#THE GUY IS ALMOST BLIND AND YET HE IMMEDIATELY REALIZES ITS JACK

[butchdykekondraki]

With the Ruin DLC having been released, I saw a LOT of DSAF art on my Twitter feed.

As a result, I played a game of:

"Have I seen this on my Tumblr feed thanks to Ren or is this new to me?"

Which is then followed up with:

"If this is new, how would Ren react, and would this result in her writing an essay about a specific detail she remembered? /pos"

– Verna 🐇

THERES A DSAF FANDOM ON TWITTER?????????

#[ren] #OUT OF EVERYWHERE??????? #THE GAME THAT HAS A MAIN CHARACTER SAY FURFAG??????????????? #i have never been more fucking tempted to get on twitter. #i wont i can resist it . but oh my lord #ALSO #YOURE RIGHT IT DID REMIND ME OF A DETAIL I FORGOT #WHEN DAVE AND JACK REUNITE DAVE SAYS SOMETHING ABOUT NOT BEING ABLE TO SEE VERY WELL #SO IM SOO FUCKING ILL ABOUT THE FACT THAT EVEN THEN HE STILL NEW IT WAS JACK #DO YOU HAVE ANY CLUEHOW FUCKING CRAZY THAT IS #THE GUY IS ALMOST BLIND AND YET HE IMMEDIATELY REALIZES ITS JACK #IM NOT SUREHOW HE NOTICED IT WAS HIM BUT HE FUCKING DID #i am so. ill. about them

[pixelmensupremacy]

Day 2

𝘐𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺: 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯. 𝘝𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘮𝘦: 2.2𝘬 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴: 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬

The hot, humid Texan zephyr gently swayed the thirsty lawns back and forth in a motion as delicate as a ripple upon an emerald sea of grass; the last bright sunrays died behind the horizon as the silhouettes of homely houses casted shadows upon the raven concrete that still radiated heat after a long day of direct exposure to the merciless august sun. Pastel pink and orange hues painted the setting sky with a touch of warmth that was still ever so present in the hot atmosphere; an exhale lazily rolled down (Y/N)’s lips, her hand wiped at her forehead, collecting the tiny beads of sweat that formed along her hairline. Despite the rather hot weather, she kept up the quick pace of her walking, for the excitement within her prevailed over the vanity of wanting to look her best at all times. A smile curled the corners of her lips just at the thought of the arrangement she recently made with the man that was the highlight of her college years- Joel Miller.

Whether it was a happy coincidence or destined meeting; she had stumbled upon him not so long after moving into her new house, which happened to be just a block away from his own. What started out just as a chat at the store soon turned into a prolonged conversation that lasted the entire way to his home, though the conversation itself was far from its end. Having agreed upon catching up, the two settled for a drink at Joel’s, which conveniently enough fell on the date his daughter had planned a sleepover at a friend of hers. The external heat gradually fell in conjunction with the warmth that spread across her cheeks as she was faced with the front door of his house; her heartbeat accelerated almost matching the unintentionally rhythmic knock on the wood. Ineffable nervousness had taken over her as if she was a teenage self again; maybe it was because she was anticipating the appearance of the same guy from these same teen years that had her swoon over his mere presence and perhaps even after these years there was still a twinge of that infatuation that kept an undying spark within her ablaze. The rather embarrassing moments of her tiny crush on Joel emerged in her mind in the few seconds it took him to open the door, and there he was in all of his charming glory- it would be a lie to say that tiny spark in her heart didn’t immediately set a fire of repressed desires.

“Come in.” The corner of his lips curled into a shy but friendly smile; the earthy smell of palo santo hit her nose with a delight that drew her in with the blinding promise of manifesting her covets. The plain, dark gray t-shirt dripped down his body, hugging just the right places, highlighting the defined lines of his toned form; suddenly the air seemed to thicken and grow even warmer as she passed him in the tiny hallway, her chest sliding past his toned one within mere millimeters. Her breath rose to her throat only to stop for the single moment that the wave of warmth- radiating off of his body- kissed the bare skin of her arms; charged particles danced in the air until they eventually crashed into the tight canyon of chest that contained hammering hearts. Suddenly, a soft exhale escaped her lungs in an audible puff of air she didn’t realize she was holding up until the moment she stepped into the living room.

“Are you hungry? I can order some pizza?” (Y/N) shot him a smile of reassurance as she sat on the couch.

“I’m good thanks.” He returned the smile, bashful yet content.

“I got a bottle of Jack; I figured I can fix us some drinks.” The bright smile on her face only widened at his suggestion; noting the enthusiastic nod of her head along with the exclamation of approval, Joel made his way to the kitchen and got the bottle of whiskey from the top shelf as well as two short crystal-clear glasses. Loud gurgles resonated from the narrow opening of the bottle as the woody colored liquid poured in the glasses; clicking of ice cubes soon joined the melodic chain of sounds, anchoring (Y/N)’s attention to Joel, carrying the drinks and placing them on the coffee table. She took one of the glasses as so did Joel; the glass clinked in a nonverbal toast for their reunion. Burning sensation tingled her taste buds, the intense fruity scent filled her nose drills; her hand twirled the drink, causing the ice cubes to crash into one another in a drowned clack. Amber hues shone through the brown liquid under the soft light of the lamp sat just next to the couch; her (E/C) irises mindlessly observed the dance of the golden streaks mixing with the earthy brown sea of alcohol. Her lip sank between her teeth, suctioned in her mouth as she tasted the traces of the fiery droplets on the plush skin.

“You do have a taste for drinks I’ll give you that.” (Y/N) acknowledged, her eyebrow was slightly raised in awe.

“Alcohol isn’t the only thing I have a good taste for.” His hazel irises shifted to her (E/C) ones; she burst in uncontrollable laughter at his playful behavior. Heat crept on her sides, for the booze had entered her bloodstream, warming her up once more, yet this time the fire was coming from within her rather than an outside source; her laughter echoed in the room, numbing the thoughts caused by Joel’s suggestive joke. Heat pooled in her pelvis as she couldn’t help but wonder was there some other meaning behind his words. In the form of a makeshift fan, her hand swayed back and forth before her face in a failed attempt to cool off her burning face; the alcohol was getting to her- or so she thought.

Eventually, her giggling calmed and she let out a deep exhale that unintentionally anchored his attention to her; his curious hazel irises observed the never fading smile on her lips and trailed upwards, noting how her nose drills flared out as she inhaled all the while her lips parted, allowing for more air to fill her lungs. Her eyes sparkled underneath the sheer layer of crystal-clear tears that collected at the corners amongst lush eyelashes; two deep raven pits sat central of her (E/C) irises that were now nothing but two symmetrically thin rings.

“Hey (Y/N), you alright?“ He leaned in, bringing his face just mere inches away from hers only enhancing the heat that quickly spread through her body akin to an uncontrollable fire that set ablaze every fiber in her body. Blood rushed to her cheeks, her fingers dug into the soft cushion of the couch; her gaze locked with his, causing her breath to drown in her throat.

“Yeah, just a bit hot is all.” She managed to spur out, pressing her back against the cushions that warmed her up as soon as she leaned into them only making matters worse, though it was the warmth emitted by his body that had tiny beads of sweat to break on her skin.

“Can I help?” Ever the caring gentleman he was, he questioned with his brow quirked up, unintentionally deepening the creases of his forehead; his arm rested near her thigh, dangerously close to the twitching excitement coiling within her depths. Her gaze shifted away from his, for the intensity of his boring eyes did little to cool off her burning body; doing so her eyes landed on the half empty glass of whiskey, noting the ice cubes that were melting away in the beverage. An idea rose to her mind; one she would’ve disregarded if it weren’t for the sudden burst of courage ignited by not so by the alcohol roaming her bloodstream, but rather the burning desire that unraveled every last sense of modesty left- ad she was almost sure he felt the same. His lips were parted, his eyes searched hers with expectancy that couldn’t be denied nor hidden; his fingers brushed against the side of her leg, leaving behind a shock wave that tingled her heightened senses.

“Yeah.” Her daring gaze met his for a beat before it gravitated back to the glass; following the trail of her eyes, Joel noted the clear cubes that floated on the pool of mahogany liquid. He took a hold of the glass and brought it to his mouth only to down the drink in a record time; the droplets that have formed on the walls of the glass rolled down the corner of his lips, trailing along his jaw and neck. (Y/N)’s breath hitched as she closely observed the droplet’s journey that seemingly lasted an eternity; her leg twitched once she felt another droplet falling on her lap, its refreshing coolness was short-lived, for the warmth of her flaming skin was overwhelming.

“It’s a bit rude to take a lady’s drink without asking.” She teased in a joking, yet daring tone that earned a deep chuckle from him.

“Then let me make it up to you.” Joel shot her a charming smile, returning the same playful energy as hers; his voice was a lower, more sonorous tone as his face was inching closer to her own. A lump had formed in her throat, preventing her from vocalizing her want though her body did more than enough job in speaking for her; her thighs were flush against one another, her back was slightly arched, anchoring the attention to the rapid rise and fall of her chest, within which her labored heart pounded. Carefully, his gaze studied her expression, in search for any signs of discomfort- though there was not a single one to be found, in fact it was rather the opposite. Her hesitant hand cupped his cheek, drawing his attention to her lustful, blown pupils that shimmered with a spark of need; he leaned into her touch as he let himself be consumed by the depths of her adoring gaze. Gently, the pad of her thumb caressed his cheekbone; gravitating lower, her fingertip traced the outline of the raven waves of prickly hairs that felt ticklish underneath her touch. Before she could reach her ultimate goal, Joel pressed his lips against hers; (Y/N) hummed in the kiss, her nails grazed his scalp, grabbing any strands of hair that tangled in her grasp. Joel shifted between her parted thighs as his hands crept on the small of her back; her legs wrapped around his hips, bringing him flush to where she needed him most.

A string of saliva connected their lips once Joel pulled away; confused, she observed his actions as millions of thoughts began to rise in her hazy mind. Once again, he downed the glass, earning a confused look from (Y/N), for he had already drank the contents of her glass- or at last so she thought until she noted his teeth catching a single cube of ice before he leaned in the crook of her neck. Stinging cold sensation caused her to yelp as the ice made contact with her skin; guided by his gentle hold on her arm, she laid down on the cushion. Wandering hands slid underneath the fabric of her shirt, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps on her tingling skin; his fingers tugged at the edges of the shirt and pulled it upwards, baring her chest to him. His teeth held onto the cube despite the sharp pain that pierced his jaw; his nose brushed against her tummy and so did his lips as he lowered his mouth so the ice was gliding across her heated skin. Beneath him, (Y/N)’s back arched in anticipation; wet trails of molten ice marked her body, whilst his loving lips made sure to spread the droplets of water all across her stomach and chest.

Despite the delightful, momentaneous relief of the external heat, she was far from satisfied; all along the true source of the hotness wasn’t just the summer weather, but rather the repressed flaming wish that had grown into a wild fire of desires only Joel could put out- yet it seemed he had no plan on doing so even though he was most certainly aware of it. Sooner than expected, the ice cube has turned into a puddle that flowed down (Y/N)’s sides with every breath she took; despite that he had no intention on stopping his venture across her chest. His cool tongue slithered across the valley of her breast, whilst his hot breath crashed onto her skin in the form of warm puffs of air that almost sounded like muffled groans; his own arousal grew by the second, yet he repressed his aching needs, for he was too lost in coaxing the pretty sounds that rolled so shamelessly off her sinful lips. He felt his cock twitch at the sound of his name tingling his ears; his gaze met her needy one, noting the trail of saliva that fell down her chin akin to a creek.

“What is it baby girl?” His voice was a tab bit hoarse; his lips caressed her chin as his tongue tasted her saliva, his stubble brushed against the delicate skin of her face.

“I need you.”

Kinktober masterlist| Joel Miller masterlist

#kinktober 2023 #kinktober #tlou x reader #tlou imagine #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel x y/n #joel x reader

[kaisa-ryo]

Itadori Yuji NSFW Alphabet

Warning: English isn't my native language!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*

A = Aftercare (What he likes after sex)

Itadori likes to chat for a long time. Topics for communication are usually very diverse: from listing the different sex positions he wants to try, to discussing brands of cars, televisions, types of soaps and colors of underwear. In parallel, Yuji will stroke your back, causing your body to creep. So the love attraction that you already experienced with him before suddenly takes on a special intensity. When he has a need to receive your affection, he will begin to sink under the covers until he rests his nose against your chest or stomach. By this action, he asks you to play with his hair. At this moment, he may stop talking altogether, because instead of chatting, he will hum with pleasure. In addition, he will try with all his might and in various positions to snuggle up to you with his strong male body. And you will begin with great skill to stroke his hair and gradually increase the pressure in order to induce real ecstasy in him.

B = Body part (His favorite body part)

Obviously the hips and butt.

It is a blissful feeling when he squeezes your buttocks as he continuously enters you. And in the morning, when you start looking in the mirror, you notice that your thighs are scarlet. As you examine yourself, Itadori in the next room sees your stunned expression in the mirror and smiles proudly.

C = Cum (Everything about sperm)

He usually ends up on the aforementioned body parts. Although he experiences no less high pleasure when he watches how his hot semen flows down from your vagina. Or the mouth. And if you also swallow his seed, it will completely discourage him. It's so awkward and at the same time arousing when a girl literally lets a part of you into her. It's like you start making it a part of yourself. The part of his soul that passes through your body, moving on to the next stage of orgasm.

D = Dirty secret

To tell you the truth - there are a lot of them. Despite the fact that he almost always speaks with you frankly on intimate topics.

He often thinks about how he will kick you through the school desk and fuck you under the light of the graceful sunset that falls through the half-open blinds.

About how madly tempting it would be if you suck him off somewhere in the closet.

How to fuck you by the sea on soft sand.

There is no limit to these secret desires. Someday he will definitely tell you about all of them. And, of course, it will.

E = Experience

The highest level of experience in intercourse is masturbation. Yes, he has seen a lot of different videos on porn sites and instant messengers. And of course, he remembers them every single one. He has a lot of sexual fantasies. And they are all related to you. But they need to be implemented.

It will also ask you about your experience. For example, can you do a blow job. If you do not know about any sexual arts, he will certainly show you a video, explain how and what to do, ask if you like this objectively.

You can even say that he has much more indirect experience than you. But Yuji likes it. I like to teach you everything that he himself knows from the erotic videos he has watched.

F = Favorite position

In general, you have tried an innumerable number of poses all the time, but none can compare with the one when he presses you into bed from behind. When your penis plunges into the innermost and holds you so tightly that it begins to seem as if it has completely absorbed you.

G = Goofy (Are you serious at this moment?)

In most cases, yes. Even if this is not the first time you have been doing this, this does not mean that intercourse may not go well. But sometimes passionate excitement can outweigh all expressions of seriousness and turn it into entertainment or stress relief.

H = Hair (Is the hair ok?)

Not that he regularly tidies them up, but tries to make sure that both of you are comfortable. Maybe he prefers not to show it, but Itadori is really worried that you will be uncomfortable. Although the hair itself does not really interfere.

I = Intimacy (Romance)

Yes. And a lot.

Itadori literally melts when he sees you smile, the reason for which is his sweet and romantic actions. For him, there is no line between "boyfriend" and "spouse". And, of course, he regularly scrolls in his head how you have a large shared apartment, wedding rings, children ...

The guy is ready to even get you the moon from the sky, just to see your charming smile once again, to feel how you jump on his neck and say that you love him with all your heart. Sometimes he gets carried away - and then his hand reaches out to you to stroke your cheek, circle around your neck, say some banality, without which it is difficult for you to live. And sometimes you think that at such moments Itadori... looks a little more naive. But he does not see anything wrong with this and continues to cherish you, like the most priceless treasure on earth.

J = Jack off (masturbation)

It happens. And even after the start of your relationship.

In moments when you are far away, he records your telephone conversation, asks you to throw off your photos, turns on a home video taken once secretly from you ... then he starts "playing with his snake", quietly moaning your name. And if you start writing or talking on the phone, how much you want him now, it will just go crazy, imagining how he is fucking you on the bed right now. After all, it is such a pleasure to realize that your body receives only what you so passionately dream about and what you want.

— Mnh... yes, y/n... please continue...

K = Kink (Kinks and fetishes)

As mentioned earlier — home video. Yuji prefers to do this in secret, since he knows it will embarrass you. And besides, you will immediately guess why he does it.

He also has one fetish that you know about. Namely — voyeurism. When you change clothes, stand in the shower, or try on a swimsuit, he closely monitors your actions while standing outside the door. So he initiates you into his intimate world, where you can become his muse.

In addition, he has several types of perversions that he considers esoteric. For example, he really loves to admire your naked body and inhale its aroma, starting from the neck. This also applies to your personal things — your scent is also felt on them, and Itadori constantly examines and sniffs your things, hoping to feel your scent. It's kind of like a drug for him, and he likes to wake up in the morning and feel that your hair is still felt on his neck. And if you put on his clothes... it seems like some kind of new fetish. Now on his things your next smell. It's fucking exciting...

L = Location (Favorite places to have sex)

It makes no difference. The place does not depend on the amount of pleasure received from the process. True, you still have to find compromises. Because if it is convenient for him to hold your legs, simultaneously entering your bosom again and again, then it is quite problematic for you to be in the air, holding on to his shoulders. Thus, you get less pleasure. But do not think, he is not a rabbit, to fuck you wherever he wants, the guy will definitely ask if you want it. And yes, he does have a line between "normal" and "too public."

M = Motivation

All your movements are in clothes, which emphasizes the whole aesthetics of your body. As if hypnotized, Itadori watches your curves, how they change when you change posture or movement. When you are in your underwear, you specifically approach him and start to flirt playfully. When you wear his things, as mentioned by the way earlier. And oh shit, how turns him on when you show yourself a new swimsuit and ask to rate.

N = No (Which won't do)

Anything that will harm you. It doesn't matter whether it's big or small. If Yuji feels that he can be rude to you, then he will definitely warn you to tell when it hurts. After all, on the verge of orgasm, he may not notice that you are uncomfortable or unpleasant.

O = Oral (Likes to receive or to give)

More is to give. His head is blown away because you are moaning his name sweetly and loudly, demanding more. Your morning kiss and praise for being amazing last night will give him confidence. And then, perhaps, your next night will be even better than the previous one.

Although one should not ignore his desires with needs. The guy will be very upset if, for some reason, you do not give him pleasure with oral sex.

P = Pace

In this he is a real professional Yuji knows perfectly well how to stretch pleasure and orgasm as much as he wants. A small effort of will is enough for him, which he has at least a spoonful.

At first he will start with smooth movements, and then gradually accelerate. At the same time, it will be easy to prolong your pleasure, because you will feel the strongest sexual charge directed in your direction. And with each strong orgasm, you will experience not only physical, but also mental pleasure.

Q = Quickie

From slow and smooth thrusts to wet and hot suddenness, it makes you feel your own intoxication, as if you are high. Superhuman abilities do give good results. As it turned out, not only in sports.

R = Risk (Ready to experiment)

In other matters, he is unlikely to refuse, since he himself has long wanted this. But Itadori is a responsible person, so he will think a hundred times and make sure that you accept the offer accurately. Do not be surprised that he will act agitated during such sex. He, like you, understands that this risk is serious and can create real problems.

S = Stamina (Stamina)

You should prepare caffeine and energy drinks, as this machine will squeeze everything out of itself, despite the fact that you yourself were exhausted already in the third round. He will not be enough all the time, and if you ever start to black out from fatigue, the guy will scream that he has not finished yet. It even forces you to limit the number of your intercourse per week, as his stamina is exhausting. And you've told him about it more than once.

T = Toys

In this regard, Yuji is more cunning and impudent. He always refuses to have toys for himself, although he himself does not mind tormenting you with a vibrator or even slipping it into your panties, justifying this by the fact that he does this to keep you close, at the same time showing his concern for you, flickering his ghost in your head. But he's not lucky that you're not such a naive fool. Despite this, the guy gets hit on the head, with a very convincing request never to do this again.

U = Unfair (Does he like to tease)

Very much not even against, but not much into it. Over time, it bothers both you and him, and all actions cease to be unpredictable.

V = Volume (How loud is it)

Pretty loud. But in the volume of your moans, you take over.

They start with stifled growls, to groans because of how fucking amazing and sexy you are. And it all ends like a sugary, but trustworthy silence. Your loud moans of pleasure are a sign that you both were good.

W = Wild card (Random headcanon)

Once there was a case where Yuji could not come. He felt that he could not come even if he wanted to. His arms and legs seemed to be glued together, and he himself froze. I started to panic, think of reasons in my head. You, in turn, noticed this too, and when you asked what was the matter, Itadori turned pale and speechless. After that, he sat down on the bed, and here you started to worry. It turned out that he had masturbated too much over the past month, which has formed a habit of certain stimulation of the penis. At the news, you laughed, and he blushed. But at the same moment he exhaled with satisfaction. The guy was glad that the reason was not in you and not in his health.

X = X-ray (What's under the clothes)

16 cm. During erection ± 2.5

Y = Yearning (How high is the sex drive)

Sex serves him for several purposes: relieving stress, sexual tension, just as a way to prove his love for you... Sometimes the beginning of sexual intercourse depends on his arousal. But for your sake, he's trying his best to hold back. Resorted to masturbation instead of sex, but as you already know, even this has its own problems. Seeing him so depressed, you also do not bypass the mutual concern. Even if you don't really want to do this or you are not in the mood, you will never refuse him. Although you will never let him relax and stop controlling himself. Do not miss the opportunity to talk to him about this, because, of course, he also needs it - to get rid of an inferiority complex and so on...

Overall, ± 8/10

Z = Zzz (How quickly falls asleep)

Quite surprisingly, even in spite of his endless chatter before going to bed, as soon as he put his head on the pillow and lean on you, he falls asleep instantly. You feel him in your arms like a small hyperactive child who constantly wants to tell you something or, out of habit, make a row. And myself in his arms — protected by a large and strong wall.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #jjk x y/n #jjk #jjk x you #jjk itadori #jjk yuji #itadori yuuji imagines #itadori yuji x reader #alphabet

[ssa-daddyhotchner]

Undercover - Chapter 21

Chapter Selection

I walked up to his door and knocked, "Come in." His voice rumbled through the door. I opened in and sat down across from him. The files on his desk were a few inches thick. I was waiting on him to finish so we could get some sleep. 

That rarely happens though, Aaron would stay all night if it weren't for Jack. He was staying at a friends house giving Aaron and Jessica a break. I stared at him as he was filling them out, making sure every word was right. 

His face was concentrated; Strauss asked him to pull a little extra weight for a while she was taking some personal time. I felt Aaron was being stretched thin. We haven't really had a chance to just be. 

Without either of us saying a word I grabbed half of his files and placed them in front of me. I had just finished the ones at my desk but I wanted to help him out; I could see the stress. Before I started the work I closed the blinds and locked the door. 

That made him pick up his head, I ignored it. 

We worked for another 2 hours leaving it to be 12am. Everyone was gone for the last few hours leaving just him and me.

I decided to break the silence, "You know what today is right?" Aaron looked at me confused and the realization set in. A grin spread across his face, "Happy anniversary." He pushed from his desk to give me room and I straddled his lap. 

My arms wrapped around his neck as I looked into his eyes seeing admiration. I closed the gap and kissed him softly. I moaned into the kiss as his hands moved from my lower back to under my shirt on my hips. 

I pulled away pressing my forehead to his; staying together for a while longer. 

"I love you", he whispered. 

"I love you too", I kissed him again taking our time. He backed away when there was a phone call. I groaned reaching for the phone. I answered, "Y/l/n." 

Aaron started kissing my cheek moving to my jaw. Lining my neck with subtle pecks. I was suppressing subtle moans. He slowly ran his hands up my sides and cupped my breasts.

Hissing through my teeth I let a quiet moan slip past, "Am I interrupting something?" JJ asked me through the phone. She was calling because we had a case. "Yeah uh not really", I was breathless. Aaron lifted my shirt and was putting hickeys on my chest. 

"Okay... well the teams already on their way about 5 minutes away. So uh I suggest you guys wrap up whatever you're doing." She laughed with the last few words of her sentence; she knew I was with Aaron.  

I could feel his bulge pressed against my core. I gave him one last peck before getting up and going to the couch. "What are you doing." 

"That was JJ, the teams on their way here. I got up because if I stayed there any longer we were gonna fuck. They might know about us but I'm not comfortable with them hearing us." I saw a flash of disappointment in his eyes. 

I wanted to help him out but we both knew where that would lead. He stood up and picked me up off the couch. "Sorry." 

"It's fine, I don't have to all the time. Things happen." I pouted but we went to the round table room and waited for the rest of the team to arrive. Judging off of when I got the call and when they got here Aaron and I definitely had time too. 

Before I saw her I heard the clicking of heels walking behind me. "What is it Garcia", she walked to the front of the room and grabbed the remote. Everyone else followed and took their seats. 

"Today, there was another murder in Maryland; this will make it the fourth murder in the last 2 weeks." I grabbed a file from the center of the table and flipped through it, my hand subconsciously went to my back.

Touching my scars as I looked at those pictures. "What was the COD", Rossi said.

"All four victims died from blood loss due to the slices along their backs. The cuts tore through the muscle and almost to the bones." Garcia flipped through the crime scene photos and she had to look away. 

The blood completely covered their backs, this was overkill if it was Mark. He basically did the same thing to me. I had three long gashes but mine were shallow; those were exceptionally deeper. I took a glance at the victims and they all looked alike. He was clearly using them as a surrogate. 

I'm not the only one that noticed, Aaron reached his hand out and grabbed my thigh squeezing making me look at him. He shifted his eyes from the photos to me and he also knew. As for the rest of the team they did know about Mark and what he'd done. 

I'm part of this case now, I'd need to tell them about it. It was like Aaron could hear my thoughts; he pulled me up and we stepped into the hallway, getting eyes from everyone. 

"Are you going to tell them?" He tucked his hands into his pockets. "I'm gonna have to aren't I? I have those exact wounds on me and if you haven't noticed... they all look like me. It's obvious that he has an obsession with me." 

"If this case points to Mark and we're sure it's him then you can tell them; I'll be with you the whole time. I just don't want you to have to talk about something you don't wanna." I nodded and we walked back into the room. 

They had finished the briefing, "Let's go." Everyone grabbed their bags and we headed for the SUVs. 

Aaron told the rest of the team to get some rest up. Aaron and I went to the Station; We were in the conference room. Setting up the case files and going over the simple things.

"What a nice way to spend an anniversary." I mumbled quiet enough for Aaron to not hear. All I wanted was to spend my time with him and of course- this dickhead wouldn't allow it. 

I stood up from my seat going behind him and set my hands on his chest and nibbled on his ear before speaking, "Honestly I'm not gonna let him ruin this for us, now I know when you start working you get very focused. So I'm gonna go join the team at the hotel. I'm tired right now but when we wake up... we can celebrate then." 

I walked out of the building and into the SUV. As I was going to pull out of the spot Aaron opened the passenger door and got into the car, I smiled and started driving. Going through the lobby there wasn't anyone but a single employee. 

We got our key and got into the elevator making our way to our room. I set my bag down in the chair and stripped down to my bra and underwear. I had Aaron throw me one of his shirts and I fell asleep. I felt the bed dip and I rolled over holding Aaron close to me. 

His breathing was felt on my head as we both drifted off. 

_________________________

"Aaron", I breathed out. He was teasing me to the point where I didn't care about the punishment. I flipped us over and I was straddling him. Grinding on his thigh; my clit rubbing against him. 

"Come here", he pulled me over him so I was over his bulge. The firm grip on my hips forced them down. He groaned out as I rolled my hips over him continuously. 

I was stirring in my sleep moving my head back and forth. My eyes fluttered open and Aaron was over me lining my neck and jaw with kisses.

I was still groggy, not fully awake. His kisses lower between my breast massaging one in his hand. 

Aaron reached my underwear tugging at the waistband. Rubbing his finger over my clothed pussy. He pulled them down and licked a thick strip going between my folds. His tongue making its way inside of me feeling and tasting all of me. 

I was embarrassingly wet; he brought his thumb to my clit making small circles. I rolled my hips against him urging him to pick up the pace. 

He pulled away, "Patience princess." He was hovering above me pulling me into a kiss.

I could taste myself on his tongue. He applied more pressure to my clit moving faster. I closed my eyes, tossing my head and arching my back; pressing my chest to his. "Little girl", his voice was low and coated with lust and desire. 

I moaned out, "Aaron, I need you." His finger ghosting over my entrance, I bucked just getting the tip in before he plunged them into me. Immediately he curled them rubbing my walls, I clenched around him. "Sweetheart", he could tell I was close and stopped. 

I whined and he chuckled; Aaron readjusted us. I was laying on my side, he was right behind me. My leg laced with his arm, he lifted above me. He hadn't done anything yet but I felt the tip of his cock on my core. 

The arousal between my legs was beginning to drip down my thighs. I reached my hand back, his head going into the crook of my neck lining kisses on my shoulder. 

Aaron pushed in bottoming out before slowly thrusting in and out.

I matched his pace and pushed down as he entered me. He hissed when I clenched around him feeling everything. I moaned and bit my lip when I heard a knock on the door. We both ignored it till they knocked again and again. 

"Answer little girl", he groaned in my ear before biting my ear. He didn't stop his thrusts but kept a steady pace, "What? no."

"Don't be a brat, answer", he hit my g spot and I had to muffle a loud moan. I bit my lip to gather myself before.

"Who is- it?" I let out a quiet breath trying my best to not yell Aarons name. 

"We're heading out to the station, you guys coming?" I could tell from the voice it was Reid. 

"We'll be coming just not to the station", we chuckled before Aaron pounded quicker and harder. "Yeah we'll be the-- fuck Aaron." My hand went over my mouth. 

I assume they got the message and walked away, we never heard him knock again.

"It's ok baby we've got nothing to hide." Aaron pulled out getting on top of me, throwing my leg over his shoulder and holding it in place. 

My high approaching faster with every thrust Aaron did. He was hitting every angle perfectly getting deeper and deeper. 

He pressed my leg into him getting a new angle. Kissing my leg and keeping eye contact the whole time. 

"Y/n, I'm gonna c-", I tighten around him, my orgasm coursing through me; pushing Aaron over the edge. 

I felt his warmth spread throughout me. He rode it out, slowing his thrusts before stopping completely. He put my leg down and leaned. 

He pressed his lip to mine cupping his face. I felt the stubble of his beard. I was too tired to notice it before, "Please tell me you're letting your beard grow out." He let a smile form on his face.

"You want me to?", I nodded. "I've never seen you with one before." I pouted my lip a bit; he moved his hand from my face giving me one last peck before going into the bathroom. "Ok sweetheart." 

As he walked away I stared at his ass, he knew I was. He came back with a rag and helped me up for a shower. He set the water the way I like stepping in. 

The water washed over the both of us. I was messaging the hotel Shampoo into his hair, "Can't believe it's been a year already." 

He turned around facing me, "I know, even though the year wasn't completely ideal I personally think it was better because of you." 

I felt the blush creep to my face but the heat from the water masked it. I kissed his chest and washed his body. 

The year was terrible for me, at the beginning It was turning up for me; just leaving Mark getting a new start, being with Aaron. Obviously I had to deal with the price that came with that... Hayley but in the end it was fine. Then with Hawaii... I don't think I could've gotten through that without Aaron. 

Since I was a normally private person I wouldn't have told anybody and I'd probably... 

I have so much to thank Aaron for honestly but the most important was just being there for me, to take care of me, and to love me. Words can't explain how much I love him.

We finished the shower and got ready for work. I was glancing at Aaron getting ready as he adjusted his suit. They fit him so well, I could see his biceps through the Blazer and I loved it. 

I zoned out not realizing he saw me. There was a grin on his face, "Like what you see?"

I walked up to him, "Very much so, we gotta go." We walked to the elevator, going to the SUV. We were late by an hour and didn't notice. When we went to the station the team was talking to Garcia forming connections. 

Reid was staring at the board with the victims faces, right in that moment I knew he made the connection with the victims. 

"Guys", Reid calls out to the team. They all turned their attention to him, "I think I know why the Unsubs going after them, they all look the same, they have the same facial structure." 

"That proves that the victims are surrogates. Either he's gonna kill the person he wants or they're already dead." Emily said sitting down drinking her coffee. The team didn't notice our presence till Rossi walked into the room; we put our stuff down.

Morgan ended the conversation with Garcia telling her that they'd call back. Spencer was in his mode, constantly looking for a pattern. He looked at me and it clicked in his head. 

"Y/n come here, stand right there." He had me right next to the victims photos. "You look like them." 

Morgan, Emily, and JJ took a closer look and noticed it too. No one knew what Mark had done but Aaron and he glanced at me, asking me if I was gonna tell them. I had too, I couldn't withhold information. 

I took a deep breath and exhaled, "I know who the unsub is, his name is Mark." JJ cocked her head to the side, "How do yo-." I cut her off. 

"I realized it when you mentioned the COD. The slices on their backs, I have the same cuts but more shallow." I pointed to the crime scene photos. They were tied to the bedpost like I was. 

"Those were meant to kill but mine were meant to last a while. When I got away I started a new life and came here."

"But they were only held 24 hours before they were killed." Emily spoke. 

"Yeah but Mark was my husband. He's been stalking me and Aaron for a few months now." They knew why I'd hide it so they turned to Aaron. It was my information to share that he wouldn't say anything unless I wanted him to. 

"That's personal to her. We discussed that she'd tell you when she was ready." Morgan yet again felt kind of betrayed that I felt the need to hide it from him. I could tell he was upset but that's not something that comes up in casual conversation. 

I called Garcia telling her to look at Mark's history and where he's been. All she could say was his last known location was in Aarons neighborhood a few days ago. I pulled Aaron aside in an empty room. 

"If we arrest him, he'd only put to trail for the murder's not the- no ones gonna believe me." His hand went to my cheek, I leaned to his touch. 

"When. we get him even if its not for Hawaii I will still arrest his ass and make sure he sees the inside of a jail cell." I nodded and hugged him. 

Aaron was dead set on sending him to prison and I was so thankful. 

_________________

@donttellanyoneireadfanfiction @marie1115 @oreogutz @wanniiieeee @appleblossoms-posts @mac99martin 

#aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotch x reader #SSA HOTCHNER #Thomas Gibson #hotchner #hotch #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #Criminal Minds

[moipale]

Scientist’s Curiosity

This fic was written for Ectober Week 2020 Day 2: Bones/Pulse and can be found on AO3 and FFN as well as here!

You can find me on this blog or on my main @faedemon

Maddie is alone when she catches it.

Jack is out of town visiting a convention, and she still hasn’t managed to rope either of the kids into coming out on these little patrols, so it’s just her and the whistle of the empty street that bears witness to Phantom’s fall.

It hasn’t even been weakened by another ghost—it’s been a peaceful night, quiet, and what allows Maddie to bag the ghost boy is nothing more than luck. Luck, and a lapse in judgement on Phantom’s part.

Maybe it’s a good thing Jack isn’t with her—his lumbering, bless him, surely would have given them away by now. But Maddie is quiet, and she creeps into range with a stealth she didn’t realize she could still maintain, well into her forties. The weapon she’d decided to carry for this particular venture is perfect: an electric net-thrower, and Phantom, sitting casually on the edge of a rooftop, its legs dangling off the side, is well within shooting distance.

She readies the gun, looking up at its silhouette. If it were human, she wouldn’t be able to see its facial features this late at night, but the ghostly glow that emanates from its form lights it up like a beacon, and as she steadies her aim, her eyes scour its face, studying it.

Phantom’s facial features are soft. Its body holds that look of someone who’s just about to lose the last of their baby fat, but hasn’t reached that point quite yet. It looks young. Childlike.

It’s really too bad that Maddie knows enough to check Amity’s death records, because no one matching Phantom’s rough age, description, or the name ‘Danny’ has died in Amity Park since its founding.

Ghosts truly are evil creatures, to play the part of a child.

She pulls the trigger, her aim true, and the net flies toward Phantom faster than it can react to. It wraps around the ghost, glomming onto its limbs as the bolas bond themselves to its ectoplasm—a nice touch Jack had thought of, she should really thank him when he gets back—and effectively immobilizes it.

Phantom starts struggling immediately, its eyes going wide as it tries desperately to wriggle out of the net. Maddie has to fight back a titter of amusement when it wiggles its way off the roof, falling the two stories down to the pavement. It can’t fly, either—good to know the power nullification agent in the net works as intended.

She approaches, and Phantom catches sight of her quickly enough. The look in its eyes goes through a peculiar flash of emotions—fear, a pause of confusion where it relaxes slightly, and then fear again, almost like it had forgotten for a moment who she was and what its capture meant.

No matter. Maddie will be able to study all its “emotional” responses up close soon enough.

She’d gone out tonight without the van, which is a shame—she hadn’t been expecting to collect a sample tonight, so she’d wandered a fair distance away from home. It’ll be hell to carry Phantom all the way back. She’s not willing to risk leaving it there to go grab the van, though, so lugging the ghost back it is. At least ectoplasm is fairly light—most of the weight she’s carrying comes from the net.

“Hey,” the ghost says as she hoists it onto her shoulder. “Mo—Maddie, listen, you don’t want to do this. Please put me down.” It pleads, quite pathetically, as she adjusts her grip and starts walking. It’s late at night, so she’s not particularly worried about anyone seeing this little spectacle, but even if they did, she isn’t expecting anyone to stop her. It’s not like she’s carrying around a person.

“Maddie—” it says again, but she interrupts it.

“Ask again and I’ll turn my taser on you and I won’t turn it off,” she warns in a sharp voice.

There’s a beat of silence before it mutters, “Oh, yeah, tase the guy who died from electrocution, that’s nice,” and then falls silent.

Well, that little tidbit has given her an idea for a whole new line of experimentation. The thought puts a little pep in her step, and she starts to walk a bit faster. Phantom seems to sense this, and it starts to wriggle again, trying to worm its way out of her grip. She holds onto it more tightly and continues on.

Fentonworks comes into view about fifteen minutes later, and she darts up the front steps, more giddy than she’s been in a long while. There’s a keypad next to the lock, and she punches in the numbers that will disable the anti-ecto array inside—it wouldn’t do to have her specimen polka-dotted with holes before she can even get it onto the examination table. Once she hears the whine of the machinery powering off, she lets herself in, beelining for the lab.

Normally, if she manages to capture a specimen while Jack’s not around, she’d call him to let him know what she’d picked up and then hold off on examination until he returned. This, though—this is big, and Phantom is a known escape artist. She can’t wait and risk losing it, not even for a phone call.

She deposits Phantom on one of the clearer tables before making quick work of all the junk on the floor, shoving it to the sides or, in the case of more fragile pieces, putting them away where they won’t be touched. After she’s confident the lab is clear enough for her to move around without danger of tripping, she takes the table Phantom is steadily trying to wiggle off of and drags it to the center of the room, directly beneath one of the overhead lights and well within range of any of the tools she may feel necessary to pull out. The fluorescent light above Phantom has the added bonus of partially blinding him, and making her look like little more than an indistinct silhouette.

As convenient as built-in restraints would be, ghosts’ forms are too variable for her and Jack to have ever installed any that would be universally effective, so she goes back to the old tried-and-true: paralytics.

Maddie preps a sterile needle—sterilized more for her benefit than Phantom’s, in case of an accident—and fills it with a concoction she and Jack had developed fairly recently: a paralyzing agent made from a mix of chemicals that would be frankly concerning—if it were meant for humans.

Phantom’s eyes are locked onto the needle as she turns around and approaches the table. It looks almost surprised, and Maddie wonders if it’s only now that the true reality of the situation is dawning on it. If ghosts can even have that kind of emotional realization, anyway. She hasn’t quite determined where the threshold is.

“Hey, what are—what are you doing?” It had stopped talking on the walk back to Fentonworks, but now it starts up again, babbling protests and pleas. “Please, don’t—I have a responsibility, I have to—” Maddie stops listening after a moment, not bothering to even respond.

Phantom begins to wiggle more fiercely, to which Maddie sighs quietly, reaching out to physically hold him down with one arm. It takes a moment, but she manages to slide the needle in just below the elbow, pushing down the plunger without any real regard for how fast she’s injecting. It’s not like it even matters where she inserts the needle—the entirety of Phantom’s body should just be ectoplasm inside; its not like there are any particular veins she’s trying to hit. Its body does give a good illusion of blood vessels from the outside, though. Except, of course, for the fact that they’re green.

After a few seconds, Phantom’s movements slow, and within a minute its fully immobilized, save its eyes, which dart back and forth rapidly. Its thrashing had left it sprawled in an unlikely position, and Maddie has half a mind to leave it like that for the humiliation before her thoughts catch up with her and she realizes how unscientific the impulse is. Pursing her lips, she arranges Phantom’s body to her convenience: on its back, legs and arms extended, both sets of limbs pulled slightly out from the body. She also closes its mouth, which had been hanging open dumbly, but not before spying how humanlike the inside of it looks. She makes a note to examine it more thoroughly later, after she’s gotten the samples she needs.

Seeing Phantom laid out like this, immobile, entirely at her mercy, is far more vindicating than it probably should be. The ghost boy has been the source of so much of the Fentons’ ire, and now she finally, finally has it where she wants it. A lesser scientist would probably take advantage of this situation, but Maddie is a professional. No matter how eager she may be to get her hands on it, she will keep her composure.

Maddie and Jack have had two goals since they first laid eyes on Phantom: to study and understand its obsession and its physiology.

Phantom’s obsession has been a thing of curiosity for them since the beginning. Something in Phantom compels it not only to avoid attacking humans, but also actively try to prevent other ghosts from attacking humans. Maddie has hesitantly labeled the obsession as ‘protection,’ but the notion is a vague one—what, exactly, is it protecting? An individual? A group? Or not a person at all, but the town? Why Amity Park, of all places?

And aside from that, Phantom’s unusual physiology is obvious even when observing it from afar. It’s not like the other ghosts—its ectoplasm is denser and less malleable, it seems to activate powers consciously rather than subconsciously, and its appearance mimics a human’s almost concerningly well. In regards to the latter, Maddie would assume Phantom is a recently-formed ghost, and the human body is not too far of a memory for its form to retrieve and recreate, if not for the research she’s done. Phantom, whatever it is, has appeared as far back as ancient Rome, and has made multiple appearances in the 1600s and in the 20th century.

She meets its eyes again, though she’s sure it can’t tell through the red sheen of her goggles. It watches her, terrified, the slightest hint of resignation creeping in.

She’s always wondered where the line is between mimicking emotions and feeling them. If you can force your heart to race and tears to fall, even if you made it happen, is the adrenaline spike any different? The choked throat?

She’s always wondered why, even when caught or observed alone, the ghosts never stop emoting. Muscle memory? Habit? Truth?

She and Jack had agreed long before now on what samples would be taken, should either of them manage to capture Phantom: five ectoplasm samples at intervals leading toward the core from the extremities, a sample of the core material while active and one while inactive, a piece of the hazmat suit, hair (and nails, should it have them), and anything else of note.

She gets to work immediately, taking up a pair of scissors from one of the nearby tables. This, too, she sterilizes, and then wastes no time in cutting her way down Phantom’s suit, first down the torso and next down each of the limbs, so that the suit falls away from the body, exposing its form beneath. She snips off a sizable chunk of the garment’s chest and stores it in a specimen bag, setting it aside for later examination.

It’s as she moves to begin carving out chunks of ectoplasm that she notices something she really should have noticed far earlier. As the scalpel she’d picked up moves closer to Phantom’s skin, its panicked breathing picks up.

Its breathing.

Maddie slowly turns her head to look down at Phantom, watching its chest rise and fall rapidly, enough so that it would be considered hyperventilation in a person. It watches her back, eyes flicking between her face and her hands, unable to do anything but lie there.

Does it have lungs? she wonders, detached, her scientist’s curiosity getting the best of her as she reaches with one hand to lay her palm flat on the ghost’s chest. If it has lungs, what else does it have?

There’s no reason I can’t dissect it, she reasons, already unable to redirect her thoughts, curiosity burning within her. Just to find out. It’ll only take a little longer than what I’d initially planned.

She was going to remove chunks of Phantom starting at the calf and working her way toward the center of its chest, where the core should be, and the terror it had shown at that prospect was quite acute. It has nothing, however, on the terror that mounts in Phantom’s eyes as her scalpel redirects, moving toward the center of its chest.

Maddie reels herself back in as she does so, stopping herself from making any unplanned incisions. Instead, she carefully puts the scalpel down before moving over to the desk in the corner to retrieve a permanent marker. She uses it to draw careful lines down Phantom’s chest: two branching down from its shoulders, then meeting in the middle and heading straight down the chest. The ‘Y’ of an autopsy.

Phantom is dead, after all.

Before she picks up the scalpel again, out of pure curiosity, she rests her hand flat on its chest once more. She can feel the low hum of its core, as expected—you can feel it in all ghosts, provided you get close enough—but she can also feel something else. Something familiar.

Beneath her palm, through the rubber of her hazmat suit, Maddie swears she can feel the tha-thump of a heartbeat.

Phantom has a pulse.

She looks it in the eye once again, almost trying to memorize the flickers she sees in its gaze. Terror, hysteria, desperation. She feels so strangely detached from them. Maybe a long time ago it might have stirred something in her, some sympathetic belief that perhaps ghosts do have the capacity for feeling, for thinking beyond following the program of their obsession—

but not now. Not this Maddie, who feels a heartbeat beneath her hand in a creature long dead and feels curiosity grip her with a fervor she can’t shake.

She takes up the scalpel and begins to cut.

#danny phantom #dp fanfic #dp #ectoberweek2020 #my fics

[avocadogirl216]

Sparkling Blue

AN: This was requested by lizzz47 on Wattpad.  I’m so sorry that this took forever to come out and I am sorry if it is crap.

Summary: While your brothers and yourself are looking for Jack, you run into Clark Barker, who you can’t help but feel attracted to.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x sister!reader, Sam Winchester x sister!reader, Jack Kline x reader, Clark Barker x reader

Warnings: Flirting (Is that a warning?), Violence, Fluff, Underage Smoking, Language, Depressed Reader, Kissing

Word Count: 3,263

(I do not own this GIF)

You groan as you wake up on the floor of the nursery.  You sit up and immediately try to find your brothers.  Sam and Dean were a couple of feet away from you, also starting to gain consciousness.  

“What the hell happened?”  Sam asked as he started to stand on his freakishly sized legs.

“The kid.  That’s what.”  Dean said as he followed suit of his younger brother.

“Are you guys okay?”  You asked as you started to look over yourself for any injuries.

“Other than the skull splitting headache, I’m freaking fantastic.”  Dean replied in a sarcastic tone as he made is way over to you and extended his hand.  You put your small hand into his large one and he hoisted you up onto your feet.  “We need to find that kid.”  Dean stated as he found his gun on the floor and holstered it into the back of his jeans.

“Yeah, but how?”  Sam asked.

“He couldn’t have gone far.”  You stated.

“Unless he can teleport.”  Dean replied back while running his hand down his face in a frustrated matter.

“Well let’s think of the smaller picture right now.  Okay?”  

“Fine.”  Dean grumbled.

“Let’s say that Jack can’t teleport, the next best thing for him is to walk.  So we can look around town and ask of they have seen him.” 

“Yeah, lets just go around town asking if anyone has seen a naked newborn nephilim.  Good plan.”  Dean said as he started to make his way out of the house.

You and Sam shared a look.  You just lost Mary and Cas all in the same hour and now Jack, who possibly has the power to end all of humanity with the snap of his fingers, is roaming Chuck’s green earth.  You understand why Dean is pissed, hell you were just as pissed as him, if not more.  Every time you seem to catch a break, something happens, proving to you that you can’t be happy.  As you and Sam made your way out of the house, Dean has already started the car and was waiting on you.

After 20 minutes of driving towards town, you spot a burger place on the side of the road.  As Dean pulls in, you and Sam both volunteer to ask the people inside if they have in fact, seen a naked newborn nephilim. 

When you walk in, Sam immediately goes to the counter, which is occupied by a clearly drunk woman who was moaning for fries.  You start to look around the small burger place with way too much pirate themed decor.  You look at the menu screen to see that all of the menu items were changed to where their names had butt in them.

Immature

“I want fries.”  The woman demanded yet again while setting her high heels on the counter.

“Lady, I’ve already told you, I can’t give you any fries before lunch.  Rules are rules.”  The kid said in a annoyed tone.  He couldn’t have been older than you, 16.

“Screw the rules.  I’m outta here.”  The woman moaned as she stumbled out of the burger joint.

You and Sam approached the counter.  

“Welcome to Pirate Pete’s Jolly Treats!  What would you like today?”  The kid asked, his mood already improving since the drunk woman left.

“Umm we won’t be ordering anything.  We’re actually looking for someone.  A kid, around 17, not exactly clothed.”  You said.

The boys eyes widened.  “Yeah I know who you’re talking about.  He stopped here asking about his father or something and Clark called his mom, who is the sheriff and she came and picked him up.”  He explained.

“Oh okay.  Could you point us in the direction of the police station please?”  You asked kindly.

“Uh yeah, sure.  If you take the main road through town and turn on Greenly Avenue, its just on your right.”  The boy explained.

“Thank you.”  Sam said as you two made your way out the door.

Once you got on the car with Dean, Sam repeated the directions to the police station and you made your way there.  It took about 10 minutes before you pulled into the parking lot of the small station.  As everyone made their way out of the car, you all started to walk towards the front door with caution.  When Dean opened the door for you and Sam you could immediately tell that something was wrong.  The lights were flickering like crazy and the floor was vibrating.  You pulled out your gun along with your brothers and you started to make your way towards the voices in the office portion of the station.  

When you entered the room you could see three people, a woman who was obviously the sheriff, a teen boy with a red jacket and Jack whose eyes were glowing a vibrant gold, clearly angry.  You needed to take Jack down before he hurts anyone, so you made a quick decision.  You ran to the sheriff and stole her taser out of her belt, which got you a confused look, and you shot it at Jack.  

Jack hit the floor with a thud, clearly unconscious.  You handed the sheriff the taser back and holstered your gun in the waistband of your jeans.  The teen boy gave you an impressed and shocked look.

“Dude!”  He exclaimed while raising his eyebrows.

“Who the hell are you?”  The woman asked, confusion written on her face.

“We’re the ones who just saved your ass.”  Dean replied.

The sheriff looked between you, your brothers and Jack on the floor.  “Umm, what just happened?”  She asked.

“Look, we can explain everything but right now we need to get him to a jail cell for your safety and ours.”  Sam explained.

“Fine, but after we are going to have ourselves a nice, long chat about what the hell is going on.”  The sheriff said.

After Sam and Dean both carried Jack into a cell, they were lead into a large office.  “Don’t go anywhere.”  Dean said to you before walking in.

“Yeah, yeah I get it.”  You said as you leaned against a desk.

Once the door to the office was closed, the teen boy looked at you again, awe still in his eyes.  He was attractive.  He had slick, black hair that was almost as long as Sam’s but was curly at the ends, blinding white teeth and sparkling blue eyes.

“Who are you?  Like some superhero or something?”  He asked.

“My name’s Y/N and I am a hunter, which is almost like a superhero if you think about it.”  You said as you crossed your arms across your chest.

“Cool.  I’m Clark.”  Clark said while a smile growing onto his face.

You returned the smile as best as you could, which turned out to be a depressing grin.  Clark noticed this.

“Hey, you okay?”  He asked while tilting his head.

“Yeah, yeah.  It’s just...”  You sighed while looking at the floor.  “Things haven’t exactly gone great for me lately.”  You said sadly.

There was a moment of silence before Clark spoke.  “I know something that might help.”  He said with a mischievous smirk playing onto his lips.

You shot him a questioning look.  Clark grabbed your hand and started to lead you to the back door of the building.  When you made it outside, Clark put a fruit basket in the doorway, preventing you two from getting locked outside.  He then reached into his bright red jacket and brought out a pack of cigarettes.  You raised your eyebrows at him.

“You ever smoked before?”  He asked as he started to pull a cigarette out of the box.

“No, not really.”  You said in a shy tone.

“Wanna try?”  Clark asked as he held one out to you.  “It’ll calm your nerves.”  

You hesitated.

“Hey, I’m not pressuring you or anything.  You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.  I just thought that it would help you calm down a little.”  Clark explained.

You bit your lip before taking it out of his hand.  Clark gave you a wide smile as he pulled one out for him and took out a lighter. 

“Ladies first.”  Clark said while winking at you and lighting your cigarette at the same time.  You blushed a little while feeling fluttery in your stomach.  When he lit his stick, he started to talk again.  “All you do is bring it to your lips and inhale and after a little bit you exhale, like this.”  He said as he took a drag from his cigarette.  After a few seconds he blew the smoke out of his lungs and into the air.  “You think you got it?”  He asked while raising his eyebrows.

“I think so.”  You said.  You copied his movements and followed his instructions carefully and inhaled from a cigarette for the first time.  There was a burning sensation in your throat and in your lungs.  You immediately started to cough and choke on the smoke.  Clark quickly made his way over to you and put a hand on your back, rubbing reassuring circles.

“Yeah, I forgot to warn you, the first drag is a bitch.  But it will get better, trust me.”  Clark said once you started to breath normally, his hand never leaving your back.

“It’s okay.”  You said as you started to wipe your eyes of tears that were starting to form involuntarily.

After a minute you stand up straight again and catch your breath.  You notice that Clark's hand still hasn't left the small of your back and you give him a questioning look.  Once he gets the message, he retracts his hand and puts it to his side as he clears his throat.

"So.... You good?" He asked, clearly trying to clear the awkwardness from the air.

"Yeah, I'm good." You said as you took another drag from your cigarette, noting that it went down easier than the last time.

Clark gave you an impressed look while copying your actions.  After a couple of minutes of comfortable silence, he decided to speak.  "So,  your job is to what?  Control people with super powers?" 

"Kinda.  I hunt the things that lurk in the dark."

"Like ghosts and vampires and stuff?" Clark asked with a chuckle.  You have him a serious look, confirming his question. His eyes widened in realization.  "Wait, you're serious? Those things are real?"

"Yep". You said as you looked away from his face and took another lung full of smoke.  

"Damn.  That makes you like ten times more attractive."  Clarke said.  Your eyes widened as blush made its way to your face and neck.  Clark noticed this and smirked, which made your stomach fluttery.  

You cleared your throat, trying to think of something to say.  As you were looking around, you noticed that Clark was wearing a Pirate Pete uniform under his red jacket.  “So, you work at Pirate Pete's?”  You asked.

Clark looked down at himself, seeming to notice the stupid costume that he was still wearing.  “Yeah, my mom made me get a job there since I kept getting into trouble.”  He stated.  “Like that would work, I make my own trouble.”  Clark said as he stomped out his cigarette.

“Were you the one who changed the menu earlier today?”

“Yeah.”  He said.  “Not my finest work, I’m better at other things.” 

“Oh yeah?  Like what?”  You asked as you threw your cigarette down and stomped it out with the heel of your boot.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”  He said while wiggling his eyebrows at you.

A small smile made its way to your face.

Clark’s smile widened while stepping closer to you.  “Maybe I can show you some of my talents later, huh?”  He asked.

“I would but people who get close to me seem to get hurt or worse.  I think that you’re a nice guy and all but I just don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”  You said, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Hey I get it.  I just thought that I would shoot my shot, its not everyday that I meet a superhero.”  Clark said as he leaned against the wall behind him.

Before you could say anything else, you heard a foot steps approaching.  You whipped your head up as you saw three people, the woman from the burger joint who apparently wasn’t drunk anymore, a man and a woman, both of whom you didn’t recognize.

“Well well, if it isn’t the youngest Winchester.”  The not-so-drunk woman said as she started to pull out her angel blade. 

You took out your own blade as you stood in front of Clark, swearing to yourself that you would protect him as much as you could against these dicks that called themselves angels.

“Aww, young love, adorable.”  The woman sneered as she started to step closer to the two of you.

“Clark, run.”  You said as you met his wide, fear filled eyes.

Clark made a break for it to the back door of the station but the angels were faster.  The man grabbed him and held his blade to Clark’s throat, nearly breaking his skin.

“You seriously didn’t think that would work, did you?”

“Doesn’t hurt to try.” You said but before you could make another move, the other female angel came up behind you, knocked the angel blade out of your hand and held her own blade against your throat.  You held up your hands in surrender, seeing that there was no way to get the upper hand without getting your throat slit.

The angels seemed to share a silent conversation with each other and after a couple of seconds, the lead angel opened the back door and lead the way into the building.  You were lead into the office sector of the police station along with Clark.

“Anybody home?”  The lead angel called out.  Shortly after Dean and the sheriff came out of the small office.  You noticed that Sam did not exit the office along with his brother and the cop which meant that he was more than likely in the jail cell.  When Dean took in the scene before him his eyes widened double their size.  Sheriff Barker drew her gun on the angel holding her son hostage, not knowing that it would do nothing to him.

“Hey Deano.  Care for a chat?”  The woman asked.

Dean pulled out an angel blade that he had hidden in his jacket, anger showing in his forest green eyes.  “Let them go.”  He commanded.

“What’s the fun in that?”  The lead woman asked.

“I won’t ask again.”  Dean said in a deadly tone.

“You won’t have to, all that I want is the nephilim.  Give him to us and these two will walk out of here without a scratch.  I promise.” 

“Why should I trust you?”  Dean asked.

“I never asked you to.  Just give us what we want and everyone walks away happily.”

You watched as Dean considered taking the offer.

“Dean I know what you are thinking.  Don’t do it.”  You said.

“Shut up.”  The angel who was holding you captive said as she pressed the blade deeper into your neck, drawing blood.

“Maybe we can work something out.  Just let them go and we can talk.”  Sheriff Barker said, putting her gun back into its holster and putting her hands up in surrender.

The lead angel scoffed.  “You humans don’t get it do you?  If that abomination walks the earth, that can be the end of all life.  We are trying to help.”  

“Then that’s a risk that I am willing to take.”  Dean said, giving you a signal to get ready.  You quickly gave one back saying that you already were.  Before the angels could register what was happening, Dean aimed and threw his blade at the head of the angel who was holding you.  As the blade went through her skull and killed her, you quickly grabbed the blade that was being held at your throat.  You make your way over to Clark and attacked the angel who was holding him.  You stopped the angel just before he could stab Clark in the neck.  You took the blade out of his hand, throw it towards Dean and you stab the angel square in the chest.  Dean gets the upper hand and kills the lead angel in one quick movement, catching her off guard.  

You make your way over to Clark.

“Hey, you okay?”  You asked as you stashed the blade into your jacket.

“Not really.”  Clark responded with fear in his voice.  “I almost died.”

“But you didn’t.”  You assured him while putting a hand on his shoulder.  “That’s what matters.”

“Yeah.”  He said while putting his shaking hands into his jacket pockets.

Sheriff Barker made her way over to the two of you, looking over Clark to make sure that he was okay.  As they started to talk to each other, you walked towards Dean, preparing yourself for the lecture that he was going to give you.

When you eventually got to him, you crossed your arms and looked at the floor, avoiding Dean’s gaze.

“Y/N, look at me.”  Dean commanded.  You sighed, lifting your head to look at your oldest brothers face.  “Are you okay?”  Dean asked, anger melting from his eyes.

You were taken back by his question but you quickly get yourself together.  “Yeah.”  You answered.

“Good.”  Was all that Dean said before he started to walk towards the jail sector of the station.  You quickly followed.  When the two of you got there, you saw that Sam and Jack were in the same cell.  You shot a look to Sam, silently asking if he was okay.  He gave you a single nod before standing up with Jack and walking to the cell door.

“What happened?”  Sam asked Dean.

“I’ll tell you about it later.”  Was all that Dean said before opening the cell door and letting your brother and Jack out.  “We need to get out of here.  The sheriff called for backup and they can be here any minute.”  Dean explained.

Dean started to lead the way out of the station but you were quickly stopped by your name being called.

“Y/N.”  Clark said, beckoning you to come over to him.

“I’ll catch up.”  You told Sam, making your way over to Clark.

“So, this is it huh?”  Clark asked with a sad smile.

“Yeah, I guess it is.”  You said while sharing his expression.

“Well, there is one thing that I want to do before you leave.”  

“And what would that be?”

“This.”  He said before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.  Butterflies were fluttering in your stomach as you kissed him back with as much passion as you could muster up at that moment.  You two kissed each other for what felt like eternity before you broke the kiss.

Your eyes met his with love and wonder.  “Wow.  You weren’t kidding when you said that you were an expert in other areas.” 

He threw his head back, chuckling.  After a moment, he calmed down and met your eyes again.  “Guess not.”  He said.

There was a moment of comfortable silence before you spoke.  “Goodbye Clark.”

“Bye Y/N.”  He said back with a smile.

You returned the smile before turning around and walking out of the station and towards the impala.  As you climbed into the backseat beside Jack, you couldn’t help but hope that you would run into Clark Barker again.   

#spn #supernatural #fanfic #reader insert #dean winchester x siser!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #clark barker x reader #request #kissing #flirting #fluff

[vickers-n-lickers]

Moonlit pt. 3

Trigger Warning: Unaliving thoughts, violence, zombies))

Six rounds left.

He thought about doing it right then and there.

Her first. Then him.

Jill warned him they always come back unless they get a bullet in the head.

Maybe she'd try to eat him if she came back.

I'd… deserve it.

Well, he thought he did.

Her ghost disagreed with the notion from the back of his mind.

"You've reached the Vickers! Please leave a message at the beep."

Beep!

"Hey Joan, it's Dad. It's about four in the afternoon. I, uh, I accidentally picked up Jenna from the Y. Sorry, I thought it was my night. You can have Brad call off the search. I bet you both have been worried sick. She's up here in Stoneville with me. She and the dog are settled in for the night, I'll drop her off at school first thing in the morning and him at the house. I'm really sorry, Joan. Hey, do give me a call back so I make sure you got this message, okay? Love you, Scooter. Bye."

"Do you remember when you fell in love with me?" Brad asked, a grin crossing his lips when nails drug low along his stomach.

Joan made a thoughtful sound as she lifted her head. Messy strands of brunette were carefully tucked behind an ear. "That's a secret." She giggled when he squinted and scowled suddenly at her.

"Tell me."

Long fingers swept back wild strands. "Nope. Never. Don't you dare do puppy dog eyes. Bradley! That is blackmail. That is a crime, sir!"

Holding in a laugh, he poked out his lower lip to match the mournful lift in his brow. He smiled when she laughed.

"Ugh! You monster. Fine…" Rolling off of him, she nestled into the crook of his arm. "During the last bad blizzard."

Brad blinked, rolling on his side to face her. "That was three years before we started dating."

The woman just shrugged, tracing the line of his collarbone in the dark. "So?"

"Why didn't you say something?"

"You had so many female admirers, I knew I couldn't compete."

Brad's brows immediately quirked in confusion. "Who?"

"The ladies that work in the records office."

His jaw dropped in horror. "They're in their sixties and I don't appreciate those catcalls every time Wesker sends me down there."

Joan wrinkled her nose, fighting back a snicker. "I bet they all have your sweet recruitment poster on their bedroom ceilings."

"Oh my God, Joan! Why would you put that in my head?" He pulled away when she started cackling.

"I bet they call the number late night hoping you'll answer. 'Is there an oral exam, Brad?'," She squealed with laughter when wagging fingers went for her hips.

"C'mon. Real reason." His smile was so warm and free in the slant of light peeking through the blinds.

It always melted the frost off her spirit. A long sigh escaped, her hand smoothed over his as it ran up her cheek. "The real reason? Because I come with baggage."

He scoffed. "We all do."

She shook her head. "Jack always told me no man would want me with Jenna being on the spectrum and me being a single mother. I…" Her shoulders lifted and dropped. "Part of me believed him, I guess."

Brad was quiet for the longest time. The clock on the nightstand read twelve in glowing red. Unmoving, outside of breath and blinking, he spoke barely above a whisper. "That is the cruelest shit I've ever heard in my life. There's nothing wrong with Jenna. She's a little girl. Nobody can control that. You didn't expect to be Mom and Dad… What the fuck is wrong with him?"

Joan bit her bottom lip. "I don't know. That's Jack. He thinks he has an answer for everything. 'Everyone leaves, Joan. Remember your mother…'"

Brad's stare turned hard as he propped himself up with an elbow. "I'm not fuckin' going anywhere." Short nails ran over where moonlight met her shoulder. "Hey… You know when I fell in love with you?" His lips turned up when she shook her head again. "It was when you said 'I'm Joan'." When her form rose and fell harshly from breath, his arms looped and pulled her fast to him. Kissing away tears, his nose pressed along the side of hers. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You've reached the Vickers! Please leave a message at the beep."

Beep!

"Joan, it's Dad again. It's about nine o'clock. I really hope you have a good reason for not calling me back. The news is a mess so I recon you're still stuck in traffic trying to get home. Before I forget, your brother and his wife are going to be here tomorrow morning so how about you two just come on up for the rest of the week and weekend? Your brother's been jabberin' my ear off about meeting Brad anyway. They can talk shop about helicopters and we'll go fishin'. Love ya, Scooter. Byeeeee!"

The office stunk sterile. Jenna's dirty shoes swung back and forth on the exam table as she waited, expressive gray eyes fixed on the man sitting next to her on a chair. She reached out suddenly, poking at the emblem stitched in blue with white stars on his shoulder. She smiled brightly when he feigned a scowl.

"Alright then, Miss Piper…" Annette's brows lifted as she closed the door behind her. "And who are you?"

Brad was on his feet in a second, offering a hand. "Brad Vickers, Joan is at soundcheck. So, I…" His brows lifted when the blonde woman stepped around him and took a seat at the desk next to the exam table. "…Brought her for shots."

Annette smiled fondly to the girl, fingers looping in the air as she spoke in total silence to the girl.

Jenna's hands suddenly were animated, signing away a response to her doctor.

Brad sat down quietly, watching the two.

Birkin nodded, her stare turning back to the man. "Do you sign at all, Mister Vickers?"

"Still learnin'… What did she say?"

A nail scratched along one of her brows as she began to take down some notes. "She said you're her dad and you fly airplanes."

Soft brown eyes lifted up to the little one on the table. A smile drew itself across his mouth as she fiddled with the buttons on her coat.

A clean needle appeared when the cap was removed, quickly jabbed into a vial of clear liquid. The Umbrella symbol stenciled in red the only color to show.

Brows lifting, the man offered a hand to the young girl. Fingers gently gripping, his stare met her spooked one as Annette prepared.

"Just gonna be a little pinch, sweetie…"

He frowned when Jenna winced one eye totally shut.

"One more and we'll call it a day. Good girl. You're so brave," Annette cooed, a Barbie sticker soon in Jenna's hands. Her stare turned to Brad. "Tell her mother she's due for one last booster in six weeks and I'll get the referral she needs in the mail tomorrow."

Brad nodded, pulling his coat back on. "I'll let her know."

They were almost out of the exam room when Annette called out. "Have you gotten your flu shot yet this year, Mister Vickers?"

Brad's eyes went wide.

Back in the room.

Jenna looked from her new sticker still on its sheet up to the man sitting on the exam table.

Brad just pursed his lips, letting his air out when Annette returned with the vaccine.

"Alright, your turn."

Jenna offered her tiny hand to hold onto.

Annette couldn't hide her chuckle at the pair.

Jenna was still smiling at her two bright pink stickers when they arrived back home.

"You've reached the Vickers! Please leave a message at the beep."

Beep!

"Scooter, it's Dad. It's about six-forty in the mornin'. Your brother just got in. I am assuming you and Brad went home and just crashed out. Please call me back, I don't think Jenna needs to go back to school today. The girls are here. How about I just call the school at eight and she play hooky so she can see her cousins? I heard helicopters flying earlier. What in the world happened last night? Call me, girl. Bye!"

The phone clicked back on the receiver as Jack turned away. "I swear that girl gives me more gray hair every day. Lookin' for the coffee, Son?"

Henry shook his head as he opened another cabinet. "Creamer?"

"It's in the pantry." Fingers running over thinning hair, Jack forced a smile as his daughter-in-law stepped around the corner. "Hey stranger, been a while." His arms opened as the curly haired blonde wrapped hers around him. "Mmmm! I missed you two. How's Seattle?"

"Cold, wet… I love it up there." Michelle replied, smiling as two little bodies pushed their way between her and their grandpa. "Girls, take your bags upstairs before harassing your grandpa." Their whines only made her smile wider. "We're going fishing later, hurry up!"

"Yeah, girls… Jenna is up there so keep it down, okay?" Jack let out a sigh as the two were out of sight. "It ain't like Joan to not answer me. Somethings off."

"Who knows, Dad. Scooter isn't the sharpest tool in the shed all the time," Henry said with a shrug, stirring dried creamer into his coffee.

"They might have realized they were baby free for a night and decided to start making the next one," Michelle replied, a wry grin on her face as her brows popped.

Henry feigned a gag. "Gross."

Jack let out a sigh. "For once in my life, I hope that's the case. Maybe I'll have a grandson next year and we'll all have a laugh at this."

Both smiled at the man seated at the kitchen table.

A bright flash suddenly filled all of the windows, and a minute later the entire house violently shook.

Henry slammed the car door behind him, ball cap fished from the back of his belt and slung low over his eyes as he strode in the direction of the red tinted sky. "Stay in the car, Dad. I got this."

"You sure?"

"It's fine. Stay in the car. I'll find out what's going on." So much screaming, so many people bumping into him as they fled down the narrow paths between cars. It was total chaos.

What the fuck is going on?

He managed to make his way toward the crowd gathered at the roadblocks. He hung back, eyes veering over the many armed forms behind the barriers.

"My husband is still in the city! When will we be let in?"

"I have to get home!"

"What was that explosion? Was that a missile?"

Ducking through the crowd, he made his way toward the end of the barrier. Green eyes clicked their stare from one body to another. From the guy smoking, to another checking his gear, his eyes narrowed as he frowned.

He was fastening his seatbelt as soon as the door to the car was shut. "Drive, Dad. We gotta go."

"What about Joan?"

"Dad, just drive. Let's get out of here before we're pinned in. You're clear still." He took a look over his shoulder to the rear window.

"What's going on, Henry?"

"Just get the car turned around! C'mon, Dad." He let out a sigh as the wheel cranked and the car was thrown into drive. "You're right, something is really wrong."

"What? What are you talkin' about?"

"None of those guys have flags on their shoulders. No unit patches. Nothin'. No name tape, no Army over their hearts. One guy had a grenade launcher out and was smoking."

"What does that mean, Henry?"

The pilot just shook his head. "I don't know. They're not Army though, Dad. They want us to think they are though..."

Jack looked frantic behind the wheel. "Maybe we should check the other roads going in? We have to be able to get in somewhere."

Henry shook his head. "No, no. The reporter back there said the city had been hit with a missiles."

"What? Oh my God…"

The raven haired man choked back tears, blinking them away as the car swerved. "Let me drive, Dad."

"He hasn't been home much since the riots began," Joan said quietly. Wrapped up in a housecoat, she coughed harshly into her elbow. "I uh… I don't know what to tell you, Jill. We don't talk anymore. He's hellbent on keeping his job. I don't think he understands how close I am to leaving him."

"I'm sorry things are rough," Jill replied, the coffee in her cup cold when she took a sip.

"If Forest where here…." The woman bit her lower lip, shaking her head. "God, ever since they were killed it's like he died with them. You know? He's not soft and gentle anymore. He's just… he's just dead but walking around."

Jill grimaced at the thought. "I don't really need to talk to Brad. I wanted to ask you about when you worked for Umbrella. What did you do for them?"

"I uh… I was told I was guarding these massive coolers full of vaccines that required being at a low temperature at all times. Then, well before he died, Albert sent me a disc with instructions to look at it if anything happened to him." She wiped at her eyes, red and swollen. "Those monsters you told us about? I was guarding something like them. He had manifests and notes that said exactly what was in the coolers. There were pictures…" Her thumbs brushed over the side of her mug.

Jill's eyes were enormous.

Her voice was flat, emptied out and hollow. "Did you know most of those things used to be human? They were humans and I helped them take those poor people… Jesus Christ…" She couldn't help but weep, a dish towel used to wipe it all away.

"Joan do you still have the disc?"

The woman nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "Yeah, yeah you can have it."

"It's going to be fine. The military is outside of the city. Help is here, Joan."

"That's bullshit and you know it! We're locked down. There's a curfew, there are more reports of people being attacked. I heard it on the radio!"

"Just drunks, Joan."

"No Brad! We both know that's not what's happening. We should have left town already."

Anger finally beat down the last wall he had, and it would be taken out on her. "If you want to leave, go ahead! I'm not going. My life is here. I might be able to sleep at home for once instead of at my fuckin' desk! I'm tired of this bullshit, Joan!"

"It's all bullshit, huh? Our friends are dead, Brad! They're all dead! That's not bullshit," her voice wavered. "I can't believe you sided with the prick who not only canned me, but is trying to lie about how all of your friends died!"

"It's your own fucking fault you got canned! If you hadn't been such a fuckin' idiot you'd still have a decent job!"

Her eyes were enormous at that, shoulders then squared… then predatory. A panther in the brush, she looked ready to rip him apart.

He looked ready to make a mistake as soon as she did.

The moment passed.

Joan took what dignity she still had and left.

A hand went to the pocket on his vest.

The ring went back on Joan's hand.

He couldn't bear the idea of another hand having it.

He locked the doors and made his way out the back. The alley was empty.

Uptown was the next stop. He was getting the fuck out of town by the end of the night.

She hadn't asked him to be brave.

She had asked him to survive.

#tw sucidal ideation #death tw

[livesincerely]

it’s written in bold letters, ch. 1

(aka, the letterman jacket fic. Also on Ao3)

00000

Jack had thought this would go without saying, but apparently not. “You are not wearing that to the game tonight.”

Davey looks down at himself, visibly confused. “Why not?”

Jack points out the obvious problem. “It’s green.”

“So?”

“Green is Westpoint’s color.”

Davey looks at him, nonplussed.

“Dave, you can’t wear the other team’s color to our first home game of the season,” Jack explains with a sigh. “Especially not when we’re going up against  Westpoint.”

“But I like this hoodie,” Davey says with a pout. “It’s comfortable.”

Jack shakes his head. “You gotta change into something else. Don’t you have anything red?”

“Yeah, sure, in my closet. At home.” Davey retorts. “This is all I brought with me, and no,” Davey amends quickly when Jack starts to interject, "I can’t just wear my t-shirt. It’s supposed to be cold later and I am not sitting out on the bleachers all night without at least a jacket.”

“You can borrow something of mine,” Jack counters.

Davey huffs out a breath, “Do I really have to?” 

“Just go upstairs and change,” Jack says, shooing Davey towards the stairwell.

“But I’m comfortable,” Davey grumbles, but he obediently trudges up the stairs.

“Pick something red!” Jack calls after him. “Oh, and tell Racetrack to move his ass! I’ve gotta be in the locker room in half an hour and we still have to pick up Crutchie from the library.”

“Calm your shit, Jack, I’m coming!” Racetrack shouts back from somewhere above him before Davey can respond. “Give a man a second to piss, will ya!”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Just hurry up!”

He finishes gathering his things together while he waits, grabbing a few bottles of Gatorade and a handful of granola bars and stuffing them into his bag. He’s just lacing up his sneakers when he hears footsteps behind him.

“Jack, Katherine’s just texted me—she wants to know where we’re eating after the game,” Davey says as he wanders back into the living room.

“I dunno Davey, anywhere is fine… by…” Jack trails off, suddenly speechless. Davey is wearing his letterman jacket.  Davey is wearing his—

Jack’s mouth goes dry. It feels like someone’s hit him, hard, right between the eyes.

“Jack?” Davey absently  prompts when Jack doesn’t continue, looking at his phone. “Did you hear what I said?”

Jack doesn’t answer, can’t answer. His eyes rake over Davey’s form: red is a fantastic color on him—it stands out against his dark hair and emphasizes the blue of his eyes. They’re nearly the same height but Davey isn’t as broad as Jack is, so the jacket is just the slightest bit too big for him, hanging down to the tops of his thighs and dwarfing his shoulders.

Davey chooses this moment to notice Jack’s staring; a delicious flush of pink blooms across his face. “You said I could wear anything red!” he says defensively. “This is red!”

“You’re wearing my letterman jacket,” Jack says, and his voice comes out low and raspy.

“You said something red!” Davey insists, somehow mistaking Jack’s tone for disapproval, his blush deepening further. “But all you had was t-shirts and I didn’t want to be cold and—and Racetrack said you wouldn’t mind!”

He fiddles with the sleeves as he rambles, and fucking hell, they’re so long on him that only the tips of his fingers are visible. “He said you wouldn’t mind, but, uh, I can put on something else if you want me t-“

“No!” Jack growls, startling them both. He takes a deep breath and tries to get a hold of himself before he does something drastic. “No, Dave, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Davey asks, still a little hesitant.

“Positive,” Jack assures him, though he’s anything but. “We can’t have you out there in just anything, now can we? Gotta make sure you’re repping for the team. Besides, you look-“

Fucking amazing. Goddamn perfect. Like you’re mine.

“-good.”

“Go team,” Davey says with a wry grin, looking at Jack through his fringe. His eyes are very, very blue. Jack is abruptly aware of how utterly screwed he is.

“That’s the spirit, Dave.” Fingers suddenly numb, Jack digs out his keys and tosses them over, then manages to to say in a somewhat normal tone of voice, “go start the car, will ya? I’m gonna go drag Racer away from the bathroom mirror—Coach will bench me if I’m late again.”  

Davey shrugs and heads out the door, blind as ever to the havoc he wreaks on Jack just by existing. Jack stuffs his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing Davey as he walks by, biting back the groan that threatens to tear its way out of his throat when he catches sight of his back: KELLY is stamped across Davey’s shoulders in bold, white letters.

Fuck.

Fuck.

 He’s gonna murder Racetrack.

00000

The drive to the school is an exercise in self-restraint.

Jack is incredibly aware of Davey in the passenger seat, playing with his phone and thumbing idly at the buttons on his—Jack’s—jacket. Racetrack is absolutely no help, the shithead, smirking and wagging his eyebrows suggestively at Jack whenever their gazes meet in the rear-view mirror and just generally relishing in Jack’s pain. Things only get worse when they swing by the library. Crutchie clambers into the backseat with a suspiciously wide grin—it’s clear that Race has already roped him into this latest episode of “Let’s-Fuck-With-Jack!" The two of them settle into a quiet, intense discussion, peppered with bursts of snickering and oh-so-deliberate glances at Jack.

By the time he turns into the student parking lot, Jack’s feeling thoroughly hunted, driving with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and his shoulders hunched up around his ears. He pulls into a space a touch more abruptly than he means to, but you know what? He’s fucking entitled, seeing as how he’s caught in a goddamn conspiracy. 

He leaves the others to get settled in the bleachers, making his way to the locker room with his eyes trained carefully on the ground, where it’s safe and boring and unstimulating. Once there, Jack can distract himself by talking with the other guys on the team or working through some pre-game warm ups. 

It also helps that Davey’s not within arms’ reach or his direct line of sight anymore.

Spot arrives a little after Jack does, tossing his duffle down on the bench with a thud. He takes one look at Jack’s face and snorts.

“So you’re the reason Racetrack’s blowing up my phone?” he asks, one eyebrow raised. “I haven’t hadda chance to check my messages yet—what’s he harassing you about now?”

“Well, I wouldn’t wanna spoil the surprise,” Jack grouses.

“Oh, so, it’s about Davey,” Spot surmises. “What is this, the third time this week? Christ, Kelly, get a hobby. Or fuck, just grow a pair and makeout with the guy, put the rest of us outta our misery.”

“Shuddup,” Jack says, even as a flush creeps up the back of his neck. He can tell the exact moment that Spot starts looking through his missed texts because he lets out a bark of laughter.

“I take it back: keep on being a moron because this shit is hilarious,” Spot says. He’s scrolling avidly through his messages. “Jesus, this is funniest thing that’s happened in months.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Jack mutters. He considers slapping the phone out of Spot’s hand but quickly dismisses the idea—he likes his fingers arranged just the way they are, thanks.

Spot pauses on a particular message, then starts cracking up. Jack briefly debates the merits of knowing what’s being said about him versus remaining blissfully ignorant; unable to resist, he glances over and regrets it immediately. Racetrack has managed to sneak of picture of Jack’s initial reaction to The Incident, and it’s just as bad as Jack had imagined. Racetrack has captioned the picture with LMAOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and a bunch of cry-laughing faces because he’s the fucking worst.

“Channel some of that sexual frustration into tonight’s game and we’ll send Westpoint home cryin,’” Spot manages to choke out between laughs.

“I fucking hate all of you,” Jack says. 

00000

There’s only seconds left on the clock. 

Jack steadies himself, throws....

  The pass connects.

  The crowd explodes into motion almost before Jack can process what’s happened, but they’ve done it. They’ve won.

Jack rips off his helmet and lifts it over his head, both arms thrown up in triumph. They’re all shouting and laughing and cheering, a victory anthem playing over the loudspeaker. He happens to turn back towards the stands and somehow manages to pick Davey out of the mass of people. 

Jack’s arm falls back to his side, his helmet thunking hollowly against his leg. This is what they mean by tunnel vision, he realizes suddenly, but it’s a distant thought. The roar of the crowd, the jostling and screaming of the team celebrating their win, it all fades away. There’s nothing to hear but the deafening sound of his pulse beating in his ears, nothing to see except Davey steadily fighting his way through the sea of cheering spectators that have flooded the field.

He’s still wearing Jack’s letterman.

“Oh my god, Jack, you were amazing! That was—” Davey’s already talking a mile a minute, but it’s like Jack doesn’t have the brain cells to listen to Davey and look at Davey at the same time, and the looking must take priority. His face is flushed pink from the cold but his eyes are all but sparkling in his excitement. His hair is a disaster—Jack imagines him sitting in the stands, raking his hands anxiously through his hair as the game rocked through its final minutes. Someone, probably Katherine or Crutchie, has drawn a #12 on his cheek in black marker.

He’s very pretty. He’s very close.

 He’s still wearing Jack’s letterman.

Davey’s hand lands on Jack’s arm, and it breaks through the haze.

“-ck? Jack are you sure you don’t have a concussion?” Davey asks, peering at Jack worriedly. “Your pupils are dilated—I mean, really dilated. Are you okay?”

Jack swallows, licks his lips, blinks. 

He starts to answer, but he’s honestly afraid of what’ll come out of his mouth, so he decides a tactical retreat is in order: he murmurs something unintelligible, then turns on his heel and all but runs back to the locker room.

When Spot comes to find him some fifteen minutes later, he’s toweling his hair dry after a very cold shower.

“Are you actually hurt or are you just freaking out again?” Spot asks, “because whatever you did has got Davey all concerned.”

“I’m not gonna make it,” Jack says frankly, staring into the middle distance. “I literally can’t look at him directly, he’s too fucking pretty. My heart’s gonna give out. I’m gonna keel over and die. My dick is gonna swell up and—”

“Jesus,” Spot mutters. He digs Jack’s clean t-shirt out of his bag and lobs it at his head. Jack doesn’t even make an attempt at catching it: it hits him in the chest and falls into his lap with a soft fuwmp.

“Not that this ain’t funny as shit, but I’m gonna need you to put aside your bisexual yearning for, like, two seconds and get dressed,” Spot says, rolling his eyes. “I want onion rings and you’re holding us up.”

Jack looks at him. "I'm in distress," he laments. "Does no one care that I'm in distress?"

"Onion rings, Kelly," Spot says, ignoring Jack completely. "Hurry the fuck up."

Jack sighs, but does as he's told. Guess it's time for round three.

Rest in fucking pieces.

#newsies #javid #Jack Kelly #davey jacobs #tease series #the one with the letterman jacket #*final cut #*the writing desk #*editor's note #im really proud of this

[foreverwayward]

“Wayward Hearts” Season 2 Chapter 7: Night Shifter

Summary: After the sudden death of John, Sam and Dean, along with Riley, continue their quest for vengeance. As Sam and Riley’s powers continue to grow, the three young hunters find themselves closer to the Yellow-Eyed demon than ever before. The strength within themselves and their loyalty to each other will be tested as they are left to fight their families’ lifelong war alone, unaware that unimaginable evil will lead them to face darkness itself as they carry the weight of their fathers’ legacies. 

Masterlist

Word Count: 8,045

Content Warning: language and violence

DISCLAIMER: any words or phrases in bold in the story are not my own and are credited to the writers of Supernatural.

**GIFS ARE NOT MY OWN**

On the live evening news, a brunette news reporter held onto her Channel 8 microphone. She was in front of a group of onlookers as officers tried to clear the scene. Sirens wailed and the flashing colors of blue and red danced on the buildings around them. Other cops had barricaded themselves behind their squad cars with their weapons ready and aimed.  

“We're here downtown in front of the City Bank of Milwaukee, and though a short exchange of weapons fire occurred just minutes ago, police and SWAT teams maintain position as we enter the third hour of this intense standoff. Authorities estimate as many as ten hostages are being held inside the bank; no word as yet on the identity of the suspects, or, uh--” The reporter stopped mid-sentence to a commotion coming behind her. “Something's happening. I think they're opening the door. Roger, are you getting this?” she asked her cameraman. 

Police and others nearby shouted over each other as the camera refocused to the front door of the bank.  

A man emerged from the building, terrified as he was pushed out by someone holding an automatic weapon. “Don’t shoot! Please! Don’t shoot!”

“No, no, no, no, no, don't even think about it! I said get the fuck back!” the voice behind the hostage yelled at the incoming officers. 

As the camera zoomed in, there with the hostage and a military-grade gun, was Dean Winchester.

------

Two days prior, Dean, Riley, and Sam sat parked in Baby on a dark suburban street of Milwaukee. It was raining as the hunters went over their research. All three were dressed in suits, posing as federal agents.

A woman who was respectable and loved by family and friends killed a night guard at the jewelers’ where she worked. After stealing everything she could from the shop, the woman went home and committed suicide in her bathtub. There was no motive and nothing that pointed to the dead woman being anything other than an upstanding citizen.  

“Alright,” Riley started, looking over her file. “The Milwaukee National Trust was hit about a month ago--same M.O. as the jewelry store and an inside job. Longtime employee as a teller, that was the 'never-in-a-million-years’ type, robbed the bank and then went home to kill himself.”

“So, there’s a pattern,” Dean said with his body shifted in her direction.  

“Definitely. Bummer is, cops already took the surveillance video from the jewelry store, so we’re shit outta luck on that one.”  

Sam looked out the window at a small house nearby. “Yeah. That’s why we’re here. This guy, Resnick? He was a security guard at the National Trust the night of the heist. The teller beat him unconscious before taking off.”

“Yikes.” Riley closed up her folder and grabbed her blazer to throw it on. “Well, hopefully, this guy can give us more than the jewelers’ did. We got jack to go on right now.”

The three got out of the car and the Impala’s doors squeaked before being slammed shut. Going up the front steps, they all straightened up before knocking on the door.  

“Mr. Resnick,” Sam called out. “Ronald Resnick?”

At the large hunter’s request for the man inside, a large floodlight turned on next to the door. Riley and the Winchesters grunted out at the blinding light and covered their eyes.  

“Son of a bitch,” Dean groaned.

A younger man, around Dean’s age, came to the screen door. He was of a thicker build with curly hair that met his shoulders. His face was naïve and showed his clearly awkward demeanor.  

Riley kept her eye closest to the light slightly closed. “F.B.I., Mr. Resnick.”

Approaching hesitantly, the man nervously demanded, “let me see the badge.”

Sam, Dean, and Riley all pulled out their identification badges from their jacket pockets before planting them on the screen door in almost total unison. 

The man inside squinted to read and study their authenticity. “I already gave my statement to the police.”

“Yeah, listen, Ronald, um--” Dean went to put his badge away. “--just some things about your statement we wanted to get some clarification on.”

“...you read it?”

“Sure did.”  

“And you’ve come to hear what I have to say?”

Riley could feel the nervousness coming from Mr. Resnick. She knew he felt strongly about what he had seen and was still afraid to share his story. “Of course, Mr. Resnick. That’s why we’re here,” she added gently.

Ronald gave her an awkward, partial smile before nodding and opening the door. “Well, come on in.”

Following him into his home, the three walked through a narrow hallway and then into a cluttered room. The wood-paneled walls were covered in alien photos and conspiracy theory paraphernalia. Strung out maps, newspaper clippings, and random photographs hung above his messy desk.

“None of the cops ever called me back--not after I told them what was really going on. Uh--they all thought I was crazy.” Ronald’s words grew a little faster with a sense of purpose and urgency. “First off, Juan Morales never robbed the Milwaukee National Trust, okay? That, I guarantee. See, me and Juan were friends. He used to come back to the bank on my night shifts, and we'd play cards. I--I was the one that let him in after-hours. But that thing that I let into the bank? Wasn’t Juan. I mean, it had his face, but it wasn't his face. Uh--every detail was perfect but too perfect, you know? Like if a doll maker made it--like I was talking to a big Juan-doll.”  

“A ‘Juan-doll’?” Sam asked skeptically.  

“Look, this wasn't the only time this happened. Okay?” Ronald handed him a file folder. “There was this jewelry store, too. And the cops, a--and you guys, you just won't see it!” 

Sam looked into the folder that was filled with Mr. Resnick’s own research. The complete profile was similar to a the work of a hunter. 

“Both crimes were pulled off by the same thing.”

“And what’s that, Mr. Resnick?”

Ronald picked up a copy of a magazine called ‘Fortean Times’ and held it to his chest. The headline at the bottom read: ‘birth of the cyberman’.

“Chinese have been working on 'em for years and the Russians before that. Part men, part machine. Like the Terminator, but the kind that can change itself, make itself look like other people.”

Dean smiled at the man, “like the one from T2.”

“Exactly!” Ronald agreed enthusiastically.  

At that same moment, Riley tried to shoot Dean a thought. “Nerd.”  

Her boyfriend’s head snapped in her direction at her tease. Dean gave her a playful look of warning and she smirked.

Donald went on. “See, so not just a robot, more of a--a--man-droid.”

Sam’s eyebrow hooked up. “A man-droid?”

Riley stepped closer as the awkward man fumbled over his words. She searched his emotions and could feel how much this meant to him. Ronald whole-heartedly believed what he was selling. Telling him how far off base he was, wouldn’t do anything except hurt him. “Ronald how are you so sure that this is what’s going on?” she humored him.  

With a wild and excited smile, he put up a finger asking her to wait. He scurried ‘to grab a V.H.S. tape that was labeled ‘M.N.T. Camera 4 - Juan’. 

Quickly, he moved to put it into his television system and pressed fast forward as the hunters sat on his worn, plaid sofa. “Now watch. Watch. Watch him, watch, watch! See, look! Th--th--there it is!” Ronald paused the tape. “You see? He's got the laser eyes.”  

On the screen, was Juan. As he faced the camera, there was a light-flare in his eyes. 

Riley’s fist clenched immediately realizing it was a shifter as the boys shared a knowing look.  

“Cops said it was some kind of reflected light. Some kind of ‘camera flare’. Okay? Ain't no damn camera flare. They say I'm a post-trauma case. So, what? Bank goes and fires me, it don't matter!” Ronald continued his rant even more fired up than before. “The man-droid is--is still out there. The law won't hunt this thing down...I'll do it myself. You see, this thing, it--it--it kills the real person, makes it look like a suicide, then it sorta, like,--morphs into that person. Cases the job for a while until it knows the take is fat, and then it finds its opening. Now, these robberies, they're--they're grouped together.” He gestured to the wall with all of his endless research. “So, I figure the man-droid is holed up somewhere in the middle, underground, maybe. I dunno, maybe that's where it recharges its, uh--man-droid batteries.”

Dean nodded, apparently impressed with how thorough Ronald’s intel was. The theory may have been completely off base, but the work was there. 

Trying to force a fake smile, Riley didn’t know what to say. The poor guy had tried so hard to get answers for his friend. All the while, Sam was staring at the man intently, almost in judgment.

“Okay. I want you to listen very carefully,” Sam said calmly as they all stood from the couch. “Because I'm about to tell you the God's honest truth about all of this.” Riley and Dean both waited with curiosity to see what Sam would say. “There's no such thing as man-droids. There's nothing evil or inhuman going on out there. Just people. Nothing else, you understand?”

His partners were almost startled at his response and stood dumbfounded on how to move forward.  

“But,” Ronald uttered desperately. “The laser eyes...”

“Just a camera flare, Mr. Resnick. See, I know you don't want to believe this. But your friend Juan robbed the bank and that's it.”

The anger and frustration that was building in Ronald, was enough for Riley to want to help calm him. He was so deeply hurt by how Sam had handled the situation. “Ronald--”

“Get out of my house! Now!” he interrupted in a demand.

------

Riley and the brothers had found their way back to their motel room. It was covered in tacky wall decorations that seemed to be obligatory to wherever they stayed.  

“Man, that has got to be the kicker--straight up. I mean, you tell that poor son of a bitch that--what did you say, ‘remand the tapes that he copied? Classified evidence of an ongoing investigation’?” Dean laughed as he sat at the table with a beer. “That's fucked up.” 

As Riley walked by, Dean’s hands snaked around her waist and pulled her close to sit her down on his lap.  

Taking a sip from Dean’s beer before adding her thoughts, Riley looked over at Sam. “I gotta say, it’s a little scary how good of a Fed you are. The guy did some legit legwork though. Maybe you could have thrown him a bone, or at least been a little gentler with the guy.”

Sam scoffed, turning away from the television he was replaying the video on. “Man-droid?”

“Okay, except for that part,” she chuckled. “But I mean, I liked him.”

“Me too. I mean, he’s not that different from us if you think about it. People think we’re crazy.” Dean’s arms wrapped around Riley’s waist and his chin settled onto her shoulder while she traced outlines of sewers from town blueprints.

“Yeah, except he’s not a hunter, guys,” Sam almost snapped back. “He's just a guy who stumbled onto something real. If he were to go up against this thing he'd get torn apart. Better to stay in the dark and stay alive.” Sam then paused the video where the shifter’s eyes reflect back at him.

Sighing, Riley replied, “I guess so.” Her eyes went up as she saw the flaring eyes on the tape again. “Shapeshifter.”

“God I hate those fucking things,” Dean added in annoyance.

“Oh, and I don’t?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, but one didn’t turn into you and frame you for murder.”

Riley almost slammed the pen down with a scoff. “If we’re having a pissing contest here, remember one of those bastards literally murdered me.”

The brothers looked at each other realizing their mistake. 

“Touché,” Dean surrendered.  

“Anyway, Ronald was right. It’s like the one we killed in Missouri and it lays low in the sewers.” Sam got up to look at the map as Riley went on. She traced her pen over her marks. “Now, all the heists have been connected. And if you line those up with the sewer main layout, there’s one more bank laid out on that path.”

------

Over their regular clothes, the trio wore blue jumpsuits as a bank security guard led them into the surveillance room. Undercover as technicians, their suits read: ‘Securiserve Guard Service’. 

Riley had her hair up with what looked like silver chopsticks.

“You guys usually send three people to deal with a small glitch in the system?” the guard asked curiously.

“Oh--” Sam said through a breathy laugh. “She’s in training. Gotta shadow us on the job.”

Satisfied with that answer, the security guard nodded. “Alright, you guys need anything else?”

Riley smiled. “We’re all set here, sir.”

“Okie-dokie,” he replied as he left the room.  

With a chuckle, Dean beamed. “I like him. He says ‘okie-dokie’.”

------

Sam, Riley, and Dean sat in front of the monitors reviewing the bank’s footage. It had been at least a couple of hours of searching for any more eye flares on the camera’s logs.  

“Anybody got any popcorn?” Dean jested. 

In one of the frames, the security guard that had let them in sat quietly by the front door. When his eyes didn’t reflect, he was officially off the hook. 

“Well, looks like mister okie-dokie is...okie-dokie.”

As Riley scanned a different screen, a middle-aged man walked in front of the camera as his eyes flared. She sat up straight as she paused the footage to get a closer look. “Bingo. Got him.”  

The brothers leaned over to see as Dean said, “Hello, freak.” The three got up to leave before Sam and Riley could hear Dean utter, “oh shit...” 

He was looking at another monitor and they joined him to look. There, locking up the bank with a chain and lock while holding an automatic weapon, was Resnick. 

“Hello, Ronald,” Dean commented with a look of discomfort.

With worry and a sigh, Riley muttered his earlier words in agreement. “...oh shit.”

------

The large and polished bank was several stories tall. It was ornately decorated with beautifully designed ceilings and large tile flooring. Slate-colored marble pillars and counter tops were effortlessly woven throughout.  

As automatic gunfire came from the main lobby of the bank, the hunters hurried down the halls in its direction.  

Dean shook his head and spoke to Sam with snark. “And you said we shouldn’t bring guns.”  

“Well, I didn’t know this was gonna happen, Dean.”

“Look,” Riley started as they reared another corner and people fled in their direction. “Whatever we do here, Dean and I do the talking. Because he does not like you Agent Johnson.”

Ronald held a key on a chain up high for everyone to see. His hostages had all gone to the ground by his orders. “There’s only one way in or out of here and I chained it up. So, nobody’s leaving, understand?”

The Winchesters and Riley made it to the lobby as they calmly walked in with their hands slightly raised in surrender. 

Resnick’s eyes were large and panicky as sweat fell from his face like bullets.

“Hey, buddy,” Dean called. “Just calm down, okay? Calm down.”  

Riley felt dizzy from all the confusion and fear that came from the nervous man. 

When he saw the hunters, his mind automatically connected them to the ‘man-droid’ conspiracy theory. 

Knowing things were about to escalate, Riley tried to get through to Ronald. “Mr. Resnick--”

“You!” Shaking, he yelled at the three as he pointed his weapon. “Get down! Get on the ground!”  

Nodding nervously with an awkward smile, Riley slowly went down to her knees, as did the brothers. “Yeah--no. That’s cool. We can do that. Let’s just not shoot anybody okay? Especially not us.”

“I knew it. As soon as you three left. You ain't FBI! I mean, you are way too pretty to be a federal agent,” Ronald admitted without noticing.

“Aww--” Riley immediately stopped being flattered before looking at Sam. “Wait, did he just compliment me or was that a jab at me being a woman?” Only a second passed before she tilted her head with an accepting look. “Eh--I’m gonna say it was a compliment.”

“Who are you? Who are you working for, huh? The men in black? You working for the man-droid?”

“We’re not working for the man-droid!” Sam replied in annoyance.

Ron continued to shout as he waved the gun around. “You shut up! I ain’t talking to you! I don’t like you!”

Both Riley and Dean turned to Sam with an “I told you so”-look.

“Fair enough.”  

Giving an order to one of the hostages, Resnick demanded that a middle-aged man frisk down the hunters for weapons. When the man got to Dean’s boot, the hunter closed his eyes in frustration as a silver knife was pulled from his boot. 

Dean gave Ronald a face of innocence as Riley was next. The hostage patted her down clean, but the anxious man with the gun pointed at her hair.  

“What about those?” Ronald asked. “Take those out of her hair. They look--‘stabby’.”  

The man removed the sticks from Riley’s hair as it fell down onto her shoulders. “Damn, a girl can’t even accessorize anymore?” she asked somewhat grouchily. 

They were pure silver sticks; not that sharp, but still something she could easily sneak in undetected.

Sam turned to his partners with a look of irritation.

“What?” Dean challenged. “It’s not like we’re just gonna walk in here naked.”

The hostage handed Resnick the items before the captor took them and dropped them into a deposit box.  

“No, no, no, no!” Riley and Dean begged in unison before the weapons clattered inside and they winced.  

“Look, Ronald...we know you don’t wanna hurt anyone,” Dean said hoping to appeal to his softer nature. “But that’s exactly what’s gonna happen if you keep waving that cannon around. So, why don’t you let these people go?”

“No! I already told you. If nobody's gonna stop this thing, then I've got to do it myself.”

“Hey, we believe you, okay? That’s why we’re here.” Dean paused before signaling Ronald over. “Come here.” When the captor hesitated, the older Winchester kept his hands up. “Hey, I’m not gonna try anything. You got the gun, boss. You’re calling the shots. I just gotta tell you something.” When Ronald allowed the hunter’s suggestion, he leaned in as Dean whispered, “it’s the bank manager.”

“What?”

"He’s telling the truth, Ronald,” Riley said softly. “Why do you think we’re dressed like this? We’ve been monitoring the cameras. We saw the bank manager...we saw his eyes. It’s him.”

“His laser eyes?” he asked eagerly.

“Yes. Wait--what? No. No, Ronald, we’re running out of time here. If we don’t find him soon, he’s gonna change into someone else and we won’t know who. We’ll be screwed.”

“Why should I trust any of you? You’re a bunch of damn liars!”

Dean slowly stood, still in a state of submission. “Take me.”

With fear in her eyes, Riley sent a thought to Dean. “What the hell are you doing?”

“It’s okay. He's not gonna hurt me.” There was a pause as the hunter waited for Ronald to look less tense. “Take me with you. Take me as a hostage. But we gotta move fast. The longer we stand here, the more time he has to change. You’re not crazy, okay? I believe you. There really is something in this bank.”

“Alright,” Ron relented with a small smile. “You--you come with me. But everyone else gets in the vault.” His voice raised to a shout once again as he waved the weapon. 

Gasps and cries came from the other hostages in fear.

------

Further into the bank, Resnick ordered the hostages into the large vault. “Come on! Move! Get in there.” When Dean was the last to follow, Ronald stopped him. “You, lock it up.”

“Everyone, just stay cool, alright?” Dean gave Riley and Sam an apologetic look before closing the vault. 

They both sighed as the door slammed and was locked.

“Who was that man?” a woman asked from behind them. She was a teller at the bank with long and curly strawberry-blonde hair with a name tag that read: Sherry.

With a tone of worry, Sam replied, “my brother.”

“Oh,” she swooned. “He is so brave.”

Riley rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, “oh, for fuck’s sake.”

------

With his uniform disguise finally removed, Dean went through the multiple hallways of offices with Ronald in tow.  

“So, uh--” Ron stuttered nervously. “That girl you guys are with...is she--is she seeing anybody?”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks and spun to give Ronald a firm look. “Yeah. Me.”

Realizing he had just stepped in it with the large hunter, Resnick cleared his throat. “Oh, yeah that’s--that's great. You two make a beautiful couple,” he chuckled awkwardly.

The two went into the bank manager’s private office and the hunter looked around as Resnick went behind the desk. 

With a cry out, he slipped and fell onto his back. He was lying on something wet and slimy that appeared to be flesh-like. Seeing what he had been touching, Ronald began to scream before standing up in a panic.  

“What--what the hell is that?”

“Oh great.” Dean walked over to the pile of flesh and knelt to look. “When it changes form, it sheds its skin. So, now it could be anybody.” He sighed. “Alright, let’s get one thing straight, it’s not a man-droid. This thing is a shapeshifter.”

“Shapeshifter?”

“Yeah. I mean, it's human; more or less. Has human drives and in this case, it's money. But it generates its own skin, it can shape it to match someone else's features--you know, taller, shorter, male... And it doesn’t always kill the ones they shift into. I don’t think it really matters to them.” As Dean stood, he searched the desk before finding a letter opener and sighing in relief.  

“What’s that for?”

“Remember old werewolf stories? It’s kind of the same thing with these guys. Silver’s the only thing I’ve seen that hurts them.” Dean began to stride out of the room as he flipped the blade in his hand. “Come on, Ronald.”

------

The two headed down a wide corridor as Ron began to chuckle to himself in joy while smiling ear to ear. 

Dean looked at him skeptically. “What the hell’s wrong with you? You nuts?”

“That's just it. I'm not nuts. I mean, I was so scared that I was losing my marbles. But this is real! I mean, I---I—I was right! Except for the man-droid thing. Thank you.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.”

Dean and Ron took only a few more steps forward before the power went out. It went completely dark before a few dim backup lights turned on.

“Dammit. No, no, no, no, no.” Dean looked around with worry. “Shit. They cut the power. Probably their way of saying hi.”

“Who?”

“Cops.”

Ronald’s anxiety grew as he followed his newfound partner onward. “The cops?!”

“Well, you weren't exactly a smooth criminal about this, Ron. I mean, you didn't even secure the security guard. He probably called them.”

“Oh my god. I didn’t--I didn’t even think to--”

Interrupting him, Dean put out a hand asking him to calm down. “Alright, hang on, hang on. Let's just take a breath here for a second. They’ve probably got us surrounded. They've cut the power to the cameras, so there's no way of telling who the shapeshifter is.” The hunter took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. “It’s not looking good, Ron.”

A clattering noise came from nearby and the two turned towards it. Ron jumped and pointed his rifle.

“Did you hear that?” Dean asked in a hushed voice.

------

Inside the vault, the hostages had tried to make themselves comfortable on the floor while they waited. Sam lightly paced as Riley leaned up against the safety deposit boxes with her arms folded. They had both slipped out of their fake uniforms and had tossed them off to the side.

Shelly, the teller already infatuated with Dean, spoke over Sam’s shoulder. “So, has your brother always been so--” she giggled. “Wonderful? I mean, staring down that gun. And you know the way he played right into that psycho's crazy head, telling him what he wanted to hear. I mean, he's like--” the girl smiled, “a real hero or something.”

“Alright,” Riley interrupted, obviously annoyed. “That’s enough outta you, Strawberry Shortcake. Why don’t you just go have a seat with the others?”

Sam laughed to himself as Riley went back over to him.  

The vault door slowly opened as Dean stood in the doorway with a handgun.

Grinning with excitement at the sight of the older brother, Shelly jumped a little. “Oh, my god! You saved us! You saved us!”

“Actually, I got a couple more. Alright, people let’s go, let’s go.”  

Staring in puzzlement, Shelly watched as several people were herded inside, including the security guard.  

“What are you doing?” she asked brittlely.

“Hey, uh--Sam? Rye? Ronald and I need to talk to you.”

The two followed him out of the vault before Dean closed it and sealed it behind them. They walked away from the sealed room as red and blue lights flashed through the blinds.  

“It shed its skin again.”

“Oh fuck...” Riley said pinching her nose. “It could be anyone. It could be up in the halls; hell, it could be in the vault.”

“Great,” Sam replied with a scoff. “You know, Dean, you are wanted by the police. So even if we do find this damn thing--how the hell are we gonna get out of here?”

Dean sighed and shook his head softly. “One problem at a time, little brother. I’m gonna go do a sweep of the whole place, see if we can find any stragglers. Rye, you come with.” Handing her another letter opener he had found, Dean then turned to Sam. “Once we get everyone together, we've got to play a little game of ‘find-the-freak'. Now stay here, make sure Ronald doesn't hurt anybody, okay? Help him manage the situation.”

Sam’s voice raised in outrage. “Help him manage? Are you insane?!”

Alerted by Sam's raised voice, Ronald looked over. 

Dean gazed past Sam and gave Ron a grinning thumbs-up. Quietly, he spoke under his breath to his brother. “Look, I know this isn’t going the way we wanted...”

“Understatement!”

“He’s right,” Riley interjected. “If we let the cops in right now, Ron gets arrested, we get arrested, and we’ll probably never catch the shifter. Sammy, I am not about to let that happen.”

The hunters turned to see Resnick in plain view to the cops with his weapon raised as Sam gestured at him in exasperation.

Riley rolled her eyes before whispering firmly. “Ron! What are you doing, man? Get out of the light!”

“Seriously?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, Ron's game plan was a bad plan,” Dean admitted. “I mean, it was a bit of a crazy plan, but right now crazy's the only game in town, okay?” He slapped Sam on the shoulder and took Riley’s hand as the two hurried off to finish their search.

There was an awkward silence as Sam stood there alone with Resnick. “...hi, Ronald,” he said obviously fake and forced. When he got no response but an uncomfortable look, Sam headed back to the vault. He opened the door and looked inside. “I'm going to leave this open--give you guys some fresh air, all right? But no one leaves this vault.”

A nearby phone began to ring and Ronald jumped at the noise. Without thinking, he went to pick it up. “H--hello?” There was a pause as he listened to the other end. “Demands? What do you mean demands? No, no, no--I--I'm not a bank robber.” 

Sam looked in his direction and scolded him to hang up. 

“--kind of a crime fighter I guess.” Ronald listened to the caller. “No, I’m acting alone.”

In a huff, Sam rushed over to him and slammed the phone back on the hook. “Ronald, the less the cops know, the better.”

In the vault, an older security guard began to yell for help saying he thought he was having a heart attack. The others were shouting that he needed help.

“Great, could be our guy,” Sam sighed. “Go guard the door.” After Sam gave Ronald the order, he picked up the phone to make a call. “Look,” he spoke to the other end of the line. “One of our people could be having heart trouble. You need to send in a paramedic.” There was a pause as Sam listened before shouting. “Just send in a paramedic and don’t try anything else. Please!” Hanging up, Sam ran his hands over his head. He knew they were in trouble.  

------

The couple had been actively searching before they found their way into another office. With flashlights in hand, they scanned the area.  

“You know,” Riley started. “This would go a lot faster if we split up.”

Dean shook his head and spoke adamantly. “No way. I’m not letting you out of my sight.” 

When he looked up, there was a ceiling panel slightly askew. “Here,” he said handing her his flashlight. Dean picked up a coat rack nearby and used it to move the panel above them. 

As he dislodged it, a naked man’s body fell to the ground.  

“Lovely,” Riley added sarcastically. 

When Dean turned the body over, they could see it was one of the men in the vault. 

“Oh,” she added. “Well, that’s not good.”

------

Dean and Riley had hurried back to Sam and a still jumpy Ronald. Whispering to his little brother, Dean told him that they had found.  

When they all looked into the vault, the man that was holding up the aged guard, was the copy. It was the shifter. He was persistent in getting the older man out to get him some help.  

Sam went to the weak guard and helped him out of the small space. “It’s alright, sir. We’re gonna get you some help.”  

“Yeah, let me help you,” the shifter pressed.

Staying cool as to not let the creature know they were onto him, Sam just shook his head with a calm face. “Nah, it’s all good. I got him.” He began to walk the hostage away towards the lobby.

Dean and Riley kept their gaze locked on the shifter. “Hey,” Dean motioned for him to come their way. “Can we talk to you for a second?”

“Sure, man. You’re the one with the gun.” The shifter walked out of the vault as Riley pulled out her letter opener and stepped forward, ready for a fight. 

As soon as he noticed her challenging stare, the creature grabbed Riley by the wrist before hitting her hard and knocking her to the ground.  

Dean growled in fury as he charged at the shifter. Punches were exchanged and the Winchester took a good blow to the face that made him stumble. 

The disguised creature took his opportunity and fled.  

Without any thought, Ronald hurried after it. “Hey! Stop!”

Dean stabilized himself and helped Riley up. “You alright?”  

“Son of a bitch!” she gritted. As soon as she was on her feet, she took off in pursuit.

“Riley!” he yelled out as he chased her.  

Ronald had followed the shifter into the main lobby. As it went to duck behind a marble counter, Resnick raised his automatic weapon to fire. 

Riley and Dean ran in and skid against the tile as they halted to a stop. To their horror, Ron was out in the open again as a laser sight found his back.

“Get down, Ronald!” she shouted.

At the sound of the gunshot through the windows, Dean grabbed Riley with his whole body and threw them down to the ground to hide behind another counter. He balled them up together hoping to shield her from any other shots. 

Sam had been on the stairs taking the guard to safety as he watched the terrible scene unfold.

After a second or two, which felt more like unending minutes, they turned to see Ronald. Feathers that had popped out from his puffy vest fluttered to the ground around him as his eyes were wide with shock. He dropped to his knees and then flat onto his stomach, his arm falling into the shadowed area by the couple.  

Riley pulled away from Dean and crawled on the floor to where the counter ended. She laid flat on her belly and held Ronald’s hand in both of hers. Their eyes met as she forced her abilities to work. 

She focused as much as she could and sent the dying man a feeling of comfort before her voice went into him as his final thought. “I got you, Ron. You did good, buddy. Juan would be proud.” 

Ronald’s face softened and a slight curl went up on his lip as he felt peace consume him. The blood in his mouth dripped onto the floor as Riley felt a breeze through her hair. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel Ron’s spirit and to let him know he wasn’t parting this world alone. 

When she opened her eyes, that small hint of a smile stayed frozen on his face. He was gone.

After leaving the guard at the top of the stairs, Sam fled to his partner’s sides. Riley was still on her front, holding on to Ron.  

“Riley,” Dean whispered. “Rye, we gotta go.”

She sniffled before grabbing Ron’s rifle and pushing herself back towards the brothers. Wiping her eyes quickly, she looked at Sam and Dean before giving the older brother the weapon.

Sam handed Dean the chain with the key on it to the outside. “You guys get the guard out, I’m going after the shifter.”

“No,” Riley told him. “I’m coming with you.”

The young Winchester nodded at her request as Dean looked at her with worried eyes. He couldn’t help but think she would be reckless or that history would repeat itself. “Just stay with me.”

Riley put a hand to the side of his face and kissed him gently. “This is something I gotta do. I promise, I’ll be alright.”  

Dean squeezed the hand at his face and she and Sam got up to hurry back into the dark hallways. He looked around furtively and with anxiety before making a dash towards the guard.  

Holding onto their flashlights, Sam and Riley vigilantly made their way through the darkness. 

Sam put his hand out as if asking for the letter opener. She slapped it away and shot him a look of irritation. Anyone watching would have believed they were real siblings as they silently exchanged “give it to me” and “no” through annoyed facial expressions. 

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes as he gave up asking.

As the two came around the next corner, there was the teller, Sherry with another employee. They both froze in terror and put their hands up as the hunter’s flashlights lit them up.

“Please,” Shelly begged. “Don’t hurt us.”

Having already been exasperated with the woman, Riley sighed with frustration. “What the hell are you doing out here? Get your asses back in the vault. It’s not safe!” 

The two women’s heels clicked on the tiles as they scurried away. 

Sam gazed down at his surrogate sister with a hooked eyebrow. 

“What?” she asked. “The girl gets on my nerves.” Riley began to walk on and Sam chuckled to himself as he followed.

------

Holding the guard in front of him and the rifle in his other hand, Dean approached the front door slowly. Outside, several paramedics pulled a stretcher out of an ambulance while the S.W.A.T. team set up on the steps ready to shoot.  

Dean stood behind the hostage and spoke gently to him as he guided him forward. “This’ll all be over soon. Everything’s gonna be alright.” He unlocked the door and guided the guard a step outside.  

The guard shook in fear as he yelled, “please! Please don’t shoot!”

As the officers began to advance, Dean shouted firmly. “No, no, no, no, no. Don't even think about it!” The hunter looked around at the media frenzy and number of first responders that surrounded them. It was in that moment that Dean truly began to worry if they would be able to get out of there that night. 

“Son of a bitch,” Dean whispered before yelling again. “I said get the fuck back! Now!” After a pause ensuring the situation was going according to plan, he told the guard to go. 

As the weak man stumbled out, Dean hurried behind the doors and latched them once again. “We are so fucked,” he muttered.

His phone rang and he fumbled to get it out as he answered slightly out of breath. “Sammy?”

“Yeah, it slipped its skin again. This bastard shifts fast--faster than the one from St. Louis.”

“Shit,” Dean hissed as he ran a hand over his head. “God, it's like playing the shell game. It could be anybody. Again.”

“Yeah, I think most of the employees are out of the vault by now.”  

“Alright, you search every inch of this place, I'm gonna go round everybody up. And Sam--watch out for Riley,” he added before hanging up.

------

Tired and completely on edge, Dean ushered the hostages back into the vault. He sighed heavily as Sherry was the last one to go in. 

She turned to face him. “I thought you were one of the good guys.”

“My name’s Dean,” he told her gently.

Hesitating before she spoke, the teller said, “I’m Sherry.”

“Hi, Sherry. Everything's gonna be all right. This will all be over soon, okay?” Trying to give her one last look of comfort, Dean closed the vault and spun the lock. 

Just then, the phone rang. Dean sat his handgun down to answer. “Yeah?” he asked firmly.

“This is Special Agent Victor Henriksen.”

“Yeah, listen, I'm not really in the negotiating mood right now, so--”

The agent interrupted him with obviously no time for his games. “Good. Me neither. It's my job to bring you in. Alive's a bonus, but not necessary.”

“Whoa. Kinda harsh for a Federal Agent, don't you think?”

“Well, you’re not the typical suspect, now are you Dean?” 

Horrified that the agent knew his name, Dean stood frozen before Henriksen spoke again. 

“I want you, Sam, and Riley out here, unarmed--or we come in. And yes, I know all about Sam and your girl, Riley. Your little brother and the Bonnie to your Clyde.”

Dean smirked at the reference knowing Riley would have loved it too. “Yeah, that part’s true. But how did you even know we were here?”

“Go fuck yourself, that’s how I knew. It’s apparently become my entire job to know you three. I’ve been looking for you for weeks now, Dean. I know about the murder in St. Louis and I know about the Houdini act you pulled in Baltimore. I also know about the desecrations and the thefts. I also know about both your dads.”

“You don’t know shit about our dads,” Dean replied trying to contain his anger at the comment. 

“Ex-marine raised his kids on the road, cheap motels, backwoods cabins--real paramilitary survivalist type. I just can't get a handle on what type of whacko he was. White supremacist, Timmy McVeigh, to-may-to, to-mah-to. And then there’s Riley’s old man. Now, that one stumped me a bit. She was raised the same way you and Sam were, but the guy was a mechanic in his earlier years. I’m assuming he was involved in whatever bullshit your own father was.”

“You got no right talking about our dads like that. They were heroes.”

“Yeah. Right. Sure sounds like it. You have one hour to make a decision or we come through those doors full-automatic.” The line went dead as Henrikson hung up on Dean.  

The hunter softly pounded the phone into his forehead in irritation before slamming the phone back onto its hook.

------

Sam and Riley were still searching the halls when they saw blood on the floor in front of a closet. 

As Sam quickly threw the door open, the half-dressed body of Sherry fell out. Her throat is slit, her face grey and empty.

Riley cringed and felt herself nearly sick at the sight. Blood and gore didn’t affect her in the slightest. Though seeing that woman with her throat cut open by a shifter was enough to bring her back to memories she was still trying to suppress. 

She gulped hard as she finally stared down at the body. “Fucking bastard.”

Turning fast on her heels, Riley spun around and began to jog back to the vault. Sam hurried to be at her side.  

When they finally reached the vault, Riley steadied her breathing. “We got a problem,” she told Dean.

“Yeah, we got a bit of a problem outside, too.”

“It’s Sherry. The teller.”  

Dean made a face of ‘dammit’, before opening up the vault. The scared hostages all flinched and stared back in fear. “Alright, Sherry, we’re gonna let you go.”

“What? Why me?”

“Sign of good faith, okay?” Riley tried not to snark.  

Nervously and almost stammering, Sherry stood with the hostages. “I, uh--I think I'd rather stay with the others.”

Riley bit her lip in anger as she struggled to control her rage and walked over to the woman. “I’m afraid we’re gonna have to insist.”

------

Back where Sam and Riley had found the woman’s body, the three guided Sherry to it and shoved her into the room. When she saw the replica of her body, dead on the ground, Sherry began to scream hysterically.

“Is that community theater or are you just naturally that good?” Dean teased.

Riley’s eyes grew slightly dark with hate as she got closer to Sherry. “I’m gonna make sure you never turn into anyone else ever again.” 

Sherry screamed and wailed in response. 

In that instant, Riley could hear the woman inside. She wasn’t a monster, she was truly just a terrified woman. 

But before she could tell Sam, Sherry fell to the ground and fainted. Riley ran a hand through her hair. “Shit.”

Sam looked at her, confounded. “What?”

“It’s not her.”

“Of course, it’s her.”

“No...” she groaned. “She may be annoying as hell, but she’s not a monster. I could hear her thoughts...finally.”  

“Oh, for fuck’s sake...” Dean uttered under his breath as he went to check the hallways again.

Riley crouched beside the body they had found, perplexed. As she turned to look at Sam, the eyes of the body opened and stared up at her. It was the shapeshifter. 

The creature grabbed her by the throat and Riley fought back. With the letter opener in hand, Riley struggled and stabbed at the shifter.

Sherry woke up, terrified once again and screaming. Sam went to her side but then looked back at Riley unsure of what to do.  

“Get her out, Sam! Now!” Riley demanded in the scuffle. 

With hesitation, Sam complied and took the woman out of the room.  

Finally escaping Riley’s grasp, the shifter kneed the hunter in the face sending her onto her back before fleeing. Riley practically growled in anger as she got up to go after it. 

Sprinting in its direction, she rounded a corner and the shifter hit her in the face, hard. Riley stumbled and then stood tall. Cracking her neck, she got into a fighting stance and eyed the creature. “Bring it on, bitch.” 

She swiped at it with the silver blade and it avoided the attack before retaliating. The two tussled as the monster got in two good head butts. 

Riley slashed at her again and the shifter grabbed her wrist and wrenched it up. The hunter grasped ‘Sherry's’ forearm as the monster’s skin slipped off stickily. “Ugh...” she groaned. “Fuckin’ gross.”

Riley kicked her hard and then hit her several times in the face. She grabbed her leg and wrenched it back, shoving her against the wall. They struggled like that for a moment before the hunter managed to ram the silver blade into her chest. The creature groaned and Riley let its body slide to the floor. 

Panting from the fight, Riley knelt down to look at the disguised monster to ensure it was dead. It felt so good to see another shapeshifter wasted. And it felt even better that she was the one to do it.

A noise came from nearby and she flinched in its direction. 

It was Dean. “Rye, what the fuck happened?”

She chuckled. “Bitch was a fighter.”

Dean crouched beside Riley and looked her over for serious injuries. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I’m good.” She looked at the creature one more time with satisfaction. “I’m good.”

Lights came from around the corner as the S.W.A.T. team stared them down. They panted nervously looking at the officers that had found and cornered them.

------

After the feds and S.W.A.T. team had made their way inside, they cleared each hallway. Along the way, they found the body of the man that had fallen from the ceiling and the body of the Sherry duplicate.

“Sir?” an officer said to Agent Henriksen. “My team said it's secure. They're gone”.

“You tell your team to tear it apart!” the agent shouted. “The ducts, the ceilings, the furnace, everything!”

“I don't think that's necessary.”

“Why the fuck not?”

The officer took Henriksen to a broom closet where other officers had gathered. Inside, there were three men stripped down to their underwear and handcuffed to each other on the floor. 

Henriksen’s head fell in defeat and humiliation as he realized the three had gotten away.

------

Three figures in S.W.A.T. armor with weapons had exited the bank and were running up the stairs on the outside of a building. They left the stairs and turned into the deck of a parking garage and walked towards a car--it was the Impala. 

As they get into the Chevy, the three in uniform pulled off their helmets and masks. It was Sam, Dean, and Riley. They all were still shaking after having only just barely escaped. 

Riley’s hair fell and she brushed a hand through it as they sat in silence.  

Their situation was bad and they knew it. The hunters, of course, had experienced their fair share of run-ins with the law, but now the feds were on their tail. How the Winchesters and Riley were going to con their way out of that nightmare, was beyond them.

“We’re so fucked,” Dean admitted. 

His partners both nodded their heads minutely.  

With nothing left to say, it was time they got out of there. Dean started Baby up and hurried them out of the parking structure. The only way to stay safe for the time being was to get as much distance between them and Milwaukee as they could.  

Sam leaned forward and turned on the stereo to beat the uncomfortable quiet. Styx’s song ‘Renegade’ came through the speakers and the brothers and Riley looked at each other, slightly shocked by the odds of it playing. But, as no one spoke up, the song played on as they disappeared down the road.

“Oh, mama, I’m in fear for my life from the long arm of the law. Lawman is pullin' into my runnin', and I'm so far from my home. Oh, mama, I can hear you a-cryin', you're so scared and all alone. Hangman is coming down from the gallows, and I don't have very long...”

------

S2 Chapter 8: Born Under a Bad Sign

SIDE BAR: I LIVE for the love and reblogs, but since big things are happening, maybe don’t put spoilers in the reblog comment section and leave them just in the regular comments lol Love you ALL!

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[kee-writestrashh]

Guns for Hire

Ramsay Bolton x Reader

ao3

Summary:  You are the wife to the Heir of the Red Kings, Ramsay Bolton. living the undercover life of a mob wife has its perks, and you love your husband. But you find out something that seems to unfold a series of unwanted events…

Chapter 29: Leavin’ on a Jet Plane

"Do you have any idea how nice it is to wear fucking sweats and a tee and just lay the fuck in bed?" You yawned, stretching and curling up in a ball under the covers.

Kira simply scratched her ear, her collar and tags clinking noisily.

The morning had been slow, and very comfortable. Outside of bathroom breaks you hadn't been out of bed since Ramsay had left for work at seven.

Your phone vibrated from somewhere in the tangle of blankets and sheet.

You dug around until you found your phone under Ramsay's pillow.

[Rams: what are you doing?]

[you: laying in bed. you?]

[Rams: thinking about fucking you. send nudes.]

Your face warmed as you reread the message.

[You: I suppose I can do that. I need to get around anyways....]

You slid out of bed, stretching again, and stepping into the closet and pulling your most casual clothes free of their hooks.

Ripped jeans, grey tank, and a soft flannel. Ramsay liked to call the look "boot scootin boogie". Or when you paired it with your leather jacket he called it "Winchester Whore".

After sending a handful of pictures and going through your shower and make up routine it was almost time for you to meet with Whit and Jared.

You had given them the address to a hole in the wall BBQ joint in a less desirable part of town. But you figured it wouldn't be overwhelming or make you too noticeable. You knew how to blend in, comfortably.

You sat, waiting at a stoplight when you saw something that made your pulse quicken.

You immediately made a blind grab for your phone and dialing your husband.

'Yes, baby girl?' He said, almost bored like.

"Baby, I'm on my way to meet Whit and Jared, right? And I'm sitting here at the stoplight. I look over and two guys catch my eye. They're exchanging hushed whispers and firm handshake, kay? Then I look closely and it's Robb Stark and your father!" you said, the words tumbling over one another so quickly it all almost came out on one breath.

Ramsay said nothing, but you could hear his pen click furiously.

"Baby?"

'Yeah, yeah. What are you driving?'

"The 'Stang today." You said, glancing in the side view mirror. Both men were gone.

'Ping me your address and I will be there as soon as I can. Do not engage in anything without me. Do you understand?'

"Um, yes sir?" You said, unsure what he meant. Roose Bolton's peculiar behavior recently was too much for you to want to snoop into. You were already walking on egg shells, and apparently your second strike.

Ramsay hung up without another word and continued your way to lunch. You parked next to a jacked up truck, that was dirty and caked in mud. It didn't scream 'city boy wanna be country'. So it could only be Jared's truck.

You sent Ramsay the address and stepped out of the car.

Whit and Jared were leaning against restaurant wall, smoking and both smiled warmly when you approached. You couldn't help but grin at Jared in his damn cowboy hat, and Whit in her flashy square toed boots.

"Truck could do with a hose down." You chuckled, hugging them both.

"What's the point? With all the snow melting and refreezing, no amount of washing will make a difference until summer." Jared shrugged, flicking his cigarette away from him and opening the door for you and Whit, taking his hat off.

Walking in was like stepping through a portal to home. Smoke, beer, the smell of frying foods... it was... heaven.

"Sit anywhere and your waiter will be with you shortly." A woman said, clearing the table closest to you.

You chose a booth by the window, where you could keep an eye on the door and everything else around you.

A young man set menus down in front of you and set down the cutlery.

"Drinks?" He said when he had finished.

"Sweet teas all around." You said, immersed in the menu.

"You guys. They have fried catfish! And cornbread!" You almost squealed, looking up from the menu.

Whit raised her brows at you, "You don't eat cornbread anymore?"

You shrugged, "I just haven't bought the shit to make it. Burgers, tacos, and pizza is about as far as Rams goes in clogged arteries."

"City folks. They're a strange lot." Jared said, nodding wisely.

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "So, how are you guys? I mean... y'all have been together since junior year, work as a team, have a beautiful little girl..."

Whit laughed, "Oh ya know. Cattle prods work real well. We are just the same as when you left. Just older now. It's you who has the most change. Tell me about this child your mother won't quit bragging about."

You shrugged, "not much to say yet. Just turned fourteen weeks. We find out the gender on February twenty-first. Which is part of the reason I asked y'all here. We have a lot of work to do before then and quickly running out if time."

Both your friends stiffened slightly, showing you had their full attention and confidence.

"What's up?" Jared asked, leaning forward slightly.

You made to open your mouth when Whit shook her head, looking past you as the waiter came back with your drinks and to take your orders.

You waited a few moments after he left before finally speaking.

"My husband's life is in danger and it all hangs on to what the little one inside of me is. I have six weeks to set up a safe plan and find a way to keep my husband alive." You said quietly.

Whit chewed her lip and Jared watched you closely.

"We will do what we can. He's your family, which makes him just as much ours. Just say the word and we will make it happen." Jared said with a stiff nod.

A surge of deep gratitude flooded you as you looked at the two people in front of you. You knew the words were sincere and they would do anything they could for you.

You gave a sniff and smiled, "but those details will be worked out at a later time. I came here to enjoy lunch with my two best friends. There is plenty of time later to talk about that. But, first order of business. I need y'all to find someone to help dad keep up the farm. He's having surgery soon. Putting in a pacemaker. And he won't be able to get around for awhile. Said person will be paid well. I've made sure of that."

"Too easy. Sure there are a couple of Ag kids who'd love to help." Whit said. "Take it the old man is okay?"

"More or less. Pissed he's getting old. And y'all know mom. Fussing over him like a newborn calf." You said, sipping your drink.

"How she keeps up with him I will never know." Whit laughed.

Her words made you realize just how much like your mother you were.

Dad had always been wild and in trouble one way or another. No, not with the law, but usually physically injured. Smashed his hand working on a tractor. Wrapped up in fencing. Kicked by a horse, more times than you could even count anymore. He was a big book of cataloged accidents.

And then there was Mom. Patient and headstrong, and so very quick tempered. She kept your father together and alive, more often than not. She was firm, and yet the most loving person you had ever known. She was the true foundation of your crazy family. And she made it look so easy. How she managed to pull off Thanksgiving dinner and get your father to the ER after a hunting accident when you were 13, you never knew.

Maybe you took a bit more after your father's recklessness, but you had your mother's spine, and quick temper.

You grinned to yourself, "oh! Before I forget! Guess who's living here now?"

Jared and Whit both raised their brows, waiting for your answer.

"E! Little shit gets a PCS here, and doesn't tell anyone until he fucking shows up. Rams and I took him out last night. And I tell you what... He's not a boy anymore."

"And what did we do?" Ramsay spoke up, sliding into the booth beside you and running his eyes over the restaurant.

"Took the brother out lastnight." You said, with a smile, as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

"Had a blast. Damon made sure they got back safely. Apparently not as lightweight as we thought." Ramsay said, eyeing your food as it was set in front of you. "The fuck is that?"

You looked from food to husband and laughed.

"Cornbread, a hushpuppy, fries, and fried catfish."

Ramsay pulled a face of disgust.

"Try it. I promise there is nothing better than a good fried catfish basket." You urged, pulling a piece of fish from its fillet and holding it out to your husband.

"You do know I'm allergic to seafood, right?" He said, giving you a cold look.

You knitted your brows, "Are you really?"

"Keys." He said, taking the food from you.

"Huh?" You said watching him place the catfish in his mouth.

He reached over you, snatched up your keys and stood up.

"Ride home with them. Take the back way. I'll meet you at home."

He looked down at you, swiped more fish from your basket and walked off.

"Wait! You seriously aren't allergic to fish are you?!" You called.

He turned to you with his trademark smirk, "guess you'll just have to find out. Love you baby doll."

"I... I love you too." You said, watching him leave.

You looked at Whit and Jared.

"Nah. He's not." Jared said, with a chuckle, tearing into his plate of ribs.

It took so much longer to get home when you had to basically skirt the damn city.

"I have two dogs. Kira and Willow. They look mean, but I promise they are pussies." You said, walking up the stairs and hoping Ramsay was home since he had your keys.

You turned the knob. At least he was nice enough to remember to leave the door open for you as you walked inside.

"So you're a liar." You said, raising your brow.

Ramsay laughed, looking up from his laptop and giving you a wink.

"The best there is."

You rolled your eyes and sat on the couch, nodding at the sofa across from you. Whit and Jared both sat. Whit almost lost it when Kira and Willow came to be nosey.

"Oh my god! They are so pretty!" She said excitedly, sliding from the couch to her knees to rub all over them.

Whit was a dog fanatic. You were sure she would have 500 if Jared let her.

Ramsay crossed the room and disappeared down the hall. No one spoke until he came back and dropped a file folder on the coffee table.

"You two are now employed with a local coffee shop. You bring in coffee bean shipments via air." Ramsay said as Jared pulled the folder open and thumb through the papers.

"You looked us up? And my alias is Johnny Reb?" Jared asked, raising a brow.

"Just a minor background check. Your boots gave me the impression you listen to Johnny Horton, Honky Tonk Man." Ramsay shrugged, leaning back into his seat, resting his hand on your thigh and lighting a cigarette.

"You're a funny dude." Jared laughed, "and look, I get to travel with Percilla."

"So, what exactly are we doing? I mean, this is...?" Whit said, looking up from the dogs, at a loss for words.

"I told you, you're running coffee beans." Your husband shrugged.

Jared snorted, pulling his passport from the folder and examining it.

"But really. Need to be on the same page, babe." You spoke up.

"Okay, listen, and listen good. Because I'm only saying it once. In a few days you will get an address to an airstrip. Once a week you will fly to this strip and cargo will be loaded. Everything will already be packaged and sealed in the beans. If you don't lose your heads no one will ever be the wiser. After picking up the shipments you will deliver it to the designated area here in the city. After that you're free to go. The goods will be taken care of upon arrival. Simple enough."

"Right. Simple enough. And should something go wrong?" Whit asked, now taking her turn to look through the folder. "Oh! That reminds me..." she dug through her bag, pulling out a file folder a sliding it across the table, "Sharon got what you asked for."

"If something goes wrong, you will be taken care of. You are under my services, and I protect those that work for me. Nothing bad will happen as long as you don't let it happen." Ramsay shrugged.

You opened the folder, looking at all the vacant and foreclosed properties.

"Wow, so many places just left to rot." You murmured, looking up at Jared and Whit.

"Our town is dying. Cost of livin' is too high for the old folks, and young kids out of high school." Jared said giving you a sad smile.

"I'm buying it all." You declared, giving your husband a look and handing him the folder, "I'll let you do the buying and scheming. But we are buying it all. Build some businesses or something. Maybe build a safe house."

×××

"I'm starving." You whined, flipping through the pages of the outdated magazine.

"Shut up. You just ate like an hour ago." Ramsay tutted, staring at the ceiling.

"They need to hurry up. I have to pee." You groaned, fidgeting in your seat.

"What do I need to do to make you quit the insufferable bitching?" He hissed.

"Tell me what my surprise is." You said slyly.

Ramsay clucked in annoyance, "No. And if you don't quit asking I will do it all on my own. You're only getting the surprise because I love you."

"Fine." You huffed, pouting at him.

When your name was called you almost jumped up, ready to have all your vitals taken so they could give you the damn cup so you could finally empty your bladder that seemed to have shrunk to the size of a kitten's.

When the doctor entered you were slightly taken aback it wasn't Doctor Cat. But then you remembered... Ned Stark was her husband. And her eldest daughter was still missing. Poor woman. You really liked her.

"I'm Doctor Mordane. I'm filling in for Doctor Stark until she gets back." The old woman said with a sad smile.

"How is she?" You asked, sitting on the edge of the examination bed. Ramsay tutted from his chair. You gave him a dirty look.

"Pretty rough. But she's a strong woman. Anyways, looking at your file here I see you are almost fifteen weeks along. Weight is good. Everything else checks out good. Any complaints or concerns?"

You shook your head, "No ma'am. I seem to be adjusting just fine."

The woman smiled, "good good. Keep taking your vitamins. We will take a quick listen to the heartbeat and you're free to go."

Hearing the tiny heartbeat made your chest tight. Every single time. This time you didn't even bother to try and hold back the tear that escaped you.

"Surprise time?" You asked, smiling at your husband as he closed your door.

"Sort of." He smirked.

"What does that even mean?" You huffed, crossing your arms.

Ramsay said no more until he parked the car in the parking garage of the airport.

"What are we doing?" You asked, following in his wake.

Again he said nothing. You asked no more questions until you stood outside the doors of the airport.

There stood Damon. He exchanged two bags for Ramsay's keys.

"Before you say anything, I know. Scratch her you'll flay me." Damon chuckled, pocketing the keys. "Have fun. See you when you get back." He gave you both a nod and left.

Ramsay took your hand and led you inside. He exchanged a few words and some cash with a TSA man and both of you were boarding a plane a few short minutes later.

"Rams, where are we going?"

"Hush. Take a nap. It will be awhile." He said, stowing the two bags away and taking his seat beside you.

"If I blow you on this plane will you tell me?" You asked, flashing a mischievous grin.

"Nah. But you're gunna blow me anyways." He smirked.

"I will not." You said, crossing your arms and looking away from him.

"I will choke you out and make you sleep the whole damn ride if you don't quit, little pet." He said very quietly.

"What's wrong? Why are you so damn irritable today?" You said, giving him a soft look.

"I don't like flying." He replied shortly.

You suppressed a snort but were unable to to keep the words from falling from your mouth, "You're afraid!"

He took a deep breath and forced a smile, "No. I didn't say I'm afraid of flying. I said I didn't fucking like it."

"Mhm. Right. Completely different. What was I thinking?" You said with a sly grin.

"Do you have any idea how easy it would be to snap your fucking neck and make it look like you're sleeping until I get off this damn plane?" He hissed exasperatedly, struggling with himself to remain calm.

"Probably pretty easy. But I'd be rather boring company dead." You winked, resting your hand on his thigh and giving a tight squeeze.

He gave you a very long look, gave a smirk, and placed his hand in your inner thigh.

"Why are we like... economy class?" You asked, glancing around at the people filling the seats around you.

Ramsay shrugged, "Why not?"

You played with Ramsay's hand, absentmindedly, as the plane prepared for flight.

You watched Ramsay closely. If he really was afraid of flying, he hid it very well.

"Nonstop?" You asked, looking out the window at the tiny square patches of earth bellow you.

"Nonstop." He replied, glancing at you.

You pulled your phone out of your purse, "wanna play a game?"

"No."

You tutted, "Yes you do. You love games."

"I like games that I win. Games that cause other people to beg and die." He said simply, as if it settled the matter.

"Well I like games that let me get to really know you. So, I'm going to ask questions and you're going to answer."

He groaned, "not this again."

"Every time you don't answer or skip the question you will be punished." You said, squeezing his thigh again.

"Does it result with my dick in your mouth?" He whispered.

You shrugged, "maybe, if you're a good boy. Question one, if you could have a theme song, what would it be?"

He stared at the back of the chair in front of him, chewing his lip, "I don't know."

You dug your nails into his leg.

"Thriller or something." He hissed.

You released him and gave a laugh. "Thriller? Like MJ Thriller?"

"Yeah. Why not? It's catchy." He shrugged, taking his jacket off.

"I can't even take you seriously anymore." You giggled, leaning over to kiss him.

"Well that's a bad move on you, baby girl. I'm to be taken very seriously." He smirked against your lips as he took your face in his hands.

"Or maybe you just put on a mean face and deep down you're good as gold. Just have a rather pushy demon in there."

He snorted and pulled away from you, "going to perform an exorcism?"

"Mm, no. I think I'm in love with the devil."  You said airily, with a sigh.

"Show me how much you love me then." He countered with his wicked grin.

"I have a devil spawn growing inside of me, is that not love enough?" You winked, unfastening your seatbelt and pushing your body into his as you slid past him.

You gave him a mischievous grin, walking rather suggestively down the aisle.

Wow, plane bathrooms were tiny. This was not going to be comfortable. At least you weren't super pregnant fat yet.

You only had to wait a moment before Ramsay was climbing in the tiny room with you.

"I don't know if this will work." You whispered.

"Make it." He said, leaning back against the wall.

You glanced around, set the toilet seat down, and grabbed his hips, pulling him into you.

"Make it quick?" You asked, unbuckling his belt and sliding his button from its hole.

"That all depends on you, baby girl." He said helping you pushing his pants down.

"You know, you are the worst influence I have ever come to know." You said, resting your forehead against his warm stomach.

"Maybe you're the bad influence on me." He chuckled, gripping your hair tightly.

You licked your lips and took him in your mouth, letting his guide you.

You dug your nails into his legs as warm desire built inside of you. But there was no returning the favor in this damn bathroom.

You ran your tongue along him, tasting him as his grip in your hair tightened and he ran his other hand over your chest, grabbing at your skin.

His breathing became shallow as you lightly drug your teeth along him, swirling your tongue over his tip.

He made a small noise in the back of his throat, grabbing at you harder as he filled your mouth.

You slowly sucked him, feeling him throb against your tongue.

You swallowed and pulled away from him completely.

"Well that was quick." You laughed.

"Eh, thrill of getting a blow job at fifty thousand feet." He chuckled, fixing his pants and opening the door.

He grabbed your hand and led you back to your seat.

×××

You held Ramsay's hand tight as he pulled you along through the airport. You could see the sun a brilliant red as it sank lower over the horizon.

Ramsay stopped at a counter and hand a man behind it two passports. He glanced them over and then eyed you both.

"Welcome. What brings such a lovely couple to our beautiful country?" The man said in very rough, choppy English.

"Drugs." Ramsay replied with a small shrug and his most charming smile.

You gave a wide eyed side long look your husband and wanted to vanish as you felt your cheeks burn.

Did he seriously just fucking say that?!

The man cracked a grin and let out a loud laugh after a few tense moments, "You señor are very funny man. Enjoy your vacation."  He handed the passports back to Ramsay who slipped them in his back pocket and tugged you along again.

"I can't believe you!" You cried in a small strangled voice.

Ramsay stopped abruptly, placed a hand on your shoulder and turned you to the highly polished, darkening window.

"Look at us and tell me what you see?"

You Looked at your reflections and sighed, "I see a husband and wife on vacation."

"Exactly, baby girl. As far as anyone knows we are taking a late winter vacation to escape the cold. We're here to sip mojitos, soak up the sun, and eat avocados, or whatever." He said, gripping your hand tightly and pulling you along.

"Eat avocados." You snorted with a giggle as you stepped out of the airport.

The warm breeze melting you into a bliss. Warm evenings. God, how you missed the warm weather.

"Journey okay?" Oberyn Martell asked, sidling up to you and Ramsay.

You were shocked only a moment. It all made sense now. You were here so the deal with the Martell's could be finished and sealed.

"Long." Ramsay said, sounding rather weary as Oberyn lead the way to a limo.

Ramsay helped you climb in, took his seat beside you, and pulled you as close as possible as Oberyn situated himself.

"The girls are most excited to take you shopping, (y/n)." Oberyn smiled, offering Ramsay a drink, who eagerly accepted. "Your room has been accommodated and food prepared. We will get down to business tomorrow after you both have rested."

"Food sounds wonderful." You sighed, resting your head on Ramsay's shoulder and closing your eyes briefly.

Or you thought it to have been brief. Next thing you knew Ramsay nudging you to wake up.

You sat up and were taken aback by the beautiful white stone mansion and it's many elegant balconies overlooking the white sand beach and crystal clear ocean.

It was probably the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, apart from last trip you had taken with Ramsay to a warm cabin surrounded by large aspens and evergreens in the shadows of the harsh, unforgiving snow covered mountains.

Tyene rushed you as you climed out of the limo behind Ramsay.

You hugged her back tightly.

"I am so glad you both came!" She smiled, looping her arm around yours and leading you inside.

"This place is absolutely beautiful." You exclaimed, taking in everything from the marble floors to shimmering crystal chandeliers, and the elegant imported rugs.

Tyene smiled brightly, "my uncle likes to be extra."

"Well, at least he has good taste?" You laughed, climbing the spiral staircase.

Tyene stopped in front of a door and stepped aside so you could enter.

"One of the best views in the house. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. Rest easy, (y/n). Tomorrow I am taking you to town. You will love it!" Tyene said, leaving you alone in the lavish room.

So much better than any high end, five star hotel resort. You thought, taking everything in and realizing Ramsay wasn't with you.

You frowned slightly, but the table laden with food caught your very hungry attention. You sat at the table and pulled the nearest dish towards you. You had no idea what to call it, as it was sweet, and spicy, and salty, and definitely meat... but whatever it was it was damn good.

A warm, night breeze blew in from the open balcony door and the sound of the ocean made you drowsy.

Ramsay entered the room a shirt while later after you had already stripped you clothing and climbed into the soft sheets.

"You good?" You asked, peeking over the top of the blanket at him.

His face softened slightly as he turned his gaze to you, "of course."

You pushed back into the plush bed, falling asleep almost at once.

#guns for hire #gfh #Kee_writestrashh #chapter 29 #29/90 #ramsay bolton x reader #ramsay bolton/reader #ramsay bolton #modern ramsay bolton #ramsay bolton imagine #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones fanfiction #modern au #modern game of thrones #got modern au #Modern Setting #mafia au #organized crime au #AO3 fanfic #ramsay is his own warning #guns #violence #gore #ramsay things

[poppyknitt]

A Land of Nightmares, Part one- a JSE Egos fanfic

[September 21st]

Seán shakily traversed his flat, still paranoid about the lights and alarms. The memories of what had happened only five days ago still felt fresh in his head, and they flashed back to him every time the lights dimmed or the sky went red, during the sunset and sunrise. He hated this, being unable to live in his own apartment without constantly feeling like something was about to explode or attempt to tear him apart. He could still vividly picture the looming, distorted figure of Dark standing in front of him, facing his computer, and then turning to walk out over his paralyzed body. He couldn’t even use his wake up alarm anymore; he had to rely on his mind’s sense of time to wake up at the right time, as the sound of any sudden, shrill, and repetitive noise sent his mind into a blind panic. He also found that he wasn’t able to play Transference without having a panic attack, so, since Henrik and Simon looked so much like him, he had practically begged them to figure out if one of them could record the videos of it. He had been told that Chase, the star of that “Bro Average” kid’s show had played it for him, which, he guessed made sense, as Chase seemed to look more like him than the doctor or the supposed hero, and he was pretty good at pulling off an irish accent as well, which, Henrik was not.

He checked the time, and took note that it was almost time for the new episode of Transference to be uploaded, so, he queued it, and got onto tumblr, to see the reactions of the fans. He didn’t know if Anti had showed up in the video at all, but he knew they were expecting it, so whether or not he did didn’t matter, since it would get basically the same reaction regardless of whether Anti appeared or not.

Another alarm spontaneously started ringing, which, for a moment, caused his head to hurt as he entered a momentary panic, which lasted about as long as it took him to realize that it was literally just his phone. He picked it up, and saw that Henrik was calling, so he answered, knowing it was probably.

“Seán! Zhank god. Vith zhe most recent uploads to zhe channel, I vas almost scared zhat zhose cursed dark egos had gone after you. You are okay, yes?” Henrik asked, somehow managing to keep a steady voice, despite his obvious distress.

“Uh, yeah. The ringtone sorta spooked me but other than that I’m fine.”

“Ah, yes. Sorry. Zhat vas my fault, I should have remembered zhat it vould not have been best to have called you at a time like zhis. Vhile ve’re on zhe topic, zhough, how bad are zhe memories affecting you, friend? I vould assume you have been very paranoid as of late, no?”

“Yeah... I have.. It’s gotten so bad that I’ve had to stop using my morning alarms, actually... It’ll take some getting used to, but I should be able to live with it for the time being.” He said, glancing to the side as one of the few objects he’d practiced magic on a day or so ago reappeared, as a result of its cycling between the phases of the half-broken illusion he’d used. It was the kind of illusion that could either make it look like a certain object was somehwrre it wasn’t, or make an object appear to be missing from its location, when really it was there, and if you were to enter the area the spell affected, you would see whether the object actually existed or not. Though, he had yet to master it, so the object tended to bleed slowly between phases of visible existence and invisible existence.

He and Henrik talked until the doctor had to once again resume his work, so Seán just went back to surveying the smoldering flames of tumblr, at least, until about 10 PM, and went to bed.

~~~~

Jack woke up, and immediately took note that he was definitely asleep, despite the fact that he was still in his flat. He sat up, and made his way out of his room, taking note of the fact that his motor functioning was destabilized in this dream, despite the fact that this wasn’t new. Ever since he woke up from the coma, he hadn’t been able to walk steadily without having to use an object or another person as a way to assist himself, which he assumed was a slight byproduct of his brain’s confusion and damages. He called out for Signe, wanting to see if she was going to be a part of the dream or not. No answer.

Walking to the kitchen, he stumbled, and had to catch himself mid-fall on a cabinet by the entrance, “Okay. It’s fine. Just a little slip up. This is normal. I know how to deal with this.” He reassured himself.

Seán walked over to the counter, having noticed a strange note sitting on it, which definitely hadn’t been there in the real world. He picked it up, and scanned it carefully.

“Appoinment on 9 - 21 - 18! Don’t forget!”

Ok, that was a little strange, but he didn’t question it. He went on his way to leave, and turned to see if Wiishu was sleeping on the couch. Yep. He laughed to himself, and exited the apartment.

He arrived to the hospital, and upon glancing at the parking lot, immediately stopped. The place was almost totally empty. There were only one or two cars there, in fact. He ignored this, knowing it was just his mind thinking there’d be no reason for more than a few cars to be there, if his dream had only a few other humans in it, though, even knowing that didn’t stop him from dreading this any less.

He walked into the hospital, the feeling of dread in the back of his throat only getting worse as he saw that he was the only one here. He knew the dream wouldn’t progress if he didn’t carry on, however, so he continued down his regular path.

He froze when he saw blood stains beneath the door to Henrik’s office, and contemplated just running all the way back home, at least, until he was interrupted by the door opening itself, to reveal Henrik collapsed on his desk, and a bloody Marvin desperately trying to wake him.

“Guys?!” He asked, eyes wide, as he took in the sight of all the blood. Sure, it was only a little, but it still made him panic.

“Seán! What are you doing here?! Go back home! I-It’s not safe to come today!” Marvin yelped, whipping around and turning his attention to him.

“What?! No! I’m not going home! Not until I know if I can help or not!” He protested.

“Seán! Go the fuck home! I’m not going to risk him finding you here!” Marvin yelled.

“Him?! Him who?!” Seán questioned desperately.

“Ant- SEÁN!!” Marvin interrupted himself as Seán was ripped backwards by some random strings that wrapped themselves around his wrists, ankles, and neck, shooting up from his position and attempting to run after the Irishman as he was taken by an unknown assailant- presumably the one who harmed Henrik.

A hand wrapped around his neck, and he gasped for breath, desperately clawing at it in effort to be let go of. As loud, white noise arose from the commotion, his senses all blurred out, and he could tell someone was talking to Marvin, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying over the shrill ringing of the noise. Judging by Marvin’s reactions, though, his life was probably on the line, and highly dependent on what Marvin said in response.

He internally screamed at Marvin to refuse the demands, his gut telling him that whatever this was meant something bad. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the person controlling the strings- they looked like him, but more demonic and glitchy? What on earth?! Who were they?! His attention snapped back, as, to his horror, he saw Marvin collapse to the ground, his body shaking from his grotesque sobbing, and Seán realized this was worse than he thought.

Suddenly, he found himself falling to the ground, as the strings restraining him fell off. He looked up as he desperately gasped for breath, and saw Dark looming over Marvin. He tried to scream something- anything- to stop this as he saw strings wrap themselves around Marvin, and felt his entire world falling down as Dark took out a knife and drove it into the magician’s skull, killing him almost instantly. His breath caught in his throat, and when he realized the apparent Puppetmaster had disappeared, he began to panic. He suddenly lost control of his body, and, to his horror, as Dark kicked the now blood-covered knife over to him, he picked it up, and slit his throat. He collapsed to the ground, feeling the blood draining quickly from his weak body as the puppet master reappeared in front of him, a twisted, malicious grin on their face as the life drained from his now-dying body. As everything went black, he could swear he heard Henrik screaming someone’s name in horror.

~~~~

He shot up immediately after awaking from his slumber, gasping desperately for air. Taking a moment to process the dream, he felt his blood draining from his face as the memories of the alleged “puppet master” came flooding back to him.

“Seán?! Seán, what’s wrong?!” Signe asked him worriedly.

“I... I remember what he did to me!”

——————————————————

[Sean #2]

Henrik #2

Marvin & Robbie #2

Chase #2

JBM #2

JJ #2

Anti #2

Seán #1/Darkiplier Prologue pt. 1

Seán #3

@antis-loyal-puppet

#jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye egos #jacksepticeye #fanfic #sean mcloughlin #marvin #marvin the magnificent #marvin the magician #henrik #henrik von schneeplestein #doctor schneeplestein #anti #antisepticeye #dark #darkiplier

[thedarkenedkeeper]

Glitched: Part 12 - Soon

Author's Note: Firstly, Happy Halloween everyone! :D I hope you're all having a fantastic day/night. I know I am. It's my favorite holiday and as such, I figured I'd try and get a chapter or two done in time for today, so here you go!

Surprisingly, I'm not going to add any warnings for this one (and yes, you should be worried if there's nothing bad happening in this chapter). Of all of the chapters in the story, this one has to be the most tame. There isn't any gore, and while there is some angst, it's nothing compared to what has already happened in the story. Not a lot happens in this chapter - it's more dialogue based than anything - but it is crucial to what'll end up happening next. Consider this chapter like a break for you guys - it's giving you guys a chance to breathe and get yourselves mentally prepared for what's to come in the last couple of chapters. Because believe me, when I release Part 13...ha...haha.....hahaha...hahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! >:D

Consider this your warning!

Listen to this playlist while reading.

Enjoy!

 Useless – that’s exactly how he felt. Completely and utterly useless.

He hadn’t a clue where he was right now, not when he was currently swimming in a never-ending sea of darkness. Everything was black in his wake; how was he to know where he was or what was going on if the shadows were blinding him? All he had to go off of were the horrid noises that were causing his blood to run ice cold.

These sounds – they were haunting. He felt as though there was significance to each and every one, like he had heard them before somewhere at some point. Gun shots were blaring, sounding as though a mass shooting was taking place. The horrific screams of innocent people echoed throughout this darkened hell he was encased in – every single one of them begging and pleading for their lives.  And it wasn’t just adults who were getting harmed, children were as well. He could tell from the pitch of the cries for help, as well as the terrified whimpers and sobs that accompanied them.

What was going on? Why couldn’t he see anything? Why was he hearing these nightmare-inducing things? He felt so helpless – so weak and scared. He may not have been able to see what was going on, but he had an idea and it was sending tremors of fear down his spine. He wanted to do something, he wanted to save these people and try and stop whoever was responsible for the massacre. But he couldn’t do anything, not when the dark had a hold on his mind and soul. He longed to yell out into the endless abyss and put an end to this hell. However, he couldn’t. All that expelled from his lips were his own laboured shaky breaths of panic, increasing in speed as his heart followed suit. The poor organ was beating away at his ribcage so brutally his chest was beginning to ache. The rush of blood in his ears pumped so loudly to the point of blocking out the screams of the murderer’s victims.

All he could hear now was the rush of blood.

And all he could feel was something moving…

Something was moving inside of him.  

He could feel something squirming and slithering around, resonating inside his head and slowly making its way down his spine, weaving throughout his entire body. An overwhelming sensation surged through him, bringing new life to his being. He gasped as his vision pulsed, a very brief glimpse of figures illuminating before his eyes. With each released breath, a flash of his surroundings would occur, but not for long. Everything was still very much blacker than black, but the figures around him – they were all glowing. It was almost as if he had some kind of sonar or sensory overload all of a sudden. However, there was something incredibly disturbing about this newly acquired “gift of sight”.

Everything that was highlighted – the victims, anything in the background such as trees and parked cars, the shooter, who for some strange reason was a completely blurred out manifestation – was blood red. With each pulse of his vision, thin lines of red produced from them all; branching out in every which direction, slowly but surely fogging up his brain with nothing but bloodshed. He could hear his laboured breaths dying down into demented, inhuman laughter. He could feel his body tensing up, his hands balling up into fists. He is holding something in his right hand. There’s a faint clicking sound. His index finger – it’s resting on a trigger, hesitating to add pressure. His hand is shaking – from fear, anger, sadness, who knows? But he can feel it in his gut. There’s a horrendous sense of dread manifesting deep inside of him, growing in size at an alarming rate and constricting his lungs tightly. And yet…And yet he needs to do this.

He WANTS to.

All he sees is red as he raises the gun, another jolt of adrenaline striking him like a bolt of lightning. His vision throbs black for a second – a set of sickly green eyes and a deathly white grin piercing through the eternal darkness – but it appears so quickly, he barely has the time to process the image.

His fingertip is starting to apply pressure to the trigger, tempted to put an end to this. 

He makes out faint laughter in the back of his mind, taunting him and hissing insidious truths to him repeatedly to the point of driving him insane. He growls and yells out in distress, bashing the gun against his head violently in a desperate attempt to block out this evil that’s pestering him. But there’s no point. He’s going to give in and he knows it. He KNOWS it. 

His heart stutters, skipping over a couple of beats. He pulls the trigger as he hears the terrified cries of his children. 

All he sees is red. Blood red. 

He’s covered in it. 

There’s so much of it – so much red.  

And this thing inside of him, whatever it is that’s swimming through his veins – it’s pleased. It’s grinning with delight, knowing he’s made a right. 

And the worst part is he believes this. 

Body jolting with a start, Chase’s eyes flew open and he gasped in alarm, getting forced out of the horrifying nightmare he’d just had. Almost immediately a searing pain channeled through his head and he groaned, shutting his eyes tightly for a second. He hesitantly reopened them, staring up at a cream-colored ceiling. He felt incredibly tired and out of it, and he could very vaguely make out the soft beeping of a heart monitor coming from somewhere off to his right. Brows furrowing out of puzzlement, the American slowly turned his head in the direction of where the sound was coming from and spotted a heart monitor a foot away from the bed he was settled in. He blinked in confusion and glanced down at himself, finally taking notice of where he was. He was tucked under blankets in what looked like a hospital bed, and he was wearing a gown, having been stripped of his grey T-shirt and black skinny jeans. He was hooked up to an IV, as well as the heart monitor, and there was a nasal cannula wrapped over his head, supplying oxygen for him.  

His right temple throbbed sharply and he winced, clenching his teeth and letting out a hiss of agony. What had happened? Why was he in the hospital? Had the doctor brought him here? And if he had, why? Chase shut his eyes and tried to recall the events that had taken place before he had woken up, but everything was a blur. All he could remember was how he had been given permission from Jack to have some screen time on the channel, and thus, he and his cameraman immediately set out to record a video of him doing some sick shots. Everything after that had gone black – he hadn’t the slightest idea what would’ve led him into getting admitted to the hospital. And as if he didn’t already have enough questions on his mind, he couldn’t help but get haunted by visions of what he’d seen and heard in his nightmare. What had that all been about? 

He released a groan of frustration as he blinked tiredly. He was far too drained of energy to be putting up with thoughts like these right now.  

Sharp pain panged against his skull horribly once more, worse than before, and he whimpered, reflexively lifting a hand up to gently touch the side of his head. Bandages were wrapped tightly around his head, blood staining the right side of them. The fabric was slightly warm and damp and question fell upon him. What –  

“Ah, look who decided to vake up.” 

The green-haired American nearly had a heart attack at hearing the German voice. He jolted and his eyes darted to the door to see Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein standing there, clipboard in hand and a petite hopeful smile upon his face. Chase let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been keeping in. He hadn’t heard the door open; he’d been too caught up in his own questions.

“Doc?” He questioned, his voice soft and giving proof of just how tired he was. How long had he been out for? 

The doctor only smiled and nodded in response, turning to close the door behind him. A dull ache came from Chase’s right temple and he gasped, moving his hand to touch the bandages once again. He went to move, going to give a try at sitting up, but his vision instantly began to swim and the ache he felt in his head only grew worse. He winced and groaned in agony as he heard Schneeple approach the bed. 

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t do zhat.” He saw the doctor out of the corner of his eye, feeling his hand gently push on his shoulder and insist he lay back down. “You’re in very bad condition. Ve vouldn’t vant it getting any vorse.” 

Chase let out a defeated sigh as he settled back down onto the bed, taking his hand away from his head. 

“It’s best zhat you take it easy. No need to strain yourself.” 

Chase blinked groggily before turning his attention up onto the doctor. His brows furrowed in confusion, tearing his eyes away as he struggled to conjure up the memories of what had happened. 

“What…What happened? Where am I?” 

The smile from Schneeple’s face fell away immediately.

“You know vhere you are, Chase.”

 “Yeah, but…but what happened?” The American asked. His eyes shifted back to the German. “Why am I here?”

  Now it was Henrik’s turn to be overcome by question. He frowned, staring at his patient with perplexity.

 “Vait, you…you don’t remember vhat happened?” He inquired.

 Chase shook his head, eyes locked with the good doctor’s. Henrik knew Chase quite well – they were really close friends, actually. They got along and were always there for each other. Henrik KNEW Chase. He knew the man was a child at heart and would never keep any secrets from him. So when he looked deep into his friend’s eyes, he could only see innocence gleaming in them, accompanied with a hybrid of fear and confusion. Chase wasn’t lying to him – the doctor knew this for a fact. Chase would never lie to him, especially if it involved something as serious as this. The German’s eyes narrowed before he glanced down at his clipboard, flipping over the top page and scanning through his notes quickly. His expression only became more puzzled. He peered over the edge of his glasses back at his recovering patient. He shook his head slightly.

  “You don’t remember anyzhing – anyzhing at all?”

 Chase took a moment to really think and try his hardest to bring about the memories that were seemingly long-lost, staring off into space, but nothing was coming to him. No matter how hard he tried, everything was remaining a blurry mess. He couldn’t even recall anything that he had heard or felt. He most certainly didn’t remember getting a head wound either. He shook his head again, returning his tired gaze to the doctor.

  “No…No, I don’t remember anything.” He blinked, his brows weaving out of worry now. “What happened, Doc?”

 Henrik stood there for a long minute, alternating between taking looks at his clipboard and his dear friend. He didn’t know if telling him the truth right at this very moment was the best idea. After all, Chase had just woken up. The man was dazed and drained – he had little to no energy at all. The news may have been incredibly important, but the American needed rest more than anything. If Schneeple told him, there’d be no telling how he’d react. The last thing he needed was for Chase to be stressed out…and yet…

  The German doctor turned and set his clipboard down on a nearby table, avoiding having to make eye contact with his patient.

  “You shot yourself, Chase.” He wasn’t going to sugar-coat it – how could he with something as serious as that? “You…You shot yourself, zhat’s vhat happened.”

  A wave of heart-wrenching silence flooded into the room and it remained lingering there for what felt like hours. He could make out the shaky uneven breaths of his patient, only proving to him that the man honestly didn’t know what he’d done.

 “What?” Chase’s voice cracked, evidently letting some of his fear slip through.

 Henrik whirled around to face him, staring at him sternly. He was breathing rather deeply now and his jaw was locked tight. It seemed as though he was struggling to keep his emotions at bay. He didn’t want to get angry at his friend, especially with just how weak and disoriented he was, but Schneeple couldn’t bear it. He was hurt and pissed off and he couldn’t hide that from Chase.

 “You heard me. You tried to blow your brains out, Chase. Vhy? Vhy zee fuck vould you do zhat? Vhy zee FUCK vould you do somezhing like zhat?!” The mad man slammed a fist down violently on the nearby table, the loud bang causing Chase to jump and widen his eyes in surprise.

  “I…I don’t – .”

  “Your cameraman, vhatever zee fuck his name is, said you had been on zee phone vith Stacy before zee incident. Somezhing about you two getting a divorce and her getting custody over zee kids?”

 Chase could only stare at the doctor with confusion. Everything he was saying wasn’t making any sense to him. Had that all really happened? Had he been on the phone with Stacy? Had Stacy said those things to him? His heart clenched tightly in his chest and he suddenly found himself having a difficult time breathing properly, as though there was a weight pressing down on his chest and crushing his lungs. He heard Henrik scoff.

  “I should’ve known Stacy vould’ve been your undoing, but Chase, vhy? VHY?! Vhy zee FUCK vould you resort to somezhing so drastic – so horrible and selfish?” The doctor continued on with his rant. “I mean, I get it. I knew – VE all knew zhings veren’t going so vell between you and Stacy. Ve knew you vere going zhrough a hard time and you never vanted to talk about it vith any of us. You like to zhink everyzhing is happy and vonderful and perfect. Everyzhing in your mind is perfect, even vhen everyzhing goes to shit. So vhy?” He glared daggers at the perplexed man. “Vhy vould you resort to suicide, Chase? Vhat zee fuck could’ve possibly made you zhink zhat vas zee only reasonable solution?!”

  The American’s heart constricted again and he tore his gaze away from the doctor, shutting his eyes tightly as he struggled to take out the wall that was keeping his memories from him. Slowly but surely, fragments were coming to him. Nothing major, but the things his friend was saying were most certainly triggering him.

 “You know me, Chase. You know me and I know you. Ve have been friends for some time now, ve never keep secrets from each other. If you vere hurting, if zee pain was getting to you zhat badly, vhy didn’t you say anyzhing? Vhy didn’t you come to any of us – vhy didn’t you come to me?!” Henrik shouted. And although the German was furious and lashing out at him, when Chase turned to look up at him, he could see pain as clear as day swirling within the doctor’s eyes. It was leaking into his words as well.

  “You KNOW me, Chase. Vhat, did you zhink you vere zee only one going zhrough hell?” Henrik leaned forward a bit, never taking his eyes off of his friend. “My vife and kids left me months ago for someone else. Zhey don’t vant anyzhing to do vith me. Zhey zhink I’m a failure. I haven’t seen zeem in vhat has seemed like ages.” He shook his head and bit his bottom lip, turning his gaze away and trying to stave off any tears from coming to his eyes. After a brief moment to collect himself, his eyes fell back onto Chase and this time, the American could see the tears welling up. “You zhink you’re zee only one in pain? Bullshit.” He spat.

 Chase searched his eyes, his mouth hanging open agape. He had never seen Henrik this angry and this hurt before. Yes, he knew things hadn’t been well for the German and his family, but Henrik rarely spoke about just how much it had all been tearing him up inside. Chase licked his lips and went to speak, but he didn’t get a chance – Henrik carried on with his spiel.

  “Did you not zhink about anyone else vhen you put zhat gun to your head? Did you not once zhink about zee consequences of vhat the effects vould’ve been on any one of us? Did you not zhink about Marvin, Jackieboy Man, or Jack? Did you not zhink about vhat your death vould’ve done to any of zhem? For fuck sake, vhat about your children? Zhey still love you, Chase, and you had no problem putting a gun to your head and pulling zhe trigger – during a recording, no less?! Jesus fucking Christ, Chase – vhat zee fuck vas going zhrough your head?!”

  Chase didn’t know what to say. He was at a loss for words. He could very vaguely remember parts of what had happened – like how he had been on the phone with Stacy, how he’d been filming a video with his cameraman and his friend, Chad – but everything else was still all indecipherable. He couldn’t recall having ever shot himself, let alone come up with a good enough reason as to why he would’ve been driven to such an over-exaggerated reaction to his wife’s words. None of this made any sense to the poor man. He could feel tears welling up in his own eyes. He was so horribly confused and he wished he could remember exactly why he had done what he’d done. He watched his friend look away from him and stand up straight, struggling to calm himself down and keep himself from crying.

  “Vhy?” He asked in such a soft voice, Chase barely even heard it over the beeping of the heart monitor. The doctor glanced back at him, nothing but hurt and sadness shining in his eyes. The anger was long gone now. “Vhy didn’t you say anyzhing?” He said in a pleading tone, desperately wanting an answer.

  Chase shook his head and struggled to speak up. “I-I don’t know. I don’t remember shooting myself, I don’t, I - .” He felt a tear run down his cheek and he tore his gaze away from Henrik. He shook his head again and gave a very nervous chuckle before eyeing the doctor. “I don’t know why I would’ve done such a thing, man, I don’t. I really don’t.” He sniffled. “I mean, I vaguely remember speaking with Stacy, and yeah, things have been absolute shit between us. But…” His brows furrowed. “But trying to kill myself?” He scoffed and shook his head in disbelief, eyes roaming the room. “Fucking Christ, man…” Another lone tear raced down his face as he closed his eyes. He reopened them, staring up at Henrik with sadness. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 Henrik huffed and pulled his glasses away to wipe at his teary eyes. “As you should be.” He let out a breath as he put his glasses back on. “You should consider yourself lucky. If I hadn’t found you in time, you probably vouldn’t have made it.”

 Chase sighed deeply in an attempt to relax his nerves. He sniffed and wiped his eyes clear of tears. He went to open his mouth and question the doctor on how bad the gunshot had been, when suddenly the door burst open and rushing in came a familiar green-haired man with a look of panic clear across his face.

 “Alright, what happened?! Where’s - ?!” Immediately, Jack’s attention shifted to the American lying in the bed, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Chase! Jesus Christ, you’re alive!” And without another word, he bolted to the man’s side and pulled him into a tight hug.

  Chase winced at feeling his head throb when the Irishman went to hug him, the pain sharp and excruciating to the point he wanted to yelp. He let out a whimper and that was Schneeplestein’s cue to step in. He set a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

 “Take it easy zhere. He’s just starting to recover; ve don’t need him getting any broken bones.”

 The Irishman made out another pained whimper leave the ego he had his arms around and instantly pulled away. 

“Oh jeez, sorry.” He gave an apologetic smile. “Didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

Chase coughed and waved a hand at him, brushing it off as nothing. “Nah, bro, it’s cool.”

“It’s not ‘cool’, Chase. You call zhat ‘cool’?” Henrik pointed at the bloodied bandages around the American’s head.

  Jack turned to look at the German doctor, a look of shame coming upon his face.

  “I’m sorry for showing up so late. I came as fast as I could.”

  “It’s quite alright, don’t vorry about it.”

  Jack’s eyes widened with bewilderment. “Don’t worry about – ? Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” He took a brief glance at Chase. “What happened? I mean, I had felt something was wrong with one of you guys, but fuck, I didn’t think it was this bad.” He let his eyes fall back onto Chase, more specifically his right temple.

“You vant to know vhat happened?” Henrik motioned at Chase with an expression of annoyance. “Zhis idiot tried to blow his brains out, ZHAT’S vhat happened.” He then went on to grumble a few obscenities under his breath about his friend’s stupidity.

 The Irishman’s face went white as a sheet as he cocked his head in Chase’s direction. His eyes were as wide as saucers.

 “You did what?” He didn’t sound angry, like Henrik had been. He was more so stunned and horrified. “Chase…”

Chase wasn’t looking at either of the men; he had his attention elsewhere, his facial expression reading nothing but shame. Jack shook his head, refusing to believe such a ludicrous thing. Chase was a lively lovable man, it was VERY rare for him to ever feel down or get upset. The Irishman couldn’t even imagine him attempting suicide. 

“No…No, that can’t be true.” He turned back to the doctor. “Surely you must be joking.”

But the look upon Schneeplestein’s face was cold and solemn, no hint of a smile or glee in sight. Jack swallowed the lump in his throat, hesitant to ask.

  “Why?” He honestly didn’t want to know what could’ve driven his friend over the edge.

  “Stacy” is all that Henrik had to say for the YouTuber to understand. Jack returned his attention back to the man in the hospital bed, who was still pretending like both of the men weren’t there in the room talking about him. Jack neared the bed, his expression softening; knowing Chase was probably already going through his own personal mental hell at the moment.

 “Chase, why would – ?”

  “Save it, dude.” Chase held up a hand to cut off his words. “I don’t want to hear it. The doc here already chewed me out; I don’t need you giving me hell too.” He sounded a tad bit agitated.

  Jack took a glance at Henrik to verify and the German doctor gave a nod. “It’s true; I gave him shit for it before you showed up.”

  The YouTuber looked back at Chase with worry and stepped forward to take a seat on the edge of the bed. “Chase, what’s going on?”

 Chase finally turned his head to look at his friend, his expression morphing into one of uncertainty and sorrow. He stared at Jack for a long moment, took a glance at Henrik – who was standing right behind Jack with his arms crossed – and then looked back at the Irishman. His eyes wandered as he expelled a breath, slowly shaking his head.

  “Look, I’ll admit it. Things between Stacy and I haven’t been so great for the last month or so. She wanted some space and I gave her that. I was a good husband and father; I gave her and the kids exactly what they needed.” He returned his gaze to his friend – his creator. “And what does she do? She phones me up while I’m working and decides to drop a bomb on me right there and then.” He said with hurt apparent in his voice. “She goes on about how I’m too careless and immature, that I’m a child and am a danger to the kids. She wants to get a divorce and plans to take the kids away from me, and she doesn’t want me around them ever again.” He scoffed, a light chuckle coming from him as though it was all a joke to him. “Who does that?”

 Henrik sighed with exasperation, running a hand over his face, while Jack seemed to be more sympathetic.

 “Chase, listen. I’m sorry for the way things have worked out, I really am.”

  “I love her, bro.” The poor man, he truly sounded heartbroken. His baby blue eyes were filled with anguish; he gave off the appearance of a kicked puppy. “I mean, I really love her – her and the kids. I can’t lose them, Jack. They mean too much to me.”

  “And that just might be your undoing there, Chase.” The Irishman admitted sourly. He released a sigh at seeing the American’s horrified expression. “Listen, I know you love her, Chase – we all do. You’ve always had a big heart, but while that is your greatest strength, it might also be your greatest weakness. You get a bit,” He stopped himself, taking a moment to choose the proper wording, “clingy at times. That’s not necessarily a bad thing!” He quickly reassured, not wanting to bring Chase down even more. “But sometimes, people need space, and maybe…maybe that’s all Stacy needs. She just needs space.”

 Chase still looked doubtful and like he was in pain – both physical and mental. Jack leaned forward, keeping his eyes fixed onto his friend. He was hoping he’d look at him and believe his words.

 “Look, Chase, you need to face the cold-hard truth: Stacy has been taking a toll on you for quite some time and you need to let her go.”

At hearing this, the American immediately went to object, shaking his head slowly. “No, no, I can’t, I – .” 

“I know you love her, but Chase, really think about this. Everything you two have been going through for the past month has led up to where you are now.” Jack pointed out. “You’re developing an unhealthy obsession for her and it needs to stop – for your sake, as well as your children’s.”

“N-No, no, you’re wrong, you’re – .” 

“Oh for fuck sake, Chase, enough of zhis cowardice crap already!” Schneeple unexpectedly lashed out, throwing both his creator and his friend completely off-guard and making them both jump.

Jack frowned, having not expected the doctor to snap and be so harsh.

  “Henrik – .”

 “No, he needs to hear zhis, Jack. He needs to face facts and zhere’s no better time to do zhat zhan right now. I mean, look at him!” The mad doctor shot an arm out, motioning at his patient. “Look at vhat all of zhis did to him! He nearly died, Jack!”

  Before the Irishman could even begin to get a response out, the German locked eyes with the emotionally abused man lying in bed.

 “She’s all you’ve been moaning and groaning about over and over again. You’ve been sounding like a broken record! Stacy zhis and Stacy zhat. Enough is enough, Chase! You keep complaining about how zee relationship is going and yet you’re not doing anyzhing to fix it; you’re standing off to the sidelines, hoping a miracle vill happen.” Henrik spat, the truth coming out rather harsh. He knew it was all getting to the man and hurting him further, but he had had enough of seeing his friend in such a wounded mental state. He was doing this for his own good.

  “You’ve been avoiding her like zee plague, Chase. You’ll speak to her over zee phone, but God forbid you von’t actually go and see her in person.” 

“But I can’t.” Chase said. “She doesn’t want to see me anymore.” 

“Fuck zhat! Zhat’s not an excuse!” The doctor snapped. “She may not vant to see you, but you clearly do, and zee only vay you two are going to be able to vork zhings out is if you go to her and speak to each ozher, face to face, like normal adults.”

Chase stared at him for an agonizingly long minute, a feeling of melancholy swelling deep within his already broken heart. He couldn’t deny the truth. Henrik was right; he had been avoiding the main problem for a long time now. He would only ever talk to Stacy over the phone, never in person. He was fearful of what consequences he’d face if he were to ever see her again – what she would say and how she’d say it. She had already torn holes into him every time they spoke to each other. He didn’t know how much more he’d be able to take, let alone just how much worse it’d get.

 Jack took a brief glance at Henrik, biting his lip before proceeding to look at Chase.

  “He’s right, Chase. You’ve been avoiding Stacy for some time now and it needs to stop. You two need to get together and work things out face to face – that’s the only way all of this pain you’re feeling will go away. And if things don’t work out,” He sighed softly and shrugged, “then you’re just going to have to accept that. Sometimes, things aren’t always the way you’d hoped they’d be, Chase. Believe me on this.” He said with as much sincerity as he possibly could, hoping like hell he’d gotten his point across.

 Chase kept his attention fully on the Irishman, taking in his words of advice and running it all through his head. He really didn’t want to lose Stacy or the kids, but the guys had a point – he did have a problem and the only way it’d get solved is if he went and faced his wife. Henrik stepped forward, searching Chase’s eyes for any sign of understanding.

  “Chase, please. Promise me you vill go and see Stacy and vork zhings out.”

 “Doc, I don’t – .” 

“Chase…I haven’t seen my vife and kids in over six months.” There was a tremor of heartache and what almost sounded like regret in his voice. “I made many mistakes in zee past, so many of vhich I regret. I’m still trying to make up for zhem and make zhings vork, but no matter vhat I do, my family doesn’t trust me anymore. I’m nozhing to zhem.” He leaned forward, shaking his head. “Don’t make zee same mistakes I did.” His tone of voice was firm, and although it was that way, it came out sounding desperate, like he was pleading the man to make things right.

The American could feel the pain radiating off of the doctor and it was suffocating. His brows weaved together out of sorrow, pitying his friend and wishing there was something he could say to cheer him up. He could feel Jack’s eyes boring into him and it made the man give him his undivided attention.

 “Chase, please, promise me – promise us – that when you have fully recovered, when you leave this hospital, you will go and see Stacy.” The Irishman was staring intently at the ego, wanting him to make a promise here and now that’d he do exactly what was expected of him. He couldn’t afford to have one of the egos become damaged beyond repair.

 Chase sighed deeply and looked anywhere but at Jack, doubt and anxiety corrupting his mind.

 “I don’t know. I don’t know if I – .” His voice trembled ever so slightly, coming off like a nervous child afraid to confront their worst fear.

  “Chase…”

 After letting his eyes wander around the room once, the American locked eyes with the YouTuber.

 “Promise you will see her.” 

He could feel both Jack and Henrik’s eyes boring into him, waiting impatiently for his answer. And although he wanted to say no, he knew there was only truly one right answer. He looked away, feeling defeated and giving a pitiful nod in agreement.

“Alright, I’ll…I’ll at least consider it. I’ll give it some thought – some REAL thought, okay?” 

That was better than nothing; no point in pushing him any further, especially with just how tired the American was beginning to look. His eyes were struggling to stay open now, sleep threatening to take him under once again. Dull pain throbbed in his right temple and he winced, a soft hiss slipping through his teeth. Henrik patted him on the shoulder.

“Alright, vell, don’t zhink about it too much right now. Right now, you need to rest. Vith an injury as bad as yours, you’re going to need as much as possible. Now go to sleep.” He turned his attention to the Irishman. “Jack, could I have a vord vith you outside please?”

 “Of course.” The YouTuber stood up from the bed and went to head for the door before taking a glance back at Chase. He gave a playful scowl. “Don’t ever scare me like that again. I don’t need any of you guys dying on me anytime soon.” 

Chase’s eyes had already fluttered closed, but a small smile played at his lips at hearing what his close friend had to say. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Henrik gently nudged his shoulder. “I’ll be right outside if you need anyzhing.” He reassured before heading over to Jack, both of them exiting the room. He closed the door behind them as they left.

 From out in the hall, the German doctor stood in front of a window, looking into the room he’d just left and watching Chase fall asleep. Jack was by his side, but his attention wasn’t on Chase, it was on Henrik.  

“Alright, what is it? What do you need to talk to me about?” He asked, crossing his arms and taking glances back into the recovery room. “It’s about Chase, isn’t it?”

Schneeple didn’t respond. He kept his eyes locked on Chase with a look made up of concern and confusion on his face. Jack’s eyes narrowed, not liking the odd silence or the focused expression Henrik was wearing. That look on his face was the very same one reminiscent of a doctor about to tell a set of parents that their child had just died. The Irishman shifted uncomfortably where he stood.

“Henrik?"

  The German dropped his head and sighed deeply, moving a hand up to pull away his glasses while his other hand passed over his face, evidently stressed out from whatever it was that was on his mind.

  “I don’t know vhat to tell you, Jack.” 

Jack blinked, more confused than anything. 

“What? Tell me what?”

The silence returned with a vengeance as the doctor lifted his head, slipping his glasses back on. He wasn’t making eye contact with the Irishman. Jack released an exasperated breath, uncrossing his arms and getting a tad put off by his friend’s behavior.

  “Damn it, Henrik, come on. What’s going on?” Jack demanded, having enough of the long dreadful wait. 

The German doctor kept his eyes fixed back out on Chase one more, seeming to be in a state of thought, like he was fighting with himself on whether or not it’d be a good idea to tell the man. He shook his head slowly.

“I don’t know how he survived, Jack.” 

A wave of perplexity came over the YouTuber, not taking his eyes off of the doctor.

“What?” He scoffed. “What do you mean you ‘don’t know’?”

  “I mean, I don’t know.” Finally, he turned his head to look at the Irishman. “He shot himself, Jack. Zee gun he used, zee velocity, zee range – none of it adds up. He put a gun to his head – he shot himself point-blank. The bullet should’ve gone in and out of his head or at zee very least should’ve gotten stuck somevhere in his brain.”  Bewilderment was shining bright in his eyes. “But it didn’t.” 

“So…So what? The bullet didn’t go as deep as it should’ve?”

“No, it didn’t.”

 “How deep did it go?”

 Henrik blinked and gave his friend an odd look. Why would Jack want to know about a crucial detail like that? Well then again, Chase had just survived a gunshot to the head. Jack had nearly lost an ego who had tried to commit suicide. The man deserved to know how bad the injury had been.

  “It didn’t go all zhat deep. It only got lodged between his scalp and skull.”

 “And you managed to take it out? There wasn’t any damage to his skull, was there?”

 Okay, that was an oddly specific question to ask. Henrik’s eyes narrowed.

  “No…” He answered slowly. “No, zhere vasn’t too much damage. I mean, zhere vas a bit of fracturing, but nozhing incredibly fatal or threatening. Believe me, if he starts to show signs of brain damage, I’ll operate on him immediately and be forced to put a metal plate in his head.” He tore his gaze away and shook his head slowly. “I honestly don’t know how he survived, Jack. None of zhis should’ve happened, and quite frankly, I haven’t zee slightest idea vhat to make of it.”

 Jack gave him an inquisitive look. “But isn’t that a good thing? He survived, didn’t he?”

 Henrik huffed. “Vell, yes, but – .”

  “But what?”

 “I’m just…” The doctor sighed deeply, taking a glance back into the recovering room. “I’m just vorried about him, zhat’s all.” 

This only raised more questions for the Irishman.

“Worried? Why?” He too looked into the room, eyeing Chase. “He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?” 

Henrik didn’t say anything and it immediately made the YouTuber jerk his head in his direction, stunned that the man wasn’t replying. His heart stuttered with trepidation, his mind conjuring up dreadful conclusions.

“Oh no…Oh no, no, no, how bad is it?” He demanded, his eyes blown wide with horror. “How much time does he have left?” 

That got the doctor’s attention. His face scrunched up with confusion as he turned to face Jack. Where had that question come from?

“Vhat?”

 “How long does he have?”

 “Who said anyzhing about him dying?” The German retorted back, having no idea as to why the Irishman would jump to such a ridiculous conclusion.

 “So he’ll be alright then?”

 Henrik released an exasperated sigh and shrugged his shoulders. “Hypothetically, yes, he’ll be okay. Zhere vasn’t nearly as much damage as vhat I vould’ve expected zhere to be, and I honestly don’t know vhy zhat is. It’s a miracle really, as far as I’m concerned.” He paused, finding himself slowly drifting off into a state of memory. “But…But zhere vas somezhing…” 

Jack’s brows furrowed out of question, noticing how his friend’s behavior was off.

“What? What was there?” He asked, searching the ego’s eyes for the answer. 

Henrik barely heard him given just how far gone he’d become. Flashes of when he had operated on Chase flickered spastically before his eyes, remembering all too well of what hell he had endured. There was one part in particular that was standing out to him: when he had extracted the bullet from his head. He had been interrupted by countless hallucinations each and every time he had gone to try and remove the bullet, and one of those times was rather haunting. When he had gone to pull the bullet out, inky sludge had bubbled out of the wound and a long thick string of it had been attached to the bullet, getting stretched the more he pulled. At one point, it had almost looked like the black ooze had come from inside the bullet and was leaking, but he had just thought his eyes were playing games with him. That stuff, whatever it had been, wasn’t normal. He’d never seen such a substance before and he couldn’t even begin to put together a logical explanation as to what it was and why it had been in Chase’s head. He felt a shiver go up his spine at the reminder.

Should he tell Jack? He deserved to know the truth – he was their creator after all. If something was wrong with one of them, he had every right to know. But then again, that sludge Henrik had seen – how could he tell if it had been real or not? Those hallucinations he had had were so incredibly vivid, he couldn’t differentiate reality from illusion. When the nightmare had come to an end and he finally took the bullet out of Chase’s head, there hadn’t been any black ooze. Maybe it had all just been his own mind playing a horrible prank on him. And if that was the case, there wasn’t any point in telling Jack. There was no reason to make him even more worried than he already was. The good doctor scoffed and shook his head, locking his eyes back onto Jack.

  “Nozhing. It’s nozhing. Sorry, I zoned out zhere for a moment.” He sighed and gave the Irishman a reassuring smile. “He’ll be alright, Jack. I know he vill.”

 “So you aren’t worried about him.”

 Henrik frowned. What the hell was that? The way he said those words – he made them sound like he had just proven a point. His voice had fallen cold and flat and he didn’t sound like himself. Schneeple felt as though he was getting cornered and accused of something. He blinked and gave him an incredulous look.

  “Jack, he’s my patient – my dear friend. He just tried to blow his brains out a few hours ago. Vhy vouldn’t I be vorried about him?”

 The Irishman shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t know, I just…” He trailed off, taking a glance back at Chase, “He’s not like himself, Henrik. He’s not nearly as chipper and happy-go-lucky as he used to be.”

  “You don’t zhink I’ve realized zhat?”

 “He hasn’t…” He licked his lips, hesitating to ask, “He hasn’t shown any…out of the ordinary symptoms, has he?” He took a side-glance at the doctor.

 “Symptoms?” Now Henrik was getting agitated. “Of vhat? Jack, I’m zee doctor here. Don’t you zhink if zhere vere anyzhing wrong vith him, I’d let you know?”

 Jack nodded. “Yes, yes, I know.” He sighed. “I know you would tell me. I just…I’m just really concerned about him is all. I mean, I know that technically none of you guys can get sick because come on, why the hell would I want to do that to any of you? But who knows?” He stared out at Chase, a look of worry upon his pale face. “Maybe something got inside him.”

 Henrik expelled a breath and patted his creator’s shoulder gently. “I know you’re vorried, Jack. Ve all are. Zee other two came by earlier vhen he was still out, and oh boy, vere zhey ever distraught. For Christ’s sake, Marvin vouldn’t stop crying. I had to talk him into showing me one of his absurd magic tricks to get him to cheer up.” 

Jack couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at that, especially what with the noticeable annoyance in the German’s words. He returned his gaze to the good doctor, searching his eyes for reassurance that the American in the other room would truly be okay.

“Jack, please, believe me…Chase is going to make it zhrough zhis.” He too was searching his friend’s eyes for any sign of him understanding what he was saying. He could only hope the man would believe him.

  After an uncomfortable amount of prolonged eye contact, Jack finally exhaled softly and nodded in understanding. “Alright…Alright, I believe you.”  

Henrik gave a small smile at hearing this. “Good. Now I hate to cut zhis short, but I have to go and deal vith some important papervork and I need to contact his cameraman about zee whole incident. But,” He took a look back at his slumbering patient, “I don’t vant to leave him alone.”

“I could watch over him for a little while.” Jack volunteered, standing up straight and looking eager to take some stress off of the German’s shoulders.

  Schneeple glanced at him with uncertainty. “Really? I don’t vant to be a bozher or anyzhing. If you need to go and deal vith somezhing important, I – .”

“Henrik, stop.” The YouTuber put an end to his babbling. “What’s important is what’s happening right now. I honestly have no problem with staying here and keeping an eye on him.” He beamed happily. “What’re friends for?”

 The doctor still seemed a bit unsure, but he knew how Jack was – there was no way of reasoning with him once he had his mind set on something. He let out a defeated breath. 

“Alright, if you insist.” He smiled in return as he began to walk backward, about to head off for his office. “Zhank you. And I svear, I’ll try to be as quick as possible.” 

Jack chuckled and waved a hand off at him. “Take your time. I don’t have anywhere else to be right at the moment.” He tore his gaze away and looked back into Chase’s room, his smile faltering. Henrik noticed. 

“Jack, relax. He vill be alright.” His words bounced off of the walls of the hallway as he turned and sprinted for his office. 

The Irishman watched him race down the hall in a hurry to go and complete his work. He scoffed and glanced back into the recovery room. He locked his eyes onto Chase, watching the man sleep soundly. For a fleeting moment, the lights in the room flickered, and as soon as that happened, the American jerked under the covers. His face twisted up into one of pain, his body slowly twisting and turning in the blankets, trying to both stop the agony and get himself comfortable. A faint whimper could be heard slipping from his lips, but it didn’t just carry pain – fear was lingering there as well. 

A deeply unsettling chuckle bubbled out from deep within the Irishman’s throat, finding amusement in seeing his friend in agony. The corner of his lips tugged up into an awfully devilish smirk, the light above him flickering before burning out completely. Two sickeningly pale green eyes glowed brightly from out there in the dark patch of the hallway. He cocked his head slightly, staring at Chase with a look that read nothing but malicious intent. And when he spoke, his voice – it came out scratchy and distorted. 

It sounded like someone who had gotten their windpipe cut open. 

“He won’t be for long.”

 Part 11 - In Your Head

Part 13 - Home

 @gridhorizon @jse-fandom-protection-squad @septic-obsessed @darkcurious @butterlover328 @steffid101 @sketchy-scribs-n-doods @no-strings-puppet @haveaverynicetime @golden-eyed-guardians @fear-is-nameless @nightmarewolf133 @maybekatie @jack-a-yote @lil-gib @aeoix @lemonofweirdness @randomcrystals @vity-dream

#jacksepticeye #antisepticeye #anti #dr henrik von schneeplestein #dr schneeplestein #schneeple #henrik von schneeplestein #chase brody #chase bro average #jacksepticeye fanfiction #antisepticeye fanfiction #anti fanfiction #jacksepticeye fanfic #antisepticeye fanfic #anti fanfic #glitched

[lowat-golden-tower]

The Doctor is In

Soooo I kind of lied? When I said that poll was deciding the next egos oneshot I’d write?

I mean! It is!...for Mark’s egos. :3 After seeing this art by the fabulous @cinnamon-grump, I just got so severely inspired to write... something! How it happened, why he was there, SOMETHING.

It was a need, and I filled it, and... well, I hope you guys enjoy it. I’m... not entirely confident with how it turned out, I’m MUCH better with Mark’s egos, but... well. I guess we’ll see. Hopefully I did the Jackaboys justice.

Also, for those of you commenting awkward, sexual things on cinnamon-grump’s art post... please stop. They’ve conveyed they aren’t comfortable with it, and that they weren’t trying to make anything sexual to begin with. Respect the artist and their wishes and stop.

Now, enjoy the show.

AO3 Mirror

"Ha! And they thought zey saw ze last of the great Dr. Schneeplestein!" The doctor moved about his little makeshift "clinic," organizing his tools and cleaning up after his latest "operation." He'd mopped up most of the blood but he kept finding tiny dried flakes of it everywhere. "Note to zelf: watch ze splatter. Even if it iz very pretty."

He fixed the straps on his operating table where they'd been pulled a bit loose, humming quite happily to himself. "Well, zey are in for quite ze shock. I zhall be makeeng my grand comeback! I juzt knew Jack vould bring me back. I am zimply too popular to resist! Ha!"

It was nice to gloat and stroke his own ego every once in a while. What with so many of his colleagues writing him off as a hack. He couldn't get a job at a real hospital, but his underground clinic worked just fine. People needed a doctor with no connections or paperwork all the time. Plus, the patients Dr. Schneeplestein tended to were often the type who wouldn't be missed. Perfect for a last minute experiment if he got the urge.

Yes, he'd been hiding away, biding his time and doing what he loved while he waited patiently for Jack to realize what the people wanted. What Jack's community wanted. He huffed, polishing his scalpels and other sharp surgical tools. "I only wish I could zee ze look on zat pompous Dr. Iplier's face when he finds out I am getteeng anozer special."

Dr. Schneeplestein smirked behind his mask, holding up his favorite bone saw to the light and watching as it gleamed. "He has not gotten a video in years. He will be zo jealous, hoo hoo!" He giggled gleefully to himself and carefully put the tools away.

Moving to the cabinet where he kept his liquid drugs, the doctor took stock of what he had left. Nothing was labeled, but of course he knew precisely what each little bottle contained. That didn't necessarily mean it was used for its intended purpose, but he was the doctor here. He could dole out his treatments however he saw fit. His patients would be none the wiser. In fact, sometimes they became hooked, and then he had an excuse to run some... tests on them.

My, the human tendency for addiction was absolutely fascinating. Almost a drug in itself, he supposed. Dr. Schneeplestein ached for the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins while his victims- er, patients- screamed and thrashed and pleaded on his operating table. Oh, it was sweet music to his ears-

Wait.

Dr. Schneeplestein paused his contented reminiscing to blink at the colorful bottles within his cabinet. His hand lingered over a gap in one of the rows, and then his brow furrowed harshly in confusion. He ran through the night's surgeries and operations and treatments in his head, ticking off every time he filled a syringe with contents from this cabinet. Gently, his fingertip came to rest within the gap, tapping softly against the wood.

"Thiopental...." He scowled behind his mask, scrunching up his nose and turning away from the cabinet. "I have not used thiopental today. Zis was a no anesthetics day! And I know I had at least one more bottle at ze end of yezterday." Puzzled, Dr. Schneeplestein rubbed at his chin. He set his inventory clipboard down on a counter and tapped his pen against the papers attached. "Puzzling, puzzling, what a mystery. Maybe a patient... no, no. I would have zeen, of zis, I am certain. But zen how? Eet did not zimply get up and zkip off like a giddy child! Eet iz medicine, not child! Medicine does not move."

Dr. Schneeplestein huffed again and rubbed at his forehead in irritation. That drug wasn't cheap to get, and it was one of his personal favorites. Now he would have to go scrounge up some more for tomorrow night. He turned back to his clipboard, jotting down a note. "Maybe zere is a mice infestation or..."

Abruptly, there was a sharp prick in the side of his neck and he gasped, dropping his pen. It rolled to the floor with a clatter around his stumbling, covered shoes as he reflexively jerked away from the pain. Whirling to face the source, the arm closest to the counter pressed against it, supporting the doctor's weight. The other reached up to slap a gloved hand over the throbbing, bleeding spot on his neck. Blue eyes widened.

There was the briefest glimpse of a too familiar face leering at him, then the light above blew out in a burst of sparks. He cried out in alarm as the room was plunged into darkness. It would take time for his eyes to adjust to the sudden change, and until then he was basically blind in his own clinic.

D̸̲́ó̶̺c̸̣͆t̴̤͘õ̴̤r̷̩̈.̷̕ͅ.̵͉͊.̵̛̻.̴̼͋

Dr. Schneeplestein sucked in a tight breath. He couldn't make out the word which had been said, but he recognized the ringing in his ears. Unhinged giggling sprouted up for just a heartbeat, echoing around the darkness. His eyes flitted desperately around but provided no information.

O̶̝͒h̶̜́ ̵̙̏d̸͇̈́o̸̠̊c̷̫̆ţ̴̏o̶̢̽r̴̺̚.̴̘̊.̶��̩.̸̖̒.̶͈̕

There was still blood dribbling down his neck. It slipped through the cracks of his fingers but it didn't feel too serious. He just needed to cover the puncture wound. What had he been stabbed with? Certainly not a knife, or he would already be dead. The voice pitched up in tone when it called out once again, seemingly amused.

L̷̺̄o̸͙͆o̴̩͘ķ̴̂s̴̰̀ ̸̲͒l̸͚̃ì̴̭k̸͇̂ë̶̫́ ̷̺̑y̵̨͌o̴͂͜ȗ̵͈ ̵̞̓n̸̺͛e̴͍̿e̴̤͆d̵̾͜ ̴͈̅ó̸̜n̵͍̒e̷͗͜.̷̲̃

There was more giggling, but Dr. Schneeplestein's vision was finally starting to adjust. He could make out the barest shapes and silhouettes in the darkness. When he blinked, sickly green and vibrant red flashed across the backs of his eyelids and he startled. The giggling intensified to full-blown laughter and it felt as if he were being circled. That doesn't make sense, his mind argued, you have your back to a counter.

Ō̷̩h̷̭̚,̶̺̽ ̸́ͅb̷̻̒u̷̲͆ť̶̠ ̷͈͊s̷̭̍į̶̇n̴̛̻ć̸̩ê̴̢ ̴͉̌ẃ̷̜h̴̬̉ę̸̏n̷͕͒ ̷̜̏w̸̼͝a̶̫͛s̶͐ͅ ̸̛͖m̵̧͛a̴͉̿k̶̘̾i̸̖͠ṉ̶̒g̸̰̐ ̵̨̈s̵̘̉ě̶̻n̶̽͜s̶̖̋ẹ̵́ ̸̘̾ȩ̷̐v̶̭̀ë̶́͜r̵̲̿ ̶͕͒a̵̯͝n̸̲̑ỳ̶̲ ̷͖̍f̶͉̂u��̻̈́n̸̚͜?̵͙͋

Looking frantically about, he swore he kept catching the smallest of glimpses of something in his peripheral vision. Something fast, as it would flit immediately out of sight the moment he turned to focus on it. Fumbling around the counter, he tried to recall where he kept the plasters without fully taking his eyes off the darkness. Deep within him, something primal and illogical screamed it would be his downfall. If he dropped his guard for even a moment, the beast in the shadows would consume him.

D̸̝̋o̴̩̅c̷̘̃t̴̢͠o̴̝͌ŗ̸̆,̵̲͝ ̷̫͛d̵̙͛ö̷̘́c̸͓̕t̷̨̋ò̵͍r̴͖͝,̴̮͗ ̴̘̀d̸̹̑o̷͎̓c̸̙̓t̵̖̋ǒ̵̹r̶͓͐.̸͉̎.̷͚̈́.̸̠̄.̴͓͆

The voice was suddenly directly in his ear; so close Dr. Schneeplestein could feel the chilling breath ghost across his skin. A shudder raced up his spine and he cried out again, leaping away from the false safety the counter had provided. He yelped as he ran straight into a tray stand, knocking it over and winding up sprawled across his own floor. He groaned, the sound of raucous, malicious laughter rebounding in the space around him. "Schnitzel...."

W̶h̷a̴t̵'̷s̸ ̵t̶h̶e̶ ̴m̵a̵t̴t̴e̴r̸,̵ ̵d̷o̶c̷t̸o̶r̷?̷ ̵S̵c̷a̸r̴e̸d̸?̸

Dr. Schneeplestein winced, hissing as he pushed himself up onto hands and knees. Thankfully, no tools had been on the tray, but he'd definitely have some bruises. Belatedly, he noted the voice was a bit clearer, and he thought he could make out some of the words. He exhaled heavily, clutching at his neck again. "Who is zere? Show yourzelf!"

O̴h̷,̶ ̵d̷o̶c̶t̸o̴r̶.̷ ̵Y̴o̸u̶ ̵k̶n̵o̷w̷ ̵w̴h̵o̶ ̵I̷ ̵a̴m̷.̵

"Do I?" He squinted, even knowing it wouldn't help him see through the darkness. Flickers of green and red and a sharp-toothed grin, mismatched eyes. They danced across his vision and he wondered if he was hallucinating from the blood loss. But no, he hadn't lost nearly enough yet, he'd been keeping track. Though it was gradually becoming harder.

F̵e̸e̴l̶i̴n̸g̵ ̴a̸ ̴l̵i̵t̷t̸l̵e̷ ̶t̵i̷r̵e̵d̵,̷ ̶d̵o̶c̷t̵o̸r̸?̷

"Zhut up." Yet it was true. Dr. Schneeplestein felt himself blinking more and more as his eyelids grew heavy. A faint dizziness came over him and he swayed in his spot on the floor. His head was getting a little fuzzy. "Vhat did you do?"

J̵u̷s̸t̷ ̸g̵a̴v̸e̷ ̷y̴o̸u̶ ̵a̶ ̴l̶i̵t̸t̸l̸e̸ ̸t̶a̵s̴t̷e̷ ̸o̶f̴ ̴y̶o̷u̵r̶ ̶o̶w̷n̴ ̴m̴e̶d̵i̶c̵i̸n̷e̵.̸

There was the familiar click of metal and glass hitting the floor, though it didn't shatter. He could hear whatever it was rolling towards him and he shook his head in some effort to clear it. Patting carefully at the shadowed floor before him, Dr. Schneeplestein's blood ran cold when his fingers made contact with something he knew far too well.

P̴i̵e̵c̶i̸n̸g̵ ̸i̶t̴ ̴t̸o̸g̴e̵t̷h̸e̷r̴ ̶n̵o̴w̶?̶ ̸F̵u̴c̸k̴ ̷y̵o̶u̵'̶r̷e̴ ̴s̴l̵o̴w̴.̷

Horrified, Dr. Schneeplestein plucked one of his own syringes up from the floor. It was empty, but the needle still dripped with the remnants of some unknown liquid. He swallowed hard. There was a gaping, painful pit in his stomach as his sleepy mind raced. Which drug had been missing from the cabinet?

I̴ ̷r̷e̵a̶l̵l̷y̷ ̴a̵p̶p̶r̵e̷c̷i̴a̷t̷e̷ ̴y̴o̶u̷ ̷s̵u̴p̷p̸l̵y̸i̴n̶g̷ ̶m̵e̵ ̵w̷i̷t̶h̴ ̸e̵v̶e̴r̵y̸t̷h̷i̵n̴g̵ ̴I̸ ̶n̷e̶e̴d̴e̴d̶.̵

"Thiopental...." It was a hoarse whisper, and Dr. Schneeplestein coughed roughly afterwards. He could feel his body beginning to shiver and he knew. Were he able to see the room, he was sure it would all be turning double as a result of the drug. "H.. how..."

Y̷o̴u̸ ̷d̶o̶n̴'̵t̷ ̶n̵e̴e̶d̸ ̵t̷o̶ ̴w̴o̴r̵r̶y̶ ̸a̵b̴o̵u̶t̵ ̶t̸h̶a̵t̷.̸ ̸J̶u̵s̶t̶ ̵r̷e̴l̵a̷x̶.̷

Relax.... Relax sounded good. Sleep sounded good. He was so tired. No, no, his brain cried out. Shaking his head again only resulted in worsening the dizziness. There was static buzzing in his ears and he couldn't concentrate anymore. "Why..."

B̴e̷c̸a̸u̶s̶e̷ ̶i̴t̴'̸s̵ ̷f̵u̴n̷.̶ ̵N̵o̵w̷ ̴s̶l̷e̸e̵p̴.̷

The syringe rolled out of his loosening fingers as he attempted to support himself. His muscles felt like jelly and it was becoming harder and harder to keep his eyes open. He wobbled where he sat on his knees, and some invisible force pushed him over with ease. Like he was nothing more than house of cards.

S̵l̷e̸e̴p̸.̵.̵.̸.̵

He struggled to keep his eyes open, to stay awake. Too much of the drug had been pumped into his system. Dr. Schneeplestein breathed heavily behind his mask, still coughing occasionally while his body shivered endlessly. His nails scratched along the floor, seeking anything that might help his situation. They touched a shoe, and with the last of his energy Dr. Schneeplestein tilted his head back to gaze up at the person wearing it.

S̴l̵e̸e̸p̶,̴ ̶d̷o̸c̷t̶o̴r̷.̶

Two glowing irises pierced through the darkness, freezing him down to the bone. One was a pure, crystal blue while the other seeped with an acidic green. Even in his haze, he could feel the leer being directed at him from above. He could see where sections of the figure's silhouette glitched and separated and disappeared sporadically. He'd known who it was all along, but hadn't been willing to believe it. A warm fuzziness washed over his brain, and his grasp on consciousness finally slipped. The descent was fast, and harsh.

"Say goodbye."

When the doctor next woke, he was no longer on the floor. He knew because there was softness beneath him, warmed by his own lingering body heat. It felt like a blanket and he vaguely wondered if someone had placed him on a bed. There were no beds in his clinic- only in his private quarters. Even the best doctor needed some sleep now and then.

Dr. Schneeplestein swore he must have been sleeping for a month. His brain was fuzzy, his mouth dry and all of his limbs were numb. It felt like a lead cloak had been draped over his body but he knew nothing about his outfit had been changed- well, besides the fact his socks and shoes were missing. He was still wearing the same powder blue scrubs. His surgical mask had remained in place as well. How much time had actually passed? Was he really in his own bed, or was this somewhere else?

Everything was too fuzzy. His mind couldn't grasp on details or helpful memories. When he tried thinking back, only harsh laughter echoed in his ears. Green and blue stood out to him as important for some reason, but he couldn't place his finger on why.

Well, he couldn't place his finger on much of anything. As more of his senses and nerve endings came back online, Dr. Schneeplestein realized he'd been bound. Thick ropes were wrapped haphazardly around his wrists and ankles, the length between keeping them pinned closely together in a sloppy hogtie. It was a real rush job, and for some reason the thought made him want to giggle. Clearly, he still had something in his system.

Oh. Yes, of course. He'd been drugged, that was right. He recalled the syringe now. That also explained the light throbbing in his neck; why the skin there felt flaky and itchy. He longed to scratch at it, to peel away the dried blood, but the ropes- messy as they may be- held fast. Hell, even if his limbs were free, Dr. Schneeplestein doubted he'd have the strength to move that much. He hadn't been able to open his eyes yet.

"Looks like zomevone iz vaking up."

Dr. Schneeplestein groaned softly behind his mask, shifting minutely on the blanket. How odd. That sounded just like his voice, yet he hadn't said a single word. His tongue lay thick and heavy in his mouth- a side effect of the anesthesia. He wasn't sure he could work his jaw in his current state, either. So how...?

"My, my. Don't you look confused. Poor baby. M̵a̶y̵b̷e̸ ̷t̶h̴i̶s̵ ̴w̶i̷l̵l̷ ̴h̶e̴l̵p̴.̸"

Finally, Dr. Schneeplestein was able to crack open one hazy blue eye. Everything was a bit of a blur, but he could distinctly make out a figure standing near the edge of the bed. He tried hard to funnel what concentration he had into that eye; to focus his vision. There was blue, and some green at the top. For a moment, he thought he spied the same glowing irises he'd seen in his clinic, but soon they were gone. He grunted, expression slack but questioning.

"Ztill having trouble figuring it all out? How zad." The figure tsk'd and shook his head. There was another blur of movement, and then Dr. Schneeplestein felt fingers gripping at his own fading hair. The cry he gave was soft and weak when his head was roughly jerked up off the bed at an odd angle. "A̴n̴d̴ ̶h̸e̴r̸e̶ ̸I̸ ̴t̵h̴o̵u̵g̶h̸t̵ ̶y̴o̵u̶ ̷w̴e̶r̷e̴ ̶t̵h̸e̷ ̷s̶m̴a̵r̷t̶ ̶o̷n̶e̴.̷"

That glitching, high-pitched voice kept sending shivers down his spine. It grated on his ears, cutting through the lingering static as a vicious ringing. He'd started shivering again, though he had no idea if it was another side effect or simply fear. He knew who this was. He knew, but no, he still didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to think this ego, of all the egos, had returned. Especially so early.

"Oh doctor, you look to be een zhock. Were you expecteeng zomevone else, maybe?" The mimicry of his voice was so spot-on it was deeply unnerving, even down to the laugh. "Vho, exactly? Jackieboy Man? Zat magical doofus? Chase? Ha! Do not be making me laugh, y̶o̸u̵'̶r̶e̶ ̶t̸h̶e̷ ̴o̴n̷l̶y̵ ̸o̶n̶e̴ ̶t̶o̶ ̵b̵a̶r̵e̸l̴y̵ ̸s̸c̵r̴a̷t̴c̷h̷ ̶m̴y̷ ̵l̶e̵v̸e̴l̴.̶"

Hearing his voice dip into the screeching growl so seamlessly was even more unsettling and Dr. Schneeplestein couldn't suppress a whimper. He was too out of it; too weak. His normal composure was lost in a sea of light-headedness and drowsiness. He stared up at bright blue eyes and a face half-hidden by a surgical mask, like looking into some twisted mirror. The mimic scoffed, apparently disgusted or bored, and let his head drop back onto the blanket. There was the light rustle of clothing, and then the hand on his head was pressing down instead of pulling up. He grunted again.

"Now be un good boy und take your medicine, doctor. Don't need you to be getteeng all excited vhile I am gone. You are goeeng to be nice und hidden in here, vhere no one vill find you. Nozing to vorry about at all, you zee, no one will know ze difference. N̸o̶ ̸o̵n̸e̵ ̶w̴i̴l̷l̸ ̶k̸n̵o̵w̶ ̸i̶t̶'̶s̶ ̸m̶e̴.̸"

Dr. Schneeplestein could only let loose another quiet whine as he felt the needle dig into a different part of his neck. He didn't have to see the liquid inside to know it was more thiopental. At least this time the injection point was cleaner, so there was barely any bleeding at all. That didn't stop him from whimpering, tugging at the ropes with what little strength he had. Soon it would be sapped away by the drug again.

"Now, now, calm down. Juzt let eet flow through you, doctor. Have a nap. I'll be back to zee you very soon."

The pressure was removed from Dr. Schneeplestein's head. He heard the crackle of static, and then the room was silent. He tried to turn his head to get a better look around, but it was useless. His muscles didn't want to cooperate, and his brain's signals were growing more sluggish by the second. He was drifting away again.

He was falling.

Anti was gone.

"Schneeps! Yer here! Fantastic, you all ready to get started?"

"Of courze! I am alvays ready to educate ze masses."

"Right. Just don't get too carried away, okay? Rein it in a little bit here."

"Vhatever you zay, Meester Zepticeye. Ze doctah iz in, und he iz ready to p̷l̴a̶y̷."

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye egos #dr. schneeplestein #antisepticeye #blood #needles #drugging #forced captivity #kidnapping #stolen identity #egregious af accents god i hate writing his accent

[pitviperofdoom]

BH6/ROTG: A Friend in the Dark, 22/23

Title: A Friend in the Dark

Summary: Callaghan is behind bars, but Tadashi’s work is far from over. The Man in the Moon thrust him into this position for a reason but failed to let him know what that reason was, and once again he finds himself muddling along for answers as Nightmares run rampant through the streets. But it takes more than fire and magic to make a Guardian, and when a new (yet old) threat threatens those that Tadashi holds dear, he comes to understand just what he is capable of, and what it means for everyone he loves. (Sequel to Lighting Candles)

This fic now has a tv tropes page!

(AN: WE’RE IN THE HOME STRETCH PEOPLE.)

Chapter 22: Forgiveness is Optional

AO3

Hiro had lost track of time. It may as well have been a year since Tadashi had left them in the Tea Garden’s shrine.

Without his armor, Baymax was deactivated, and Hiro crouched by his deflated body as the battle raged on. His friends were around him, holding off the swarm with the help of the Easter Bunny. Beyond them, battling the bulk of the nightmares on the front lines, were the rest of the Guardians.

The rabbit was in a foul temper. Over the din of battle, Hiro could still hear him cursing as he fought, loudly enough that even his exploding eggs couldn’t drown him out. Honey was closest to him, hurling chem balls like their lives depended on it, and even she was giving him a wide berth.

Hiro couldn’t blame him for his mood. ��Buy me time” wasn’t a lot to go on, and the Easter Bunny didn’t strike him as the patient type.

He couldn’t help but wonder exactly what Tadashi was planning on doing. His explanation had been frustratingly vague and directed at Jack Frost. Whatever it was, Jack hadn’t been happy about it, nor had he seemed to think the others would be happy about it either. That didn’t bode well for their chances of success.

Without Baymax, Hiro could only sit at the very back of the shrine where the nightmares hadn’t reached, watch the battle, and call out whatever verbal directions and advice he could. Baymax’s chip—the hoshi no tama—his brother’s soul—was warm in his hand and pulsing softly with light. He braced himself, hoping against hope that Tadashi would return.

There came a sound like rolling thunder.

Except it wasn’t thunder, Hiro realized. It was the sound of hooves, dozens if not hundreds of hooves. He raised his head, still clutching the hoshi no tama, and looked around for the source. It was hard to tell.

As the sound rose, there was almost a lull in the fighting. The nightmare swarm slowed and shifted as if surprised. Somewhere at its heart was Professor Callaghan, though Hiro couldn’t be sure what he was thinking, or how much thinking he could even do at this point.

“Is that the cavalry?” Fred asked with weary hope.

“No,” The Easter Bunny pushed past them, a boomerang held in either paw, his eyes narrowed and fixed on the surrounding trees to the left as they faced the direction of the shrine entrance. “Nightmares.”

“What do you mean, Nightmares?” Wasabi groaned. “More of them?”

“They’ve never sounded like that before,” Honey remarked.

The rabbit swore again, and Aunt Cass would have taken Hiro’s video game privileges for a month if he ever used language like that. “He’s back,” he said. “The bastard’s back—damn it, Tadashi, where the blazes are you?”

The swarm roiled, galvanized into action, and seemed to brace itself. A split second later, it rushed forward like an ink-black tsunami. Hiro tensed, squeezing the chip until his fingertips went numb.

The storm of hooves rose in volume, and the dark garden lit up as bright as day, just for a moment. Blinding orange and yellow dazzled Hiro, as a wildfire in the vague shape of a fox appeared out of the night and came racing into the midst of the battle. Flaming jaws stretched wide, showing embers for teeth and a bright tongue of flame, and the blinding creature plunged into the swarm until it writhed and screamed in the painful light.

At the heels of the fox came the horses.

There weren’t dozens of them. Maybe there weren’t even hundreds of them. It seemed to Hiro like there were thousands—dark equine shapes, flowing in the wake of the fox. Their eyes glowed ghostly white, their hooves pounded the ground, and they pranced and reared and galloped into the swarm.

Hiro watched, slackjawed and speechless, as the familiar red-gold shape of a fox—a normal one this time, not the fiery monster from just seconds before—came leaping out of the dark and back into their midst. Behind him, one of the horses broke free of the dark herd and trotted to catch up.

This horse was different from the rest; it had a rider.

The rabbit let loose a thunderous battle cry and sprang forward, eyes fixed on the horse and its rider. But Tadashi sprang in his path, shifting smoothly from fox to human. Hiro’s heart leapt.

“Wait!” Tadashi yelled, holding both hands out in front of him. “Wait-wait-wait! He’s here to help!”

“Are you—” The rabbit skidded to a halt in front of him, boomerangs gripped in his paws. “—BLOODY JOKING?!”

“No.” Tadashi stood his ground, unflinching. “He’s here for what’s his. You and I both know we can’t kill all these things, and the only one who can control them is him.”

“Control them!” the rabbit roared. “He’ll control them, all right! He’ll control them right around to kill us is what he’ll—”

“We don’t have time for this,” Tadashi interrupted. “The Man in the Moon told me to do this.”

The rabbit had been in the middle of taking a breath, ready to continue his tirade, but the moment Tadashi said those words, he went silent.

Up on the horse, the tall, dark rider snorted with laughter. “So that’s what it takes to shut the rabbit’s mouth, is it?”

Tadashi shot a glare over his shoulder at him.

“Are you taking the piss right now?” the rabbit asked.

“Nope. Pitch, play nice.” Tadashi walked past the Easter Bunny and was immediately hug-tackled from one side by Fred, and from the other by Honey. “Ow.”

“You’re back!” Honey’s voice was slightly muffled. She pulled back. “What happens now?”

“Now, we finish this,” Tadashi replied. “I’m sorry you all got dragged into this, guys.”

That was when Hiro found his voice. “Hey, don’t be sorry,” he said sharply, darting forward to join them. “If we hadn’t gotten dragged into this, we never would’ve found you.”

“He’s got a point,” Wasabi added. His fingers twiddled, and he shot a few nervous glances at the figure on the horse. “So, uh…”

“Wanna tell us about Tall Dark and Creepy over there?” Gogo asked dryly. The figure’s head turned, and yellow eyes flashed in the dark. Gogo glared back.

“That’s… kind of the bogeyman,” Tadashi said awkwardly. “I mean, not kind of. That’s the bogeyman.”

“What,” Gogo said flatly.

“You mean—like, the bogeyman bogeyman?” Wasabi said. “As in, hides under beds, eats kids? Isn’t he like the bad guy?”

“That’s what I said!” the rabbit yelled.

“It’s complicated and involves the goddess of the moon and we really don’t have time to go through all the details,” Tadashi answered, somehow all in one breath. “I promise I’ll explain everything—” He glanced back to look at the rabbit as he said this. “But right now…”

Hiro pressed the chip back into his hand.

As the object passed from Hiro back to Tadashi, it changed again. The golden pearl sat in Tadashi’s palm, and for a moment it looked as if his eyes were glowing even brighter.

“Do what you need to do,” Hiro told him, locking eyes with his brother. “Just make sure you come back, got it?”

Tadashi pulled him into another tight hug. Hiro’s nose filled with the smell of smoke and burning. “Got it.”

---

With his hoshi no tama in hand, Tadashi walked back to where Pitch sat astride his horse. The rest of the nightmares (night-mares, haha. ha) were galloping through the swarm, hooves flailing as they corralled the rebelling shadows. More than a few of them had turned gold, converted from nightmares to pleasant dreams by the Sandman’s powers. Tadashi wondered if Pitch would be offended, and then stopped wondering when he decided that he didn’t really care.

“I can sense him,” Pitch said, watching the swarm from his perch. “Poor little human, getting caught up in all this. They might eat him when they’re done with him.”

“Can you not,” Tadashi said.

“The thought frightens you. It’s in my nature.” Pitch turned to him and smiled. “Shall we, little fox?”

Tadashi glanced up at him and was struck by the sight. His eyes glowed, and spectral light shone from within his mouth, turning his face to a jack o’lantern. Sitting on a dark horse, surrounded by the thunder of hooves, the Nightmare King reminded Tadashi of stories he had heard, tales from European mythologies about the Wild Hunt. He wondered if the Wild Hunt was real, or if Pitch hadn’t been the one to inspire those stories.

He squeezed the ball in his hand, and the world around him grew as he became a fox again. His tail curled around the ball with a dexterity that normal fox tails probably didn’t have, but it kept his paws and his mouth free.

Fur prickling with tension, he looked back at the Nightmare King and spoke with perfect clarity.

“Let’s,” he said.

In this form, he was small and quick enough to keep pace with Pitch’s horse. The nightmare swarm, still a shapeless, writhing mass of darkness, rose up to meet them. Pitch’s nightmares closed in, herding it from all sides, forcing it into a single path. The path led them straight to Pitch’s outstretched hand.

There was no hesitance this time. There may still have been fear, but Tadashi doubted that Pitch would admit it later. He let fire blaze from his fur as they charged in. The darkness roared around them like some great beast trying to swallow them whole. But instead of prey, the nightmares found a predator and a king.

At Pitch’s touch, the swarm hissed and writhed, fighting against the bridles and reins he was forcing back upon them. But eventually, the swarm began to settle and separate, and more horses joined the herd.

There was a flash of silver in the dark. North came barreling in with a roar, swords flashing as he charged toward Pitch. Whipping in close, Tadashi sprang.

“Wait!” he yelled. He landed front paws first on North’s chest, interrupting his attack long enough for Pitch to swerve his horse around him and continue. “Sorry! I’ll explain later!” He sprang again, clambering swiftly from North’s chest and over his head, before leaping over him and racing onward.

He caught up to Pitch just in time to hear the Tooth Fairy’s battle cry as she flew at the Nightmare King with wings buzzing. This time, there was no need for him to intervene; Jack appeared beside her, blocking her path gently with his staff. Toothiana whirled around, astonished and ready to rail at him, but Tadashi didn’t pause to listen to them argue, and neither did Pitch.

They were almost to the heart of the swarm. Pitch’s nightmares thundered around them, filling the air with ghostly whinnying.

There was a blur of bright gold, too fast and sudden for Tadashi to react. It cannoned into Pitch, knocking him from his horse and bearing him to the ground. Pitch landed with a cry and skidded to a halt on his back. Tadashi whipped around and ran back to them, bristling.

The Sandman stood on Pitch’s chest, the air around him swirling with golden dust. In one hand, the dream sand had coalesced into the form of a glowing sword. With an ease that belied his small size, the Sandman lowered the point to rest beneath Pitch’s chin. As Tadashi crept around to look at his face, he saw the little Guardian’s amber eyes blazing with fury.

Pitch was breathing in short, quiet spurts, keeping as still as he could manage. “You’re making a mistake,” he began, but stopped when the tip of the sword pressed harder against his throat. The Nightmare King twisted his head carefully until his pale eyes found Tadashi’s face. “Well? Care to explain things to him?”

The Sandman looked up, eyes narrowing in confusion. Tadashi paused, about to change back and try to call the Guardian off, but stopped.

He may not have been here when it happened, but he knew what sort of grudge the Sandman would carry. This wasn’t the sort of quarrel Tadashi could fix himself.

It was funny—for all his criticism of the Woman in the Moon, he could sort of understand where she was coming from now—sometimes, telling them the answer defeated the whole point of it. And Tadashi had a very strong feeling, against his better judgment, that if he told Pitch exactly what he needed to do, it would only cheapen it.

So instead, he seated himself, looked back at Pitch, poured as much cold reproof as he could into a single stare, and jerked his head toward the Sandman. Well? We’re waiting, he said without words.

For a moment he wasn’t sure that Pitch would catch his meaning. But then the bogeyman blinked, glared at him, and managed to heave a resigned sigh in spite of the Guardian standing on his torso. He turned away from the fox and stared back up into the face of the Guardian of Dreams.

“We have been enemies for a great many ages,” he said. The Sandman blinked, eyes narrowing in confusion. “We’ve fought over the same domain, we two. Have we not?”

The Sandman glared at him.

“I don’t particularly like you, Sandman,” Pitch went on. “And there are many things I am angry about, and I stand by my own anger. But you were never the cause of any of them. You have never particularly wronged me.” The Sandman blinked again. Pitch’s jaw clenched for a moment before he continued. “I, on the other hand, have wronged you. I killed you less than a lifetime ago. And for whatever it’s worth to you…” Pitch’s mouth tightened, and he shut his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

The Sandman’s sword burst apart. The little Guardian’s eyes widened in astonishment, and he reeled back. Not one to take a chance for granted, Pitch got to his feet again swiftly.

Tadashi stood up again. “There,” he said, hiding his relief. “Was that so hard?”

“Like pulling teeth,” Pitch said acidly. His eyes flickered back to where the Tooth Fairy hovered, watching in speechless shock. “No offense, darling.”

Toothiana ignored him. “Tadashi?” she called. Her sword was lowered to her side but nonetheless at the ready.

“It’s fine if you can’t trust him,” he replied. “I don’t blame you, and you don’t have to yet. For now, just trust me.”

Her mouth tensed, and she nodded. “Okay.” She shot another quick glare at Pitch, and pointed her blade toward him. “You lay a hand on him, and you answer to us, Bogeyman.”

Pitch mounted his horse again. “Noted. Shall we, fox?”

“Please.”

They ran on, and reached the entrance to the shrine. Here they slowed, and the shadows grew so thick that it was nearly impossible to see the garden beyond them, except for vague shapes of trees and posts. Pitch brought his mount to a halt and pointed to the heart of the swarm.

“He’ll be in there. How would you like to do this?”

“What’s the safest way?” Tadashi asked.

“That’s an awfully loaded question,” Pitch drawled. “Do you mean the quickest? The easiest?”

“I mean the safest,” Tadashi gritted out.

“For him or for us?”

“For him.” If nothing else, dealing with Pitch was letting him get in some good practice at keeping his patience. He’d let that skill fall somewhat to the wayside since Hiro stopped being able to see him.

“Ah. Well. I suppose one of us would have to go in and convince him to come out.”

Tadashi looked at him sharply. “Would that work?”

“If there’s enough of him left in his head to make that decision, then I suppose so,” Pitch replied. “It’ll be easier to pull him free if he doesn’t hang like a dead weight, is all.”

“What will you be doing?” Tadashi asked.

“Exactly what I came here to do.” Pitch cast a glance at the shadows surrounding them, eyes gleaming. “Taking back what is mine.”

“What happens if this doesn’t work?” Tadashi asked.

“Then we have two choices,” Pitch said. “Either we force him out, which at this point will probably be a great enough shock to kill him, or these nightmares milk him for everything he has, and devour everything they can reach.” He paused. “They go for the weak ones first. How fast do you think you can get back to your brother?”

Tadashi bristled and bared his teeth. “Well all right then,” he muttered. His form flickered, and he stood up on two human legs once more. “Wish me luck.”

“I trust you won’t need it,” Pitch said dryly.

Tadashi didn’t even grace that with a reply before he stepped forward into where the Nightmares were thickest.

After two steps, the ground beneath him disappeared, and he felt himself fall. The world had vanished to darkness, and he plummeted with scarcely an idea of which end was up.

It’s just a dream, he realized before he had the chance to panic. He let himself fall.

He landed in a familiar place—the docks by the waterfront. Microbots raced along in a wave, herding a small blue van along as it swerved and screeched to escape. But it was to no avail—the microbots, and the dark figure controlling them, forced the vehicle over the edge, where it plunged into the water and sank.

Murderer.

They did nothing wrong.

Only children, all of them.

You failed to kill them, but what matters is that you tried.

The world fell away again, and so did Tadashi.

He landed in the testing facility on akuma island, just as Abigail’s pod disappeared and everything went wrong. He watched as the machines malfunctioned, the scientists descended to a panic, the portals dragged in everything within reach, and finally Alistair Krei desperately deactivated them. The portals went dead, with Abigail inside, and Callaghan raged and screamed and clawed at Krei’s eyes, ready to tear him apart with his bare hands.

Gone

Gone

You lost her he killed her she vanished

You are alone

She came back but not to you.

You are alone.

He saw the portals again—not in the testing facility, but out in daylight, pulling Krei’s newly-built facility into oblivion. He saw Callaghan defeated and the building destroyed, he saw Hiro and Baymax fly in and Hiro and Abigail fly out, and the portal went dead once more. All was in ruin. All was silent.

She was alive, you could have saved her.

All for nothing.

It was

all

for

nothing

Tadashi fell into fire again. But it did not blind him anymore. Flames licked him, trying to burn, but they failed. He breathed in smoke and ash and blistering air, and breathed it all out again.

Murderer.

You murdered him.

He called for you, he begged you.

He came to save you.

And you killed him.

He died screaming.

He died crying.

And you left him

all alone.

Just like you.

Tadashi walked. There would be no more falling from here. There were no nightmares deeper than this one. He walked, and the flames parted, and the shadows rose, but he walked on through the fire and heat.

This was his death. He had lived it and died it, he had seen it more times than a single soul should have to. It would try to hurt him again, and perhaps it would succeed. But he could fight back and fail and fight again and keep fighting for as long as he needed.

A scream rent the air, and Tadashi recognized his own voice. Somewhere in his mind, he could feel anger—but it was distant, as dim as a voice shouting from the bottom of a well. He walked, and followed the sound of his own dying cries.

At the center of the inferno, he found himself buried in rubble and screaming as he burned. Beyond, silhouetted in fire, Callaghan stood frozen and still. He was at the epicenter of the nightmare, trapped in fire and darkness and sickly-sweet guilt.

And Tadashi stopped in the flames and whispered, “Enough.”

It did not make sense, for a whisper to drown out a scream, but things rarely make sense in dreams. The screaming stopped, and when Tadashi stepped close enough, his dying self vanished from the vision as if making way for the real thing.

Tadashi stepped forward again, and again, until he stood in front of Callaghan.

His professor stared through him without seeing him, eyes still fixed on the ground where his body had lain. Even when Tadashi reached out to touch him, to lay a hand on his shoulder, he didn’t move. If he got it into his head to attack Callaghan, to wring his neck or push him into the flames, Tadashi doubted he would have resisted.

It was probably a good thing, then, that he wasn’t here for anything like that.

“Callaghan,” he said. His former mentor did not reply, and gave no indication that he had heard him at all. “Professor. This is all a bad dream.” His hand tightened on Callaghan’s shoulder. “It’s time to wake up, Professor. You need to stop this.”

“No.”

The whisper came to him through the roar of flames.

“I can’t,” Callaghan murmured. “This is what I deserve.”

“Maybe so,” Tadashi said. “But no one else does.” He moved closer, forcing himself into Callaghan’s line of vision. “Come with me. You have to fight this. You have to fight them.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.” Tadashi’s voice rose. “I saw those other dreams, Callaghan. You feel guilty for everything you did. For hurting my brother, my friends. And that’s why you need to get out, Callaghan! If you don’t, they’ll use you to hurt them again!” He shook Callaghan lightly by the shoulders. “You remember them, don’t you? Honey Lemon and Gogo? Wasabi? Fred?” Callaghan’s face never changed. “Hiro? Damn it, Callaghan, you’ve already taken so much from him!”

Callaghan met his eyes. “And that is why,” he whispered. “I deserve this. You of all people know that, Tadashi.”

“I’m trying to save you!” Tadashi shouted, and the flames around them roared.

“I don’t want to be saved.”

“Tough!” Would it help to hit him? Tadashi doubted it. “Just wake up! If you want to be punished so bad, then you can go back to jail! But right now, those things are using you to hurt kids! Doesn’t that matter to you?”

“I can’t,” Callaghan whispered. “I can’t fight them. They’ll kill her if I fight. Or maybe they’ll kill her if I don’t fight. I don’t know anymore.”

“They won’t,” Tadashi gritted out through clenched teeth. “I promise, they won’t. We’ll stop them. But I can’t do that if you don’t fight them.”

“I’m not strong enough,” Callaghan told him. “And Tadashi, I’ve lost everything. It’s my fault—it’s my fault. I killed you, and it’s my fault and that’s why I deserve this—”

His eyes stung, and he thought it was the fire until he felt tears trickle down his face. His chest twisted like a wrung-out washcloth, but it wasn’t sadness, and it wasn’t compassion, and it wasn’t fear. He burned with anger beneath his skin, and he released Callaghan’s shoulders to grasp him by the front of his shirt and yank him forward.

“You’re a coward,” he hissed, as tears scalded their way down his face. “You’re a coward! You talk about what you deserve, like you’re doing this to make up for what you did, like—like you think you’re making amends or making things square. Well, you’re not! You’re hiding! You know why the nightmares are eating you? Because you’re too scared to go back to the real world and face what you did, because this—” He nodded to the fire surrounding them. “This is not facing it. This is wallowing in it, and I did not come this far to listen to you moan and whine about how bad you feel! Well you know what? I feel bad too! But I’m trying, damn it! Do you want to face it? Do you want to have any hope of making things right? Then stop clinging to bad dreams and come back to the real world.”

“I can’t—”

“You will!” Tadashi’s voice cracked. He could barely see the dream anymore. He could barely even see Callaghan through the haze of tears. “And if you don’t… if you don’t…”

His breath caught in his throat. His fists ached from clinging to Callaghan’s shirt. The tears on his face couldn’t dry when they kept falling and falling with no end in sight.

“Callaghan.” His voice was a wet, broken mess. Callaghan’s eyes were wide as he met them with a glare through the tears. “Don’t make me choose between my brother and you.” His grip tightened. “Because I chose you once. And I will never make that mistake again.”

Just for a moment, through the blur of tears, he saw Callaghan’s eyes shine wetly in the firelight.

“Wake up,” he repeated in his wet, broken voice.

He was in darkness again, with firm ground beneath his feet. The thunder of nightmare hooves filled his ears once more. But there were still tears on his face, and his hands were still curled into fists around bunched fabric.

Tadashi blinked, and his vision cleared just enough to reveal the cracked, leaking white mask inches away from his face. Before his eyes, the cracks split further and fell away. A heavy form slumped forward against him, and Tadashi barely caught Callaghan before he bore them both to the ground.

Something bumped into his back and snorted by his ear. Tadashi turned his head and found himself looking into the glowing eyes of one of Pitch’s nightmares. The beast turned with a toss of its head and began walking. Heaving Callaghan up, Tadashi staggered to follow.

The nightmare led him out of the heart of the swarm, and by the time Tadashi came staggering back out into the normal dark, the swarm itself was beginning to break. Instead of a single amorphous entity, the shadows separated and solidified. Dark horses made of glistening black sand formed from what was left of the swarm, and they swirled and pranced around the tall, slender figure of their king.

The blackness that still clung to Callaghan fell away, revealing a grimy orange prison uniform beneath. Callaghan groaned faintly, but still breathed.

Overhead, the darkness faded until the outline of trees could be seen. Then beyond that a star, and another and another, and finally the face of the moon, blazing silver down upon the earth.

Tadashi raised his head, breathed in, and basked in moonlight.

#big hero 6 #rise of the guardians #guardian tadashi AU #crossover #fanfiction #tales from the pit

[poppyknitt]

A Real Eye-Opener- A JSE Egos Fanfic

*Minor trigger warning! Beware the end of this story if you’re triggered by things that suggest suicide or violence in general!

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[September 30th, 2018]

Seán was busy practicing some of the life-based spells he had learned during he and Marvin’s most recent training session, boredly trying to pass the time, when he noticed something green flash by out of the corner of his eye. He hadn’t really been focusing his magic on a specific target like he was supposed to, so the possibility of him accidentally giving life to one of the inanimate objects within his flat wasn’t entirely outlandish. He turned to look and see what it could have been, however, he found that whatever it was had already moved somewhere out of his field of vision. Weird.

He turned his head to focus back on practicing his spells, when he noticed that one of the smaller Septic Sam plushies was missing. He didn’t think much of it, though, since he and Signe did have a slight habit of misplacing them from time to time.

His stomach growled, and he immediately realized that he had barely eaten all day, so, he got up, and went to the kitchen for some snacks. When he heard a loud crash coming from the hallway, he put what he was holding down, and walked to the source of the noise, only to freeze in place when he saw what caused it.

There, on the ground before him, was a living, breathing Septic Sam- And he knew exactly how it got there.

...

....

.....

Seán had attempted to make friends with the little green eye, however, it seemed to just be contempt with following him around everywhere, and didn’t respond too well to his approaches. It was almost as though it had sensed something was wrong, however, since it couldn’t really emote or speak very well, given that it’s an eye and all, he had absolutely no idea what it was trying to let him know about the world around him, or even just about him. He had also yet to find out what it eats, assuming it can even do that at all in the first place.

It wasn’t until he realized how lightheaded he felt that he realized why Sam was being so clingy, but by then, it was too late to stop his motor functions from failing once again. Once he hit the ground, his vision began fading, and the last thing he saw before blacking out was Sam looking him dead in the face, very clearly in a panic.

~~~~

He shot up, gasping for breath, in yet another repeat of how he awoke from that nightmare he’d had a few days ago. He coughed a bit, thinking the incident with Sam was just another weird dream, until he realized he was in the exact place he had been in when he fell, and his head hurt like hell. He looked around, in confusion, wondering where the little eye had gone off to now, only to find it closely snuggled up next to him. He held back a laugh.

Aw! Man, that’s adorable. Freakishly adorable, but still adorable. He thought, smiling at the little eye. It blinked open, and became visibly excited when it saw that he was awake. Then, in a sudden, unexpected motion, it swiftly grabbed his wrist with its tail, and its pupil started glowing. Panicked by the sudden movements and bright light, Seán attempted to jerk away and scream, but he soon found that he was frozen, as his vision was taken entirely over by memories.

Whose memories were they? Why were they surrounding a bunch of characters who looked sorta like him? It wasn’t until he started hearing them too that he realized they were his memories.

Jack! Oh man! It’s so awesome to see you again! Mark’s voice, from all the way back in 2015, before he went dark.

Ack! Vhat is it zhat you two idiots are doing?! I zhought ve specifically told you that ve do not vant you practicing your stupid parlor tricks on our zhings! Hey, it was Henrik! And, look! He was with Marvin, practicing magic! But their hair was dyed some shade of green?

Hey! Dad! Uncle Seán! Watch this! He heard a young boy’s voice call out to him, as he saw a guy that looked like him, but with his hair dyed a yellowish-green color, excitedly waiting for someone to do something, though, he couldn’t see the kid, nor what was happening.

Hey, dude! Check out how fast I can run! A guy in a red, hooded jumpsuit said, and then promptly zipped out of view, only to zip back in a couple seconds later.

He struggled to process everything as all the memories of the interactions he’d had with these people he’d neglected to really even remember much of or about prior to his coma flashed by his eyes. It all slowly calmed down, until they were finally moving at probably like 50-75% the speed of what they probably originally happened in. When that happened, he finally saw the faces of the people he was hearing.

Marvin wore a neat little Japanese cat mask thing, which looked to be decorated with marker, though, Seán still knew it was him, since his hair still had the cool looking gradient purple design to it. Henrik was basically the same as he was now, aside from the green hair, and the unnamed dad was laughing and messing around with the others. The man in the red suit had a mask on, but he was actually removing it. Seán realized he’d seen him in the hospital before- it was Simon, the dude who apparently got crushed by some rubble in the crossfires of a superhero fight! Man, that must be cool! The dude had freakin’ superpowers!

He scanned what he could see in this final memory, and realized they were all celebrating his 27th birthday. Wow. They were all his friends before he fell into that coma, weren’t they? God, he felt terrible now! Imagine how it felt for them to realize he couldn’t remember any of them anymore!

He squeezed his eyes shit when the memory changed via a bright, blinding light, reopening them once it was gone, only this time, the room had gone red, and as he looked at everyone in the room, he saw their names flashing into his vision, each being accompanied by horrifying sounds and images.

Marvin. His hearing was overtaken by white noise and incoherent, angry yelling as the image of the magnificent magican casting some sort of inprisonment spell on Seán overtook his vision.

Chase. All he could hear was more incoherent yelling and screaming, but this time it was of emotional pain, and instead of white noise, the background was filled with the sounds of crying, laughing, and screaming children, while at the same time, he saw the image of the unnamed dad character allegedly shooting himself in the head with an unseen gun.

Henrik. A large slamming sound, followed by someone yelling and calling something “Cursed”, as the sounds of life support equipment could be heard loudly screaming at the doctor, even though all he could see was a very glitchy looking Henrik hanging from the ceiling by a green string.

And finally...

Jackie. His was the worst. There lay the once-great hero, his body broken and beaten until almost every inch was covered in blood, and several of his bones very clearly being misaligned, as the incoherent sound of Marvin and Chase yelling at someone to stay with them blocked out his hearing.

He felt himself being released, and he fell to the ground, hyperventilating as he tried to take this all in. He looked around, and realized Sam was gone. He shakily stood up, and followed what he thought was the sound of someone’s footsteps running down a hallway. He turned to look down said hallway, and to his surprise, saw Signe jumping out the window with Sam on her shoulder.

And yet, as he realized what just went down, only one thought went through his head.

Did she put Sam up to this?

——————————————————

Part Two of

The Unraveling

(A very big chapter in a slightly darker version of the Jacksepticeye & Markiplier Egoverse)

Part Three

@antis-loyal-puppet

@chaoticcrimsonrose

@septic-dr-schneep

#fanfic #jacksepticeye #jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye egos #jse egos #The Unraveling #sean mcloughlin #septic sam #septiceye sam #wiishu #somebodys got a familiar #and another somebody is being realll sneaky

[lowat-golden-tower]

And Eye Must Scream

AO3 Mirror

@caustic-synishade

Jack woke to the horrid odor of too much bleach and antiseptic, with a steady beeping ringing in his ears. He could hear the sound of old pipes creaking above his head and the intermittent drip of water from somewhere else in the room. Shifting slightly where he sat, he emitted a soft groan. His mouth felt dry as cotton and his head a bit stuffed with the fluff as well; making thinking straight a little difficult. “Augh… fook… what the fook….”

Swaying slightly from left to right, Jack grunted when he found himself unable to move his arms. Or his legs, for that matter. Something rough- rope?- was binding his limbs. His legs were strapped along those of the chair, and his wrists were crossed tightly at his back. A rope around his middle stopped him from twisting his hands around to either side and when he tried to lean forward, more rope wrapped about his chest and the chair’s back kept him in place. He was rendered very much immobile and that was when panic began to bubble inside of him.

Terror licking at the edges of his consciousness, Jack forced his eyes open. Thankfully, the room was dim, so he wasn’t immediately blinded. His eyes required little time to adjust but his vision remained fuzzy a few moments after his prolonged knock out. His head was one of the few parts of his body he could still move, so he blinked rapidly and swiveled it around in some effort to find out just where he was.

Deep greens colored the small room. The walls were tiled, but the floor was sheer cement with a drain centered almost perfectly between Jack’s feet. The ceiling above was chipping paint and only played host to a single, uncovered light bulb. It’s flickering glow cast large, unsettling shadows throughout the room and Jack could feel goosebumps rising on his skin as he took in the furnishings.

Beside his chair, which was in the center of the room, sat a wheeled table. Several medical instruments, beakers and unlabeled jars were scattered across its surface; which was stained with faded blood. On Jack’s other side stood an IV stand and as he followed the trailing tube with his eyes, he belatedly registered the light ache on the back of his hand. Wiggling his fingers, Jack confirmed the IV drip was attached and felt his heart rate skyrocket. There was an acidic green substance in the IV bag that didn’t in any way look remotely healthy. Breaths quickening, he twisted his wrists and stretched his fingers until he managed to dislodge the tube from where the needle had been embedded into his skin. He didn’t dare to rip that part out just yet; bleeding out would get him nowhere.

Swallowing thickly, Jack continued scoping out the room. “What the fook….” He had to twist in his chair and crane his neck to see it, but there was definitely a heart rate monitor behind him. He could see the wires trailing over to where he sat, and when he wiggled against his bonds he felt the light pull of the adhesive pads on his skin beneath his shirt. The steady beeping that had been infiltrating his thoughts since waking up was the measure of his own racing heartbeat.

“O-okay. Okay, Jackaboy, easy does it now. There’s gotta be a door here somewhere. Maybe it’s just a prank! Y’know, like the Scare Pewdiepie thing. Arsehole’s probably gettin’ back ye for bein’ such a badass villain on his show. That’s it, that’s it. Okay. Door. Door, door, door…” Jack looked around again and finally spied the thing; a tall sheet of intimidating metal set into one of the walls. He had to squint just to make it out in the dimness and wasn’t entirely sure if it had a handle or not. Great.

Jack sighed heavily and attempted to jerk his chair forwards; possibly towards the door and near freedom. Yet the chair didn’t budge an inch and it was then he realized it had been bolted down to the floor. “Well. Fook me in the arse, then.” Whoever had put him there, they did not want him to move before they got back.

“Welp. When in doubt, shout it out! Like fook if I’m just gonna sit here and wait fer someone to show up.” Licking at his lips and assured this was still just some kind of elaborate joke, Jack drew a deep breath. “HEY!! HEEEEEY!!! HELLOOOO?!?! ANYBODY OUT THERE?! I’M AWAKE! YE CAN COME AN’ ‘TORTURE’ ME NOW OR WHATEVER!! C’MON, AREN’T YE ARSEHOLES SUPPOSED TO ALREADY BE IN THE ROOM WHEN I WAKE UP, ALL MENACIN’ AN’ SHITE?! LAAAAAME! FELIX, IF THIS IS YOUR DOIN’ I’M GONNA KNOCK YER TEETH INTA NEXT WEEK!! I MEAN, YE STABBED ME WITH A NEEDLE! YER LUCKY I AIN’T SCARED OF NEEDLES!!”

Jack paused to catch his breath and wet his lips again. Lord, he could do with some water. He had no idea how long he was out, or how he’d even gotten to this weird location, so someone had serious explaining to do. For now, he was prepared to scream and shout until something happened. Not like he could do much else.

As soon as he opened his mouth to start screaming again, the heavy metal door abruptly opened. Jack was startled into a slight choke, and then silence as he blinked at the figure stepping calmly into the room. He wasn’t that tall, but he easily towered over Jack in his current sitting position. He bore the white coat of a physician, but it was coupled with jeans. At the moment, his face was hidden almost entirely behind a clipboard as he jotted something down on it; only a surgical cap and the barest tuft of green visible over its top edge. Behind him, the door slid shut with a decisive thud.

“Ah, Mister McLoughlin, zo you are awake. It iz good to hear your pipes are in working order. My, you certainly are a loud little zing aren’t you?” The man had an outrageously bad German accent tinged with something else, and Jack might have laughed were it not for the fact it sounded so familiar. Scarily familiar. Jack recalled personally throwing his own voice into that accent on several occasions.

“What th… Dr. Schneeplestein??” he exclaimed, gawking.

The pen’s scribbling came to a halt, followed up by a soft click. “Zo. It vould seem zat my reputation precedes me.” The doctor drawled while he lowered the clipboard down to waist level. Jack was shocked when he was met with his own blue eyes; the corners crinkled by a grin hidden beneath a large surgical mask. Brilliant green hair, the same shade as his own, poured forth out of the surgical cap atop the doctor’s head. The lookalike was so spot-on Jack had to do a double take. “You look surprised, Sean. Not who you were expecting?” His tone rose in pitch, tinkling with barely subdued laughter; identical to the actual Dr. Schneeplestein Jack liked to portray in his videos.

“Holy shite. Where the heck did they find you, eh? I mean, I hope they didn’t make ye dye yer hair er anythin’. That’d suck. But damn, some of me own brothers don’t look that much like me! This is incredible!” It reminded Jack of the doppelganger myth. Granted, legend went that a person would die if they ever met their doppelganger, so he really hoped it was just an extreme coincidence. Maybe the lower half of the guy’s face looked nothing like Jack.

Dr. Schneeplestein hummed, clearly not enthused with Jack’s ramblings as he turned his attentions back to the clipboard in his hands. “Quite. Now. Let’s zee here…. Sean McLoughlin. It vould zeem you’re having a bit of trouble viz your eye. No problem! I can fix zat right up for you, my dear patient. After all, I am a real doctor.” He reached out to condescendingly pat at Jack’s cheek.

Jack’s nose scrunched up at the gesture and he pulled away from the gloved hand; glowering at the doctor with confusion. “An eye problem? I don’t have any problems! I mean, unless ye count the fact I need glasses, but that’s hardly somethin’ I was lookin’ ta fix. An’ why am I tied down to this chair?? This can’t be up to code, when it comes to the proper treatment of patients! Shouldn’t I be in a hospital bed or somethin’?” Jack was, admittedly, a little unsettled by the suddenness of it all. He would have at least liked a heads up that he was going to be the victim in some gag video, if not some script to go off of. Hopefully his improv would be good enough.

Dr. Schneeplestein clicked his tongue as he walked calmly around to stand at Jack’s back. “Now, now. Who iz ze doctor here? Do you have a bona fide medical degree? I do not zink zo, no. As your doctor, I am ze one who knows vhat iz best for you. And I say chair iz being just fine vor operation… vhat iz zis? Why iz your IV out, you naughty boy?” He tsk’d and bent to grab up the fallen tube. “You need your fluids if zis iz to be a zuccessful zurgery!”

“Fluids my arse! The fook is that green stuff?? It looks like gelatin! Or radioactive goo! I don’t want that in me!!” Jack snapped back, though he could feel Dr. Schneeplestein popping the tube back into place. He immediately attempted to rip it out again, partially out of pettiness, but a sharp pinch near the entry point of the needle made him gasp and jolt in his chair.

“Ah ah ah, naughty naughty, Jackyboy. No touching ze equipment or your IV! Doctor’s orders. Do it again, and I vill be forced to take ze drastic measures.” Patting at the little IV needle, Dr. Schneeplestein moved to the table beside Jack and set down his clipboard. “Now, let me zee…”

Even if the substance in the IV bag looked like a normal solution used in hospitals, Jack still would have wiggled his fingers and popped the IV tube out again. Just to mess with the asshole muttering to himself in heavily accented gibberish over the table. The soft clatter of plastic hitting cement was loud in the otherwise quiet room and Dr. Schneeplestein paused; turning to look at the source. He shifted his gaze to Jack, brows furrowing in obvious consternation, and Jack childishly stuck out his tongue. “Bite me.”

The doctor gave a long suffering sigh and rubbed briefly at his temples. “Oh, no, zere vill be no biting here, Mister McLoughlin.” He moved to pick up the tube once again, popping it back into place. “However, zere vill be pain.” Without any warning, Dr. Schneeplestein grabbed the index finger on Jack’s unaffected hand and bent it sharply backwards. He didn’t stop when it became painful; he pushed straight through until knuckle was popping out and the bone cracked under the pressure.

Jack screamed. He screamed louder than he ever had, back arching up away from the chair much as the ropes would allow as tears welled up in his eyes to stream down his face. It wasn’t fake. It wasn’t a joke. That was his real, attached finger that had just been horribly broken and the pain washing up into his arm was almost enough to make him gag. He choked on his own sobs, coughing and wheezing as his body shook with fresh trembles.

“Oopzie! Oh how clumsy of me, it zeems I have accidentally made ze boo-boo vhile adjusting your IV! How unfortunate. Not to worry, zhough! I vill be zure to fix it, once ve have concluded ze zurgery you are actually here for, hm? Yes. Zere zere now, just try to relax.” Dr. Schneeplestein, satisfied with his results, released Jack’s hand in favor of patting at Jack’s quivering head. He returned to the table and began grouping some items together; including a scalpel, forceps, tweezers and a beaker.

Jack was in too much pain to try and analyze the collection of instruments. His finger was still throbbing wildly behind him as he sniffled and sobbed. In a heartbeat, what appeared to be just a shitty gag video was suddenly, painfully real and Jack had absolutely no idea what to do. He’d apparently been kidnapped by some kind of madman that took his joking doctor role way too seriously and had zero qualms with causing Jack undue harm. Not quite willing to move his hands or arms yet, Jack twisting his legs against the ropes and again attempted to move his chair in some fashion. His panic had returned, and he didn’t want to be there anymore.

“Ze more you struggle, ze vorse it iz going to be~” Dr. Schneeplestein sing-songed from where he was pouring a clear solution into the beaker. He hummed a little tune as he set about preparing, utterly unphased by the sobbing young man beside him or the wild beeping of the heart rate monitor.

“Y-ye sick fook! You crazy person! If ye think I’m j-jus’ gonna sit here after you broke me finger and let ye do who-knows-what the hell ta me, then ye really are insane! Let me go!! I don’t know what the hell is really goin’ on here or who ye think ye are, but let me go!! LET ME GO!!!” Jack outright screamed through his sobs as his struggles redoubled. Fear and panic sent adrenaline rushing through his veins, but Dr. Schneeplestein wasn’t having any of it.

A gloved hand curled into Jack’s hair and jerked his head roughly back. Jack feared the crazed doctor might break his neck next, but this time he stopped before any serious damage could be done. Jack still screamed, terrified and uncomfortable, as his shoulders shook and his mouth gaped with heavy pants. His throat had been bared, and Dr. Schneeplestein stared him down with icy blue eyes as he place a scalpel to the pale skin. “I really do not have time for multiple zurgeries today, Mister McLoughlin. Please do not continue tempting me to mutilate your lovely body in horribly entertaining vaya~ Besides, he vouldn’t be very pleased viz me if I encroached upon his territory….” As if having second thoughts, the doctor pulled away from Jack and released his hair.

Jack’s head rolled forward with a shaky huff and he turned to scowl at the doctor over his shoulder. The man was digging around for something in the pockets of his coat. “Wh-who’s territory?? What’s goin’ on? Answer me! Is someone makin’ ye do this?! Are they the ones that called fer this fookin’ surgery an’ brought me here?! Tell me!! Tell me, you pile of arse, ye ragin’ sack of dimnpffgh!! Mnghhff!!”

“Zat voice of yours really iz zomezing, I’ll give you zat, Mister McLoughlin. But as your doctor, I require concentration for zis very delicate zurgery. I am zertain you understand.” Dr. Schneeplestein knotted off the strip of cloth he’d tugged forcefully between Jack’s teeth at the back of his head, then gave it another pat. Jack, furious and scared out of his wits, screamed against his new gag and thrashed much as the ropes would allow. “Zo fiesty. Do mind your IV, now. I’d hate to accidentally break any more of your fragile leetle bones if I have to plug it back in again.”

Jack didn’t listen, just continued to tug and twist and struggle as the doctor came back around to his front. He pulled a stethoscope from his breast pocket and popped it into his ears. “Now, before we begin, ze heartbeat! We must find ze heartbeat. Do try to hold ztill.” Jack did anything but, knocking the disc of the stethoscope off himself several times and eventually trying the doctor’s patience yet again. Abruptly, he was backhanded.

“I zaid hold ztill!!! I knew more ropes zhould have been applied, zat idiotic nurse! No matter. I vill have a talk viz her once ve are finished here.” A gloved hand gripped violently at Jack’s jaw; squeezing until he thought the joints might pop loose and he whimpered at the newfound pain. “Now, are you going to hold ztill or am I going to have to make you? I am a very buzy man, Mister McLoughlin, and am prepared to take vhatever actions may be necessary to perform zis zurgery. I vill hurt you very badly. Do I make myself clear?”

Cold blue eyes stared into Jack’s teary, frightened ones and he swore it felt like those piercing irises could stab into his brain; down into his very soul. He’d stopped struggling initially due to the pain, but now it felt as if ice had trickled down into his limbs, rendering them immobile. He scarcely breathed as they had their little staredown but then Dr. Schneeplestein’s eyes were narrowing dangerously. “Mister McLoughlin, I asked you a question.” More pressure was applied to Jack’s already aching jaw and he cried out; fresh tears welling up at the corners of his eyes.

“Ynnf! Ynnf! Ey nndrfnd!” Jack choked desperately around his gag. Finally satisfied, Dr. Schneeplestein’s eyes crinkled again with that invisible smile and he released Jack’s jaw.

“Very good! Now hold ztill.”

Jack’s head fell forward now that there was nothing propping it up and his breath hitched with another sob. His jaw was still aching and it throbbed dully in time with the sharp pangs of his finger now, which had no doubt swelled up like a balloon. Tears dripped steadily from his face as Dr. Schneeplestein felt about various places on his body with the stethoscope. It was like some sick mockery of his power hour video, where he’d played up not knowing where the heartbeat was for laughs. Except unlike Peter, he wasn’t just a piece of plastic.

“Hmm… where iz zat heartbeat…? Let me zee… hmm….”

Jack wanted to snap at the man; ask why he even needed to find Jack’s heartbeat when he was hooked up to a monitor, but the “doctor” was clearly insane. He didn’t need reasons or rationality to fuel his actions. Jack was gagged, anyway, so it all would have come out a garbled mess. Eventually, Dr. Schneeplestein shrugged and tossed the stethoscope carelessly over his shoulder.

“Oh well!! I’m zure it isn’t really all zat important, anyvay. After all, if you’re actually dead, zen zis shouldn’t hurt one bit! Wouldn’t zat be vantastic for you!” Dr. Schneeplestein clapped his hands together and grabbed up the scalpel off the nearby table again. “Now, finally, ve can perform ze zurgery!”

Jack’s fear returned in a white hot spike stabbing down into his gut and he jerked back in his chair, away from the mad doctor. Blue eyes wide with terror, Jack wildly shook his head; muffling nonsense against his gag. What had the guy said? He had “issues with his eye”? Jack didn’t like where that was headed- not if it included the use of a scalpel.

However, Dr. Schneeplestein merely sent him another one of those invisible smiles. “Now, now. Calm down. It’ll all be over zoon if you behave like a good leetle patient for ze nice doctor!” A gloved hand dropped onto Jack’s head, forcing it steady, and the doctor leaned in close with scalpel raised. Jack was shaking terribly from head to toe as he found his right eye staring down a razor sharp blade. He whimpered. “Oh, it’s okay, Zean. Just take deep breaths now and don’t move a muscle, or I might zlip~! And my contractor really vanted to keep zis eyeball of yours intact….”

Jack didn’t dare to move as the scalpel was pressed to the skin just beneath his eye. It wouldn’t get him anywhere now but worse injuries. However, he did shout and plead and beg through the gag in his mouth, praying that something, anything would get through to the doctor and stop this madness. There were still tears streaming down his face as he sniffled pathetically.

His efforts fell on deaf ears. With one hand smoothed over Jack’s temple, pushing his fringe out of the way, Dr. Schneeplestein dragged up Jack’s eyelid with his thumb. His other hand shifted the scalpel upwards, pressing the tip smoothly into the inside corner of Jack’s beautiful blue eye and then sliding it forward. As the blade cut between Jack’s sclera and the muscle he screamed; louder and more ragged than ever before. The pain in his finger was nothing compared to this. He screamed and shook and sobbed hoarsely as Dr. Schneeplestein carved around his eye; blood trickling from the wounds to join his tears. He could hear his heart monitor going absolutely crazy in the background but the doctor ignored it all.

Once an incision had been made around the circumference of Jack’s eye, Dr. Schneeplestein traded his bloody scalpel for one of many pairs of forceps lined up at the edge of the table. Jack swore he was grinning as he raised the little tool to Jack’s still bloody eye; half his vision blurred with tears and severed muscles. “Now zis iz ze fun part!”

The doctor clamped the forceps around the incisions he’d made; locking two rows of tiny, fine-tipped teeth into the muscle of Jack’s eyeball. He gave a blood curdling screech that proceeded to jump and hiccup in pitch as Dr. Schneeplestein went about tugging out his eye. The mad doctor laughed with glee as he gently twisted the forceps and pulled; dragging the eyeball out one centimeter at a time. “Hahaha! It iz like playing tug-of-war viz your brain! Except I am vinning~ Stubborn leetle eyeball, come vith me now, Mister McLoughlin von’t be needing you anymore!” The doctor ripped and twisted and pulled until the eyeball itself was free of Jack’s socket, and only the coil of ocular muscles remained to keep it tethered to his body.

He screamed again, though his voice was beginning to fail him, because he could still partially see out of the dangling eyeball. His vision was skewed between a giddy Dr. Schneeplestein and his own bloodied lap. The doctor hummed contently as he grasped Jack’s eyeball with his own gloved fingers; squishing it gently. “Ah yes, very good, very good. A healthy eyeball! He vill be quite pleased viz ze results, I am zure. Now, we just need to finish removing it….”

Rather than make another quick, clean slice with the scalpel, Dr. Schneeplestein grabbed another set of forceps that resembled a pair of very small scissors. The hinge was extremely close to the point, meaning he could only make tiny snips through the fibers behind Jack’s eye. He shouted and cried with every disconnection until he couldn’t scream anymore, and then he just wheezed out quiet sobs as his bloody eye was dropped into the clear solution Dr. Schneeplestein had poured out earlier. Humming again with satisfaction, the man stood and peeled off his bloodied gloves. He tossed them carelessly onto the table and picked up his clipboard as he rounded behind Jack again.

“Vell, Zean, it zeems ze insurance you have doesn’t cover anesthetic.... My, how unfortunate for you. Zat really does look quite painful.” The doctor chuckled to himself as he scribbled on his clipboard.

Jack hiccuped softly, breath hitching as his now empty eye socket took precedence over his other injuries. Blood was still dripping down one side of his face, while tears continued to leak from the other and his body trembled. The beeping from the monitor had settled some, but was still quite erratic. He sat slumped in his chair, peering up perilously at the doctor as he rounded back to stand in front of him again. The man clicked his pen.

“You zeem to be zuffering from ze shock, Mister McLoughlin. Not to vorry; I am zertain it vill vear off in just a bit. Now be a good boy and keep zat IV in vhile I am avay. It iz essential to your health. Try to get zome rest.” Dr. Schneeplestein placed the pen in his breast pocket and leaned down to pat at Jack’s head one more time. However, instead of immediately pulling away, his blue eyes glinted dangerously and he hooked two fingers over his surgical mask. “Oh, and by ze vay…”

Jack would have screamed again in absolute horror if he could manage to get his voice to work. Instead, he could only jerk back and stare with wide eyes as the doctor tugged his mask down to reveal rows of sharp teeth and an acid green tongue. Red slashes curled a few inches up his cheeks from the corners of his mouth, and split completely when he spoke; making his mouth stretch an inhuman amount to show off even more pointed teeth. The beeping in the background skyrocketed.

“Do tell Anti hello vor me.”

#jacksepticye #dr schneeplestein #antisepticeye #tw eye horror #tw eye trauma #tw blood #tw medical horror #tw medical trauma #tw body horror #look i finally wrote the thing #im actually quite pleased with this one #and eye must scream