After all our last encounter involved me telling people to kill him.

“What the bloody hell is she doing here?” He asked Jim, pointing at me. “Relax, I’m not here to kill you and the last time was nothing personal I promise. I just needed some leverage and you were the best I had,” I explained. “And you think I’m going to forgive you?” “…maybe. I don’t really care to be honest, I’m not here for Bruce if that’s what your freaking out about. I’m here for Galavan.” “I see and you think Detective Gordon’s just gonna let you walk in there do you?” “Yeah actually I do. We have a little arrangement you see. So I suggest that you back off.”

Oswald was giving orders out to Zsasz and his men whilst Gordon did the same to his partner and the swat team. Bruce’s butler stood by a teenage girl dressed all in black with wild brown hair. With Gordon’s word we headed inside. Zsasz stayed by side, handing me a pistol so I could defend myself if need be. I smiled my thanks and we continued up the stone steps. Jesus how many stairs did this place have? Even Gordon's partner who had once been my rescuer and wrapped me in his coat was taking frequent breaks.

We reached the top floor, hearing chanting from inside the main room. The doors were forced open by the swat team and we all piled inside, finding a bunch of weird looking monks stood around Bruce Wayne who was tied to a post and wearing a white nightgown. I spotted Galavan amongst them and fired. He ran, ducking out of my sight. The monks thought with their martial arts and knives they actually stood a chance against people with guns. The room was soon emptied and Bruce was freed. But Galavan was nowhere to be found. Oswald took my hand and we went down the stairs as quick as we could to find him. With Oswald’s limp however that slowed us a little and Gordon rushed past us.

As long as he caught up to Galavan and held him hostage that’s all that mattered. I continued to help Oswald along until we reached the final step. If I had the strength I would haul him over my shoulder and carry him to the damn car. Oswald got in the car and I got in to the driver’s seat, leaving the original driver behind. Now was not a time for a smooth ride, we needed to get to Galvan’s penthouse and fast. I raced through a few lights and avoided other cars. Oswald was putting on his feathery, sparkly coat that made him look even more bird like. I pulled up parallel to Jim's car and we decided to take the lift this time. Oswald laced his fingers with mine, kissing the back of my hand.

The lift dinged as we reached the top floor and I gripped Oswald’s hand tighter as memories of my time here with Jerome flooded my mind. Someone was speaking with Jim, telling him not to kill Galavan. Oswald took this opportunity to grab the nearest vase, ready to smash it over that person’s head. We entered the room, finding a huge bald guy that kinda resembled a human thumb. Oswald smashed the vase over the man’s head, knocking him unconscious. Galavan was handcuffed and on the floor, clearly exhausted.

He spotted me and smiled, “fancy seeing you here Emerald.” Before I had a chance to say a smart comeback Oswald stepped between us, “you don’t get to talk to her.” Galavan frowned before tilting his head to the side so he could look past Oswald and at me. “You moved on quickly, I thought Jerome was your one and only?” Oswald backhanded him in an attempt to shut him up but this only made Galavan chuckle. I clenched my fists, taking a deep breath to compose myself. He was doing it to get a rise out of you Emerald, don’t let him. I placed my hand on Oswald’s shoulder and smiled to tell him it was ok.

I pulled out Jerome’s switchblade and crouched in front of Galavan. “How’s the bullet wound? Healed yet?” I asked. “Almost.” “Well it would be a damn shame if I reopened it.” With that I jabbed him with the blade in the same place I had shot him the night he murdered Jerome. He let out a yelp as the blade went through skin and muscle. Jim pulled me off of him, glaring at me. “We kill him, not torture him,” Jim said firmly. “Detective as much as I appreciate your help with this he hasn’t taken anybody away from you. He took Jerome from me and he took away Oswald’s mother so sit down and shut the fuck up!”

I needed to do this, I needed to inflict pain on him. Although I’m sure I could never put him through the level of pain he had put me through. “This won’t bring Jerome back Emerald,” Galavan continued to taunt. “Oh I know, but it will make me feel better about the situation,” I grinned. Galavan’s face fell and I kicked him in the face hard enough to knock him out. I put Jerome’s switchblade back in my pocket and helped Jim and Oswald carry Galavan’s body to Oswald’s car. We put him in the trunk and drove to the docks. How typical right? Murdering someone and dumping their body there.

Oswald opened the trunk, finding Galavan conscious once more. We dragged him out where Oswald proceeded to beat him with a metal pipe. I sat on the boot of the car, watching as Oswald made him bleed. Jim eventually stopped him and put Galavan out of his misery with a simple bullet to the head. Jim turned and left, the weight of finally killing a man in cold blood on shoulders. I watched as Oswald shoved his umbrella down Galavan’s throat. Well, that was an interesting use of an umbrella. We dumped Galavan’s body over the edge and into the water. I smiled, feeling a huge weight off my shoulders. I could finally be at peace knowing he had finally paid for what he had done.

Taglist: @belathora, @my-world-of-imagines, @genevievedarcygranger, @warriorqueen1991, @suicidesqwads, @maddybeck01, @musicalcoffeebean, @neganismyobsession, @emoryhemsworth, @just--a--nobody-here

[darkling-er]

Hope’s Savior ( John Seed x OC ) | Part 20

Summary: Trinity-Hope Johnson finds herself in the middle of a holy war, leading the Resistance, while having a complicated relationship with one of the cult’s herald. And she thought her first case would be easy. Oh how wrong she was!

Pairings: John Seed/Fem!Deputy, John Seed/OC, Earl Whitehorse & OC ( uncle&niece ), Joseph Seed/Fem!Deputy ( kind of ), might add more later

Warnings: mild language, violence, eventually smut, masturbation, oral sex, you know guys the usual, use of drugs ( bliss and other, thanks to Sharky ), fluff ( does that even need a warning? ), manipulation, angst, mention of mental illness ( insomnia, depression ), mention of child abuse ( from John’s side ), torture, I think that’s it? I swear it’s not so bad!

Word Counter:  7664

Notes: I played with the time skips a bit, I hope it’s good, I enjoyed writing this chapter. Although the next chapters will stay the same as before, because it was kind of weird, writing in first person, haha.

Also the part list became too long so there’s a masterpost to the parts from now on! 

Parts Masterpost  | Part 21 ( coming soon )

The silence is unbearable. At first they were fighting against their ropes, screaming words at their captor. Well, mostly tried to scream as they were both silenced with a tape on their mouth. But they stopped after a while, realizing it won’t do any good for them. So now it’s just silence.

John at one side of the room, his hands roped behind his back to a wooden pillar, while Hope opposite to the man, her hands roped behind the other wooden column.

The attic - which could easily be mistaken for a bunker, only it’s made of wood - is dimly lit by red light, hanging from one of the house roof’s pillar. And an oil lamp being against the wall, a flame burning inside of it. It reminds Hope of John’s bunker in some ways.

The man, their captor sits in a metal chair just between the two prisoners. He’s in his late 30s, maybe early 40s. Bald, a creepy grin on his face, his eyes weirdly wide. Just like in a horror movie.

After the man enjoys the silence he walks toward Hope, getting the tape off of her mouth painfully. She huffs, but doesn’t say anything. She’s too pissed at the whole situation. It’s all John fuckin’ Seed’s fault! She thinks, sending angry gazes toward the younger Seed. He looks pissed as well, angry at the woman, thinking it’s her fault they are in this attic with this maniac.

The stranger moves toward John, removing his tape as well, earning a painful groan out of him. Thanks to his beard it might have been uncomfortable, but Hope can’t think of anything else just: You deserve it, you fucker!

The stranger moves towards his desk and starts gathering his tools, turning his back to them. Hope looks around, looking for an escape root. There’s a way down to the house, but being roped to a pillar does not help. But if she could get free somehow that’s the only route she could take. There’s a huge window on the house, but it’s boarded, only letting in some light of the moon. It’s nighttime.

Hope tries to move her wrist in the ropes and winces in pain. The wound on her side bleeding and hurting at her moves. She looks down, her shirt torn apart at the place of the injury. Shirt and skin dirty and bloody.

She stops moving, her world turning blurry from the pain. If I won’t stop the bleeding I will die. She thinks, closing her eyes, trying to calm her breathing. She opens them up, looking into John’s blue eyes. He looks at her wound with remorse, then catches her eyes and looks away at the stranger.

Sure, can’t even look at me, when it’s his fault we’re both going to die in this attic.

Hope looks at the stranger, who’s picking up his tools, inspecting and putting them back on the table. The junior deputy looks past him, watching photos of her and John on the wall. Fucking psychopath... She thinks, shivering how the man could possibly get photos of them: the Confession, the Atonement, the moment Hope spared John’s life, him at the prison, even... What the fuck... even a close up photo of Hope being in a coma at the Jessop Conservatory. She only takes a glimps at the photo where John and Hope are having sex under his YES sign. A photo that the man must have took before the whole ‘incident’ and them getting captured.

She wants to turn away, not wanting a single one of the pictures being in her sight. But remembers not to as the pain in her wound takes over her movements. She silently whimpers, earning a concerned look from John, which she doesn’t notice.

Hope wants silence, better have the end being kept in silence, but the Baptist as usual has other ideas. He clears his throat and asks in such a casual manner Hope looks at him in disbelief. How can he pretend like everything is okay?

“So... who are you?”

The young woman scoffs quietly, not wanting to earn the strangers attention. If John wants to anger their captor, go ahead, she doesn’t care. At least she tries not to.

The stranger stops, grabbing a knife in his hand and turns around, walking back to the chair, sitting down in it. His body is slightly turned to John as he speaks. It’s the first time he’s talking, voice low and husky. Basically creepy from creepy town.

“I ask the questions.”

John raises his eyebrow, chuckling a bit. Hope’s heart beats like hell, fearing what their captor might do. And even though it’s John’s fault they are in this situation and he’s the cause of her wound she fears for his life. You idiot, don’t laugh at a psychopath.

“Well then, do you mind asking yourself who you are?”

Hope closes her eyes a small smile on her lips while shaking her head. This big idiot, I swear to God. She opens her eyes again, John sending her a smile back, but their captor doesn’t seem amused by his joke.

“Don’t be a smartass.”

He points the knife into John’s direction while talking, but true for a man who brings a knife to a gunfight, John doesn’t flinch. He just rolls his eyes, annoyed by the situation.

The stranger looks at Hope, a smirk on his face as he licks his lips, which make her look at him in disgust. Please don’t be a perv, please don’t be a perv...

“You start the talk.” He points the knife at her and Hope raises her eyebrow, not knowing what to say, which she says out loud too.

“I don’t know what to say...” She murmurs, face trying to be blank, but the pain on her side and the irony smell of her own blood makes her grimace a bit.

The stranger tilts his head with a grin:

“Start at the beginning.”

Hope doesn’t take her own advice for John, to not anger the man with the knife. She rolls her eyes as she speaks, annoyed:

“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth...”

John chuckles at that, but shuts up as the man suddenly stands up and places his boot on Hope’s hurt side, putting force on it. Tears gather in her eyes, she can see stars as she screams in pain.

“Leave her alone, you bastard!” John spits angrily, fighting against his ropes.

The stranger doesn’t comply, looking up at John with a smirk and a laugh:

“You stabbed her and you’re asking me to stop? You two really are difficult...”

The strangers looks down at Hope again, the woman crying from the pain. She knew she was going to die in Hope County. But she thought it would be from one of the Seeds. Not in a dusty attic, under the dirty boots of a random person.

When she thinks she can’t take any more of the pain the man lets go of her and she gasps for air, she didn’t realize the pain made her to hold her breath. She coughs, looking angrily at the stranger.

“Next time you try to be sassy with me, you’re going to die, missy.” He says, walking back to his chair, sitting down.

Hope closes her eyes, her body leaning forward, the only thing keeping her in place, not letting her fall to the ground is her ropes. She laughs quietly, a gutting sound coming from her lips as she cries, turning into a heavy breathing.

Once she’s quiet, only whimpering a little the man gestures to her:

“Let’s try again... You two...” He points to John and her, a creepy smile on his face. “I’ve been watching you.”

No shit. Hope thinks, looking at the pictures on the wall again, but doesn’t say a thing, remembering the previous pain. John raises his eyebrow, but knows better to say anything, waiting for his moment to speak. So the stranger continues:

“You two have been trying to kill each other since she...” He points at Hope there. “And her people landed on your brother’s island. And then you...”

He points at John, the man raising his eyebrow, looking angry since the stranger caused pain to the young woman.

“You let her go, when you had the chance to keep her captive.” He laughs, confused and amused, more amused, then he looks back at Hope. “And when you had the chance to kill him, you didn’t... You risked your own reputation to save his life.”

She frowns at him, not seeing the point of this conversation. Hope has been wondering who the man might be. He sure as hell isn’t Resistance, but he doesn’t seem like Project member either. So who is he and why did he watch them? What does he want?

The man claps his hands together, amusement on his face as he looks between them.

“I want to know why.”

Silence follows, only Hope’s heavy breathing can be heard nothing else. The stranger looks from one to the other, then shakes his head, standing up from his chair.

“If you can’t explain, then just tell me what happened. You two seemed to be bonding, but then out of the blue he stabbed you. Why?”

He asks looking at John, who opens his mouth to speak, but Hope is faster, faking a chuckle. Both men turn their head towards her as she sits up, grimace on her face.

“Oh, I can tell you why. Because John Seed doesn’t care about anyone else than himself and he’s a backstabbing asshole.”

She looks at John who scoffs, turning his head from her accusing gaze. The stranger looks at Hope, smirk on his face.

“Details, missy.”

Hope looks at him, thinking if she should play along with the man. Fuck it, we’re gonna die either way. She thinks for a second to where to start than opens her mouth again, starting the story.

“I guess it started when we were planning an ambush against Joseph and his family at the Ranch. We agreed on me being the bait for the man. Doing what he asked of me, walking the Path and then joining him on Sunday for his family dinner... We didn’t know where to go, but John did, so we took him along with us...”

...back in the Henbane, a week ago, on Monday...

We were driving in the truck, Sharky, John and me. It was risky bringing John as well. Just one glance at him by the peggies and it’s over, the Father would have definitely send people after him. So we kept him low. Our destination was the Father statue, knowing the Path starts there. So when we arrived at the place, a couple of shacks at the feet of Angel’s Peak.

The Path is a bullshit thing. I’m just going to say that now. They have like... little stones on the ground, saying a little story about Broseph and him finding God, listening to the Voice. The usual bullcrap he teaches. The whole path is shown with flower petals, if someone gets lost, I don’t know.

So the first stone, The Call, was there at Angel’s Peak, in front of the cabins. For whatever reason I couldn’t kill while walking the Path, so Sharky - and John - went along with me in the truck. It was difficult: there were wooden bridges, so they had to take bypasses and stuff. So I waited for them. I know the whole thing was just an act: for me to please Joseph, but man! He was an asshole. The whole Path near wild animals, Angels and even the fucking Chosen didn’t leave me alone. So Sharky took care of them while I continued the walk.

So there I was at the end of the Path after a long walk - and by long I mean it took me an entire day! So I was at the end of it, last stone, The Garden. At the bottom of Joseph’s eyesore of a statue. And I looked at John and I asked:

“Now what?”

And he just looked at me like I was stupid or something--

...

The stranger holds up his hand and Hope stops at the storytelling.

“What?” She asks, annoyed she was interrupted.

The stranger looks at her, his voice a warning:

“Could you stop swearing and insulting everyone in your story? It’s annoying how you use phrases and words like ‘or something’. If you’re telling a story, tell it right.”

Hope rolls her eyes so much she thinks it will roll out of her head. Is he fucking serious? I’m a bad story teller? John chuckles, earning a furious look from the young woman, who then looks back at the stranger.

“Well I’m sorry, I didn’t ask to be brought here and tell the story of my life. Also I’m bleeding out here, so if I’m a bad story teller, deal with it...”

She huffs out angrily, but their captor just looks at her and says in a warning tone:

“Continue... without the poor vocabulary.”

She wants to groan out, but manages to fight down the urge of it.

“Fine.” She huffs, thinking a second where she was interrupted in her story.

...

I asked John what to do next, was that it and he looked back at me with a smug face, saying:

“You have to climb the statue and jump.”

There was an awkward silence, I sweared some things in my head, then said:

“Nope.”

And I got in the truck, Sharky looked at me in surprise:

“Yo, we took an entire day to walk this Path and now you give up?”

I laughed at the man then looked to the backseat, where John was cuffed.

“I already took the Leap of Faith, I’m not going to do that again, I will die.”

And the... bastard - is that better than asshole? So he looked at me with a smirk and a shrug saying:

“Only Angels, whose resilience is well known to anyone who ever attempted to take down one of them and witnessed how they come back to life, even after getting mortally wounded, could survive the ordeal.”

Well, it started there. Because the whole point of me walking the Path was to do what Joseph wanted, so I could meet him on Sunday and take an ambush on him. But John didn’t mind telling me the fact that the end of ‘walking the Path’ is to kill myself in the process.

I shouted at him, saying this whole Path is just a scam, that his family is a bunch of liars. Which ended in me figuring Joseph never wanted for me to have dinner with him on Sunday, so the whole thing was pointless.

So--

...

“So she blew up the statue of my brother.” John interrupts Hope, looking at the stranger, not amused by that event.

Hope giggles, happy with herself and that she did actually pulled off blowing up Joseph’s monument at Angel’s Peak.

The stranger looks at John now, gesturing to him:

“You continue then.”

Hope scoffs, knowing the story will probably contain lies about her, but keeps quiet. John straightens his back, ready to tell his side of the story. While he does Hope plays with the watch on her wrist, the one she got from John back in the day. She manages to get the pin out of the watch, her eyes lit up at that, but she keeps quiet while working on getting her wrist out of the ropes. If John keeps the man occupied I won’t draw any attention.

And John speaks, the stranger looking at him while he does.

...

I tried to tell the Deputy to stop arguing for one second and start listening already. But she’s a stubborn creature, she didn’t listen. Why would she? Before we knew it, she got a launcher from Boshaw’s bag and started blowing up my brother’s statue, Which if anyone was wondering I payed for. Not only that, but it angered my brother, so he sent his Choosen after her. Which ended up in an even bigger fight. I couldn’t see the end of it, because she commanded Boshaw to bring me back to the Ranch, because still: I’m a dead man and no one can know that I live.

After arriving at the Ranch we listened through the radio. Jokes on you, Deputy. She was captured by my sister, Faith. Again. I don’t know what might have happened during that time, but next thing we know, we get a call from the Sheriff that she’s at the Jail with the Marshall.

...

“Now how did you feel about that?” The man asks and John blinks at him, his mask all the way up, Hope notices.

She doesn’t react, watching John’s eyes change a bit. She’s still having fun in reading him and it makes her heart ache. She looks away back at the stranger, while slowly working on her ropes. It’s difficult, but with enought time she could get lose. Unless she dies from bloodloss first.

John raises his eyebrow:

“What do you mean how I felt about it? I knew she was going to escape.” He scoffs, amused and annoyed. “She always does. As for the Marshall, I don’t really care. Faith failed, but she won’t get a scolding about that from Joseph. She probably suffered more for the Deputy destroying his statue.”

Hope doesn’t ask, but notices how John keeps calling her Deputy again. No Trinity, no ‘my dear’, no ‘Little Miss Wrath’. He really doesn’t care, does he? She blames her tears - which slowly wet her face, not alerting anyone in the room - on her wound and pain, but she can’t ignore how her heart feels broken.

“So you’re saying you were more worried about her being safe...” Their captor points at Hope, while still looking at John. “Rather than being worried about your... ‘sister’.”

There’s a moment of silence and John scoffs, shaking his head.

“No, I said I knew she was going to escape, so why think about it anyway. And with Faith I couldn’t do anything anyway. Being a prisoner that is.”

The stranger nods, probably thinking through the story in his head as he gestures to the Baptist:

“Continue.”

...

When the Deputy arrived at the Ranch with Boshaw’s aunt, that lustful woman they called a bunch of people over. Happy to have another one of their colleges back, I guess. So they partied, drank, danced around the living room.

Basically done anything to be annoying, obnoxious and loud.

...

“Now wait a minute!” Hope interrupts him with a fake laugh, gaining the strangers and his gaze. She stops razoring her ropes in the mean time, not wanting to alert their captor of her movements. “You did it with us! You partied and danced! Hell, you even karaoked with Addie!”

She laughs, shaking her head at John, who scoffs.

“Well better be a part of it, then get cuffed again and do nothing.”

Hope laughs, a bitter taste in her mouth as she thinks about what happened that night. Just the night before this, the events that lead them to be captured by the unknown man.

“So then tell me what happened.” The stranger speaks, still curious about the events that went down.

She looks at John who seems just as curious about her side of the story as the stranger. She sighs, then starts talking.

...

As I said, John and Addie were singing an ABBA song together, drunk, or at least I thought drunk. Later it turned out he wasn’t, but from his acts, I thought he was... Anyway I had enough. Sure, I kept my fake smile and fake happy mood up, but honestly? I don’t know how they do it. How the others can act like everything is normal, while I’m stuck in this depressed mood all the time. How could I party without my conscience saying to me: people are dying out there. People are suffering on both sides...

...

Hope imagines the scene that went out there, telling it to their captor, but leaving some scenes out, not sharing all her thoughts of the event:

How she went outside, stepping out of the house to the quiet night, critters and owls making the sound of nature. The muffled noise of John Denver’s Take Me Home. Actually it’s her favourite song, but at the time she felt like her mind was going to blow up from all the noise.

She sat down at the porch, her legs brought up to her chest, head resting on her knees, arms holding her legs at place. She set there for a while, until the door opened of the Ranch. She didn’t look up, listening how the music and talking became louder.

The young woman was expecting Sharky to come out and piss in the bushes, because for some reason even in a house he didn’t use the bathroom. The door closed again, muffling the noise of the song and the laughter again.

There were a few steps on the porch, when she felt a presence behind her. John... She could tell it was him. Not just by his cologne, which he kept using since he got back to the Ranch apparently, but also there was a weird atmosphere to the man that she couldn’t quite explain.

He sat next to her on the porch and she raised her head, looking at the man, who just stared at the direction of the river below them. The forest, the night sky, but not Hope, he didn’t look at her.

She layed her head on her knees, looking at the man next to her, exploring his features. His hands behind his back, resting on the wooden porch, legs outstretched. She looked down at his hands, his tattoos. She didn’t exactly payed too much attention to them, but now she looked at each carefully. A lot of them related to the cult and sins. But she watched one with careful eyes.

A cupid of some kind reaching toward a dove. A bird of peace. The dove being circled with a flowers. When she didn’t pay too much attention she thought it was a circle of sun of some kind.

Hope smiled to herself, looking at that piece of his tattoos, when she finally looked up to meet John’s gaze. She felt herself get flushed under his eyes, the pair of blue glistening in the moonlight. God, since when did he watch me?

He looked curious, focused on her face, eyebrows frowned a bit. He does that when he’s trying to read her, she noticed.

“What?” She asked turning her head a bit, looking at the near forest, still feeling John’s gaze on her.

“You were looking.” He said simply. Not accusing, just curious why she did it.

She shrugged, lips turned into a smile:

“What? Am I not allowed to look at you?”

She looked into his eyes, but he didn’t catch up on her teasing tone that time, tilting his head a bit, waiting for an answer for his unasked question. She sighed, giving up and smiling lightly at the man’s tattoo again, hands letting go of her knees, pointing at his tattoo, slightly touching his skin on his forearm.

“I like this one...” She said quietly, tracing along the circle of flowers around the dove. “It’s peaceful, not like the others, I like that... it suits you, even with all the cruelty around you, you still kept some peace in your heart as well... people just have to look for it, that’s all.”

She didn’t even know what she was saying until her sentence was finished. Silence followed and she looked up into John’s eyes. God, I feel like my heart is going to rip in half. He looked moved, even though she didn’t say much, but it looked like it meant a lot for him.

Finally someone realized he’s not just a monster. She didn’t think of him as one, anyway. She always searched for the good in every person.

He brought up his hand to her face, caressing her skin lightly. His eyes were soaked in affection and love as he looked down at the young woman, lips parting as he went to say:

“Trinity, I --”

A loud scream and laughter interrupted their moment:

“SO I’M SITTING THERE, BARBECUE SAUCE ON MY TITTIES--”

Hope bursted out laughing, John destroyed that Adelaide dared to interrupt their moment. But chuckled as well, watching the young woman next to him wiping her eyes of tears of joy. He shook his head amusement and confusion on his face:

“How do you even find these people?”

Hope still laughing stood up from the porch, John looking disappointed, then surprised as she took his arm and helped him up to his feet.

“I don’t know. They just seem to find me, where ever I go.”

She giggled, still holding his hand and leading him to Tulip, Addie’s chopper. John didn’t seem to mind as he followed her to the chopper, he looked at her before entering:

“Where are we going?”

She just smirked at him, entering the chopper on the driver side and waited for him to do the same. Then they took off to the air, going to her favourite spot in the Valley, which seemed to amuse the man.

“Seriously? This is your favourite spot?”

He chuckled as they landed at the feet of the YES sign after the fly in the air, stopping near it.

“Yupp.” She said, jumping off the chopper, John following her. She sat at the bottom of the ‘E’ just like last time she was there. Away from the noises and everyone else. John stood there for a second, wathced the young woman sitting under the moonlight, her blue eyes looking into his along with a sweet smile.

“You’re gonna just stand there and watch me like a weirdo?”

She asked teasing, John sitting beside her on the ground, watching the Valley below them. They’ve been silent for about half an hour, just enjoying each other’s company. She felt him tense, though she didn’t know the reason yet why. She thought maybe the silence was what bothered him, so she lay down on her back, looking up at the night sky with a smile, speaking and pointing up:

“That’s the Orion constellation... that’s one of my favourites.” She smiled as the man looked down at her then up to the sky, following her finger. She pointed to some other stars, called them by name, John laying down beside her in the process.

Then a short silence followed. She placed her hand next to his, not daring to hold his hand, but he brushed his fingers against hers slightly.

“You like the night sky this much?” He asked, amused by her enthusiasm towards stars.

She didn’t think much before sharing a part of her she never shared with anyone before. Not in detail, that is.

“My parents loved the stars, both for different reasons. My mother was a christian, she believed deeply in God, Heaven, the angels up in the sky. She was a free spirit, liked the nature, peace, humanity in it’s all glory...” She smiled looking up at the sky, John turning his head toward her while listening to her story.

“My father, on the other hand was a man of science. He was an astronomer, he loved the universe and the stars. Always wished he could travel to the Moon one day.” She giggled, imagining her father, though she never met him, just like she never met her mother. “They were at this festival of hippies. And they were stargazing together, having an argument about God and science. Oh, they hated each other. ”

Hope laughed, in her mind the scene was clear by what she imagined for years from her uncle’s stories.

“So of course they got married, after years of being together. My mom was a writer, her writings were about fantas stories for kids. Fairies and kind witches and stuff like that. My father worked as an astronomer and part time weatherman for the townsfolks. Because he didn’t believe in the weatherman’s on the tv.”

The young woman stopped for a second, John was patient, listening to her every word.

“So when they were pregnant with me they were overjoyed. Least that’s what Earl used to say. They were so excited, they wanted everything to be perfect, although they weren’t rich or anything of the kind. They had fights about money, I know that, even though my uncle kept the dark parts of their lives under silence for long... Anyway when they moved to Missoula to a new house they painted the room, my room’s ceiling exactly like the night sky. My mother was good at art, she painted them all, my father helped her to be precise of every single star...”

Hope turned a bit sad, her next part of the story not so happy anymore. John felt that too, his hand finding hers, fingers connecting.

“When they died, when I was born Earl already had a home. At first he didn’t knew where would I go, who would take care of me. My grandparents, you see, from my mother’s side hated me. Hated my father, for not being a follower of God. So I never met them, for all that I know and care they are dead... My father didn’t have a family. Only my mother and me. So because Earl was my mother’s brother he took me in. He was two years older then you at the moment, he wasn’t paid that well, he didn’t knew how to raise a child, but he did.”

She chuckled lightly, her tears slowly sliding down her face:

“I think I turned out pretty well, though... I’m just...”

She stayed silent, her tears stopped and John looked at her, pushing himself up from the ground to lean over her, eyes locked:

“What?” He asked trying to make her continue, but she didn’t.

The young woman reached up for his face and kissed him passionately. Even though he wanted answers, finally got her to confess to him about a part of her life, but he kissed her back still.

She grabbed the base of his scalp, pulling herself up from the ground to sit next to him. Then she rolled him over to his back, a situation he seemed to be surprised by. Yup, he’s totally used to being on top.

But she didn’t let him speak as she climbed on him, grinding herself in his lap. He moaned into her mouth, hands on her lips as she did circles on him, trying to get some friction.

...

“I don’t care about the sex scene.” The stranger says with a blank expression, looking bored as she explains the scene that went down in the wild, under the YES sign.

John chuckles, raising an eyebrow:

“You sure, that’s the best part...”

Hope looks at him, unamused by his laugh and when he returns her gaze his face turns cold, looking down in front of him, feeling remorse.

“I care what happened after.” The stranger says, so Hope sighs, continuing her story, but still leaving out some scenes, for she doesn’t want a complete stranger to know about that night’s events.

Even though he probably watched them having sex, the fresh picture on the wall making it impossible for him not to.

Hope skipped the part where she told her story with her parents, telling about just some sentences. And now she leaves out the parts too where everything really went wrong.

...

They were breathing heavily, bodies sweaty from the sex. They didn’t remove their clothes eniterly so they didn’t have to do much to take on their clothes again.

They were sitting up, looking anywhere but each other. This whole thing is so complicated with him, but I can’t seem to just let him go, not do or feel anything.

The silence was unbearable, so she started talking again:

“My parents came from different worlds, but they were happy together.”

John frowned at her, not knowing how to react at first. Then he stood up from the ground and dusted off his pants. He turned his back to her, picking his pocket, though she wasn’t paying attention to his actions, just his words:

“Not everyone can be as lucky as them.”

Before she thought about her words she said it out loud, cursing herself afterwards:

“We could try.”

John froze, his body tensed up, she could see it in his shoulders, how he straightened his back. She watched the muscles under his shirt as he did. She couldn’t take her words back, so she might as well continued:

“John, I know you love your brothers, but you can’t seriously follow Joseph, thinking he’s doing the right thing. He used your childhood abuse against you, feeding into it, like it was nothing to him. He’s delusional!”

She regretted her words as she said them, watching his back shaking from anger and she knew she should stop but she didn’t. Her voice raised bit by bit, being angry at Joseph for using John in such a way. She just couldn’t believe his older brother loved him if he kept pushing him around.

“He’s a murderer!”

John turned around and she focused on his face, which was a big mistake later, but she didn’t realize that at the moment. He looked furious, the previous action of making love to each other, affection in his eyes gone. Only fury and anger in it.

“Oh, because you’re such a saint, right?” He said to her with venom in his voice, made her eyes teary.

“I know my flaws, John. I willl have to live with myself, knowing all those lives are ruined out there because of me. Families, torn apart, because of me! But don’t think for a second I’m anywhere near your brother! He’s a fucking psychopath, who murdered his own child!”

She said it, not caring if John knew about it or not, though the confusion in his eyes told her he didn’t.

“You’re lying!”

She cried and laughed, standing up from the ground, looked him in the eyes:

“Why would I lie about something like that?”

He looked at her and it broke her heart, the anger and disgust on his face unbearable.

“Because you’re the snake in our garden. You’re just trying to pull me into sin, away from the right path with my family.”

She scoffed, looking away.

“Wow...” She opens her arms, like giving up, shaking her head, then looking back at him. “Then what? You’re going to try and bring me back to Joseph? Make your big bro happy and proud that you finally managed to do something that’s not fucked up and ruined?”

She hated herself at that moment, she was hurt, he hurt him that was true but she never intended to hurt him that way. Only then she realized he had a pocket knife in his hand, something he might have stolen while everyone was partying at the Ranch. Shit...

He cried out a war cry, tackled her to the ground, the knife landing at her side and he slashed a line along at it. The pain and surprise made her look up at him with teary eyes. He seemed shocked by his own actions, mouth moving like he was about to say something, maybe even say sorry as he held the knife in his hand, tossing it on the ground.

“You...” She wanted to say something hurtful, maybe something obscene, call him names, but didn’t had the chance as he was hit by something hard, he fell to the ground next to her.

She then looked up at the stranger, who hit her in the head, the world turning black.

...

“So here we are.” Hope finishes her story, looking at the unknown person who attacked them at the bottom of John’s sign.

He looks unhappy by the story, like he still misses the essence of the tale.

“Why did you let him live?”

He asks her, and she looks at him confused. The fuck kinda question is that? The man seems annoyed and irritated to wait for an answer and he stands up, putting the knife to her abdomen.

“Why... did you... let him... live?”

She gasps for air, trying to hold her breath to not cause any more wounds on herself, the blade of the knife touching her skin. She stops wriggling her wrists, the rope almost already gone, which she worked on while telling their story.

“Because I needed a joker card against Joseph, so I can use him, bargain him for one of ours even.”

He looks into her eyes, an evil smile on his face.

“You’re lying.”

She frowns, not amused as she gets angry at this unknown person.

“Why the hell do you care so much anyway? Why all the photos? Why bring us here? Why the fuck are you obsessed with us?”

John looks at her in worry and warning, trying to gesture for her to shut up, she has a dagger at her stomach.

“Oh, isn’t it obvious?” The man says, lifting his knife from her gesturing around. “I don’t care about the ‘Resistance’ or the ‘Project’. Too boring, too... casual. I need something more interesting, and by far you two have been really interesting. I got bored when he stabbed you, so I thought I would get my final questions from you, before searching for something else for fun.”

Hope looks at him in disbelief. Now he’s totally a sadistic mental person, that’s for sure.

The man huffs out at her silence, and looks at John for a second, looking like he had the worst and best idea ever.

“Let’s play it in an other way then...”

He steps next to John and without warning he makes a cut on his face. Not too deep, but enough to cause bleeding on his cheek. John doesn’t even say anything, just looks angrily at the stranger.

Hope on the other hand knows him. He can take a punch, after the stroy he told her about his parents abusing him, but she fears for him anyway, worry in her eyes.

The stranger looks at Hope, his knife at John’s shoulder, pointing at the flesh, ready to enter it entirely.

“Why did you let him live?”

She looks at him bewildered, not knowing what answer would satisfy him:

“I... I don’t know.”

She says and feels like it’s the half truth, but it doesn’t seem to please him. He pulls the knife right into John’s shoulder blade and he muffles out a groan from the pain, anger on his face as he chuckles, looking up at the stranger:

“Oh come on, that’s only just a pat...”

Hope looks at John fear in her eyes for him as the man forcefully pulls out the blade from his shoulder.

“Why did you let him live?” He grabs John ear, ready to tear it down with the knife.

She widens her eyes, panic in her voice:

“I don’t know! Please, I really don’t know!”

He starts slowly to cut into the younger Seed’s ear, earning a mix of laughter and painful shout. She fastens her hand with the pin on her ropes, trying to fight herself out of the restraints as she screams:

“STOP! PLEASE! I DON’T KNOW!”

He doesn’t stop though, John’s ear bleeding like hell and she cries for him, cries for his pain and she shouts out:

“BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT HIM!”

The man seems to stop, but doesn’t let go of John’s ear. As for the younger man he looks at her confused, not sure what to make of her sentence. The stranger nods to her, a gesture to continue and she curses him in her head but doesn’t want him to continue his torture on the man that she loves.... wait what?

“I... I cared about him already, I just... He understood me, he tried to understand me. And I knew there was more to him and when it came to it, I just couldn’t pull the trigger. How could I, when deep down I knew he was right.”

There, she said it. The thing she tried to hide from everyone, especially the man himself and his family. That she actually believed in parts of their story. She looks at the stranger, swallowing her pride as she pleads to him silently:

“Just please, don’t hurt him.”

The man lets go of John, a wicked smile on his face, pointing at her with his knife:

“See? That wasn’t so hard! Although I was hoping for something sinister. They call you The Sinner and here you are...” He looks disgusted by her, not amused. “Ugh.. Just a teenager with a crush. Well, it’s right what they say. Every story is great until someone decides to put romance in it.”

He talks to himself, then turns dark as he approaches her with his knife, Hope’s hand already free behind her back now.

“So now you two die.”

John shouts a no at the man, but there’s not time for reactions, Hope gathers all her energy and jumps on the person. She tackles him to the ground, rolling on the wooden floor. While fighting they break the oil lamp which sets the hay on the only way out on fire. The flames quickly spread, destroying the only escape route.

But Hope can’t do anything as the man manages to push his knife to her arm. She punches him with her elbow, a cry of pain leaves her lips thanks to her wounded side and now arm. She punches the man, the knife falling on the ground and she kicks him into the fire. The man screams, when he lands down into the flames. But she doesn’t care, he’s dying and they still have time to live.

She can hardly stand on her legs as she falls to the ground, getting the knife and freeing John from his ropes. He asks the most stupid question at a situation like this:

“Are you alright?”

Once he’s freed he grabs her face gently, his eyes going crazy as he checks up on her. Smoke fills the air and they start to cough thanks to it, the reflex making her side bleed and hurt even more.

“Yeah...” She lies as they look down at the only entrance, but it’s already up in flames, the body of the stranger burning up, dead. The fire spreads up to the attic as well, slowly making it’s way to them.

They scatter to the boarded window, both trying to pull on it, trying the knife even, but it’s impossible to get out. They manage to get one board off, but the knife snaps in half as they do so.

They won’t fit through the exit. Hope coughs and slides down next to the wall, the huge window that is covered. John looks down at her in worry, himself looking in bad shape as it is.

She’s pale, already lost too much blood and the fire and coughing doesn’t help her.

“Someone must be looking for us.” John tries his best to make her feel hope and faith. He takes her small form into his lap, holding his hand on her wound, leaving soft kisses on her forehead. “Drubman. She must be looking for her chopper, they... they may find the cameras in my office. They might figure out where we are.”

She looks up at the man, holding his arm gently which he holds on her wound:

“I’m sorry.” She says, feeling weak, too weak. Her mind feels like turning off, the welcoming feeling of sleep getting the best of her.

John shakes his head, looking at her, a chuckle on his face which is filled with worry:

“No, no... I’m sorry. This is my fault. You’re hurt because of me.”

She feels her eyes closing, but he caresses her cheek, whispering to her to keep her eyes open, to stay awake so she tries, for him. Her eyelids feel heavy as she looks up at him.

“I always wanted ice skating, before I died... guess I misse out on that...”

She says weakly and he looks at her in worry, coughing when he tries to speak, then his words meet her:

“You will. We will together, alright? I’m going to go with you. We can do it.”

The room feels hot, too hot. She doesn’t dare to look at the fire, she can’t even move her head. She slowly blinks, fighting the urge to close her eyes.

“Do you think she’s inside?”

A shout comes from outside, a man’s voice. John perks his head up and looks through the gap through the boards. He shouts out:

“WE’RE INSID! WE’RE IN THE ATTIC!”

Excited voices come from outside, surprised voices:

“That’s Brother John!”

“He’s alive!”

“How could that be?”

Hope doesn’t worry about the voices, peggies as it turns out, she just looks up at the man who looks down at her a smile on his face:

“You hear that? We’re going to get out!”

She doesn’t feel closing her eyes, but she must be as she can’t see him anymore, vision turning black.

“No, No, Trinity! Open your eyes, please, please! My dear, open up, look at me.”

He whispers to her, leaving kisses on the woman’s forehead. She wants to, but she can’t. She wants to comfort him, tell him to not to worry, but she can’t do that either, his voice starting to get distant, though he doesn’t move from her.

“We could try! You hear me, we could try it!” He cries against her cheek, but she can’t feel anything, his voice only a muffled thing now. “Please, Trinity, don’t leave me. I lov--”

A/N:  I think the POVS got a little messy at the end, so sorry about that. I just wanted to write some inner thoughts which Hope wouldn’t share with them. I hope it was still enjoyable though. Thanks for reading ♥ Also yeah, I used this gif that I took 2 minutes to make because I’m lazy, haha. But I’m in love with Seamus!John so even if he’s without a beard I love him, haha.

Tags: @onl-you , @redaurora17

[proxylynn]

Underfell: File Name not Edgy Enough #10

Chapter 10: Skeletons WARNING: I WANT NO RESPONSIBILITY OVER SPOILING THINGS FOR OTHERS. THAT BEING SAID, THIS IS HOW FILE NAME NOT FOUND WOULD FUNCTION IN THE AU OF UNDERFELL. BEFORE YOU READ THIS, UNLIKE THE NICE TIME OF UNDERTALE, THIS WORLD IS KILL OR BE KILLED. THIS STORY WILL BE GRAPHIC, GORY, USE SWEARS LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS, AND DEAL WITH SENSITIVE SUBJECT MATTERS. FOR EXAMPLE, THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ THE FILE NAME RELOCATED SPOOF WILL KNOW HOW I PICTURE THIS VERSION OF LYNSIE COMING TO THE UNDERGROUND. IT IS NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT IS NOT BECAUSE OF SOMETHING DUMB. IT IS BECAUSE SHE CHOOSES TO END HER LIFE. SO TAKE THIS WITH A GRAIN OF SALT. I MADE IT BECAUSE I NEEDED TO LET SOME OF THIS EDGINESS OUT OF MYSELF. WHICH I GUESS MAKES UNDERFELL LYNSIE EVEN MORE TRUE TO WHO I REALLY AM. ANYWAY, ENJOY. ^_^ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ This feels familiar. Different, but familiar. This same darkness. This same unease. This same soul shivering chill of nothingness. Funny...Where's Gaster's door? Did we just revert to the old way? {Hey...Why are you here?} That voice... "Chara?" {Lynsie? What are you doing here?} "Hell if I know." {You need to leave this place.} "Not like I know how. But why?" {They took you and Asriel. I don't know where you are now, but you shouldn't be asleep while in Snowdin Town...Even if Sans is helping you, Papyrus is not bound by any promise.} That made my spine tremble. "Okay, you have a point there. But how do I leave from...what or wherever this place is?" {You have to wake up.} "I've never made myself wake up before." {Well, how do you normally know you're about to wake up?} "Normally? I become aware that I'm dreaming." {Like right now?} "There's the conundrum. I don't know if this is a dream. I mean, I'm fulling aware when I see Gaster, but I never..." {Wait...You've met Gaster?} "You know the guy?" {Stay away from him!} I feel like I flinched. "Dude, what's wrong?" {Don't go near him! He's dangerous. You can't trust him.} "Can't really do nothing about that. He comes to me. Not the other way around." {Then don't talk to him. Ignore him. Do what you can to keep him away from your soul.} "What? Why? How?" {Just try to...} Chara's voice starts to dampen, almost like he's going mute. I don't get to speak up as I'm forced away. "*gasps and coughs*" That was the weirdest awakening from that dream-thing yet. I can't see yet, I'm sweating and covered in goosebumps. My chest is tight from lack of air and movement. What the fuck is happening to me?! "HUMAN...I SEE YOU'RE FINALLY AWAKE." I shake my head and try to focus as my sight begins to come back. I can barely make him out as a white smudge in black. "Papyrus? What happened? Where is this?" I attempt to rub my eyes but can't. I yank them only to hear the clatter of chains. "NOTICING YOUR NEW ACCESSORIES, I SEE." "The hell? Why am I restrained?" "ONE CAN NEVER BE TOO CAREFUL WHEN IT COMES TO SAFETY AND HUMANS." I scoff and rub my eyes into my shoulder, blinking a few times to get things cleared in my vision. Now that I can see, I find Papyrus standing over me, which is normal because he's taller than me, and Sans is off leaning on a wall behind his brother. I seem to be inside a small room of some sorts. There is a bowl of dry pet food with what looks like cut up hotdog mixed in, a squeaky bone chew toy, and a small pet bed. Like at the start of the forest, there is a wall of bars that separates 2/3s of the room, Sans is on the smaller watching side while Papyrus is on the larger captive side with me. The walls and floor are in terrible shape, even the two windows are in need of repair yet less than the rest of the room. I'm stuck in a kind of kneeling position due to the chains connected to the wall and floor. My wrists are connected to the chains on the wall and ankles to the ones connected to the floor. However, this doesn't concern me. What does get my attention is the fact that ALL my stuff is gone. The backpack with Flowey? Gone. My equipped gear? Gone. Even the ribbon? Yep, that's gone too. Frankly, with how thorough they were at disarming me, I'm surprised I'm not chained up in my underwear right now. [HP 36, ATK 18, and DEF 11] "Where is Flowey?" "THAT IS NONE OF YOUR CONCERN." "I won't ask again. *stern* Where is he?" Papyrus growls and Sans taps on the wall. "relax, kiddo. the weed is fine. got'em in the house so he won't shrivel up." "WHILE I DON'T CARE TO HAVE THE PLANT IN OUR HOME. SANS DID BRING UP THE POINT THAT THE FLOWER IS MORE USEFUL ALIVE THAN DEAD." "Oh yeah? How so?" He grins. "YOU'D BE MORE COOPERATIVE IF THE HOSTAGE WAS STILL LIVING." My eyes widen into a glare. "If you hurt him..." "YOU'LL WHAT? AS YOU CAN SEE, YOU AREN'T IN ANY POSITION TO MAKE THREATS." "Oh sure, overreact much? Like I've done anything to actually prove I'd hurt you if I made a threat. Probably would embarrass the crap out of you, but nothing painful." "YES. SPEAKING OF EMBARRASSMENT, YOU HAVE LOWERED MY CREDIBILITY BY NOT KILLING THOSE DOGS." I scoff. "Dude, you captured a human and no one died. How is that not a good thing for you?" "YOU ALMOST MADE IT TO TOWN. YOU HAVE ONLY AN LV OF 1. EVERY MONSTER ON PATROL IS TRAINED TO KILL HUMANS AND IS UNDER MY WATCH. BY BEING NICE AND GETTING SO FAR, IT HAS MADE ME LOOK BAD." I look at him funny. "Dude...You wanted me to go through the puzzles and even agreed to my plan on making the dogs leave us alone. You were with me the whole way for fuck's sake! If you had any problem then you should've said something, ya jackass!" Sans wasn't paying all the much attention until that moment. Papyrus glares and growls deeply. "WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT THAT MOUTH OF YOURS? KNOW WHEN TO KEEP IT SHUT, HUMAN. THAT'S YOUR LAST WARNING." "Bull crap! You're mad because some random assholes are talking shit about you? God forbid you yourself are happy to have done your fucking job without any issue and not care what some pussies say because they are too much of a bitch to deal with what you do. Oh no. Not the great and terrible Papyrus. You're the guy that chained up a girl that blacked out from intense vertigo. Oooh...You must be so scared." He slaps me hard enough to lock my jaw until it snaps back when I hit the wall. [HP ██████████████████████████ 26/36] "MOCK ME AGAIN! I FUCKING DARE YOU!" I can only think that his hit didn't deal more damage because of lack of space for me to fly, unlike last time. But now I'm not in a good mood. I've had enough. "Again..." "HUH?" "Touch me again. I fucking dare you! I will rip that arm off and shove it up your bony ass!" "YOU MOUTHY LITTLE BITCH..." He swings at me again and I lurch forward in a small lunge. This surprises him and he's almost caught off guard enough for me to chomp down on his hand, yet his reflexes are better than my jaw snapping. "YOU...YOU WERE GOING TO BITE ME? SANS? SHE WAS GOING BITE ME...I SAW THAT CORRECTLY, RIGHT?" Sans is now leaning into the bars with a worried expression. "um...y-yeah." "HUH...A DIRTY MOVE, HUMAN. I'M IMPRESSED YOU'D ACTUALLY DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS. BUT..." He summons a sharpened bone and plunges it into my left shoulder, reopening the scar from when it was hurt the first time as I roar in pain. And it's not a clean stab either, only the tip exits out while the rest scraps my own bones. Blood seeps around the entry point slowly and Sans is visibly shaken by it. [HP ████████████████ 16/36] "BUT YOU'RE WRONG TO THINK I'D LET YOU DO THAT WITHOUT CONSEQUENCE." He twists the bone and I choke the yell my voice demands. The satisfied smirk he has grows as I bite my lower lip hard enough to bleed just to distract from this. [HP ████████████ 12/36] "IT HURTS, DOESN'T IT? YOU CAN TRY TO FIGHT IT, BUT YOU CAN'T HOLD OUT FOREVER. I CAN MAKE IT STOP. YOU KNOW THIS. AND I'M WILLING TO BET YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT IN EXCHANGE. SO I'LL ASK YOU, HUMAN, WILL YOU SWALLOW YOUR FOOLISH PRIDE AND SAY IT?" "*strained* I'm..." "YES?" "*strained* Not impressed..." He jerks the bone and I thrash harshly against the chains. More blood begins to come out. [HP ██████ 6/36] "pap...maybe this is a bit much." "SHE HAS TO LEARN, SANS. IF SHE DOES BAD THAN SHE WILL BE PUNISHED. SUCH IS THE CONDITIONING NEEDED IN PROPER PET TRAINING." "*strained* I'm not...a dog...asshole..." He grabs my face in one hand and forces me to look at him. His other hand still holding the bone firm. "YOU ARE IN NEED OF A RUDE AWAKENING, HUMAN. YOU ARE IN OUR CUSTODY NOW. IF YOU WEREN'T, YOU'D BE HAULED OFF TO THE CAPITAL AND KING ASGORE WOULD PERSONALLY RIP THE SOUL FROM YOUR WEAK BODY. IF IT WEREN'T FOR ME, YOU'D BE JUST ANOTHER BODY ADDED TO THE UNTOLD NUMBERS THAT WILL FALL TO US WHEN WE RETAKE THE SURFACE. SO GO AHEAD. BE DISRESPECTFUL. SEE HOW FAR THAT GETS YOU. BECAUSE LIKE ANY OWNER WITH A DISOBEYDANT PET, I HAVE A LIMIT OF HOW MUCH I CAN STAND OF YOU BEFORE I PUT YOU DOWN. AM I CLEAR?" I snarl, shaking my head from his hand and defiantly biting the bone. This gives them both very weird blushing looks, though Papyrus snaps out of this oddness first when I try to pull the bone out. "*SIGH* I WANT TO ADMIRE THIS RESOLVE YOU HAVE, BUT I'M NOT IN THE MOOD." With him being stronger than me, he has no issue pushing the bone in further in. I release it in my whimpers and end up yelping when he presses me to the wall as the bone pins me to it. [HP █ 1/36] "I DO HOPE YOU'RE COMFORTABLE. YOU'LL BE STAYING LIKE THIS FOR QUITE SOME TIME." Tears leak from the corners of my eyes but don't sting as bad as the dirty look I'm giving him. Papyrus shakes his head and moves through the bars with ease. "SANS..." "y-yeah?" "MAKE SURE SHE LEARNS HER PLACE WITHOUT DYING. I'D HATE TO HAVE WASTED MY TIME ON A HOPELESS CAUSE." "sure. no problem, boss." Papyrus heads to the door and opens it, the snowy wind blows inside. Wait...Am I in a shed? "USE YOUR TIME WISELY, HUMAN. THIS CAN EITHER BE PLEASANT OR TORTUROUS. THE CHOICE IS UP TO YOU." Papyrus leaves with a slam of the door and I wince from the vibration shaking the bone. Now alone with Sans, I try to relax. I need to think of how I'm going to deal with this and get Flowey back. "man...you really like to push his buttons." I look at the bone and try again to bite and pull it out. This gets that weird look to come back to Sans. "uh...d-do ya want some help with that?" I look at him and he flinches. The blush getting worse on his face. "n-n-never mind." He looks away but takes small glances when I grunt at each nerve being tugged. "*muffled* Damn it...Why is it so big?" Sans gulp and shudders into biting his own hand. "*quiet* fuck, kiddo...not this again...and why it like that?" I snarl and give up for the moment. I'll try again later. "*annoyed* So...What's this whole 'pet' thing he was talking about?" He blinks a few times and rubs his face to return to normal. "ya don't remember what was said at the bridge?" "Dude, I was so out of my mind I have no clue what you or him were doing. For all I know, you guys were playing checkers while in formal ball gowns." "never say that again." "Whatever." "look...ya got so messed up that pap gave up on the whole 'play with the human with puzzles' idea and was about to off ya. i came up with a quick idea of keeping ya alive as our pet so he can show off that he's so great that he bends a human to his will." "You played to his ego...Smart move, skele-dude." "yeah, but you're not really helping matters much with this whole rage against papyrus thing ya got going on." "He started it. Fucker wants to blame me for stupid shit he had no problem with because of other assholes. I ain't gonna take that! And I sure as hell ain't saying sorry! You hear that?! I'm not apologizing!" "YOU WILL IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU!" Sans jumps and I hop a little at the sudden shout from the window. "I'll apologize when you do for reopening my shoulder, ya smarmy turd!" "YOU WILL APOLOGIZE AND DO SO LIKE A PROPER PET! YOU SHALL ADDRESS ME AS MASTER." "The hell I will!" "enough!" Sans shouts and gets our attention. "i am not putting up with this crap! if we're really doing this, then there's got to be some ground rules!" He points to his brother in the window. "papyrus, meet me at the library. we need to talk." He points at me. "and you...just... *sigh* just don't do anything stupid." Sans leaves the room and now it's just me. All alone and pinned to a wall while also chained. I wait some time to make sure they really left. I don't hear anything outside except the wind. Now it's action time. I clamp my teeth on the bone again and do my darnedest to ignore the pain as I pull on it. It's a slow and very painful process. Pulling it inch by inch. But it gets easier when the wider part of the bone is out and only the thinner pointy part remains. When it gets that far, I just let it fall out on its own from weight and heave a heavy sigh of slight relief. The bleeding isn't so bad, by my standards at least. I can pack some snow into it when I get out. Now for the hard part, getting rid of the shackles. I'm not going to enjoy this, but I am grateful for three things. One, shackles have a set restraint clasp that can't be adjusted to different sizes. Two, I'm double jointed in a few areas, my wrists being one spot. And three, when you're a creative kid with no friends, you do a lot of weird things...like learn how to escape. I move my thumb and pinkie finger to be in my palm so that my right hand is thinned in a curve. "One...Two...Three..." On three, I pull my hand down hard. I hiss at the sting and the bones popping don't help it from sounding worse than it is. But the results are what I wanted. My hand is free. Bent and sore, but free. "Hell...*wince* I'm gonna be a mess by day's end. Mom's going to kill me." Grabbing the bone, I use it before the magic fades. Using the tip to pry out the pin that keeps the clasps together. It isn't long before my limbs are under my full control again. "Alright...Step one, done. Step two, in progress." Now able to move, I tackle the annoying issue of the bars. I exhale and make myself as skinny as possible before trying to squeeze through. These bars are a little bit easier than the forest ones, but still a huge pain in the ass. Both figuratively and literally. This shed is filled with many made up swears by the time I get my body past the bars. I contemplate on whether I should've tried going out one of the windows, but that's when I notice something weird about the shed's door. The doorknob is backward. [It's locked from the inside.] I laugh a bit and walk out like a boss. Though being touched by the cold snow air doesn't make my shoulder or inevitable bruises feel any better. To slow the bleeding in my shoulder, I pack a bunch of snow into the wound. It won't last long due to body heat, but it's a temporary thing until I can fix this better. "Step two, done. On to step three. Now...How do I get inside?" Beside the shed, is a two leveled house that I can surmise belongs to Sans and Papyrus. Spikes outline the structure, it sports a classic pirate flag and is adorned with strings of red ominous lights. To the left of the house is Sans's mailbox, which is full of threatening letters, and Papyrus's mailbox, which is also holding equally bad looking mail. Looking at the "FUCK OFF" mat at the door, I kick it up and scoff at my idea that a key would be there. I check the door nob, to no surprise, it's locked. Checking the window yields more interesting results. The frame wiggles and it loosens the clasp. With a bit of effort, the lock slips off the bracket and I'm able to lift it up. From where the window is, part of a black couch is underneath, which come in handy when pulling myself in. Mental note to self, breaking into a skeleton's house is oddly thrilling. I re-secure the window and look around. Flowey is in here somewhere. I just have to figure out where. "Step three, done. Step four, needs work." The first floor of this house contains a living room and a kitchen. The living room features a large flat-screen television. The living room also hosts a table with what looks like a pet rock sitting on it, which is covered in salt, and one of Sans's dirty socks with a series of sticky notes attached to it, I'd recognize those dingy yellow things anywhere. The sticky notes depict Papyrus nagging Sans to pick it up and they get harsher the with each continuing note. There's also stool by the couch that seats a book titled "How to kick ass and give no fucks" that contains a joke book inside, yet within that is a book on quantum physics book which itself contains another joke book that contains another quantum physics book. I feel like that means something more. But fuck if I have time to think about it. My snow shoulder patch is melting, so off to the kitchen I go. The kitchen is rather simple, containing a stove with a tinfoil covered lasagna in it that has a note on it reminding Sans to warm it up for supper, a trash can, a long countered sink, and a fridge that has containers labeled "pasta perfection" with a number next to it on one side and an half-empty box of doughnuts on the other side. "I'll take this, thank you very much." I grab a strawberry glazed doughnut and munch to bring up my HP before a hand towel into the wound. [HP █████████████ 13/36] "Okay, flower-boy ain't down here. Now if I were a somewhat evil jackass, where would I keep a hostage? Hmmm...*gasp* My bedroom! Of course." So to the stairs I go. The second floor of the house contains a framed painting of a bone in regal attire and four doors, two leading to Papyrus's room and Sans's room, the others are unknown though one is likely a bathroom. "Yo! Flowey! You here, bro?!" "*muffled yell*" "Called it." It sounded like it came from the first door and judging from the all the warning signs on the door, I have to say it's Papyrus's room. This is further proven true by the note on the door. [It's the door to Papyrus's room. It's covered in many labels...] [NO GIRLS ALLOWED!] [NO BOYS ALLOWED!] [NO SANS ALLOWED!] [PAPYRUS ALLOWED.] "Dude just keeps finding ways to come off as a pompous ass and yet cute at the same time. Well...till he stabs you that is." I check the knob, it's locked. "*muffled shout*" "I hear you, give me a second." I lack expect thief skills so I'm not so stealthy with this approach. "Screw the rules, I have boundary issues!" I kick the door near the knob and it busts open with a loud crash. "Knock knock..." Papyrus's room isn't what I was expecting. There's a chest of bones by the door, a desktop computer in the back right corner blocking the only window, a closet between the PC and a large bookshelf. Another pirate flag adorns the wall of the back left corner, an end table with figures resembling monsters of the Royal Guard is near the bed, and the bed itself is a black modified pro stock hot rod decked out with glistening flame decals. In the center of the room is a black rug framed with flames...and a suspicious looking box that looks big enough to hold a potted flower. Opening the box reveals a bound in string Flowey that's also gagged with a sock. I pull it out of his mouth and he spits in disgust. "Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! That was the worst thing I've ever experienced in my entire life!" "At least you're not dead." I snap the string and he stretches. "What happened to you?" I look at the now very wet hand towel. "Take a wild guess." He sighs. "Papyrus?" "Bingo." He groans as I pick him up. "You wouldn't happen to know where my stuff is, would you?" "What?! They took our gear?!" "My gear. Mine. I don't see you walking around with all that on your back." "Semantics. And no. I have no clue." "Damn it...*sigh* Guess we're not leaving any time soon." Flowey's eyes widen. "W-What do you mean we aren't leaving?" "I mean, we are not leaving this house. Not till I find my stuff." I head out of the room and put Flowey down so I can fix the door. "Are you nuts?! Look what those crazy boneheads did to us! If we stay here, we are both going to die!" "And what do you think will happen if we can't call mom by curfew?" That makes the next remark die on Flowey's tongue. "...Good point." Yank the door back into its former place and tumble back a bit. "Pap is gonna be so pissed." "How do you plan to lessen this?" I pause for a moment. "I could do a little around the place. Maybe earn some points that way." "Why?" "I can snoop around while looking innocent." "...Sometimes you surprise me with evil ideas." "It's not evil if I'm doing good to get back what's mine." I pick up his pot and head downstairs. Maybe I'll start in the kitchen and work my way up. Heating up that lasagna seems like a good start. Maybe do some cleaning. But first I need to tend to this wound. [In Snowdin Town, Library] "OKAY SANS, EXPLAIN TO ME WHY WE HAD TO COME HERE AGAIN?" "like i told ya on the way...if we're gonna keep her like a pet, we should at least do some research on humans so we know what the fuck we're doing." "*HUFF* SOUNDS MORE LIKE YOU JUST WANTED ME AWAY FROM THE HUMAN." "that's just a bonus so the two of ya would shut the hell up for five minutes." The brothers stroll up the front desk where the librarian lizard looks extremely bored. "Welcome to the library, how can I be of...Oh. It's just you two. What do you want?" Papyrus sneers. "WE ARE HERE ON OFFICIAL BUSINESS, SMARTASS." "Oh yeah? Like what?" "we need any and all book ya got about humans." That made the lizard monster adjust their glasses. "This would be because of what the town is all chattering about, right? You two actually caught the last human?" Papyrus confidently poses. "INDEED, YOU HEARD RIGHT. I, THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS, AM IN POSSESSION OF THE FINAL HUMAN." Sans rolls his eyes in annoyance as once again, Papyrus has stolen all the credit. "And why is that? Shouldn't the human be sent to the Capital to have its soul removed?" Papyrus was going to speak but Sans beat him to it. "this is the last human. we need to know what it knows. it's been ages since the last one, so who knows what shit is like on the surface. we need to interrogate the human and report the information before we blindly run up there." Papyrus looks at his brother in surprise. "Yeah, I guess that's a smart move. But just letting you know, my stock on human books isn't as good as you might need it to be. Aside from water damage, Alphys keeps having me send her any new books I find on humans." That made them confused. "WHAT FOR?" The librarian shrugs. "She doesn't tell me. The best answer I got out of her was something along the lines of 'needing info to improve Mettaton's lethality' or something like that. If you ask me, anything she does it that hunk of scrap is an improvement." Sans chuckles. "heh...that quack really thinks she can make the tin-can deadly to humans? hell, she can't even make it be the least bit entertaining. what's it gonna do? bore them to death?" "I know. She's wasting her time. But it's none of my business what she does." The librarian steps away. "I'll check what I have and see how much she's actually returned." The lizard goes to the many shelves and Papyrus snickers, gaining Sans's attention. "what's so funny, bro?" "HEH...YOU SURPRISED ME, SANS. I WOULDN'T HAVE GUESSED YOU WERE CAPABLE OF LYING WITH A STRAIGHT FACE." Sans rolls his shoulders. "never said i couldn't lie. i just can't do it to you." Papyrus smirks. "THAT'S GOOD TO KNOW." After about fifteen minutes or so, the librarian returns with a fairly decent stack of books. "Okay, fellas, this is all I got." Just merely glancing at the spines of these books showed them to be a rather random assortment. "WHAT IS THIS ONE?" "Anatomy & Physiology Workbook For Dummies. I've got a few of these 'Dummies' books and from looking them over, they're pretty much like a crash course rundown on whatever the subject is. This one is about the human body. It's actually pretty weird." "oh yeah? how weird are we talking about?" "Get this...Their bodies are mostly composed of water?" They laugh mockingly. "No, I'm serious. Look it up if you don't believe me. And the amount of water is different depending on gender. Males have about 10% more than females. It's so weird." Sans takes the book and begins flipping through it as Papyrus scoffs. "NONSENSE. SUCH THINGS CAN'T POSSIBLY BE TRUE. WHAT KIND OF CREATURE CAN MAINTAIN LIFE WITHOUT MAGIC?" "Humans apparently. None of these books mention anything on a human's magic abilities. Seems like the rumors were true. Humanity has lost its magic." "THAT'S GOOD. THAT MEANS THEY CAN NEVER TRAP US UNDERGROUND AGAIN." "I wouldn't be so eager if I were you. Remember that one human that came through. The yellow soul with that strange weapon?" "I VAGUELY RECALL SUCH THINGS, BUT GO ON." The librarian flips open another book. This one depicting weapons and battles between humans and other humans. "They've lost the use of magic, true. But they've advanced in physical weaponry. These bombs they have...I couldn't begin to imagine such things ever being real. The damage is incredible. The devastation to their own kind is unbelievable. We'd have to hit them hard and fast or we're goners for sure." Papyrus begins looking over the book when Sans suddenly lets out a slightly shuddering gasp. "HMMM? WHAT IS IT SANS? DID YOU DISCOVER A WEAKNESS WE CAN EXPLOIT?" Sans is sweating bullets and his cheekbones burning. "this is for real, right? this book isn't just making shit up?" This has Papyrus's attention. "Yes. It's a science book. Not science fiction. Why?" "so you're telling me that THIS is a real human fact?" Sans puts the book down on the counter and has it opened to the diagram of a human's skeletal system. "Yes. Humans have skeletons inside their bodies. It's like the core of their shape and everything else covers it. Why is that so...odd...?" Now the librarian is confused by the red tinting both skeletons' faces. "SO THERE'S A SKELETON...INSIDE OF THE HUMAN?" "Yeah?" Papyrus slaps a hand over his face and Sans slams his head into the book to hide his growing blush. "*muffled* fuck my life..." "You two are acting weird. Well, more so than usual. So...Just hand over your card and I'll let you take these so this doesn't get any more uncomfortable." "AGREED." Papyrus hands over his library card and the lizard takes Papyrus's information while also stamping the due dates into each book's time card. "Have fun learning, gentlemen." The librarian teases, making Papyrus huff while taking all the books and Sans pulls his hoodie over his head in shame of the still maddening blush he has even while leaving into the cold. "CAN YOU BELIEVE THE NERVE OF THAT GUY? MUST BE A TRAIT ALL REPTILES HAVE. JUST LIKE ALPHYS." "yep." "...YOU'RE STILL THINKING ABOUT THE BOOK, AREN'T YOU?" "i wish i could stop." "THAT...I CAN AGREE WITH YOU THERE. MOST UNSETTLING." "knowing this now makes everything so awkward!" "WE JUST HAVE TO IGNORE IT. IT'S NOT LIKE SHE CAN TAKE OFF HER SKIN AND WALK AROUND IN JUST BARE BONES. ...RIGHT?" "for the love of asgore, i really fucking hope so." "BE STRONG, BROTHER. DO NOT FALL PREY TO THIS NEW INFORMATION. SHE STILL THE SAME BITCH OF A HUMAN. THIS DOESN'T CHANGE ANYTHING. SHE IS OUR PET. AND WE WILL NOT BE CORRUPTED BY SUCH..." [RING] The sudden sound actually makes Sans jump in surprise due to being so wound up and Papyrus nearly drops everything from shock. "holy shit...*pant* that freaked me out so bad..." "WAIT...THAT ISN'T YOUR RING TONE." "it's not my phone. i took her's when we 'confiscated' her stuff." [RING] "WHO'D BE CALLING HER ANYWAY?" "probably this ghost she knows. or her mom." "HER MOTHER?" "it's a long story..." Sans pulls the old cellphone from his shorts pocket and checks the name that pops up. "yep. it's her mom. let me just..." Without warning, Papyrus snatches the phone from Sans in one hand while holding the books in the other. "pap, no! don't!" Too late. "GREETINGS. YOU ARE SPEAKING TO THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS, SECOND IN COMMAND OF THE ROYAL GUARD!" Sans's eyes go black and he knows damn well this isn't going to end well. "Papyrus? Oh! You must be Sans's brother. I've heard so much about you." That caught Papyrus off guard. He wasn't expecting to be known. Or to just be known as Sans's brother. "*AHEM* YES. THAT IS INDEED WHO I AM. NOW, WHAT IS THE NATURE OF THIS CALL?" "Well, sir, I do believe I am the one who should be asking the questions. For one, why are you in possession of my daughter's phone?" Papyrus grins evilly. "SIMPLE REALLY. I HAVE HER PHONE BECAUSE SHE IS NOW MY PRISONER." Sans cringes. "You WHAT?!" The shout was loud enough to make the phone receiver crack. "YOU HEARD ME. I HAVE YOUR DAUGHTER NOW. BUT DO NOT FEAR. SHE IS PERFECTLY FINE...IF YOU DON'T COUNT THE WOUND TO HER ARM THAT IS." There's eerie silence on the phone and Sans can't take this anymore. He rips the phone from Papyrus. "SANS! GIVE THAT BACK! I WASN'T DONE GLOATING!" "tori! it's me! don't believe a thing my bro said. h-h-he's just trying to get your goat. *nervous laugh* get it? ya know i'd never let the kid get hurt." "SANS, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" "if ya want, i can give the phone to her right now and she'll tell ya how she's fine. that sound okay, tori?" "SANS..." Sans covers the phone. "you idiot, do ya even know how fucked up you're making this?" Papyrus glares. "DO NOT TAKE THAT TONE WITH ME, SANS." "pap, the human's mom isn't another human. it's asgore's wife, toriel." That name took a moment to click in Papyrus's head, but when it did, his skull only had the look of horror smeared on it. "T-TORIEL? THE TORIEL? THE QUEEN?" "yes! she ran away to the ruins and locked herself in, remember?" "AND HUMAN IS..." "she kinda adopted her." "AND I JUST...OH MY GOD, I JUST GLOATED OVER HURTING THE QUEEN'S DAUGHTER..." "yes, you did. now go get the human so we can save our asses from being cremated!" Papyrus needs no further prompting and rushes to the shed. Sans slowly follows. "sorry about that, tori. i had to tell my bro to go wake the kid. she's at our house taking a nap. poor thing worked herself to the bone trying to get to town, it was the least i could do to let her get some rest." "...This had better not be a lie, Sans. I am in no mood to be played a fool of." "tori, trust me. i hate making promises but never do i break them. the kid is fine. she's..." Sans pauses when Papyrus comes out of the shed with even more panic than he already had. "*SHOUT* SHE'S NOT IN THERE!" Sans almost dropped the phone. The human's gone? But how? She was chained up and pinned to a freaking wall for fuck's sake! How did she...where could she...? Okay, calm down. She couldn't have gotten far. There has to be some sign of her nearby. "Sans? Is everything alright?" Sans begins to sweat profusely and gulps nervously. "y-yeah! everything's fine. the kiddo's just being fussy is all. let me put ya on hold for a sec while i calm her down." Sans hits the button to pause the call. "what do ya mean she's not there?!" "SHE'S NOT IN THERE, SANS!" "are there any clues? ya fucked her shoulder up, maybe there's a blood trail." Taking a moment to settle down, Papyrus lets his training take over. Looking back in the shed, there is a slight trail of blood droplets starting at the wall where they let her, then a big smear of it on the bars, and then leading out of the door. Sans could see the hunter in his brother take hold and calmed down. Once Papyrus had a target in mind there was nothing that escaped his sense until he found it. Papyrus took notice that the blood had stopped outside the shed but footprints took their place. These prints lead him to his own home and even stranger still, the window. "SANS...SHE'S IN OUR HOUSE." Sans comes up to him. "how do you know?" "THE FLOWER IS WATCHING OUR TV." Sans took a look to confirm his brother's words. Yes, Flowey is seated on the floor in his pot and watching television. Though the human is nowhere to be seen, it is very convincing to believe she is indeed within the residence. They waste no time in entering their home and Flowey is tackled before he can scream. "okay, weed, we know she let ya out. now tell us where she is!" To add some more convincing, Papyrus produces many sharpened bones that take aim at his face. Flowey panics but his cries are all muffled, all he can do is point to one of the doors upstairs. "THE BATHROOM!" "got it!" Sans teleports into the bathroom, leaving Papyrus and Flowey alone. There's deafening silence before screaming and swears are heard. "Get out! Get out! Get out! Get out!" Sans appears on the outside of the door completely red skulled and panting, his left hand gripping his chest like his soul was about to escape. "SANS? WHAT HAPPENED?" He can't speak. Words fail to form in his mouth. All he can do to let Papyrus know that something at least went okay was give a shaky thumbs up. This wasn't as reassuring to Papyrus as Sans wanted it to be and he leaves the flower to check on his brother. "SANS? WHAT HAPPENED? DID SHE DO SOMETHING TO YOU?" Sans shakes his head. "DID YOU SEE SOMETHING?" He nods. "WELL? WHAT DID YOU SEE?" Sans only has enough cognitive thought to spit out one word. "everything." Papyrus goes to ask what he means by that, but seeing how shaken up Sans is, he decides to let it go till he's calmed down. Seconds later, the sound of water being drained clues Papyrus a bit more into what just transpired and he too shares the stunned look his brother has. "I was trying to warn you..." Snidely remarks the flower. "But I suppose that's the price you pay for just rushing in where fools dare to tread." Papyrus in no mood for smart-mouthed flowers. He carries Sans downstairs and sits him o the couch before leaving back to the shed to recollect the books he left there. "Awww...You don't look so good. What's the matter, Smiley Trashbag? Never seen a girl like that before?" "stop..." "Must've been something to really rattle you up like this." "stop." "Funny. I never thought I'd see the day when something got under your skin." "i said, STOP!" Sans's voice roars and his eyes go dark with only the left flaring a violent intense red. Flowey instantly regrets his choice to be a turd at this moment. "do not mock me! i will fucking end you! i will give you a very bad time! i will..." "You'll what?" My sudden voice breaks his rage and his glowing eye dims a little. "i'll make mulch of him if he doesn't stop being such a huge pain in the ass." "Of course you will..." Now out of the bathroom, I'm stuck wearing my bloody clothes and have my hair wrapped in a towel. "Flowey quit being a little shit." "But I..." "I could hear you through the door. Don't antagonize him." He grumbles as I descend the stairs. Sans doesn't look at me. I don't blame him. He saw way too much. "You okay?" "i'm fine." I don't believe him. "Want to reset this moment too?" Flowey looks at me funny upon hearing that. "i don't think that'll work this time." I plop down on the couch away from him. "Damn...And just when things with us were going cool again. Lady luck is being a real bitch today." That musters a small smile to his face but it's short-lived. Moments pass till Papyrus comes in with books and he isn't pleased to see me. "YOU WERE TOLD TO WAIT IN THE SHED." I want to clash with him on that, but choose not to. If I'm stuck here, for the time being, I might as well make it pleasant. Well...as pleasant as it can possibly get. "You're right. I'm sorry." That has Papyrus dropping the books. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?" "I said, you're right. I was told to stay put but did not. I'm sorry." My shift in obedience even takes Sans by surprise, his eyes reverting to their normal white pinpricks. I get up and head to the kitchen. "I will admit to not being the most well-mannered person. Definitely not getting a 'good girl of the year' award for such things. But I had some time to think while you boys were gone." "OH YEAH?" I get quiet and they hear the over squeak open. "THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Papyrus rushes over and sees me pulling the lasagna out. "What's wrong? If I leave it in there it'll burn." He's confused. But when I set it down and lift the foil, all this steam comes wafting off. "YOU...YOU HEATED IT FOR ME?" "Like I said, I had some time to think. After getting inside here..." "HOW DID YOU DO THAT BY THE WAY?" "The window. It'll need to be resized or change the lock because I just had to shake it and it came loose. I recommend a temporary fix by jamming something into the frame." "DAMN IT. MY IMPENETRABLE FORTRESS HAS A FLAW. I MUST FIX THAT." "I got Flowey and let him watch TV while I did a few things. First thing, I fixed your bedroom door." He glares. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BEDROOM DOOR?" "Had to kick it open to get to Flowey. But I repaired what little issues such force caused." "IF YOU TOUCHED ANYTHING IN THERE..." "Please, you insult me with such an idea. All I touched was the box holding Flowey and nothing else. By the way, your room, very badass." He gets a faint smile. "GLAD TO KNOW YOU CAN RECOGNIZE SOMETHING SO OBVIOUS. NOW WHAT ELSE HAVE YOU DONE AROUND HERE?" I begin cutting into the food and plating it. "Well...After patching my shoulder I did some lite dusting and cleaned up any blood I tracked in with me. Then I searched the couch to find about 50G under the cushions and under the couch itself, which the pet rock is now guarding in case you want it. Plus...I picked up that sock. Damn thing was bugging my brain just sitting there. Not sure what room is Sans's so it's sitting in my pocket for now." I feel his hands rest firmly on my shoulders and I freeze. "HUMAN...THANK YOU." "Um...You're welcomed?" Why is this making me so nervous right now? "YOU HEAR THAT SANS?! EVEN THE HUMAN IS CAPABLE OF PICKING UP SOCKS!" "good for her! i don't give a shit!" "*SCOFF* GOD, HOW HE ANNOYS THE PISS OUT OF ME." "Easy now. You're both just on edge. Nanny tends to have the effect when mad." "NANNY?" "It's a nickname I gave mom before I started calling her mom. It's a goat joke." "AH. I SEE YOUR HUMOR IS JUST AS BAD AS HIS." "Either way, Toriel can be very protective. And you telling her I was hurt? Not a smart move. You're lucky Sans talked her down or we'd all be in some serious trouble." "*GRUMBLE* WHATEVER." I hand him a plate. "Here. Go relax and eat. Now is the time for peace." He looks at me funny. "Is something the matter?" "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED IN THAT BATHROOM TO MAKE YOU SO PLEASANT? YOU DIDN'T DRINK THE BODYWASH, DID YOU?" "*giggle* No silly. I'm just in a better more. I'm fine. Could use some healing magic to seal this wound, but otherwise okay." "HMMM...PERHAPS AFTER SUPPER, I MIGHT OBLIGE YOU WITH THAT." "I thank you ahead of time if you do." He smirks and returns to the living room. I gather up three more plates, one in each hand and one clasped hard in my teeth, before heading back to join them. I serve Flowey and move the plate from my mouth to the free hand. I then hand a plate over to Sans and takes it from me without looking at me. I frown at this but know he has to settle down. I sit on the floor and eat with Flowey. Aside from the TV playing, not a sound is made between the four of us. It's really uncomfortable. So...I try to change that. "So...Who's the robot?" Flowey gulps a large bite down. "From what I've gathered, its name is Mettaton. It's actually not that bad." "Huh? Looks familiar." "What do you mean?" "I swear...I've seen that machine before. I just can't place it." "Weird." "Eh. I'll come to me later." "So what did mom say?" "Oh, she was pissed! But I talked her into being okay. If she ever asks, we slept over. The reason I may or may not have gotten hurt was due to slipping on ice and colliding with stalagmites. Got it?" "That...That's believable. You can be a klutz sometimes." "*mock gasp* Sir, you speak ill of me? Have at you!" I nuggie Flowey and he nips at me to make me stop. This childishness plays out in front of the brothers and has them puzzled. "ARE YOU SEEING THIS?" "i am. it's so weird. like she's a different person." "DO YOU THINK THIS IS COVERED IN THE BOOKS?" "don't know. but one of those has to be a psychology book of some kind." "DO YOU THINK...IT'S POSSIBLY A RUSE?" "what? like she's faking it?" "EXACTLY." "i don't know...not sure ya can fake something like that." "DO WE...DO WE STICK WITH THE PLAN?" "the pet idea?" "YEAH?" "maybe. we gotta spin something to keep those assholes in town from narking us to undyne." "SOUNDS LIKE WE'RE DIGGING OURSELVES INTO A PRETTY DEEP HOLE HERE, SANS." "we just have to make a plan. but for now...she doesn't leave this house." "AGREED." "Hey, guys..." That broke up their little huddle. "Could I have my backpack back? I'd like to change into something less torn and blood caked." "YOU'D HAVE TO ASK SANS FOR THAT. HE TOOK YOUR THINGS. I JUST HAD THE FLOWER." I look at Sans and he flinches when he makes eye contact. "If it helps, I'll make a trade." I dig the sock out of my pocket. "Item for an item?" He looks annoyed but puts his plate down. "fine." He teleports away and Papyrus growls. "DAMN IT, SANS! YOU FORGOT TO TAKE THE SOCK!" "i didn't forget...i just didn't want to have it." Suddenly Sans is upstairs and opening a door. I mentally mark that as his room and it won't be hard to remember either. That door was the odd one with multicolored flames seeping out from under it but oddly they didn't burn or have any heat as if it's an illusion. "*SNARL* YOU WILL TAKE THIS DAMN SOCK AND PUT IT IN YOUR ROOM, OR SO HELP ME I WILL..." "you'll what?" A bone is launched and harpoons itself in the wall beside Sans's head, rattling him big time. "TAKE. THE. FUCKING. SOCK. NOW." "uh...okay, i get it. toss it here, kiddo." I ball the sock up and throw it. He catches it with ease and enters his room. Seconds later, Sans appears on the couch again with my bag. "here." He holds out the bag. "Everything in there?" "yeah." "That include my gold and items?" He sneers. "ya don't trust me?" I groan. "Don't start this crap. I have a right to ask since you guys stripped me." I snatch it from him and head back upstairs. "the fuck ya giving me attitude for?!" "Stop now before you say something stupid." "so what? now you're calling me stupid?!" "Oh my god...Grow up! You saw me naked! Get over it!" I slam the door behind me and roar in annoyance. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm not even over. Nothing like coming out of deep thought soaking in a tub and opening your eyes to see a stunned skeleton staring at you like he's seen a dead body. Why? Why did he look at me like that? The first time anyone, let alone a guy, sees me nude and they looked terrified. My self-esteem went down the drain with the bathwater. God, I hate my life. I change into a spare outfit and tie my hair back up in the ribbon. Once I'm done, I look over myself in the mirror. [It's still you, Lynsie.] [HP 36, ATK 26, and DEF 14] "Not quite. But getting there. There's always room for improvement." I exit the bathroom and see Sans is gone. Probably in his room. Papyrus appears to have grabbed another plate. The guy enjoys his own cooking, that's for sure. Flowey's zoned out on watching TV, he's such a kid sometimes. I get down there and join them. I toss the bag under the table with the rock and grab a book Papyrus brought in before sitting beside him on the couch. What a strange assortment these things are. They all had something to do with humans. This one, in particular, is called "Evolution and Selection of Quantitative Traits". So far not a bad read. "WHAT IS THAT ONE ABOUT?" "The synopsis on the back says...Evolution and Selection of Quantitative Traits presents a holistic treatment of the subject, showing the interplay between theory and data with extensive discussions on statistical issues relating to the estimation of the biologically relevant parameters for these models. Quantitative genetics is viewed as the bridge between complex mathematical models of trait evolution and real-world data, and the authors have clearly framed their treatment as such. This is the second volume in a planned trilogy that summarizes the modern field of quantitative genetics, informed by empirical observations from wide-ranging fields (agriculture, evolution, ecology, and human biology) as well as population genetics, statistical theory, mathematical modeling, genetics, and genomics. Whilst volume 1 (1998) dealt with the genetics of such traits, the main focus of volume 2 is on their evolution, with a special emphasis on detecting selection (ranging from the use of genomic and historical data through to ecological field data) and examining its consequences." "IN ENGLISH?" "What makes something work in a species so that THAT creature continues to thrive while similar beings that lack such traits don't. Like for example, there are two types of birds that live in a heavily wooded area. Food starts to get harder to come by because it starts going into the trees. The bird that evolves first to take advantage of this new way of eating, by digging into the trees, is the bird that will get to keep going while the other dies out. Makes sense?" "AH. THAT SEEMS VERY LOGICAL. HOW DOES THAT WORK FOR HUMANS?" "Eh. Humanity hasn't really evolved for a long time. I think noticeably, we stopped when Homosapiens came about and made Neanderthals die out. Though they didn't die out completely. There are still traces of Neanderthal DNA in most of the population, which shows they were able to crossbreed and keep going that way." "SO THESE HOMOSAPIENS...THEY ARE WHAT IS KNOWN AS MODERN HUMANS?" "Correct. Advancements in DNA research has allowed us to trace our line back 85 million years ago when primates diverged from other mammals." That shocks him but then has him confused. "WAIT...WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY PRIMATES?" "Monkeys and Apes. Humans evolved from them." "NO..." "I know. Sounds like complete bull. But the proof is in our blood. Yet that doesn't stop most people from thinking that's crap and we just poofed on the land because religion says so." "BUT HOW DOES A MONKEY OR APE TURN INTO A HUMAN?" "Human evolution from its first separation from the last common ancestor of humans and chimpanzees is characterized by a number of morphological, developmental, physiological, and behavioral changes. The most significant of these adaptations are bipedalism, increased brain size, lengthened ontogeny otherwise known as gestation and infancy, and decreased sexual dimorphism. The relationship between these changes is the subject of ongoing debate. Other significant morphological changes included the evolution of a power and precision grip, aka, our hands, a change first occurring in Homoerectus." "YOU KNOW AN AWFUL LOT ABOUT SUCH THINGS." "She's a nerd." Flowey interjects and I playfully shrug. "He's not wrong. I like to study random stuff that keeps my interest." "THEN IF YOU DON'T MIND ME ASKING, WHEN DID HUMANS EVOLVE TO HAVE SKELETONS INSIDE THEM?" I tilt my head confused. "I'm not sure I understand the question." "IN ONE OF THE BOOKS WE GOT IT SHOWED THERE IS A SKELETON INSIDE OF HUMAN BODIES. WHEN DID THAT BECOME A THING?" I think hard. "Well...When life began forming in the ocean, ages ago, nothing had bones because gravity is less in water and when all life is just fist, you don't need an internal support system. One-celled animals don't have any support system that holds them in a certain shape. Plants do have a support system, but it's the cellulose in the cell wall of each cell, rather than bones. Ain't that right, bro?" Flowey rolls his eyes and focuses on the show. "Early multi-celled animals like jellyfish, sponges, and worms also didn't have skeletons, but beginning with arthropods, about 550 million years ago, animals began to make specialized structures to support their bodies and give them a definite shape. The earliest skeletons were exoskeletons. They were on the outside of the animal. Modern lobsters, crabs, snails, and insects have exoskeletons. By about 510 million years ago, eels began to have their skeletons on the inside as well as on the outside in the form of their scales. They evolved first notochords and then vertebrae to protect their delicate spinal cords. These early inside skeletons or endoskeletons were made out of cartilage rather than bone. Sharks still have skeletons made out of cartilage to this day. Which makes finding their fossils very annoying. You mostly just find teeth. Big sharp killer teeth." "INTERESTING." "By about 480 million years ago, some fish were beginning to have teeth, so they could eat other fish. To protect their heads, some fish evolved their teeth into skulls. The earliest skulls look like lots of tiny teeth. Fish also evolved two sets of fins, one near their heads, and the other about half-way down to help them swim faster. During the Devonian period, about 400 million years ago, many seas were very shallow, and fish evolved to be able to live in very shallow water. Their fins developed into legs, because crawling worked better than swimming in these puddles, and they developed finger-like appendages to help them balance when they were moving. Gradually these lungfish evolved into amphibians, about 375 million years ago, and lived more and more on land. Their bodies were not supported by the water anymore, and they needed stronger bones to hold them up. And it really just kept going from their the more land dependent life became. All the way up to the bones we have now." "THAT IS INCREDIBLE. TIME AND DETERMINATION TO LIVE REALLY AMAZES ME SOMETIMES." "Wanna see?" He cocks his brow as I put the book down to pull my left arm out of its sleeve and bring it out of my shirt's collar. Now seeing the bandage, I peel it down to show the gaping hole his bone made. "If you look up in middle of it, you can see part of my scapula and humerus. You cut into there pretty deep to move that much muscle to expose the bone. Rather impressive actually." The look he gets is a weird mixture of curiosity and restraint. "Papyrus?" He doesn't respond. He just keeps his eyes locked into the wound. It's beginning to unnerve me. I move to put the bandage back on but he stops me, holding my wrist away. I don't move now. I let him do what he wants. Slowly the hand holding my wrist starts feeling the bone behind the thin layer of skin. Those eyes of his, so intense and yet holding no ill intent like he tends to display. I pay more attention to that hand and fail to notice the other begins to test touch the inside of the hole for bone until a raw nerve makes me hiss. "SENSITIVE?" "*wince* No...Painful..." "DO YOU WANT ME TO STOP?" "*strained* If that's okay, yes." "THEN SAY THE MAGIC WORDS." I glare at him and he smirks. "*weak growl* You jerk..." "I DIDN'T HEAR YOU. CARE TO TRY AGAIN?" He shoves his fingers in deeper and I bite my lip hard. This feels so weird. Why is he blushing? Is he enjoying this? Why am I blushing? The fuck is wrong with me?! Nope! So much nope! This ends now! "*stressed* Please stop, Master!" The room goes silent. Flowey even turns off the TV in shock. Papyrus grins triumphantly and takes the offending hand out to cover the wound instead. "GOOD GIRL. FOR THAT, YOU'VE EARNED THIS." His hand starts resonating with healing magic and I feel nothing but shame. "YOU DON'T LOOK HAPPY." "I feel disgusted with myself." "AND WHY DO YOU FEEL THAT WAY?" "Because you're humiliating me in exchange for aid." "DO YOU WANT ME TO STOP?" I look away. "No." "NO WHAT?" I lower my head. "*mumble*" "WHAT WAS THAT?" "...No, Master." "THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT." Flowey just shakes his head at me and I glare harshly. "AS A SHOW THAT THIS SORT OF BEHAVIOR IS ACCEPTABLE, I WILL PERMIT YOU TO SLEEP ON THE COUCH." "Where would I have slept otherwise?" "THE SHED OF COURSE." "...I'm not even surprised." He pulls his hand away to reveal the healed flesh and stands up. "I TRUST YOU'LL BE A GOOD PET AND MAKE SURE THE FOOD IS PROPERLY STORED AND THE DISHES DONE BEFORE YOU GO TO SLEEP." I sneer and grip the couch. "Yes, Papyrus." He eyes me before turning away. "I'LL EXCEPT THAT FOR NOW. BUT DO GET USED TO CALLING ME MASTER." He heads upstairs to his room and I internally scream bloody murder while putting my arm back in my shirt the right way. "The hell did I miss?" "Not now, bro. Not now." I get up and take his plate to the kitchen. "What are you doing?" "Being a whipped bitch and hating myself for it! What else does it look like?" I kick myself as I do as told. I put the food into a correctly sized container, mark a date and number it, then put it away. Dishes don't take long to do and I set the books up on the table for them later. I even end up making sure the window and door are secured. "Why are you doing this? We have our stuff. We can leave." He's right. I have him, the bag, all my stuff, and the door is right there. So why am I doing this? Why can't I seem to even grip that idea as an option to take? "Lynsie? Hey...Are you okay?" "...I don't know." My hands are shaking and I can't feel it. Is it nerve damage? Or is something going wrong in my head? "Why don't you take a break? You've had a long day." "Yeah...Yeah, that sounds nice..." I pick him off the floor and set him on the table before flopping face first onto the couch with a groan. I want so bad to shut down and forget this happened. But I can't. I have one last thing to do before I can. I pull out my phone and dial up the only other number that isn't Toriel. [RING-RING] "...hello?" "Blook-man, it's me." "Lynsie! hey...you still coming over?" "I'm in Snowdin Town." "wow. you made it halfway. you really are something else." "Listen...I don't think I can make over by, what I'll guess is, nightfall." "how come? is it that bad out there for you?" "I am currently in the house of Royal Guardsmen Sans and Second in Command Papyrus. So...Yeah, I don't think I'm leaving anytime soon." "holy shit! are you alright?!" "So far. Kinda got this weird situation where I'm gonna be made into a pet thing going on, but other than that..." "do you need any help?" "Blooky, as sweet as that is, I ain't gonna risk you getting in trouble over me." "...then what are you going to do?" "I'll find a way. You know me." "if you need anything, just call and I'll come as fast as I can." "I know. You're a good friend, Blooky. I'll try to get over there. I just don't know when." "don't rush. the royal guard isn't to be taken lightly. hell, the captain lives near me." "...You're just telling me this now?" "in my defense...I never really thought you'd leave the ruins." "Yeah, can't fault ya there." "um...can I call you back later?" "Dude, you can call me anytime. Sorry if I bugged ya while you were doing something." "n-no! not at all! I wasn't doing anything! alright, got to go now! bye!" [CLICK] "Huh...That wasn't suspicious at all. Goodnight, Flowey." "Take it easy, human." I put the phone away and get comfortable. At least I'm indoors now and out of the cold. I can't imagine trying to sleep in that shed. A little nap will calm my nerves and bring peace to me weary soul...I hope. [Many hours later] Sans had woken up, as he often does, from non-restful slumber. The tossing and turning due to bad dreams always left him exhausted. This drained feeling is what drove him to always raid the fridge for a quick bite and feel recharged. How often he did this depended on pure randomness, but rest assured, it happens none the less and this night was no exception. Rummaging the fridge after teleporting down there, he scarfed down two or three doughnuts before chugging a large bottle of mustard he kept in the crisper. So far, a very normal replay of past nights for him. Yet in deciding to walk back to his room, something new caught his attention. The human was stretched out on the couch looking both uncomfortable and yet comfortable at the same time. Papyrus must have let her stay inside for some reason. He had to admit, he had no idea how she was managing to sleep on that thing. The couch, when used for sitting, was fine, but laying on it was another matter. It was lumpy and jangly when the springs were pressed on, so not the best bed in his opinion. But there she was. Out cold and dead to the world. He slowly approached her. Oh, how easily she could be taken out right now and no one would know. "heh...really? after everything, you really can just sleep like nothing happened?" Of course, there was no response on her end. "tell me to grow up. where the hell do ya get off telling me that shit? you don't fucking know me. you don't know half the fucked up shit i've been through. tell me to get over it after you've seen some little shit kid kill your brother and slaughter everyone before killing you. try getting over that and then you'll be on my level." He rubs his brow and sighs. "the hell am i even doing? ya can't even hear me. so why? why do ya do this to me? why are you making things so difficult? none of this has ever happened before. this is different. you weren't supposed to be here. it's a mistake. a big middle finger in the shitty comedy that is my life. like the killer kid wasn't tormenting enough, now i gotta deal with this woman that unintentionally sets me off? oh ha ha, real funny. what's next? a random house is gonna fall out of the sky with little people singing about candy and friendship? dear god, i hope not." She stirred a little to roll over. "*incoherent mumbles*" He knew he should stay quiet. He had no reason to speak. But the words left him before he could stop. "what did you say?" That seemed to draw life into her as her head lolled to look at him. Her eyes dull and hard to keep open. "Sans? You okay, buddy?" She really didn't hear any of that? He internally thanked whatever force out there for at least doing that much and got a tad bit closer. "yeah, i'm fine." "You're not mad at me anymore?" The way that came out of her sounded so innocent to him. A big difference between the girl he knows. "i wasn't mad you." "You weren't?" "no." "Oh, good. *yawn* I don't like seeing you sad. Your smile is so cute." That slowly drowned out of her as she began nodding off again and it caught him off guard. What did she mean by that? Was that even real or just the sleep talking? He wanted answers and shook her a bit. "hey, kiddo. wake up." "*whine* Two more hours, Nanny..." "i ain't your mom. now look at me." A tap on the cheek got her eyes open and the speed nearly made him jump. "Sans? What's wrong? *yawn* Is everything okay?" He just stared at her for a moment before chalking what he heard to just be nothing but sleep speech. "nah. everything's fine. just making sure you're not dead." She looked at him oddly yet let it slide due to tiredness. "Thanks." Having nothing further to investigate about her, he turned and headed towards the stairs. "Sans, wait..." He paused in mid-step. "I...I want to say...I'm sorry...For the awkwardness after that whole, you know..." That made him look back at her. This whole time he figured it wasn't bothering her past that initial intrusion, but in reality, it's been eating at her too. She was putting up a tougher front while Papyrus was around than he was. It made him feel just slightly sympathetic about it. "kid, don't mention it. i accept the apology, but let's just let that die from our thoughts. maybe give that reset thing a try." That made her smile and it had him feeling odd about it. "I'd like that." "good. then when we wake up, none of this will have happened. deal?" "Deal." She got nestled back into the couch and he began walking up the stairs. "Goodnight, Sans." Those moments. These little bits where there's no hostility. Where things are relaxed and nice. Where there is no fear and it feels safe. Those were the moments he longed for. And it scared him that she was the reason he felt any of that. "whatever." He continued up to his room and opened the door. He could feel her eyes on him yet he resisted looking back and entered his room. Now free from her gaze, he exhaled deeply and slinked over to the mattress he called a bed. This was the one place she had the weakest effect on him, but still some power none the less. She wasn't supposed to be here. Frisk was supposed to come, not her. Why this change? Why now? Such a random anomaly showing up and doing things that were so out of place made his skull itch with burning questions. Yet despite most of these questions, other thoughts would come to his mind. Like, does it even matter all that much that she's here and not Frisk? Was this really so bad? Would he had really preferred the return of that kid and causing more chaos to the timeline than to deal with this odd woman? It's not like Frisk ever gave a damn about him or Papyrus. In fact, that brat never gave a shit about any of them. So why was this bugging him so much? Maybe it was just the sense of repetitiveness that was making things weird. Expecting things to go the same way as they always had even with a new variable was foolish. Of course, things would change. And while most changes were bad in this world, this human didn't really bring any of that with her. She wasn't mindlessly going from point A to point B just to reach some unknown goal. No, she was staying put and learning. She was getting to know them. Trying to understand them. Frisk never did that. But this human...Lynsie...She was at the very least trying. Trying to do good. Trying to be better than what they thought humans were like. Trying...to be his friend. It made Sans frown at such a thought. "kiddo...don't waste your time on me. i'm not worth it." He drew his ripped sheets over himself and shut his eye sockets. Maybe in sleep, none of this would matter. Maybe when he wakes up, this will all be gone. She'd be gone. And that scared him the most.

[the-stories-in-my-head-95]

Hey, I’ve Got You- Chapter Eight

Tony Stark x enhanced! Reader

Summary -The reader was captured and experimented on and given the healing factor and she has claws that extend out from the bed of their nails. The people who are experiment on her cover her skeleton in vibranium. So the reader now has metal claws. They keep her locked away for a very long time. They rarely feed her or let her out because there is such a high chance of her escape now. Somehow the UN panel that is in charge of the accords finds out about the illegal experiments and send Iron Man in to shut down the operation. The reader is the only one there because the scientists had gotten word that they had been discovered. Tony finds the reader and takes her back to the compound.

Message- Here’s chapter eight!!! It’s kinda short,  but it’s kinda a filler chapter.  Sorry if it sucks!!

Warning- Reader is held captive and experimented on. Mentions of torture. Self-injurious behavior. 

Background  Chapter One  Chapter Two  Chapter Three  Chapter Four  Chapter Five  Chapter Six  Chapter Seven

Word Count- 815

Helen and Pepper convinced Bruce, Natasha and Strange to not tell anyone what they saw. They promised that you and Tony would explain it all later. Natasha and Strange left, but Bruce stayed, staring at you, Tony and Teddy through the glass wall.

“Got a problem, Dr. Banner?” Helen hisses.

“No, it’s just weird.” Bruce responds

“What? Seeing him with a family? Her abilities? Because that seems like a pot calling the kettle black kind of situation.” Pepper says.

“No, seeing him happy. He seems almost lighter when he’s with them, like the world isn’t resting on his shoulders anymore.” Bruce murmurs. Both Helen and Pepper nod in agreement.

***

Tony decides that it would be best to keep everything informal when introducing the team to Teddy. So he ordered a bunch of pizza and put it out in the common room for dinner. You and Tony waited in the lab until everyone was there, and Tony took Teddy from your arms and the two of you walked down the hall to the common room.

“Hey, guys sorry we’re a little late.” Tony says as you both enter the room. Most of their backs are to you, so they don’t see Teddy yet.

“It’s no problem Tony! Thanks for ordering the piz-.” Steve starts to say as he turns around but then he notices Teddy and he stops talking midsentence. “Uh, who’s that?” When he says that everyone else turn to look at the three of you.

“Teddy, our son.” Tony says. There’s a heartbeat of silence and then everyone starts to shout. Everyone who already knew was sitting around awkwardly trying to figure out what they should be doing.

“Well, at least we know why Tony married his sugar baby, didn’t want his son to be a basta-.” At that you grab Clint by the neck, and shove him against the wall, you let your claws extend out a bit so they scratch against his skin.

“Do not presume to know anything about me, my son or my husband. You don’t know me. I have tolerated your comments towards me and Tony, but say one rude thing about my son and I will rip your fucking throat out.” You growl into his ear. “Understand?” you say as you give his throat a little squeeze, he nods but you make no move to let him go.

“Darling, I think he gets it. Why don’t you put Clint down so we can eat?” You nod and let him go, then you let him go and you walk towards Tony.

“Do you have claws!?!” Clint yells as he touches his neck.

“Yes.” You say as you give him a little wave, with your claws fully extended.

“I think we have much to discuss.” T’Challa says looking at you. After you get situated you explain everything to them. You tell them about the cutting and the experiments, you explain the claws and when you mention what they are made of, T’Challa gives you a surprised look. Then you explain that the Accords were the reason you are here now. That without them Tony never would have found you and you would still be locked in that room. By the time you are done explaining everything, everyone is done eating.

“I’m kinda tired after everything that has happened today, do you mind going home now?” You ask Tony, before anyone can start asking you question.

“Of course, my love. Let’s go.” Tony says as he hands you Teddy. The two of you stand up and say goodbye to everyone and then you leave the room. “Well, that wasn’t so bad. Right?”

“I think they are all in shock, I’m sure they will come to us with question tomorrow.” You sigh as you put Teddy into the car seat. Then you move to the front of the car and you get in.

“Maybe we should go on a long vacation? I’m thinking a remote cabin somewhere where no one will find us. I own a couple farm houses all over the country we could go to one of those, or maybe my private island?” Tony says giving you a half smile.

“That’s tempting but we would still have to face everyone again at some point.” You murmur.

“Well, the offer still stands, just say the word and we’ll be on the private jet in less than an hour.” Tony says and you lean over and kiss him.

“I love you.” You whisper as you break the kiss.

“I know.” Tony says as he gives you a shit-eating grin.

“Who’s Han Soloing who now?” you giggle as you kiss Tony again.

“Han Solo wishes he was as cool as me!” Tony says and that makes you laugh more. Tony then starts to drive the three of you home and on the way you let sleep take over your body.

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[octoberwren]

If it’s words you seek (I’ll Remember You)

Summary: Darcy Lewis is many things, avoidance expert, current holder of the Hydra Survivor Cup and not to boast but she's at an expert level with self defense in sarcasm and shiny wit.

What she's absolutely not is Steve Rogers Soulmate, she doesn't give a flying monkey what the universe is trying to tell her with the gifts she's recently acquired, i.e Reading His Mind and other tricks that have to do with The Good Captain.

Her and Steve? Pffft, that's never gonna happen.

I’m back for the Steve X Darcy fandom. Yay? Seriously though all of you have been so lovely that I had to write some more. And achievement (or disaster waiting to happen?) It’s my second mult-chapter in years. So super nervous. I got this odd idea and I had to run with it. I’m a lover of angst and a good slow burn so buckle your seatbelts kids, it’s about to get rough.

As always thank you for your continued support in my writing, your guys comments always give me a confidence boost, so this is a really for you. You guys inspire me

A heads up though, Darcy has been in the hands of Hydra for 3 years so there will be mentions of that, incase it’s not your cup of tea, also naughty language galore.

Onwards then! Much love Dolls, I love ya to bits! Thanks for reading! Also if you want me to tag you for this story please let me know! I love things like that.

I’m tagging @shieldshockfanfic because admin got me into this downward spiral and I’m handing over any blame. 

(I own nothing, marvel owns me.)

You can also read it on Ao3 if that pleases you!

Chapter one: Fairy Tales are for Chumps.

It’s been three years and spare change since Darcy went missing.

Today she’s been found.

…Sort of, she’s been found adjacent, found-ish,

The heroes didn’t exactly storm the castle to find her. (Those things only happen in Fairy Tales and if Darcy has learned anything from captivity it’s that Fairy Tales are for chumps.)

So being rescued is slightly exaggerating, she’s actually really lost, and not to be dramatic or anything, but she also feels like she’s going to die, on account of some bullet wounds and some broken ribs that are calling her an asshole.

She’s also trying like super duper hard to not go into shock and or hysterics, because the streets are so loud it’s overwhelming, she hasn’t heard this much noise is so long and it’s frankly grating on her last nerve that hasn’t been shot at, she’d say she’s sort of missing her cell right about now, but then Darcy would be a lying liar that lied, it’s heavily implied though.

Good thing the New Yorkers are giving her a wide berth to work with as she’s stumbling and clasping to shop windows and walls. But that’s probably more to do with her hospital gown being blood drenched and her dirty bare feet, than any amount of politeness they have for her. They look at her with wide unbelieving eyes, she must have looked liked the dead walking and not in an awesome costume kind of way, in a scarred for life kind of way.

She feels scarred for life, so there’s that.

Honestly, the city has seen aliens coming out of thin air to bring the world to an early apocalypse, but she’s the weird one? Yeah, okay assholes. Thanks for the help.

Darcy knows that Jane isn’t in the Avengers tower she’s seen it, but fuck knows where the compound is, her ‘gift’ hasn’t exactly given her any information she could use. It would have been a big help if the man’s eyes she saw out of, looked at an address to- Thor forbid- help her. But no, she’s just been an unwilling exhibitionist all these years.

Her grip slips and she hits her knees hard, falling into an alley and apparently garbage, if the smell is anything to go by. She’s laughing so hard, that her ribs are screaming at her to cut that shit out, but she declines to comment.

Because wouldn’t this be the cherry that tops the fucking cake on her crap-tastic day, not only is she sure blood loss is really a factor now, but she’s nowhere near close to finding her best friend, she’s a big girl and Darcy will freely admit that she desperately needs a hug right now.

After everything that happened, after everything she had done…

This is how it all ends, thrown out like trash, she tries to get up, she really does because she wants to see Jane, are her and Thor married yet, has she invented more crazy things? Darcy wants to know all that and infinitely more, so she tries getting up one more time, using all the willpower and stubbornness that had helped her survive this long. But when her knees buckle and her breath catches across her lungs, she feels the black despair wash over her.

Darcy isn’t laughing now, she’s far beyond that, she’s sobbing, ugly tears that her mother would be ashamed of, Darcy dear, no one likes an ugly crier, how do you think your Soulmate will feel if he found that out?

Her mother’s words ring in her mud feeling mind and it only leads her to think of her actual soulmate, because she’s sure he wouldn’t care how she looked like when she cried, not because he loved her exactly the way she was, no, that would be far too easy, and the universe liked to kick her in the balls.

He didn’t remember her, let alone know what she looked like while she cried, so suck it Mom.

Darcy knew he couldn’t know her face from a crowd because she saw it, fate was a bitch and so was Hydra. All those pain induced experiments didn’t make her a weapon, it made her the number one expert on their most wanted; Captain America.

She looked through the world with his eyes, she felt his emotions, and Hydra thrilled that they knew before he did, Steve Rogers had a soulmate and he didn’t even remember her, they never let her forget that little nugget, that more than all the torture almost killed her, that she was lost among the many faces of everyone he had met.

Darcy saw the moment the girl with a toothy smile and hand delivered coffee slipped his mind, she felt the moment she vanished like smoke as another world ending situation weighed on his shoulders.

Darcy’s blood was pooling around her, just another gory site in the alley, and she had the fleeting thought of Steve and how wide his eyes would go if she had ever said a word to him. Oh she knew what his words were, they were tattooed on the skin above her heart. It was enough for her to know fate got it wrong. So she never said a thing, Darcy just loved him for afar, trying to make his life just a little bit better.

She was bit bitter, a wet laugh escaped her, along with more blood staining her lips, how she was still producing more red to this mes, Darcy had no clue.

Her only dying regret was that she couldn’t extinguish the love she had for him, even now, she hoped that he would run into the light and smile at her for the first and last time, because she was a sappy fool.

But no one came, she was all alone as she fell listlessly to the side, her last conscious thought was that Fairy Tales were honestly the very, very worst.

She wished it was like in the books, waking up after a harrowing experience in a hospital would have been nice or at least a qualified doctor would be at the top of her list, call her a snob.

But no, she didn’t even get the good drugs, what she got was all the fucking pain, that had her bolting up while Clint-fucking-asshole-Barton, dug a bullet out of her leg while Natasha-I’m-not-calling-her-a-name-she-could-kill-me-Romanov, shoved a cloth into Darcy’s mouth and pushed her back down. Also, she was in a moving vehicle, so the cloth was probably a good idea seeing as she was trying not to throw up.

“Mmmffffffkkk!”She was cussing though, it helped with the burning agony and no up chuck problem.

The Black Widow on the other hand looked cool as a cucumber and just stared at her calmly while Darcy screamed like a banshee, her voice was indifferent when she said, “Darcy, you have to stay calm or we might hit an artery.” like this was a normal day.

It probably, totally, was to her, Darcy on the other hand ignored the pain for a split second to look at the Avenger like she was bat shit insane.

Natasha just smirked, which didn’t exactly help Darcy with thinking she wasn’t two bullets short of a clip.

“Got it.” Barton’s deep voice sounded like it came from under water, “Next up, the chest.” and thankfully Darcy lost consciousnesses after that.

The second-less painful-time she woke up it was in a bed and if she didn’t feel like absolute shit, she might have appreciated the softness of it. But she did feel like shit so, call her ungrateful.

“You’re awake.” An unknown feminine voice came from her left and Darcy’s heart spiked with adrenalin and a unhealthy dose of fear ran through her, too late to stop it, too late to try to calm down to stop the-

“What do you mean you brought someone in? That’s against protocol and you know it Romanov. Bringing in a stranger puts all our lives at risk.” So much anger and frustration, Darcy drowned in it, and underneath it all worry as Steve stared at Natasha, who lifted an eyebrow that had made lesser men piss their pants, she couldn’t see it but Darcy was fairly certain The Captain only frowned harder at the action.

“She’s not a stranger,” Natasha said slowly, as if she was talking to a moron, “it’s Darcy, Steve. Darcy Lewis who doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.”

But Darcy could feel Steve’s unyielding mind, it had been one of the things she had always adored about Steve. He always stood up for what he believed, no matter the consequence, he did what was right, she just never thought in a billion years that she would be considered wrong in his head. Well no that wasn’t true, wasn’t that why she never said a word to him, the very reason she never said his words? She knew, deep down, he’d hate what he saw. Give her a prize then, looks like Darcy hit the nail on her coffin.

“You know that for sure do you? Alright, so where has she been for who knows how long?” Steve said in an accusing tone and Darcy wanted out, she wanted to leave this fucked up vision, she wanted out of his head right the fuck now.

She could feel the pressure of trying to break free, her brain felt to tight, but she wasn’t giving up. It didn’t matter that it never worked before, she’d make it work, Darcy was screaming inside his head to let her go, but just like every time before, Steve didn’t even flinch.

“It’s been three years Steve and by the look of her I’d say she was captured.” Natasha was a smart woman, and with her words came a red haze of rage that Darcy only felt a few times being linked to Steve.

“Yeah and you know what else happened three years ago Natasha?” He didn’t let her respond, he cut her off while he gritted out through clenched teeth and black swirling anger, “Hydra. So that can only mean one of two things. Either she’s been compromised or she’s been a sleeper agent all along. So forgive me if I don’t trust her, there are kids here, I won’t risk it.”

Her mind snapped free with those cutting words, while the woman who had started all this was bending over her trying to inject her with something. Whatever it was Darcy was not going to find out. She pushed the doctor out of her way and the other woman gasped and tumbled down, she had a momentary feeling of guilt but it was overshadowed by the panic and fear swimming in her veins.

She jumped out of the bed and made a run for it, Darcy didn’t care that her body protested the movement, she gave no flying monkey fucks that she could feels stitches popping and blood dripping down her skin. She needed to put as much distance between herself and that self-righteous jackass, no matter how her body paid the price. She had been through worse.

She slammed the door open and ended up in a hallway, fifty-fifty shot, the left showed more doors and a bigger possibility of getting caught, the right had a clear shot of the kitchen, which Thor willing had a back door.

Left it was then, may the odds ever be in her favour.

They were not, of course they weren’t. The universe, her? Pfft. Those odds were never going to be in her favour.

Darcy stopped dead as she entered the kitchen only to see two kids drawing at the dinner table, past them she spotted a large window and next to that was the holy grail, a front door.

The boy who looked around seven dropped his crayon with a wide mouth, the girl who looked younger pointed at her in fascinated horror, Darcy was 99% positive she was offended by the crazy ladies wild looking hair.

“Hey,” Darcy croaked trying to seem less threatening, but by the squeaking of their chairs as they moved backwards, far away from her, she felt like she may have failed, miserably.

“I’m just ganna,” she pointed to the door while moving slowly around them, still trying not to frighten small children, “If you could keep this just between us, that would be awesome sauce.” The boy nodded so fast his blonde hair shook at the action, while his sister (Darcy was guessing they were related or Steve and Natasha had opened up a daycare, which was amusing to think about actually,) kicked him under the table while shaking her head in the negative, vehemently.

Whelp, so much for a united front, “Cute picture, I like dragons.” She was still moving at a snail's pace and Darcy was really getting jittery, but the little boy smiled so brightly at her compliment, showing all gums and two missing teeth, that she almost didn’t care that she was a hair breadth away from getting caught. She sorta melted inside, and it was such a pure feeling, it made her feel warm and a little happy, an emotion that was sorely lacking in her life.

She almost considered sitting her butt down with the children and drawing a picture, she would have done it years ago, but the girl stretched her mouth open, and all Darcy’s warm feelings vanished.

“Uncle Steve!” The girl screeched like an opera singer, but Darcy was already running and swearing, “The lady said a bad words, swear jar, swear jar!”

Damn little Gremlins.

She finally made it to the door and pushed it open, the wood of the front porch banged against her feet and Darcy jumped the stairs leading to freedom, she absorbed the impact when she landed on the ground even when it sent a shock waves across her legs and her bullet wound was not thanking her as she ran through the yard.

But this was it, she was free from stupid damn soulmates and tattling children, she could taste the rest of her life, without worry, screw the pain of a few injuries.

The silhouette that jumped from a fucking tree almost had her wishing she didn’t leave her stolen gun behind in the flaming building that was her prison, but Bucky Barnes would live another day as she barely dodged him.

Not fast enough for a second guy to launch himself from the bushes (what the ever loving shit were they doing? Playing hide and seek?) and grab her elbow forcefully pulling her to a screeching halt.  

“You got her Sam?” An eerie familiar voice said from behind her and it had been forever that Darcy had heard that deep voice live and in stereo and not bouncing around in her head that it had her paralysed, her muscles locked up and her spine straightened.

“Yeah I got her, man” Sam answered while keeping a tight grip on her and it was weird that she actually knew these men, but they knew diddly squat about her.

Sam liked tomato sauce but not tomato’s, he secretly listened to Taylor Swift when he thought Steve wasn’t looking but Steve was a snarky man after her heart and videotaped him for blackmail on chores. He was loyal, fierce and would walk besides Steve even when it landed him in hell.

Bucky liked his coffee black first thing in the morning but drank it the rest of the day with way too much sugar and cream to be healthy, even for a super soldier. He kept a list like Steve did, but instead of pop culture to keep up with, it was a list of names and next of kin of the the people he had been brainwashed to kill. He kept an eye on all of the families, making sure they were safe and Steve felt a sense of deep guilt and pride every time he saw that red leather bound notebook.

And Steve, she practically knew it all, she was the Wiki of Steve Rogers and a little of the dark web. Darcy knew he still feared the cold even though he thought it was illogical. He had a vinyl that he would listen to on the day he went into the water, he’d think of Peggy and wonder why it wasn’t her that was his Soulmate. He’d wait for a girl that would never come and look at the sentence across his chest with hope and confusion. Both of their words convinced Darcy that fate had a nasty sense of humour, it’s also made her know deep in her bones that they weren’t Meant To Be.

So yeah, Darcy knew things, to much things for her own good, if she knew nothing it might take the sting out of them looking at her with suspicion and anger. As it was, it felt like a scalpel running across her skin.

Blue crashed against blue as she looked into Steve’s eyes, she flinched when he took a step closer to her and he narrowed his eyes in response to her movement, “Why did you run?”

Instinct had her shutting her jaw and avoiding eye contact, muscle memory, Sam squeezed her arm in response to her silence, and she turned to glare at him. “Let me go, I don’t like being touched.”

He scoffed, “Yeah I don’t think so Lady, you’re a flight risk and The Captain asked you a question.”

“The Captain,” Darcy snarled his title so viciously that Sam’s eyes widened, “can kiss my ass. Let me go now, while I’m still asking nicely.”

“This is you playing nice? Sweetheart, I think you might not understand what that word means.”Bucky drawled out the words sounding smooth but when Darcy turned to glare at him next his hand was holding his gun that was strapped to his thigh, an intimidating move not lost on her. Her Hydra guards used to do the same thing when she got out of line, and thinking of Bucky in the same thought as them sent a shiver down her spine.

The Captain and the Winter Soldier didn’t miss the the action but she hid it like she normally did, with a bucket full of snark, “I haven’t kneed him in the balls yet, so yeah, this is me playing nice. Call me sweetheart one more time and that threat might become his reality.”

“Why do I get the punishment, he said it.” Her captor said in a whine, sounding not at all threatening, but Darcy knew better, they were one wrong action or word away from hauling her ass back inside.

“You’re closer.”

“Enough Miss Lewis. Play times over, why did you run if you’re supposed to be on our side?” Took Steve long enough, she thought his jaw was going to crack with the way he had been clenching it this whole time.

Still she refused to say anything, not to him, never to him. He may be stubborn but Darcy Lewis was no quitter, gym class had never and would never count.

“I don’t think she likes you, Steve.” Bucky, smirk in place turned to say to his best friend, but Steve didn’t respond he took another step into her personal space and just like last time she froze.

He opened his mouth to demand more questions maybe, but at the final moment hesitated as his eyes glanced down and then his lips thinned and his whole demeanour shifted to grim mode.

Which rude, a lot of people loved the girls, she didn’t know whether to blush or slap him, Darcy was leaning more to violence really, when Steve spoke, “You’re bleeding, again”

Oh, right, she wasn’t going to say anything, but yeah she was in quite a lot of pain.

“I’ll bring her back inside to Helen.” And even Darcy could hear the excitement in Sam’s voice when he spoke.

But the panic returned to her full force, she couldn’t go back in that house again, not when Steve despised her, not when she knew she couldn’t actually talk to him.

Sue her for wanting the guy to like her without the universe trying to shove it down their throats or for him to trust her without having to say his damn soul mark out loud.

“No,” She said the words to Steve but aimed them at Bucky over the Captain's huge shoulders, she was a pro at avoidance by now, “I will not go back in there,You want to hear my story so you can trust me? Fine, but spoiler alert, it doesn’t have a happy ending. It’s about a lab assistant that was forgotten.” Darcy could see Steve’s shoulders tense at her last words but she went on heedlessly, still looking into Bucky’s eyes.

“She loved working with hero’s, she loved making a difference even if it was something as shallow as giving out coffee and trying to help the geniuses with their important work. It made her small world seem larger that it actually was, she felt appreciated, but one day she knew how wrong she was. Hydra came and took her away while she was in Captain America’s office, leaving the all important, shallow coffee to spill on his hard drive, so they wouldn’t be able to extract information from it. They took her and tortured her, because now she became that information she destroyed. They pored placebo into her veins and said it was poison, they poked and burnt at her skin and then poured what was left of her into a cell that was cold and wet. Only to do it again and again and again”

“Miss Lewis-” Steve tried to interrupt her, his voice the softest she’s ever heard it, the deep timber was never that quiet or worried when it was directed at her, she also didn’t notice Sam’s grip leave her as he took in a shuddering breath.

Darcy was to lost in the memories, she was too busy drowning in them, her voice rising with the beat of her sore heart, she wasn’t paying any attention to her surroundings, “I never broke, I never told them anything even when-” and here Darcy stumbled to a stop and a gasp ripped from her, because she could swear to high heaven that she was innocent and maybe for a year she was.

But then they got into her head, they saw what she saw and the Avengers paid dearly for her gift. Steve suffered the worst because of her and by the time she was lucid enough to figure out what was happening it was too late. His team had been broken.

Darcy was guilty.

After-the final plan was to use her as bait to kill Captain America, the leader, and see the team fall even more and Darcy couldn’t, she couldn’t- “I killed them, I couldn’t, they wanted to and I couldn’t let them!”

Somewhere in the back of her head she felt warning signs flash brightly but she was to exhausted to care, she just wanted to lay on the ground and not come up for air for a good long while.

“Darcy I need you to look at me,” That was the last thing she wanted, she just wanted to sleep, why couldn’t he understand that?

Skin touched skin and all other thoughts ripped from her mind, she felt everything Darcy was swimming in emotions, but they weren’t her own, she knew what this was, she could feel the familiar touch of Steve’s mind, but it never happened like this before.

His guilt, his worry, but underneath it all a tinge of fear and surprise and overriding that was confusion, because looking up into his blue eyes, Darcy knew that the jig was up.

For almost three years she had being unwillingly peeking into his mind and it now looked like Steve was riding the Darcy Lewis feels train.

She had shitty luck, because she knew the only emotion in her now marked her as a traitor.

Love it? Hate it? wish i stopped while the gettin was good? Oh well, Thanks for reading any ways!

[whisperwoofwoof]

Golden Ch 11

Rating: Mature Pairing: JongKey Chaptered/WIP | 1.7k words Warnings: Language, occult, supernatural Prompt: Dish soap, Children climbing a tree, Whistling, A sex scene, Holy water

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“I’ve always wanted to do magic, but I never knew any witches,” Minho told Jinki as they pushed the living room furniture to the side.

“I’ll walk you through it. The ritual uses quite a bit of energy, but I’m confident we can manage,” Jinki said, placing the supplies on the center table.

Bottles of herbs and empty jars littered the table, along with a blade, a mortar, and a pestle to grind said ingredients. As Jinki started up the fireplace, Minho took the blade and began to cast a protective circle. The craft was new to him, but his inexperience didn’t show. After casting a protective circle, he took the sea salt and formed a physical circle as well.

“By the way, sorry for telling Kibum about you,” Jinki offered as he waited for the fire to start.

“It’s nothing major, I was going to tell him anyways. I actually still need to tell him that I’m a clairvoyant, too.”

“You are?” asked Jinki.

“I am, but it’s all so new to me. It’s weird, but I’ve had dreams about all this in the past.”

“Well, maybe I can help you through it all after this. Taemin could use some help on his cases, too.”

“Yeah.”

Minho quieted down. He spilled the last of the needed salt and walked back to the table. As he began chopping herbs, Jinki stood from his spot in front of the fireplace and went over to Minho.

“Are you upset about Taemin?” he asked Minho, grabbing some herbs himself.

“The thing is, I’m not. Even though his energy is different, it’s not negative,” Minho told him while grabbing the mortar.

“He’s a good guy. I only hope he tells Kibum.”

“Right. So, what does this spell do?” he asked Jinki as he poured the mortar’s contents into a jar.

“It will open a one-way portal to Hell, sort of like a suck zone for demonic entities. Once the demon has been released from the body, this will make sure it has nowhere else to go.”

“Could Jonghyun get sucked in accidentally? What about Taemin?”

“That’s why it’s important for no one to fuck up,” Jinki insisted while handing Minho more herbs.

-

The three of the stood in the freezing bedroom. Kibum was glued to his spot, watching Taemin stagger out of dark with demonic eyes. The booming, wicked laughter pricked his ears. Taemin’s obsidian eyes soon faded to their normal mahogany hue. The demonologist was rendered motionless between the demon’s vessel and the amateur exorcist.

The laughter was quickly disrupted by Taemin’s own chortle.

Jonghyun faced Kibum, expecting a small, shivering frame, and was instead greeted with a smug grin.

“Why are you not cowering in fear? You trusted this man and he’s exactly what you detest,” Jonghyun shouted.

Newfound courage enveloped Kibum, who strode to the vessel. He neither faltered nor hesitated, only reaching the demon with the sole purpose of getting him to shut up.

“For a demon, you’re not the badass you think you are.”

Jonghyun’s cheek stung as his face was struck by the Good Book. Smoke emitted from the site, displaying the impressive hit. Using the demon’s shock, Taemin and Kibum tackled his body to the mattress. As Kibum retrieved a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket, he pressed the crucifix to the vessel’s chest, gaining a painful howl.

“You poor, sad demon. I already know what Taemin is.”

-

“Seriously, though, who are you really?”

Taemin took a deep breath, ready to reveal his secret to Kibum. He had only known this man for over a day, but if it meant he could gain his trust, he was willing to take the risk.

“Promise not to freak out?”

When Kibum nodded, Taemin closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were shrouded in black. The surprise was noticeable, but Kibum visibly calmed himself down.

“You’re…one of them?” he questioned Taemin. “I don’t understand. If you’re a demon, why do you exorcise them?”

Taemin sighed, allowing his eyes to revert to normal.

“I’ve been studying demonology for as long as I can remember. I even took my first case in my early teens. I used to be human, however one slip-up changed that,” he stated, glancing at the door.

“Okay.”

“It was after Jinki and I had a fight. He didn’t want me to take the case, so I went alone. It-it gained the upper hand and made me drink its’ blood, which began the transformation. Despite how stupid I had been, Jinki agreed to perform a restoration ritual and saved my life.”

“A restoration ritual?”

“It was a spell to keep my soul in my body. I’m technically a demon holding a human soul.”

“So, the exorcism can’t hurt you, but the holy items can,” Kibum wondered aloud.

“They mostly sting, but the holy water can do more damage. That’s why I ask Jinki to gather it. Also, the spell he’s doing with Minho always has a chance of pulling me in as well.”

“Damn.”

“You’re telling me.”

Kibum gave a low whistle and braved the bedroom door.

“No use just standing here, I guess,” he told the other man.

He was ready to confront the demon inhabiting Jonghyun’s body. He wanted him out and back to where he came from. He was going to fix this and fix it properly. Now being able to trust Taemin a little more, he was confident that they could do this together. Him being a demon wasn’t any cause for alarm, not when he was the one helping Kibum. He braced himself, turning the knob and accepting his fate.

-

Jonghyun’s wrists were now handcuffed to the bedframe. His ankles were still shackled, giving his body a pull, twisting at an awkward angle.

“Aw, Kibum. If you wanted to tie me up, you could’ve just asked nicely,” Jonghyun pouted, looking more sinister than ever.

“Shut up and come out of him!” he held the crucifix to his body, although he thrashed against the mattress.

“I command you, unclean spirit, whoever you are, to release this human at once. Depart this vessel, and this world,” Taemin spoke while circling the bed.

“Looks like you grew some balls, Key. Where did this confidence come from?”

Kibum pulled back and touched his feet to the floor. He grabbed the book, leafing through the pages and trying to remember where he left off. As he read, Jonghyun showed no signs of letting his prey go.

“You bring an Ouija board home and suddenly you’re an exorcist? How entertaining,” he smirked.

He tried to pay no mind to the demon, finding the verse he was reading and continuing. Taemin didn’t waver in his own words, either. He maintained his pace around the bed, adding the holy water into the mix. His words flowed like a sonnet, showing his experience in his profession. However, the strength of the act slowly dismantled the hold on the vessel, angering the possessive demon.

“You think you can save your little boyfriend? Ha, I’ll drag his soul to Hell with me! I’ll torture him myself!”

His words were brash, loud in the barely furnished guest room. Kibum could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, but he couldn’t allow them to fall. They made it nearly impossible for him to read the pages, but it was not the time to cry.

“Don’t cry, Key,” the demon mocked him. “This is all your fault, anyways. This fool would have married you if you didn’t mess around where you shouldn’t have. Now, he’ll die because of you.”

Kibum felt like he would vomit. His stomach churned, and his throat went dry. The tears threatened to fall, to show weakness to the being holding Jonghyun’s body captive. He needed to keep moving, keep reading, no matter what it told him.

“You mean, you didn’t know? What did you think he packed in the bag? Go on, check…”

Jonghyun’s words trailed off, interrupted by the scraping of a heavy object against the wooden floor. The large wardrobe moved closer to him, blocking the door as it stopped. The doors flew open, revealing the black duffle bag.

“He’s a simpleton, you know. You guys fucked one time, and this is what he did.”

It felt as though he was possessed himself. The wardrobe pulled him closer like a magnet, or lure waiting to strike.

“Kibum, don’t listen to him! Keep reading!” Taemin voiced from the background, giving a hint of panic for the first time.

“Quiet. You’re an abomination to two different species,” Jonghyun replied, trying to get Kibum to reach the wardrobe.

He took the bag in his hands, slowly undoing the zipper. All he saw were clothes, so he reached his hand inside. After searching for a bit, his fingers hit something that definitely was not fabric, something he did not place in there when he packed. He pulled his hand out to reveal a small, black box. His breath hitched as he realized exactly what it meant.

“Don’t just stand there, open it,” the demon teased.

Kibum listened to the demon, ignoring Taemin’s cries not to. Time slowed to a halt as he opened the small box. For a moment, there wasn’t an exorcism going on. He thought back to everything: the day him and Jonghyun met, the day they actually became friends, their lost years, the day they reunited, and the night the slept together. The culmination of everything allowed the levy to break, and so the tears fell. He fucked up and brought his lover into it. Now, the man would probably die.

“Poor Key, your beloved Dino will die. Ha, remember that? That’s how I pulled you in-,” Jonghyun stopped, sentence disrupted by a sight he didn’t expect to see.

An enraged Kibum rushed at him, snatching the book and crucifix. He extended his right arm, the cross protruding from his hand and shoved into Jonghyun’s face. His voice grew strong, repeating the passage without a single quiver. The vigor and valor in which he read caused Jonghyun to pull at his restraints, only to be ceased by Taemin’s own words. He didn’t miss the small smile that graced Taemin’s lips, noticing that the demonologist had his eyes focused on Kibum’s left hand.

On the hand that held the book, graced upon the second-to-last finger, was an engagement ring.