#one of the opening lines about sitting at the gas station actually triggered a really fucking bad memory I would have loved to forget

[shirtlessradfahrer]

So what do you do when your favourite rapper makes a catchy song about the hardships of life that you want to love but upon release can’t connect with at all and after a few listens almost outright dislike because none of the pain and hardship life has put you through has ever made you a better person or given you the energy/motivation to do better and it actually just did the complete opposite and you’ve lost out on precious years of your life and so many opportunities while trying to process the trauma and undo the damage

But everyone else seems to love the song to the point that you start to wonder if maybe you’re just a fucking idiot for not being able to make something good out of said trauma and hardship instead of just being filled with crippling anxiety and depression and bitterness and grief and rage

#käärijä #yes this is about ruoska #the mental health tanked again this week #sorry to put my ramblings in the main tag but I need someone to tell me I’m not insane for being so uncomfortable with the song #I’ve been nervous to say my full thoughts because people loved it so much and I didn’t want to rain on their parade #and the umk performance and mv were genuinely well done #but it just really hurts #if the metaphorical whip that hurt me was a tangible item I’d fucking shred the thing to pieces #and then burn the remains #so that no one else could ever suffer the same way again #it didn’t push me through life #it made me want to give up on it completely #I’ve been at my happiest and most driven and most fulfilled when I finally got a fucking break from it #one of the opening lines about sitting at the gas station actually triggered a really fucking bad memory I would have loved to forget #it fucking sucks because his songs have brought me so much happiness #a kind I haven’t felt in a long time #and then there’s….this #if nothing else I wanted to love it for Erika’s sake #but I just can’t #am I just misinterpreting the lyrics? #or projecting too much #I probably am #because god I am NOT looking forward to hearing it all though Kä summer camp #and i hate that

[beatleszeppelin]

You're A... Inexperienced Chapter 2

Summary: On watch one night you find out some thing that Daryl has never done. And you offer him some experience.

Category: Friends to Lovers, Eventual Mild Smut, just a good ol’ time

Paring: Daryl x reader (second person)

Warnings/Includes: General Walking Dead grossness, Smut (but not in this chapter), swearing, use of weapons, non-graphic hunting, mention of past child abuse, (let me know if you see anything else)

Word count: 3k

Chapter 1 Masterlist

Chapter 2 Naked in a Lake

The next few days were fairly uneventful. Seeing Daryl only in passing. He stayed outside when you were in; you stayed outside when he stayed in.

Not even shifts brought you together. Since the fall of Woodbury, there have been plenty of new people taking shifts to give you all a break.

Most of your time was spent helping with the kids in the library when Carol was too busy doing important things to “babysit”. Or you occasionally helped out at the farm on the south side of the prison. Rick and Hershel had started it over the past few months, and already it had yielded some fine meals.

Those meals were also made courtesy of Daryl, who went out into the woods on the daily, not going far, but far enough to be out all day and come back with a belt full of squirrels and rabbits by night. You had no idea how he did it or how far he went, but he seemed to be used to the days of solitude, in nature alone.

That was all until he planned to go out a bit farther, only for a couple days, but that was more that he had been gone in a while, more than anyone had been alone for a while. When he shared these plans, you decided that you would go out hunting with him, you know, because there is safety in numbers, (and you were dying to see what he spent so much time doing everyday).

So when morning came, and it was time to leave you brought your bag and followed him to the gate. He squinted at you being blinded by the morning light that rose over the prison. “I’m coming with you, is that alright?” You asked him knowing that he couldn’t argue. You awaited his response, but it never came, instead he had the gate opened and held his arm out like a gentleman letting you lead.

You guys walked past the spikes that guarded the outside of the gates, just as the queens guards once did outside of Buckingham palace. Kicking rocks and dust clouds along the path, walking went fairly slow. Not much to say, not much to do this early in the morning. You hadn’t even waited for Carl and Carol’s shift, which normally signified morning, to start before you had left. (You were sure he had said good-bye to them, Rick, and Judith the night before though. He was good like that.)

When the sun, which was barely peering over the land when you left, had risen enough to give you a long shadow, stretched out in front of you; you decided it was time to eat. Taking the backpack off your shoulders, and unzipping it when it was in front of you, you pulled out a small loaf of bread. You broke it in half and handed some to Daryl. He gnashed into it like a rabid dog, grunting a thank you in between bites.

You nibbled off bites as you walked, trying to savor it as something to do. The scenery of trees and a dirt path was getting old. You couldn’t understand how someone could go out along this path all day every day.

It was hot, too. Hot and sweaty. By mid-day you felt as though you were dragging, lifting your legs in a pedantic manner. Daryl’s hair was stuck to his forehead, and he had stripped his poncho, just left in a cut off flannel. He seemed to be perfectly fine in the heat though, barely even touching his water.

You wonder if he stayed outside a lot before as well. There’s something about him that makes it so hard to imagine him in his house, in a domestic setting. Did he do the dishes, and make himself food? Was his room clean, did he make his bed every morning before work? Did he have a job? What did he do? But you know that wondering these things will only pass the time, because there is no way he’d ever casually mention his previous life.

People had tried guessing, to no avail. Beth’s new boyfriend, Zach, was the leader of the guessers, being followed by the children, and you’ve even discussed it with both Michonne and Carol before. It would really take something special to make him confess his stories to someone, who knows who could get that close to him though.

You spent the majority of your walk picturing him in an office setting, wearing a tie and answering phones. Or at a gas station glaring at little kids who try to stuff candy bars up their sleeves, scaring them into obeying the law.

Mechanic seemed to fit best. Not a sleazy mechanic that finds more things to break to get

some extra cash, but one that spends day and night tracking down an original piece to some old beat up motorcycle. He wouldn’t charge extra for labor, cause he’d be doing the thing he loved most. He would treat each bike as his own, tirelessly making it perfect until the finishing pieces were in their exact place, like the sprinkles on a sundae.

“Gonna cut into the woods, right here.” He nodded, directing you.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” you said, snapping out of your little daydream. “Ya’ okay?” He ducked down, meeting your eyes though his hair.

“Yeah, I’s just thinking.”

“‘Kay, just watch out in here. Can’t make too much sound.”

You walked through the dense forest, making as little noise as you possibly could. Heel, toe; heel, toe. Only cracking branches and crunching leaves every few steps, listening to Daryl’s deep steadying breaths in between.

He taught you how to lay traps, and snares; different knots and when to use them. By the end of the day you could set your own, with the reassurance that he would help kill whatever you caught. No matter how many walkers you would kill, and how much bad shit you’ve seen. It still felt weird killing animals to eat.

The trapping, and mapping out your paths came to an end as night fell. The darkness made it too difficult to achieve the superb knots you were tying, and the sub par snares that Daryl would set, so you two decided to call it a night, sleeping in shifts back to back.

The next day went the same, but it was now time for the actual hunting. You left the killing to Daryl, using your lack of a silent long range weapon, like the crossbow as an excuse. You guys sat up wind, and out of the line of sight of any animals that may pass. It was quiet, and you understood why he liked it.

Hunting wasn’t all killing like you had imagined; hunting was 99% sitting quietly in nature, 1% killing.

You can’t lie about the fact that when a deer came into sight, you closed your eyes and didn’t open them until you heard the click of the trigger on the crossbow. You didn’t want to see the animal die, but you can’t feel bad about how many people that deer could feed.

Daryl took care of the dirty work, cleaning, and “prepping” the deer to be taken home. You sat by and watched.

Once the task was complete, you started back for the prison, hoping it would cut some of the time of the walk back tomorrow. This time was cut short by the approaching darkness of night.

You two set up a small camp to spend the ever closer night. And with cans on strings, as tripwire, and your backs to each other, you two felt it was safe enough to get some rest, that was until the cans rattled.

The sounds of metal clanking, shook you from your not so deep sleep. You whipped around to see a walker reaching over your barricade of tangled fishing wire and old soda cans. It stumbled over and grabbed Daryl's boot, luckily he tied up his pant legs with cords to keep from being scratched. You scrambled over to a half awake Daryl and pulled his knife from his pocket, stabbing it into the undead's brain. He nodded graciously as you handed his knife back. You both sat still in the early hours of the morning, breathing heavily until your adrenaline died down.

Your eyes stung from lack of sleep, but it was nothing compared to how Daryl looked. His eyes were puffy, and had dark purple craters around them, and what little you could see of his eyes were bloodshot. His hair stuck up in every which direction, the bangs that normally cover his face, were defying gravity, and exposed his forehead.

“You can sleep, but let's face each other this time,” you planned.

“You sure?” he said groggily.

“Yeah, if you saw yourself, you’d be sure too.”

He scoffed, and pulled his vest out as an acting pillow, tucking one arm under it, and laying his head down. He fell asleep shortly, and you watched.

The expression he made was soft, and innocent, less like a child and more like a puppy that tired out running in a field all day. He subconsciously held his thumb to his mouth. He breathed heavily through his mouth, with quiet snores escaping occasionally.

You didn’t sleep at all that night, you couldn’t let anything disturb the peace. You weren’t tired, though, you actually felt like you had gotten a full night’s rest.

The two of you started home at the crack of dawn, with dull yellow light illuminating the grass you stood on. You took to the woods for your trek home, rather than the long road you took to get there.

Halfway through the day you happened upon a lake that looked beautiful, a direct juxtaposition to everything you had been used to seeing. The water sparkled, and light refracted off the ripples in every which direction. Birds made chirping sounds that echoed through the dense forest, and made a song through the trees.

Daryl grabbed a plastic bottle, and some of the sandy silt that covered the edge of the water, making a makeshift water filter. As he did so, you took off your shorts and threw them aside, wading into the water. The water was greenish, but you could see your feet, and the dust clouding around your steps. The water was warm enough to not give you the chills, but cool enough to be refreshing.

Once the water hit your hips, you took your shirt off and threw it a few feet away from Daryl, joining your shorts, and shortly after your bra. You watched him finish his contraption and fill it.

“Should have some water in an hour or so…” he looked up and saw you, then quickly looked back at his bottle.

“Maybe we could catch a fish or something, too,” you said, smiling at his back. “You should join me in here.”

“Nah” he shook his head.

“Yeah, when was the last time you got cleaned up?”

“I ain’t gonna, someone needs to be a lookout.” He looked up at you, standing his ground. “Anyway, I gotta piss.”

He started walking away and you yelled to him, “Yeah, sure you do, Dixon.” You splashed his way, but he had already walked behind the trees.

A noise came from your left, behind a couple of thick trees. Two walkers stumbled out, slipping on the sandy hill. You didn’t have any weapons on you, and getting back over to your clothes seemed like a death wish. They were closer to the clothes and things than you were. Daryl didn’t even have his crossbow with him, it was in the pile next to the water filter.

You yelled for Daryl, hoping he’d get back before the walkers could reach you. You yelled again, and it drew their attention. They were about at the edge of the water now, and you were fucked… but a whistle came out of the woods.

Daryl showed up and whistled loudly to catch the attention of the dead walking toward you. It worked. They started toward him at a slow pace, and you ran over to the pile of stuff. You picked one off with the crossbow. Daryl tripped backwards on a rock, and the walker stumbled towards him, wishing to bite into the leg that was trying to kick it backwards. He grabbed the rock, lifted it over his head, and smashed it down onto the walker, and hitting it again smashed his head open, covering Daryl in it’s blood. He leaned back and dropped the rock. He took a second to catch his breath.

“Hey, thanks” You said to him as you were naked and dripping like a wet dog.

He sighed and raised his eyebrows. Which you will take as a “no problem.”

Daryl’s hair dripped with blood, guts, and rotting chunks of flesh. His shirt was wet, red, and sweaty. The muddy sand covered his pants and hands, leaving him dirtier than before.

“I guess you have to join me now” you said, still mostly naked.

He begrudgingly kicked off his boots, and slid his vest off down his shoulders, letting it drop on the floor. He started walking to the edge of the water, when you had to stop him.

“What, NO!” You said haulting him, “You are not still wearing your socks.”

He took off his socks, and his pants. He walked into the lake, a couple feet in and the water hit the bottom of his shirt.

You never took Daryl as the type of person to not be okay with taking his shirt off, but here he was: standing in a lake with his shirt on, contemplating whether he should take it off or not. He stood there for a couple seconds before looking at you, and when you gave him a reassuring smile, he took it off. He looked good with it off, you didn’t see a problem, until he turned around.

He whipped around fast to throw his shirt on land, and as he did, you saw his back. He was covered in scars. Yeah, some could be new, from fighting, from surviving, but you take it he’d been surviving for a lot longer than the rest of you had.

The slashes that riddled his skin were old. He could have gotten most of them when he was still a kid. You swallowed hard, he turned and faced you but neither of you met each other's eyes. He got quiet. And as his hand pensively rubbed the back of his neck, as he thought about what you must think of him.

“Hey, come on in the water’s fine,” you said to ease the tension.

It seemingly worked, because the next thing he did was dive under, swimming to you in a second. The water rippled along the path he had swam, and broke around his emerging body. You met his eye. He nodded to you as a thanks, and you shook your head back at him in a no problem kind of way. This practice had become routine, it was easier than constantly owing thanks to the other person for some trivial task such as saving their lives.

He broke eye contact and looked down, “Still gotta piss.”

You snickered. Then stepping back a couple of feet you gestured for him to go right ahead.

He looked at you, head cocked a little, and then the realization hit and his ears turned bright red. He turned around, and you got a better look at his scars. Some were short slashes, some longer, and others crossed over each other. You couldn’t fathom the person that would hit a child, let alone Daryl; Daryl was sweet, and could never have done something that deserved this treatment.

He finished up and faced you, but didn’t meet your eyes. You got a look at him, the man that just pissed in the pool in front of you, his ears were red as well as his cheeks making a bridge across his nose. The blush trailed down to his upper chest in splotches, like watercolors splaying out.

He chewed the corner of his thumb and said, “Ya’ know, I used to piss the bed as a kid.”

“I mean we all did,” You said. “Come here.”

He complied, “Nah, I mean ‘til I’s like 8 or so.”

“Bend over,” you told him.

He leaned back and you started washing his hair for him, detangling it with your fingers, and picking things out of it like you were monkeys.

“I remember a couple times it happened, had to sneak out late at night and do my laundry in the bathroom, so no one’d hear me. But this once, my dad wasn’t home so, I didn’t get… but my mom had this whole ‘nother way of doing it. She took my clothes. Pinned me down, Merle helped. She put a diaper on me, made me sleep outside.”

“When you were 8?” You cupped some water and dumped it over his head.

“Uh huh, made me wear ‘em to school, too. Under my clothes. Said if I took ‘em off she’s gonna tell my dad, so I didn’t.” He went back to biting his thumb.

“That shouldn’t have happened to you,” you said, moving to wash his shoulders.

He shrugged, and flinched away when you ran your finger over a scar on his back.

“You know, stress and trauma cause children to start wetting the bed later on in childhood, it's called enuresis, it wasn’t your fault,” You splashed water on his shoulders, noticing the freckles made by the sun.

“Done?” He asked, standing up straight.

“What?”

“Am I done?” he asked and shook his hair out like a dog.

“Yeah, you’re good.”

Daryl quickly made his return to land, you however stayed in the water until the filter was done giving you each a bottle. Every once in a while you catch him glance over at you floating naked in the lake, but his eyes would quickly divert.

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #twd fanfic #twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead #tw past child abuse #I love the lake scene

[ninnodesu]

“Can I See You?” ch 4 || Modern!Thomas

HEAVY trigger warnings for gore in this one. Don't read if you're really not into the cannibalistic portion. Butchering and shit. And eye stuff and yeah. It's somewhat heavy on the gore.

“Tommyyyyy… I’m bored.”, he shoves you off, probably for the fourth time in just ten minutes. You’ve been leaning over his bulky back for the good part of those ten minutes, getting on his nerves.

It’s been around four weeks since you’d gotten stranded in the middle of nowhere in Texas, ending up in the Hewitt’s household. Slowly, slowly, you’d gotten more comfortable with them, and them with you. You’d contacted your work, telling them you wouldn’t show up for a while due to an accident, explaining everything, except where you were currently staying. You’d gotten chores that could be done sitting down, and best of all; you’d grown closer to Thomas.

You’d had a lot of trouble adjusting to their way of living, however. Many dinners you resorted to not eating, or only eating pieces you saw weren’t meat. But after about a week of doing this, you couldn’t stand the pain in your empty stomach anymore, and you caved. You had to eat, the small amounts of potato and the occasional vegetable not enough to fill you. But you did stay away from Thomas when guests or trespassers came to the house. You knew what it meant, and even if you knew what kind of meat you were eating. You never wanted to see how it was made.

Right now, however, you were bored. And since Thomas was the one who was pretty much around you, or closed by every waking moment of your day, he was also the poor person who had to deal with your boredom. During these weeks, he’d taught you a few words and phrases in sign language. Mostly ones he felt were the most necessary, together with the alphabet. Today, he had transported you up to his upstairs bedroom because he was going to work on touching up one of his masks that had gotten ripped at a recent scuffle with a particularly feisty dinner guest. Apparently, he didn’t trust you to be alone for more than five minutes. He was sitting at the foot of his bed, with you laying next to him, supporting yourself on your elbows.

Pushing you off did nothing to keep you from poking him at his side with your good foot. “Tommyyy…”, he slowly turned his head to glare at you, and you gave him an innocent smile, trying your best to look like an angel who would definitely not do everything in her power to get on his nerves.

‘What’

His hand was slow as he spelled the word out. He was getting annoyed.

“I’m bored.”, you whine.

All he does is shrug and give you a sarcastic thumbs up. You groan and proceed to just lay flat on your back.

The only ones at home today were you, Thomas, and uncle Monty who were probably snoring on the porch. Charlie was out doing god knows what and Luda Mae was tending to the gas station she worked in. So, here you were, harassing Thomas. You pout behind him, fingers tapping on your stomach as you try to figure out what to do. Then an idea strikes.

You shoot up, thankful for the fact that your leg isn't as painful anymore, making it way easier to move around, even if you couldn’t fully support your weight on it yet.

Another attack on Thomas had you grabbing the mask out of his hands and carefully throwing it on the floor. You giggle as you see him just staring at his empty hands, trying to figure out what had just happened. The action was fast enough to shock him before he lifts his head to look at you. You grin like the devil at him and bursts out in laughter when he glares at you, eyes filled with annoyance, but one eyebrow raised in slight amusement. Again signing slow letters towards you. One at a time.

'W' 'H' 'A' 'T'

With his attention, your plan is set into motion . You knew he was really careful with you, meaning he would never hurt you or barely even use any strength towards you. You clumsily climb into his lap, straddling his thighs, making him tense like a statue, hands hovering and fingers twitching nervously making you laugh before attacking his sides with your own. His reaction is immediate and he bursts out in a barking and deep laugh, a wheezing sound sometimes escaping his lungs and he falls down to lay on his back.

Bingo. You thought.

As quickly as you can, you grab hold of his wrists and pin them down under your thighs, making sure they’re trapped between you and his abdomen. Previous knowledge dancing in your mind that despite his strength, he’s a gentleman, and never has he shown any violence towards you, especially not in your current condition. So pinning him in a way that at first glance looks sexual, would make him lose any and all strength.

And you’re correct. You watch him as his eyes shoot open, lips pressed into a thin line, at the realization where his hands are and he squirms. Another devilish grin appears on your face as you lean in close, making eye contact with him before you utter one simple word.

“Talk.”

His eyebrow furrow and his lips turn down and you feel him tug on his arms, trying to get them free to well… talk to you before he shrugs. “No, nonono, big man.”. You sit back up and clench your thighs hard around his hands.

You want to hear his voice. The idea being that if you pinned him hard enough or long enough that he would cave and actually speak to you. You’d heard him laugh just now, so you knew his vocal cords worked. Besides, he’d told you that himself. He can talk, he just chose one day to never do it anymore. So why not take advantage of your boredom and torture him into speaking. It wasn’t like you had any place to be.

“I want you to hear your voice.”, he raises one eyebrow but keeps his mouth shut. “I want to talk to you.”, again, he tugs at his arms. And again, you clench your thighs hard. Thanking whatever power there was that you had good thigh muscles, his response to this action, however, is a firmer tug and you see his biceps flex. But still, he refused to use his full strength, and you knew he was having fun halfway roughhousing with you.

“Can you stop? You’re not getting your hands for this!”, you laughed at him as he pouted up at you. Leaning forward, you poked his lips the pad of your index finger. “All you have to do is speak to me, nothing more.”, he playfully snapped his teeth at you and you nearly didn’t have time to pull back before your finger got caught and he laughed heartily at your reaction, looking really proud of himself at nearly biting your finger off. “THOMAS!”, you slapped his upper arm but laughed with him before you felt a pain in your cast up leg making you slump down next to him to relax it. “You’re no fun.”, you mumble up at him as he just turns his head to look at your own pouting form next to him.

A yawn escaped you, boredom had transformed into sleepiness.

“Hey, dummy.”, you say jokingly and pokes his masked cheek. He makes a face at you that screams “really?” and you giggle. “Nap with me?”, you continue. He shakes his head and spells out “mask” with his left hand, pointing out that it still needed those repairs. “Oh, come on. It’s not like it’s going anywhere, Tommy.”, he still shakes his and you relent. “Fine! Don’t then,” closing your eyes, you only feel the bed shift as he carefully climbs over you before falling into slumber.

--------------------------------------------

Thomas lands rather wobbly on the floor after climbing over you. He pulls the thin duvet cover over you before he - as discreetly as he can - clears his throat and leans in close to your ear. His voice is just above a whisper. Deep, like distant thunder, as he says two words.

“Sleep tight.”

He picks the mask up that you had thrown down to the floor next to the bed and trudges over to his desk, slumping down into the chair to fiddle with it. Occasionally he glances over to your sleeping form with your back turned to him. He shakes his head at your persistence to make him speak to you. He didn’t understand your sudden fascination with his voice, but he shrugged, and honestly? It was kind of endearing that you wanted to hear him speak so badly. It was also a plus to have someone to roughhouse with, so he would keep this charade up and keep his mouth shut for a little while longer.

Checking that you had truly fallen asleep, curled up on his bed, he sneaks down to the basement. He had the rest of a body to cut up together with some cleaning to do. Plus sort a few stray pieces into a scrap pile of usable meat. Tying his apron around his waist, he docked his phone into a small shoddy speaker system he was lucky enough to snag from some travelers a while back. Not long after, music streamed through the basement.

He unhooks the most recent victim and grunts as the man is laid down on the table. Thomas looks over the parts he had yet to cut up to inspect for damages, finding none, he hums in delight, this meant there would be more meat for food. He starts the process by cleaning the body, scrubbing away dirt, and caked blood.

It’s a fast process, and it was a joy for Thomas to cut this man up, he had a good ratio of fat, and it had marbled really well. He nods as he inspects the meat, and makes sure to put this man in the “ special occasions ”-pile. He knew mama would love to have this man for special dinners. He did get disappointed though, as this poor victim didn’t have much around his ribs. Sadly, there wasn't much of a grillable rib on this man, he did save them of course, but they would most likely join the pieces for ground beef in the end.

He wrapped the pieces he got off of the body in packaging paper and wrote the day's date on them, and what parts they were from, and put the packages in the freezer box. Even if the poor man’s face was too beat up to make a mask off, Thomas did find joy in the fact that he could get some, nice and long pieces from the legs. Finishing his work, he picked up a slightly sharpened spoon. Despite his big fingers he gingerly stuck the edge of it under the man’s eyelids. Careful, as not to pop the eyes, he scooped them out, letting them both hang by their respective optical nerves. After snipping both optic nerves off with a pair of sharp scissors, he carefully rinsed them under some cold water and put them in an airtight container. His mother had perfected pickled eyes over the years and he loved them, that, and her beef jerky.

He cleaned up and tossed the leftovers of the body into a crawlspace he’d constructed that led out into the forest, knowing scavengers came to clean the remains he put there so he thought of it as killing two birds with one stone. Returning to the table he tossed a bowl of water onto the bloodied table and wiped it off.

When he finally felt he could end today’s work, he climbed the stairs and headed straight into the kitchen, fingers moving in the air, deep in thought, stomach rumbling. The munchies always hit him hard when working, and he always tries to push them aside. On the rare occasions where he was mostly home alone, he broke the “ no snacking ”-rule his mama had made for him.

Hence, Thomas goes on a hunt through the kitchen. Opening the biggest pantry, he grabs the first box of crackers he can find and basically inhales the entire box. Unsatisfied, he attacks the fridge and finds something he’s been craving for a long time; the beef jerky. Something he also devours like a ravenous animal, he took a few with him into the living room, munching as he went to slump down on the couch.

He loved being alone like this. It was quiet. No Charlie to pick on him, mama wasn’t constantly on his ass for something he had yet to do. Even with uncle Monty home, he didn’t make a sound, probably dead on the porch but most likely not. Knowing no one is there to scream at him for it, he props his feet up on the coffee table and basically lays down across the table and half of the couch, and lets out a deep sigh, almost deflating like a tire. Leaning his head back to rest at the back of the couch, he looks up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes, his left fingers tapping slightly at his phone in thought, thoughts that seem to slowly topple over to the forbidden kind.

Fuck it.  He thought to himself. And pulled his phone out of his pocket only to head straight for his gallery, he did feel gross for saving that one specific video you'd sent him though, he never asked if he was allowed to or not. He just did it. Looking over his shoulder out to the rest of the house he made sure he was really alone, listening for any movement from you upstairs, or any sign of Monty coming back in.

He quickly swipes for the video, his other hand coming to just rest over his crotch at first. Finally finding the video he was searching for, he presses play and sinks down a bit lower in his seat.  It doesn't take long for him to grow and harden under his palm and jeans. His eyes raked over your form in the video.  He hasn't watched it since you came here, nor has he touched himself since you sent it.  His pants quickly became uncomfortable and let out a sigh of relief as he unzipped and let his erection spring free.  Your voice sent chills down his spine, as it rings out from the phone’s speaker, he'd forgotten just how nice you sounded, and he wrapped his free hand around his swollen dick.

A shaky breath escapes him as he slowly drags his hand down himself.

Watching when you pump the toy in and out of you in a steady rhythm made a tinge of jealousy spike through him, his fist gripping harder, a finger dragging over the swollen, angry tip to gather a stray drop of precum. A choked groan escaped him as he nudged his barbell. His eyes went out of focus from his phone screen as he looked up in the general direction of his room. Where you were. Thoughts wandering to how your pussy would feel around him, moving his hand as far up as he could without letting go, he squeezed it as he slowly dragged the hand down. A desperate attempt at imitating how tight you must feel around him.  His eyes fluttered shut as a particularly lewd moan from you echoed from his phone.

Thomas was desperate. It was so warm. He'd put his phone down as he let his fantasy take hold. Bucking into one hand, the other massaging his balls.

Glancing down at his lewd activity, he imagined your lips around his cock. Your eyes locking on to him as you let his dick spring free with a 'pop' and how your tongue would dance over his head.  It was all so sudden. He tensed up, hand slowing down slightly when he came hard as he heard your climax echo from where his phone lay on the couch with a low moan that transferred to a whine, a slight wheeze escaping his lungs. His cum coated his thighs and hand.  He just sat there. Hand still around his cock, hectic pumping exchanged for a slow, lazy stroking motion as he caught his breath.

Eyes half-lidded, the post-orgasm grin on his lips slowly fading into a frown as the realization that he now has laundry to do came to the front of his mind.

God damn it.  

--------------------------------------------

You slowly turned over to your back and stretched, a tired sound escaping your lips, sitting up, you noticed you’re alone in the room. Looking around you search for the old, shabby clock on the wall across from the bed.

Whoops… two-hour nap, you grimaced as your nap had become longer than you planned.

“Tommy?”, you called out. No reply. You groaned as you knew that meant he wasn’t in earshot and not having your phone with you upstairs, preventing you from texting him or calling him, meant you had to either support yourself against the walls and closest furniture to get down to the main floor, or to scoot on your ass. “Stupid… fucking… dumdum…”, you muttered as you scooted on your ass out to the hallway. Finally reaching the stairs landing you clung to the railing and hauled yourself halfway up it. “TOMMY!”, you screamed and pouted at him when you saw him poking his head out from the kitchen, you just hung over the railing and glared at the big figure who started to emerge around the corner and stalk towards the stairs, his whole demeanor screaming sarcasm and smart-ass, as he sauntered closer. Your pout growing more and more as you saw his shoulders bouncing in what you could only assume was laughter. “Can you just help me?”, you raised your voice and started flailing with your hands that were hanging over the railing, your eyes went wide as he shook his head before that familiar male voice rang out through his phone.

Get your own ass down

That’s the point where you burst out in laughter.

“Fine!”, you burst out between laughs and proceed to sit down flat on your butt again, preparing to just scoot your way down the stairs. You shot Thomas a look that clearly said “watch this”, as you started thumping down the stairs. One at a time, while Thomas just proceeded to stand in the same spot, now leaning on the door frame just shaking his head at your antics.

Thump Thump Thumpthumpthump Thump

And there you were, now laying on your side on the floor at his feet, rubbing your now sore behind with your hand, crocodile tears clear as you look for sympathy he clearly wasn’t giving you as he just took a step over you. Seeing your opportunity, you grabbed one of his legs the second it landed on the floor, your whole body jolting towards him as he stopped suddenly.  You laughed hard as you hugged his leg. He turned halfway and looked down at you, a sigh heavy enough you almost felt your hair moving, you looked up at the giant and just grinned at him.

‘Let go’ he signed, but you could see his own grin even if it was hidden behind his mask and you shook your head.

“Let yourself go”, you joked. A yelp escaped you as you felt him lift his leg just like you weighed absolutely nothing and started shaking it to get you off his leg. Your laugh echoed in the house. An action that just caused you to clamp on to his leg even harder. It wasn’t until the main door opened and you both heard Charlie’s angry voice ring out that you finally did let go.  The atmosphere changed straight away. “What the fuck is goin’ on?” You didn’t meet his eyes.

During these weeks, Luda Mae had warmed up to you. Her view of you had changed during the period, and by now, you were one of them. At least to her. Charlie still viewed you as a literal piece of meat. Cattle. The next one up on the dinner table. “I was sitting on the stairs to rest.”, you mumbled as you took a hand Thomas had reached out to you to help you stand and you leaned upon him as he helped you walk over to sit down on a chair in the kitchen.

Charlie just grumbled and waved Thomas over to him, saying something low you couldn’t hear. However, you usually knew what that meant; unwelcomed company. Something that was confirmed by Thomas as he visibly tensed up. Hands clenched into fists.

He was getting himself ready. Your Tommy was gone. Replaced by a guard dog ready to attack, he turned to you and you couldn’t help but shrink under his gaze. His whole appearance had changed in your eyes. You knew it was time to go up to his room and lock the door, and you nodded to him. As you stood he swiped you up in a bridal carry and headed towards the stairs.   You gulped. You hated when this happened. No matter how well you knew they ate people, or… how you ate people, you never wanted to see nor hear it. It was easier to eat and continue surviving if you just pretended. Pushing that part away and hiding it behind the good times with Tommy.

But every time, you worried. You worried for Thomas, worried something might go wrong, worried that these people might be the ones who take him away from you. You’d had nightmares about that a few times. How you wake up alone in the house one morning, the entire family gone, taken by the police, or just plain dead. Those nights were always horrible. Those nights, you always called Thomas asking him to come down to the basement bedroom. Because those nights, you just needed to feel him close to you. Those were nights you curled up and cuddled around his arm.

Since you’d seen who Thomas really was, since you’d seen the ugly truth about him, you’d deny your feelings. Strictly holding it on a platonic level. But you couldn’t do that anymore. It was time to admit, not only to yourself but also to him.

--------------------------------------------

Thomas stopped suddenly as he felt your hands tug at the neckline of his t-shirt as he went to set you down on his bed. He grunted slightly and took a soft hold of your wrists to try and pull your hands off. You didn’t move. He pulled his body again, no reaction.  At least not more than his body going further downward. His brows furrowed as he started to get annoyed. He didn’t have time for this, not now. There were people coming, which meant he had to go to work. Not play your stupid games.

His grip got harder, but when he heard his name being uttered every so slightly by your small voice, he relaxed.

“Tommy…”, your voice was so low. You sounded so small, so… different. A tinge of worry tugged in his heart and he knelt down in front of you, he reached out a shaky hand to cup your cheek and lifted your head up so he could look you in the face. What meets him has his heart do a double-take. You're glossy-eyed, tears too close to be welling over for comfort. A stray strand of hair that had fallen forward is tucked behind your ear, and he looks at you with questioning eyes.

He slowly raises and spells out "yes", wanting you to continue, knowing he doesn't have much time to stay.

Your breathing sounds as shaky as he feels. "I…", he follows your eyes with his own, desperate for you to look him in his eyes. After avoiding his gaze, he relaxes slightly as you finally relent and meet him. But the next two words make him tense up, in a different way. Just as low as before, you whisper them out. "Kiss me." His breathing becomes ragged, still, as a statue, he looks at you as you lean towards him, but stop just inches from the hole in his mask. Breathing hot against his lips. He's nervous, scared, anxious… in love, but his body won’t move. It’s not listening to him. "Please…", the word a mere breath on him. He gulps, and just as he feels the feathery touch of your lips only brushing against his; he's up on his feet.

Footsteps are heavy and hurried. He closes the door to his room and locks it from the outside, something he only does when there are guests coming to the house. Afraid they’ll find you.

His heart is beating so fast, he’s shaky and sweaty. Suddenly his t-shirt feels even more clingy and cramped. He knows he can’t stay like this any longer. He got work to do. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he steps out of his body to let it do what needs to be done.  Gone is Tommy, and all that’s left is the shell of a deranged butcherer. A maniac with a chainsaw.

He still has time to change. When he still had his job at the slaughterhouse, he had a green and red striped shirt. A shirt he still chose when they had guests over. With heavy footsteps, he heads down into the basement. After buttoning the shirt up he looked into the mirror, eyes dark and brows furrowed. When things were bad, he never even recognized himself when he looked it, during these bad days his arm guards were the heaviest things he had to wear. His apron was slung over his neck and tied neatly behind his back and the mask he mostly used during these events snugly pulled over his head. The killing mask, as he liked to call it. The one he had to use to distance himself from this.

While waiting for his signal from the main floor, he sat down at his desk. Making sure everything is secured, making sure nothing will get in the way. And most importantly; making sure his chainsaw is in working condition. Which, of course, it is. He took great pride in how he managed it. Always giving it a good clean after every dinner party. He’d memorized every video he’d found on the internet on chainsaw maintenance, since he knew they couldn’t afford a new one if this one happened to be damaged, one time coming close to it. But that was no concern of him at this moment of time.

Suddenly, he heard voices from the floor above him, voices and footsteps. And he figured; it’s almost time. His grip on the chainsaw hardened as he rose to slowly and carefully ascend the stairs, sneaking and making a conscious choice to skip the parts that he knew made creaking noises. Stopping at the top, he peered into the eye hole, installed at one point, to check how many he could see.

Two… two here. Charlie said at least three.

These ones look scrawny, not much to make use of. Shame, he really did want some nice ribs one evening, making him hope the third one had more. But maybe these had enough to make ground beef for burgers… He snapped out of his food-driven daydream as he heard his uncle Monty screaming for him from outside the sliding door. Three hard knocks on the floor were his call sign. And only seconds after the third one had echoed, he burst out. Chainsaw roaring, drowning out any other sound in the house.

At that, the chase began.

He managed to get one of them in the leg at one point, and she went down like a tree. Screeching high enough to pierce the mechanical roar, making his ears hurt enough for him to land a fist on her face to make her shut up.

One down, two to go.

Hauling her inside, he just threw her down the stairs to the basement, where she would have an abrupt awakening at some point, he’d learn that it was best to take care of them as fast as possible. It did taste better in his opinion. And so, he went off to get the other two.

Adrenaline is shooting through him. He’s hungry and wants dinner. And if a man wants to feed, a man has to hunt.

--------------------------------------------

You heard screaming and clamped your hands over your ears. Your own screaming desperate to shut it out. It didn’t help. Putting your head under the pillow and squeezing it around your head didn’t help either. Nothing helps. They were still there. That screaming… That roaring. And the running.

You jumped when, suddenly, someone collided with the door. Desperately tugging the handle, making the door rattle. You had you press your hands over your mouth to keep quiet, to not scream, to not alert them you were in here. Some sick part of you never wanted to leave Thomas. You couldn’t leave. And especially not this way. When you heard his heavy footsteps stomping towards the poor person trying to get away, you started crying. When you heard a squelching, mushy sound, you wanted to puke. And you actually viciously gagged when you saw a crimson stream under the door into the room.

You didn’t want to think about what he had done to the person outside. You didn’t. You closed your eyes hard enough to see white spots dance across blackness and scooted further up onto the bed, hiding behind the pillow, in pure hope that you would disappear from this madness.

It really did feel like days… months, even before you heard the door make a sound. It sounded like a key was pushed into place, and then it clicked open. Lifting your head towards it, you saw him. Thomas. At least it had his body and his eyes. But it wasn’t him. Not Tommy. You started breathing harder, heavier.

Was he really going to see you? Or was he going to see… cattle?

He was drenched in blood, pieces of skin and flesh hanging off belts and buckles around his arms. His face… Not his own. This was not Tommy. This was the monster you’d imagined when you first woke up in the basement. The murderer. The butcher of Texas. And for the first time since you’d woken up bolted down on a table, you were scared. You didn’t want to look at him like this, didn’t want to see this.

“Please…”, you started and followed his eyes as they flicked all over the room, he was looking around. At nothing, and everything at once. Breathing heavy. Hands twitching at his sides before they clenched and unclenched. You tried again, tried connecting to him. “Tommy, please.”, his nickname seemed to make the eyes of someone else snap towards you. “Come back to me.”, even if you were shaking like a leaf, you needed Tommy right now. He looked directly at you before shaking his head, and a dark rumble erupted from him. “No.”, and with that. He left again. Bloody boot prints trailing after him. “Tommy, wait!”, you yelled after him, hoping to once again connect to him, to get him to come back to you.

But to no avail.

-------------------------------------------- It had been an easy fight for him, barely even any fighting back. They seemingly had just given up as they realized what was going to happen. Something Thomas was grateful for. He wasn’t in the mood for fist fighting or getting stabbed again.

His movements were slow and methodical as he cut them up. Loud music echoed through the basement. He was alone, and the cattle dead. So he seized the opportunity to work without his mask. He wanted to breathe free air. It was really rare of him to actually do anything except shower without his mask, even with the one that only covered half his face, but sometimes. Just sometimes, he wanted to.

His prayers were answered though, as the third one did have more to work with. Meaning; he would get those ribs he wanted one night. By the time he started to feel done for the evening, he’d managed to get a whole heap of good meat from the third victim. He wrapped them neatly in package paper, wrote today’s date on them, and put them at the bottom of the freezer box.

After working for the most part of the night, having three dinner guests to take care of, meant it was late. Really late. His mama had come down a few times, reminding him he had to eat, telling him she had checked on you. At one point, she had come down and told him you’d fallen asleep. But you hadn’t touched your food, and she told him she was worried. All Thomas did was tell her not to worry. Hours later, he was done. And finally, he could relax. Finally, he could let go of this persona. He could return to himself again. Very few things made him feel this happy. Every piece of his working attire that came off him felt like a stone leaving his shoulders. He was the only one who could keep the entire family floating, and he knew that.

After hanging the apron upon its hook, after he’d put the armguards down on their table, and after putting his mask back on, he ascended the stairs with heavy steps. He was tired.

And he missed you.

His mama had been a true angel and cleaned the puddle of blood up from under his bedroom door and the whole upper floor smelled of lemon. Just as he reached his door, his brain wandered back to what you had told him earlier. What you had done. What you wanted from him.

And when that thought came back, Tommy was thrown back into his body again, and he opened the bedroom door.  His mama was right, you were sleeping, curled up with your broken leg sticking out from under the blanket . You, hugging his pillow with your face buried in it. Usually, when there's been a dinner party, you would sleep in his upstairs bedroom and he in the basement.

But now, things felt different for him.

He checked the time, you'd slept through supper, he just didn’t eat more than a few snacks while working, so he decided it was time for bed. Maybe he could gather enough courage to do what you wanted him to do earlier. Closing the door silently, the lock clicked. Boots were kicked off, jeans were left to fall as they were unbuttoned. The heavy clinking seemed to make you stir, and he saw you slightly opening your eyes. "Come here…", your voice was low, and it held something he'd never heard from you before, causing a small shiver to run through him, but he obliged and shuffled forward.

--------------------------------------------

Here he was, Tommy. Your sweet, sweet giant. His body loomed over yours, his hair tickled your face as it fell forward making you giggle, something that was met by a dark chuckle as he wiggled more hair on your face. “Tommy, stoop!”, you laughed out quietly, but he shook his head in a mocking “no” and just continued swiping his dark locks over you if only for a few seconds more. You couldn’t help but laugh at his dorky behavior. All traces of the terrifying man you saw earlier, blown out to sea. When he finally did stop, your left hand reached out and cupped his right cheek as you tucked some hairs behind his ear. When you saw how he leaned into your hand and let his eyes flutter close, your heart did a double-take.

He stayed like that, seemingly relishing the feeling of your hand on his masked cheek and the way your finger brushed behind his ear, before he finally opened his blue eyes again, meeting yours.  You saw how his eyes quickly flickered down to your lips. Where a small smile tugged, and you repeated the same words you had done earlier when he had left you. Voice low, whispering, words only meant for him to hear;

“Kiss me.”, this time, however, he didn’t run away. Your heart picked up in rhythm as you saw him lean in closer to you, his forehead resting against yours. Eyes intense, yet soft.  He acted like he was scared, you could feel how his breathing was slightly ragged, you guessed he was nervous.  Craning your neck towards him, to reach, he leaned back slightly. Yeah, he was definitely nervous all of a sudden, the thought of this big giant man, who the same day had killed people being nervous about a kiss, was nothing short of adorable. Again, you stopped just short of your lips meeting his, and breathed out that same word; “Please…”

You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, how his own slowly closed, and then you felt his lips land on yours through the mask. It was soft, not rushed nor forced. You ignored the chappy parts of his lips and relished in just feeling them on yours. Wrapping a hand around his neck, you pulled him down with you so you could both be more comfortable as the kiss deepened. You could easily tell that he was inexperienced, but he did seem eager to learn more, to feel more, and to taste more.

You caressed his neck and back of the head with one hand, the other carded through his hair.

Suddenly, he seemed to have gathered enough courage to take risks, and you felt the tip of his tongue graze your lips, kindly asking for an invitation.  An invitation you gladly accepted, a moan escaping you as you finally felt his tongue meet yours. You couldn’t focus on how he tasted, he just tasted like Tommy. He was masculine, and dominant in nature when he wanted to be, and right now? It seemed like he wanted to be, his tongue strong and demanding against yours as he mimicked your movements.

--------------------------------------------

Tommy happily drank in every moan that came down his throat as he danced his tongue over you. He loved this, he loved this so much. The way you reacted to only feeling his tongue against yours, made him braver. His right hand moved from its place by your head and started traveling over your left arm with featherlight touches. He gently grabbed your hand, pulling it up and over your head, opening up for easier access to your side, from where he slowly moved it upwards, he knew where to go, but then his body stopped listening to him. You whined slightly as his hand stopped just right under your breast, hand pulling back again as his thumb grazed the soft plump underside.

His brain caught up to him and he pulled away from your lips and sat up. Face warm and blushed, and he knew you could see it over the edge of his mask and down his neck because you giggled.

“Tommy, c’mere.”, you whispered to him and he saw how you reached out for his hands, he let you take them, but when he saw that you pulled them towards your breasts again he tugged them out of your grip and shook his head.  He wanted to, dear god how he wanted to touch you. He wanted to hear your voice sing for him.

But he was scared. Nervous. The only sexual experience being a halfhearted blowjob from one of Charlie’s ugly hookers out of pity, something he figured she’d done because Charlie had talked about him in his drunken state.

But here you were. He just looked at you shyly. His breath hitched, however, when you suddenly rose up and pulled your shirt off. Bed bouncing lightly as you let your body fall down back on to the bed. Tommy’s eyes went wide as he saw your breasts jiggle softly as you lay back down. You were so beautiful, and he was just a big giant blushy mess who didn’t know what or how or why, if he spoke, he would probably just be a blubbering mess as well.

Again, he saw you reach for his hands, but this time, he shakily let you take them to their rightful place. He gulps as his hands are planted right under your breasts, your own hands helping him cup them gently, yet firmly. His eyes shot up to your face as he heard you sigh deeply at his touch. Your head lolled back, exposing your neck, the sight making him wet his lips with his tongue, an urge to hear more from you hit him.

Leaning down to where your neck met your shoulder he tested his waters and slowly dragged his tongue over your skin, his mask making so he couldn’t envelop his entire mouth over your skin as he wanted. The response he got from you, however, made him truly desperate.

Sitting up, his hand flew to the back of his mask but stopped right as he was about to unbuckle it. Anxiety hitting him hard. You seemed to notice it, though, as you followed him up into a sitting position.

--------------------------------------------

His nervousness was clear as ice. But you could see in him that he wanted this. So you took his hands in yours and brought them down from the back of his head. “You don’t have to remove it.”, you whispered to him, you saw one of his hands come up, guessing he would spell something, you turned your head towards it.

‘Want’

You hummed at it and smiled. Turning back to look into his eyes, you asked;

“Want me to do it?” You dragged your fingers tenderly through his hair until you felt the buckles. You knew that taking the mask off to snap a photo must have been hard enough for him, so now? Taking it off in front of you? It has to be a real-life nightmare. He sighed deeply, then exhale being ragged and shaky. Yet still, he nodded. You felt his hands coming to rest on your waist.

“Okay…” You said before carefully and slowly unbuckling it. His eyes were closed during the whole removal. Finally getting it off, you cupped his naked and scarred cheeks, kissing the worst parts. Giving him the love he deserved, the one he most likely never got. His lips met yours again and you pulled him down with you. It seemed like he had gathered up more courage as you felt his big hands wander over your body, still shaking, they returned to cup your breasts. As one of his thumbs gently grazed over a nipple you lolled your head back at the sudden contact.

That’s when his attack came.

Lips and tongue made contact with your neck and you moaned . A sound that seemed to awaken something in him as he even bit down where your neck met your shoulder. He continued his adventure on your neck until your sounds had begun to die down only so slightly, but it seemed enough for him to go on a quest to hear more.

His mouth found one of your hardened nipples and decided to give it attention, in between gasping and your eyes falling close, you found and took his hand not occupied with anything and led it down… down across your body.

When it seemed he felt where you had led it, his eyes came up to your face to look into your own. His eyes filled with lust, and want, pupils were blown out, the blue of his irises a stark contrast.

--------------------------------------------

“Tommy… Please.”, you sounded so desperate to him, so needy for someone like him. Who looked like him.

He brought his face back up to yours and as he gingerly pushed his hand down into your shorts, he himself made a needy sound as he felt how wet you’ve become because of him, he pressed his lips to yours the same moment his fingers made contact with your wet slit.

A way to cover up the now loud sounds you made as to not wake his family, and because of hunger, he didn’t know he had to swallow every bit of moan you made.

Burying his fingers deep inside you, his thumb rubbed massaging circles on your clit, he panted against your neck, the other hand clamped over your mouth to make sure you didn’t make too much noise, as he moved his fingers in and out of you. At the same time, he slowly ground his erection against your thigh. He wanted to feel you climax around his fingers, he wasn’t entirely sure why, but he needed to. He’d seen you do it to yourself, and a part of him wanted to replace any memory of your fingers with his own.

He grinned when he saw a shaky hand come up in the corner of his eye and he guessed you wanted to tell him something, but the hand he held over your mouth hindered you, so using your hand would suffice. When he saw you couldn’t fully concentrate, he pulled his fingers from you to give you time. Hand dragging your own slick over your breast to mess with you as he cocked an eyebrow in question.

Your breathing relaxed as you used the alphabet to give your word;

‘clit'

It was simple, a request, guidance, and Thomas were more than happy to please. You looked sweaty, but he happily obliged as his hand gingerly returned to massage gentle, but firm and methodical circles around your most sensitive part.

--------------------------------------------

You pant into the palm of his hand as you felt your stomach clench, the muscles in your broken leg tense up. You were close, oh so close, and you wondered if he really was new to this, or if he was just lucky and really curious about everything.

Grasping at the arm wedged between your breasts that held the hand over your mouth, you opened your eyes, only to find his burning gaze locked on your face. He was looking at you like a hungry animal. His eyes sent full body shivers running through you.  The familiar pulsing around your clit became worse as his lips parted slightly, his tongue running over his dry lips, removing his hand from your mouth, he captured your lower lip between his teeth lightly and pulled. A deep but raspy rumble came from his throat as he pushed two fingers into you while still rubbing his thumb over your sensitive nub, your eyes went wide and all it took for you to snap completely was one single, vibrating word coming from his throat;

“Cum.”, and you did. You came hard. Your whole body shaking under his. Arching off the bed. You tensed so hard, no word could escape. The only sound being wheezing breathing from your lungs. You went limp, but you knew that this wasn’t the end. You felt his broad hands slide over your thighs in a calming motion, a finger tapping on you got your attention and you opened your eyes.

He just smiled down on you, raised a hand, and signed;

'U ok'

You breathed out a laugh.

"Yeah… yeah I'm alright.", you reached out for him and he happily put his own cheeks into your hands and nuzzled into one of them. You pulled him close to whisper; "I want you, Tommy.", he sighed softly as he pressed his forehead to yours. "I've wanted you for so long." You kissed your way to one of his ears, gingerly biting down on his earlobe, he shivered at it. "Please, fuck me, Tommy.", you said in a sultry voice and he groaned.

You cursed your leg since it hindered you from climbing on top of him. You wanted to trail your lips down his muscles, over his abdomen, and to explore the wonderful trail of hair that ventured down from his belly button into his boxers. Pushing him off the bed so he could stand in front of you, however, worked. The angle was perfect. His height putting your face just above the edge of his boxers. Your hands ventured from his thighs, slowly up his abdomen, a small almost unnoticed gasp left his lips as your fingers brushed over his nipples as you reached his pectorals.

Sitting up, your hands groped over his pectorals. You're stunned at his physique. He was soft where you liked it, muscles strong and firm where it mattered the most. You felt a finger under your chin as he lifted your head up to look at him, a grin danced in the corner of his lips, seeing it almost made you forget how to breathe. His grin made you braver and you let your hands travel downwards again while looking into his eyes. He made one sharp inhale as you slowly run your palm over his clothed erection.

Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, you left a trail of kisses across his happy trail, leading downwards until you felt the part of him that seemed to silently beg for you. Neither photos nor videos did him any justice, and you moaned around his dick as his fingers tangled in your hair. His breathing was heavy, snarls and growls emanating from above you the deeper you managed to push his enormous cock down your throat.

Hollowing your cheeks as you drag your lips and tongue up and off of him, your tongue pressing on the underside massaging lightly at his silver jewelry, something that made him practically pull your mouth off of him with a pop.  A clear snarl escaped him when you looked up at him with lips wet and swollen, and you couldn’t help but grin like the devil at him . He snarled at how you looked up at him, lips wet and swollen, and you couldn't help but grin like the devil at him.  

--------------------------------------------

Pushing you back down into the bed, he helped you off with your shorts before carefully putting your damaged leg up on his shoulder, something he had seen on the internet. Looking down at you, you looked so small and innocent, compared to him. An angel; undressed, needy, wet. And all of that for him. His heart was a drum, dangerously close to escaping his chest.

He felt like such a creep, a pervert who just stared down at your naked form. Hands groping your thighs and giving each of them a delicious squeeze before caressing your abdomen. One part of him was scared that he would damage you, the other part of him, laying over your mound and throbbing in pure need, wanted nothing more than to imprint himself into you. He jolted out of his reverence as he felt your hands wrap around his length, slowly moving over his head, making it wet with precum before you said the words he wanted to hear;

"It's okay, Tommy… I want you.", he nodded and pulled back slightly, letting you help guide him home.

A whine and a haggard groan came from him as he felt you slowly wrap around him, and his head fell backward. Warm, wet, and tight. All he wanted at this moment was to keep pushing until all of him was hilted inside you , but a small whimper from you pulled him out of his trance and he was quick to pull out before you stopped him.

"No! It's okay!", Thomas looked down at you with worry in his eyes, but a few reassuring “okay"s and "it's fine"s managed to convince him, and slowly he pushed further in.

Thomas was soaring at this point. Your walls hugging him in all the right places, your moans and gasps sending shivers down his spine and exploding in his cock. A groan left him as he felt your walls clench when his tongue entered your mouth. Slowly, he started thrusting.

The first one had you gasping into his mouth. At the second, you broke the kiss. The third, a particularly loud moan left you, making him have to clamp his hand over your mouth again. When the fourth thrust hit, he saw your eyes roll back and you arching off the bed, and he took that as his sign to go to town.

--------------------------------------------

You were a total mess. Your head was bleary, your eyes blurry with joyful tears. Your ass is moist from your own arousal that streamed down your thighs as Thomas' fucked into you as a man starved.

He had hurt first, his dick big enough to split you in two if you were unlucky. But as soon as the pain had subsided, you begged for more.

For "harder" and "faster", words that only spurred him on, his thrusts became deeper, hitting parts inside you you didn’t know could feel good. Making you a blubbering mess, his name tumbling out from behind his hand every time the lewd sound of his hips hitting your wet thighs reached your ears. So here you were, a hand tightly clamped over your mouth to keep you from alerting the family of your activity with tears of pleasure streaming down your face.

Suddenly, you felt even more pleasure as he started rubbing your clit with his other thumb. All you could do was look down at the mess he had made of you and up to his eyes.

Him, just as much of a mess as you, huffing and puffing, hair sticking to his forehead, chest coated in sweat, pupils blown wide and brows furrowed, face contorted in pleasure. The sight made your cunt clench around him, squeezing a wheezing sound from his throat.

His attention to your clit quickly brought the familiar feelings of your orgasm.  Wiggling your upper teeth free you to bite down on his hand as you looked into his eyes, your own pleading for release. One hard press and a few circles with his thumb made you snap.  One hand gripping the sheet until your knuckles turned white, the other clawing at his arm, you had to force yourself not to scream behind his hand as you came on his dick.  His hips started moving in pure desperation, and you figured he was close. He leaned in, and you felt his lips and tongue brush against your neck before that deep, baritone voice of his came out in your ear again; "Haaahhh… fuck." How he managed to make one word feel so filthy, you had no idea. What you did know was that you wanted to hear it again. And again. And again . Wrapping your arms around his neck, one hand entangling in his hair and grabbing a fist full of his dark locks to pull at it to pull his face to yours, your action earning you a delicious sound from him. Tommy is an absolute mess, he’s trembling above you.

And you can’t help but smile at him.

“Are you close, baby?”, you whisper to his lips and he nods fervently as he desperately chases his release. Pulling his hair again, you expose his neck to you. The neck you’ve wanted to taste since you saw his face for the first time. Whimpers begin to tumble from him, adorable desperate sounds of pleasure escaping as you slowly drag your tongue over his neck.

But it’s when your teeth sink into him that he breaks down.

--------------------------------------------

Thomas pushes himself as far as he can as his release crashes into him like a tidal way, pushing you further up the bed. His groaning voice loud but choked, doing his best to swallow the sounds he makes when his cock finally fills you. The pain from the bite shooting through his body and mixing with the euphoric feeling of your walls clenching around his pulsing cock. He shivers as he feels your tongue lap over the bite mark. Somewhere inside of him, he hopes it won’t leave a mark, though right at this moment where he’s in the process of marking you as his, he doesn’t really care if it does leave a mark.

He’s shaking as he looks down at your equally exhausted form. He gives you a tired smile, an exhausted one, and leans his forehead against yours, your breathing a cold refreshing gust of air at his sweaty face. He could stay in this position his entire life. Pure bliss. But his muscles start complaining, and he hisses as he pulls himself out to collapse next to you, chuckling as you bounce slightly because of his weight dropping all at once.

Poking your cheek to get you to open your eyes, seeing as you’re well on your way to a night of deep sleep, he spells out a question;

‘U ok?’’

He lets out a sigh of relief as you nod tiredly. Even if he had just fucked every drop of energy out of both you and himself, he’s surprised to see you cuddle up into his sweaty chest. Unsure of what to do, he relaxes just a tiny bit as you laugh before taking his arms and wrapping them around yourself. It takes a while for Thomas to relax to the point of falling asleep, but as his brain is slowly registering that you’re not leaving him, and that you actually have fallen asleep in his arms, he lets sleep take him, with his face buried in your hair.

#CICU #Can I See You #modern!thomas #modern thomas fanfiction #thomas hewitt #thomas leatherface hewitt #thomas hewitt fanfiction #tcm: the beginning #tcm #tcm fanfiction #modern au

[samsflannel]

So I ran a poll on my twitter asking this: If the car crash at the end of season 1 never happened, and John never died, would he have killed Sam in season 4 once he started drinking demon blood? And the answer that won: Yes.

So, I decided to write a ficlet about it. Read under the cut.

You can also read on Ao3.

AU: John lives to see Sam drink demon blood and go “darkside.”

“This is what I warned you about, kid.” The gun in John’s shaking hands is cocked. Fully loaded. Safety off. Pointed at-

The plastic gas station bag Dean was holding drops onto the floor past the threshold of the cabin door, and one of the water bottles rolls under the worn, wood table. 

“What the fuck,” he says. Not a question. Sam’s asleep. Dead asleep on top of the sheets, book open across his chest and one of his stupid health nut breakfast bars unwrapped next to his hand. “What are you doing. Where have you been?” he whispers, hand itching for his gun.

“I told you, Dean,” John says, serious as all hell, gritting his teeth, sweat dripping down his temple. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Dean insists, but it shivers down his spine, makes his arms go cold. Sam stirs in his sleep and Dean’s feet ache toward the open door. “Let’s just go outside for a minute, talk about it before Sammy wakes up and sees that piece pointed at him.”

John takes a minute, his shoulders dropping, a sigh pushed out of his chest, but he lowers the gun and clicks the safety on, stuffs it in the back of his pants. Jerks his head toward the door, c’mon, then.

Christo, Dean whispers when he closes the door behind them- but John doesn’t react.

“Dad, what the hell,” he shouts once they make their way around to the side of the cabin, leaves crunching under their boots. “Where the hell have you been for the last year? I’ve been looking, asking other hunters-  how the fuck did you even find us out here?”

“One question at a time.” he presses the bridge of his nose between his fingers, breathing hard. 

“I’ll ask as many questions as I want,” Dean pushes, stepping forward, anger blooming up in his belly suddenly. “You show up out of nowhere when we haven’t seen you in over a year and you’re pointing a gun at my brother.”

John looks up at him. The circles under his eyes are dark and heavy- he looks different. “Your brother isn’t your brother, Dean. Not anymore.” He licks his lips, lowers his voice. “I heard things from other hunters. Disgusting things, evil things. And I thought- no.” He shakes his head, toes the dirt. “It can’t be. So I tracked you two down. Watched him. And I saw-”

He looks like he’s going to vomit, nostrils flaring, closing his eyes. “I saw what Sam did to that demon. Sucked it dry. I saw the blood on his face, Dean, he looked-” he pauses. Breathes and makes eye contact. “He’s not human anymore.”

“You’re wrong.” Dean shocks himself with how desperate his voice sounds. His hands tingle, his palms start to sweat- “I mean, you saw wrong. Sam would never-”

“Bullshit.” John cuts him off loud, and some visceral part of Dean flinches. “Don’t lie to me, Dean. You know. And I know that you know, so let’s skip that.”

Dean stills. Looks back and forth between his father’s eyes, pleading. But not denying. And then- hurt, face hardening. “So that’s why you came here? To waste your own son? And in his sleep, too, you don’t even have the sack to-”

“First of all, you don’t talk to me that way, I am your father.” He says it matter-of-fact, like it’s enough of an explanation. John gets in his space, toe-to-toe, middle finger pointed at his chest. “Get your head on straight. I told you two years ago what would happen if you didn’t control the situation and here we are with Sam chugging demon blood like it’s water.”

“I was dead.” Dean looks him right in the eyes, leaned up on his feet, eyes wide. “Not sure if you remember, but I was in hell. For months. And you let Sam walk. Knowing how broken he was, knowing he would have done anything-”

“You never should have made that deal, Dean. It was stupid and reckless and suicidal. But you made that choice. And Sam made his.”

Dean sits back on his heels, mouth tight. Shaking his head. “What was I supposed to do.” He searches John’s face. “Let Sam rot? You don’t understand. You don’t even know how much I couldn’t do that.”

John nods, solemn. “I get that, son. I do. But it would’ve been a helluva lot better than what I’m gonna have to do now.”

Flames lick Dean’s insides, his shoulders squaring up again. “You’re not gonna do shit. Look, dad, I’ve seen it too. I know it’s bad, but Sam, he-” he searches for the right words, but comes up blank. Huffs. “We’re gonna fix it. He’s gonna be okay.”

“It’s gone too far already,” John insists, almost shouting. “Sam’s gone. That kid you know, he’s so far off the reservation he’s hit the dead end, and there ain’t no turnarounds. You get that, right?”

“No, I actually don’t,” Dean spits, scrubbing his face, then slapping his hands down on his pockets. Shrugs. “He’s still Sam.”

John stops, then. Shakes his head a little, smiling, looks at his feet. “God,” he says. “Yeah.”

Dean furrows his eyebrows. “What?”

John shakes his head again. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger. You two-” he stops himself, like he doesn’t want to finish the sentence. He meets Dean’s eyes again. “Just let me handle this, kid. It’s not gonna be any easier for me, but we can’t let him hurt anyone.”

“Dad, why do you think we came all the way out to this bumfuck nowhere cabin?” Dean spreads his arms out. “There’s no one here for Sam to hurt. No blood for him to drink, no demons, no nothing.”

John pulls his gun from his pants. “You know, I heard other things from those hunters. Things about you and your brother that I don’t-” gun at his hip, he bites at his mouth, looks at the ground. 

Dean swallows hard. Blood rushing all through his chest, climbing up his throat under his skin. “That’s not-”

“Don’t,” John says, final. “Just. Just don’t. I can’t.”

They both take an awkward pause. The knife in Dean’s jeans is burning a hole in his back pocket. 

He nods his head toward John’s hip. “Put the gun away, dad. You’re not going to kill Sam, alright? We’ll figure this out.”

“I’ve got it figured out already. Stay out here, you don’t have to watch it happen. We’ll give him a hunter’s funeral-”

Dean brings his foot up and kicks the glock out of John’s hand, flicks his knife open. Jams it right up against John’s throat. 

He takes a shaky breath. “I can’t let you do that,” he says, almost a whisper. He presses the blade flat, not trying to cut him- not yet. “Walk away.”

John’s face remains stone-serious, cold as hell. “I’m not gonna hurt you, son. You’re not the one who needs to be stopped.” He glances down at Dean’s arm, held steady at his neck. “So you go ahead and do what you need to do, but just know that you’re making the wrong choice letting evil run free.”

“Not everything is as black and white as you want it to be.” Dean swallows again, heart somewhere down in his belly. “Maybe- you know, maybe I used to think like that too. Good or bad. That black, dividing line between us and them.”

“This is as clear-cut as they come, Dean-”

“You’re wrong.” Tears creep up in Dean’s eyes, his nose burning, and he blinks them back, tries to fucking focus. “Sam is-” he tries to think of the right words. He’s never been good with words, with expression. That was always Sam’s wheelhouse.

He settles on: “Sam isn’t evil.” He focuses on the blade, not able to look John in the face for some reason. “The thing inside of him is evil. But he’s kind and smart and a helluva lot stronger than you or me. But I guess you never wanted to see that.”

John sighs. Doesn’t respond. Fear is catching in Dean’s throat, strumming across his spine. 

“Is there any chance I can talk you out of this?” Dean’s lip quivers, tears stinging his eyes again.

John gives him a look that’s almost sympathetic. Then- understanding. Or acceptance. Dean’s not sure. 

He tilts his head back a little. “I’m afraid not, kid.” He says it quietly. Soft. “I’m sorry.”

Dean nods. “Then I’m sorry, too.”

The blade cuts clean, sharp, but John still gurgles on his own blood, hitting his knees hard, leaves crunching under him- and the blood, God, there’s so much, spitting from his throat in rivers, and Dean steps back so it won’t splatter. 

Fuck, Dean thinks. Fuck. John stops struggling, twitching after what feels like an hour but is really only seconds. And Dean falls to his knees, too, pukes right there in the grass, hands burning with how hard he grips the ground.

He sits there for a while. It’s so quiet. The air tastes like copper. The sun begins to set, heavy and warm over the forest around him.

And then he pushes himself up. Drags John by the boots as far as his legs will carry him- tomorrow, he’ll get a shovel. Do right by his old man.

Sam’s still asleep when he comes back in, turned over on his side with the book thrown across the floor. Dean toes his shoes off, lets his jacket hit the wood floor. 

He tucks himself up behind Sam, nose pressed into his back, takes a huge breath. Tries to get his hands to quit shaking.

“Dean?” Sam tilts his head back a little, stretching his legs out. “You alright?” He slurs. “Didja go to the store?”

Dean nods, eyes wide open. He pulls away from Sam, then- lays on his back so Sam won’t think something’s up. “Yeah, Sammy, I did. Got that Campbell’s soup you like.”

“Nice,” Sam says, yawns. Dean’s chest feels like there’s a gaping hole, unfurling at the edges. “Sorry for falling asleep. You want me to go get some firewood for the-”

“No,” Dean says, a little too fast. Sam turns over, eyebrow raised. “I mean, uh- no. It’s fine. I’ll take care of it.” He smiles at him, the way he does when he’s about to say some stupid shit. “You need to catch up on your rest, princess, don’t let me stop you-”

Sam tries to whack him with his pillow, but Dean catches it before he can. “Dick,” Sam says. 

Later, when Dean gets up to grab wood for the firepit so they can cook dinner, Sam says: “Hey.” He’s watching The Goonies on the shitty, box TV they managed to get working. 

“Is for horses,” Dean retorts, easy, distracted with his boot laces. 

Sam does that bitchy little sigh he does when he’s annoyed or trying to say something. “Seriously. Dean, I-” 

Dean looks over at him.

“Thank you. For everything. That you do for me, I mean. For us.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Don’t get too mushy about it.”

When he gets outside, he walks faster and faster until he’s running, cold air biting the tips of his ears until he falls at the foot of the forest and heaves, nothing left to lose from his stomach.

#enjoy!! this took me about a day so please reblog if you like it! #supernatural #samdean #john winchester #spn au #spn ficlet #wincest #wincest ficlet

[dazed--xx]

Beside you 2

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst

Word count: 1,570

Trigger Warning: NONE

A/N: SO YALL BEEN WAITING FOR THIS COMMENT FOR A PART 3 and if you want a fake text request those are now on my request list so please let me know what kind of request you’d like. Inbox me please i love talking to yall. I pushed this before all my requests but if you do have a request it is in the process of being written but depending on how many comments i get i will write a part 3

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*Previously*  

I lose myself in his lips soon I reach for my luggage bag and rush out the door and into my car. Jungkook is banging on my passenger side window trying to open the door tears streaming down his face “please, stop, stop the car, get out please stay with me, BABY PLEASE” he shouts as I reverse and drive off the last sight I have is Jungkook chasing my car with tears streaming down his face. 

*Now*  

The constrictor that is anxiety takes over my breathing. The road the only thing mind is focused on as I escape. After a few hours, I finally come to a stop at a beach and just lay on the sand my mind wandering off. The warm sun beaming on my face as I run my hands through the sand. The sky nice and sunny, watching the waves as I flip to my stomach watching the surfers and tourists. Laying back exhausted from the events of today I drift off to sleep.  

After waking up and realizing the sun is setting, I rush to my car and drive back toward Seoul. Stopping at a gas station I call my best friend Sunny. “I need to stay with you” I say sadly “Get your ass over here” She says softly. My heart warming at her friendly attitude, Sunny being the only one against my marriage to Jungkook in the first place. Her outspoken attitude making her the most honest person I know.

*PING...*

The messages go through my phone as I finally pull into Sunny’s driveway. My heart breaking at the memory of Jungkook’s pleading figure in the street begging for me to stop. The tears streaming down my face, pulling the phone into view I see Jungkook’s Contact in the notification bar. My heart stops as I swipe to read his messages....

The desperate need to be in his arms comforting him takes over me, the want to reverse and go home is overwhelming. “I only want you too” I type into the phone shaking as my mind drifts back to Jungkook's deception. Hesitantly I delete the message as a tap on my window startles me “Hey beautiful, what's up?” Sunny’s eyes examine my tear-filled ones. A soft smile appears on her face “Come on beautiful let's go inside and you can tell me all about it” She extends her arms for a hug, forcing the seatbelt off I throw myself out of the car and into her arms sobbing.

A few hours Sunny has me set up in her guest bedroom. I lay in the bed and sob as my phone began pinging with more messages from Jungkook. My sobs grow harder, as I read his words.

My mind drifting to the memory of him. The way he smiled when he walked into the kitchen every morning to grab his tea. The sexy way his suits would hug his muscles, his hair always perfect. The way his face contorted as he entered me. The blush that crept onto his face when I walked in on him. His words returning to my mind, the words he spoke when he thought he was alone. “Y/N yeah baby girl this is your cock, fuck all yours baby girl take it.” His voice moaned. The need to feel him inside me grows, pushing it down as I roll over and cry myself to sleep.  

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“PLEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!” Sunny pleads. I roll my eyes and shake my head “No, I’m sorry but I don’t feel like going out.” “Y/N! Come on you have to get out the house love you’ve been trapped in here for a month already.” She begs, I shrug and pull the blanket over my head again. “OH NO YOU DON’T" Sunny’s tone serious as she yanks the comforter off of the bed “Get your ass up I’m not taking no for an answer we’re going out cause the best way to get over some guy is to get under a hotter much better one” She tosses 3 dresses on my form “Take a shower and pick one of these 3 dresses and get dressed I have the shoes okay?”.

Nodding hesitantly as I sit up “Bitch your scary sometimes........ Fine I'll go but no guys okay? One guy for me and I'm gone” Her smile returns to her face as she winks “Promise! Love ya” she says seductively as she walks out. Trudging toward the bathroom my heart drops, the memory of the last time I went out returning to my head. Jungkook’s jealousy, his need for me when we got home. My fingers softly touch my lips as I lock the door behind me. The feeling of Jungkook’s soft lips return to me, my heart racing. The way he sounded as he lost himself inside me has me growing wet.  

The sight of his face when he realized I was leaving, the heart break and panic returning to break my heart. The hot water consuming me in my thoughts as I wash myself. Soon I’m dressed with the least revealing dress Sunny has left for me. My anxiety rising in the pit of my stomach. My heart threatening to jump out of my chest as I walk into Sunny’s room.  

“OKAY BODY!!!” She shouts excitedly. Soon we’re pulling up to a nice restaurant, “Sunny what are we doing here” She laughs “eating”. Slowly I get out of the car staring at the restaurant walking in hesitantly behind Sunny. The restaurant was definitely expensive, the hostess leading us to a private booth that sat 2 gentlemen in suits. “Sunny are you fucking kidding me?!” I stop walking. “Y/N please, I REALLY like this guy and the only way he was gonna go out with me was if I brought a friend for his friend. I’ll owe you BIG” She states sadly as she makes a puppy dog face. “FINE since I'm already here but don’t expect anything I mean I AM still married” “Of course!”  

Dinner actually goes pretty well, Min-Jun is really cute for Sunny they're both extremely outgoing. Min-Jun's friend Sang is a little more what I expected from a man in such an expensive suit. An heir to some fortune with a lot of knowledge of my father's business. Sang is extremely cocky, his wealth known with how he holds himself. The way he treated the staff, as if they worked for him personally. This type of wealthy man was the type I despised. Sang reminding me a lot of Jungkook when I first met him. A spoiled rich boy that daddy took care of.  

My mind comparing Sang to Jungkook constantly. The difference in personality, Jungkook always being a little more down to earth. Jungkook has always been one of the most sought-after men in all of Seoul, holding himself in high regard without giving off complete arrogance. Sang was different.... He was opposite of what I could ever want. His shameless flirting disgusting me at every cliché line. Ordering more and more glasses of wine with dinner to tolerate it.  

“You okay kitten?” Sang questions grabbing my hand. My eyes drifting to where our bodies meet, my hand feeling oddly small in his uncomfortable. “Y/N can be a little.....shy sometimes” Sunny speaks up, my eyes flash to her smiling. “SO! I really want to dance should we go clubbing? Y/N?” Clubbing...Drinks...Forget....yes anything to forget. I nod “I'm down.”

The club is packed, I’ve had I don’t know how many shots. Sunny and Min-Jun pressed against the bar making out. Sang rambling on all the new extensions he is having done to his new mansion. His flirting becoming more persistent, “So Y/N do you want to like get out of here?”. Disgust appearing on my face, slurring my words “Hell-l n-no". A confused look appears on Sang’s face “Look I’m ma-rried and-d honestly you're-e irritating-g I-I did thi-s for Sunny” I laugh “I wouldn’t look twice at you otherwise” “Y/N!” Sunny shouts. 

“I’m so sorry about her she’s drunk” She apologizes to Sang. “Sunny don’t apologize to him he’s a douche-bag and you know it” I slur, a knowing look popping up on her face, “Oh I'm sorry I didn’t know that the only douche-bags you go for were the ones that treat you like shit, use you for sex, and then sleep with another woman in the same hour he sleeps with you . Right Y/N?” Tears forming in my eyes “Wow! REALLY?! No problem Sunny I’ll I have my stuff out before you get back have a nice night. And Sang you're a pathetic prick and no woman wants an insecure little boy bragging to her all night” The laughter taking over my body as I walk off. “You vindictive bitch!” Sang shouts grabbing my forearm. “Let me go” I yank my arm, his grip growing tighter. “No! You owe me I wasted my whole night on your spoiled bratty attitude the least you could do was give me want I want” He snarls.  

EXCUSE ME ASSHOLE, before I can get my words out a familiar voice cuts me off from behind me, making me sober the second the sexy harsh voice entered my ears. My body stuck, “If you want to live to see tomorrow, I’d suggest you take your hand off of my wife”  

A small gasp escapes my lips as my heart freezes. “Jungkook”

#BTS jungkook #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut

[jackadler]

TITLE: FUNNY, BUT IT SEEMS I ALWAYS WIND UP HERE WITH YOU. SETTING: Early morning, around 6AM. TRIGGER WARNINGS: Addiction, alcohol, depression, and drug mentions.

Fate is a cruel mistress. Who said that? Jack can’t remember. He thinks he might have heard it in a movie after a lover was scorned. That notion alone seemed fitting without the quote. 

Marion Stewart was a needle to Jack Adler’s emotions that came in the shape of balloons. Blue eyes stare blank and uncertain at a gas station across the way, one where a woman with a roundish face and long blonde hair trickles down her back, pumps gas into her car. Another balloon bursts and Jack focuses on something else as the contents of this balloon clamber to the ground inside his mind. Her car is blue, dark blue, and the windows were tinted. His own car is black and the windows were also tinted. The pavement is cracked and so is Jack’s beating heart.

A neon sign beside him blinks and blinks, all bright colors. Blue and red. OPEN, it says in large letters, across the front window. Jack looks to his right, hands still white-knuckling the steering wheel. The sign says open and it’s all so daunting, the little liquor store besides him holding the contents of every ailment come and gone. But had it really gone? Perhaps not as his troubles bring him here, itching to indulge in every horrible desire that festers within the pit of his belly.

One drink. Maybe two. What’s the harm? I want to settle down.

These are the excuses he musters as he steps out of his car and heads to the front. He’s clad in his usual attire, though this time he places a baseball cap on his head. A rather lackluster attempt at keeping a low profile. Somehow, it usually does the trick. The little ding from the overhead bell sounds through the air like a siren once Jack opens the front door and steps inside. A warm smile is sent his way from the cashier working this morning. Jack examines every detail just as he did before. He’s a man, pointy face, and a mouth full of teeth that look like they’re trying to escape his head. His hair is dark and receding though it suits him somehow. 

Jack was blessed with amazing hair, is what his stepmother used to say, a manicured hand running through his brown strands of hair. It was blond when he was born, which his biological mother always points out, though she loves his darker hair. He does too. 

This all weaves through his mind and he almost forgets he’s standing before rows and rows of alcohol. It all seems to slip his mind, Jack drowning in a certain dissociative state. He could have just been overly tired but the whole situation feels like a dream. The corners of his vision haze a tad, his movements sluggish but frantic at the same time. How was that possible? Jack questions mentally, looking down at himself from above. He was floating above his body but somehow present too. 

Jack grabs two large bottles of wine. Red. He brings them to the front, resting them carefully onto the counter before him. The cashier with the pointy face was still smiling as he begins to ring up Jack’s poison of choice. They’re placed inside two brown paper bags. Then the cashier states the price and nothing feels real. Even as Jack reaches into his pocket and plucks out his leather wallet, paying with cash. He thinks he mutters a thank you as he’s leaving the store but the second the moment passes, Jack can’t quite recall if he did or not. 

The bags are placed on the passenger seat before he starts his car. The blonde woman pumping her gas was gone and so was her car. Something about that makes Jack feel empty inside. People come and go, Jack, what’s the big deal? You didn’t know her. But he cried regardless, the kind of quiet cry where nothing comes out of it but tears and silence. He can feel them sliding down his face, beard, and neck but he does nothing to wipe them away. 

The singer arrives at his home in no time and Jack sits in his driveway for what feels like hours. Really, it was probably only fifteen minutes but within this hazy state, time has a way of wrapping itself around him strangely. 

There’s also an itch all over his body. You’d think he’s broken out into a rash by the way he suddenly squirms uncomfortably inside his own skin and scratches at his arms and neck. But, really, it’s an internal itch, one he can’t quite reach. Only booze can ease it or a bump of cocaine or a couple pills. He can’t get those here, aside from alcohol. Not yet, anyway. Jack always finds a link somehow and maybe he will after downing these bottles.

Wait, are you going to down these bottles? Jack, why? The little angel on his shoulder asks, coming in the shape of himself but with a pair of white wings. They look tattered though and somehow bruised. His face too, worn down and tired. He feels bad for the tiny angel version of himself. He was trying so hard but to no prevail. Oh, can it, you stupid piece of shit. Look at him, he deserves a drink. You deserve a drink, Jack. Drink. Now the devil version of him is quite the opposite, scorned in a different way. He’s hurt too but comes in the shape of a beast. He still has Jack’s face but he’s nuzzled inside the body of a large bear. His face isn’t tired, not like the angel version. Devil Jack just seems angry and defeated. He looks for any excuse to indulge in poor behavior, that much was obvious too.

Jack spends the next ten minutes like this, going back and forth, before he reaches for the paper bags of wine and heads inside. 

Before he knows it, he’s sitting in his living room, both bottles of wine uncovered and placed before him. Blue eyes stare at them as if he’s waiting for them to speak. Maybe they will, who knows. Nothing can quite shock him anymore especially when it comes to the state of his fragile mind. He’s still crying, his bottom lip quivering every once in a while. This time it’s not as silent and comes in the form of quiet sighs, sniffs, and huffs. He can’t bring himself to wail and sob, though that might help him currently. 

He’s not sure why but he can feel eyes on him from all over. 

Or maybe that’s just the shame and guilt that pools through him. Shame that stems from more than just being a recovering alcoholic who plans to get to drunk and pass out on his couch. No, this shame also comes from the fact that he’s allowed himself to be lead on by someone he loves. At thirty-eight years old, you’d think these things would have come and gone already. You’d think he’s already endured enough heartbreak to last a lifetime. Yet, here he was, trapped in the same heartbreak he’s been tending to since he was a teenager.  

He hates that he still thinks of her even now, right as he’s about to spiral completely. Flashes of the night before clutter his mind. Jack thinks of when everything was just blonde hair, warmth, and a bed beneath them. Bliss. But was it bliss or denial? Perhaps they were the same thing in hindsight. 

It’s then he realizes his nails have been digging into his own palms, earning crescent moon-like shapes to form on the delicate skin of his hands. The pigment there has begun to fade too, just as it does around his fingers. It’s a pale white compared to his natural complexion which was a tad more neutral-toned and darker. Jack found a little vitiligo spot on his neck a little while ago too that wasn’t there before. 

God, why was he thinking about this? He might have his little angel to blame, that version of himself doing everything in his power to distract Jack from what was really about to happen. 

But even that wasn’t enough to scratch the itch. With that, he reaches out and begins to frantically peel away the wrapping around the top of the first bottle of wine. Then he unscrews the cap and brings the opening to his mouth before...

RING RING RING RING RING.

His phone vibrates and makes noise from inside his pocket. For a moment, Jack listens to it, finding comfort in the sound before removing it from where it resides. Mom is the name staring back at him now. He freezes, eyes wide and afraid. 

Jack sets the bottle down and answers, “Hello?” The brunette says quietly into his phone now pressed to his ear, “Oh, baby, you’re up? Did I wake you? I’m sorry for calling so early I just wanted to check-in. I had a weird feeling in my stomach and I thought I’d call. How’s everything out there?”

It’s then he realizes it’s Monday and Julia, his mother, always calls on Monday.

Now the two bottles stare at him this time, mocking him. He feels like they were shaking their heads at him even though they didn’t have heads. They were fucking bottles of wine. 

“I’m — I’m okay. I, um, I was awake. I haven’t slept yet actually.” At least he’s telling the truth. Not entirely but it was still something. “You see, that might be it. I always know when you’re not sleeping well. I feel it in my belly as if you were still in there. You never slept well in my stomach, you were too excited to get out!” Julia laughs on the other end and Jack does too, faintly. He can hear sizzling in the background. Samantha, his stepmother, was probably making breakfast. 

Jack was really crying now. A silent sob. He has to muffle it so his mother doesn’t hear. His hand is clasped over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut as he listens to her. “Baby, you still there?” She says, her voice gentler this time. “I’m here. I’m really tired, sorry. I’ve been um, working on a lot of things. Music. For the new album and everything. You know how I get.”

“Listen, honey, get some sleep and I’ll call you later on, okay? Me and mama love you very much. Get some rest or I’m coming down there and tucking you in myself, alright?” Jack can only nod, even though Julia couldn't see him. Though he feels like she’s there somehow. He sniffs before speaking, “Okay. I love you too. Very much. Bye.”

So, he hangs up and transports right back to where he was before. Though this time the sun is peering through his windows, casting lines of light onto the hardwood. Birds chirp signaling the start of a new day and newfound tiredness blankets Jack. He looks to the bottles and almost gags from shame. Suddenly his entire body is heavy and the lump in his throat grows and grows. He grabs them and heads for the kitchen, almost stumbling on the way there but he somehow stands his ground. With all his might, he turns them upside down and dumps them into the sink, aggressively shaking them to remove every ounce of booze inside each. 

Blue eyes watch as the crimson liquid glides through the sink and down the drain until there was nothing left. The bottles are dropped into his trashcan located inside a nearby cabinet. Jack turns the faucet on and removes any excess wine before shutting it off once again. 

Again, he stands there longer than he should before padding over to his bedroom. Along the way, he removes his pants and his shirt, clad in nothing but his boxers, and crawls into bed. His bed. Alone. Jack smells the familiar scent of himself embedded within his pillows and sheets. It’s nice, better than he remembered. He feels like he’s lived six thousand lives before settling back into his original skin, his original existence. 

Usually, he detested himself, this stemming from deeprooted insecurity. But now he doesn’t mind it. He was too exhausted to be insecure or impulsive or sad. Even though he knows it’ll come back, it always comes back. 

But, for now, new morning light leaking through his bedroom, he’s okay being his only one.

#drabble. #tw alcoholism #tw alcohol #tw addiction #tw drug mention #tw depression #WELL..........................................YEAH

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The Supply Run

Dean Winchester x Reader; Sam Winchester x Reader (platonic)

Summary: Dean’s girlfriend is at home sick with the flu and he promised to make a run for a few simple things. Her biggest request - go to the actual grocery store and not that gas station up the road.

A/N: A simple little story to complete my bingo card for @spngenrebingo. A big thank you to @kazosa for helping me out with this one!!

Square Filled: Supply Run

Warnings: None

WC: 2.5K

Dean stood outside of the electronic doors and looked up at the giant neon sign. He grumbled at the prospect of entering the dreaded store with its giant aisles and fluorescent overhead lights. Why he couldn’t just grab the necessities from the gas station near home was beyond him. Not like he never had to do a supply run for someone sick before. Plenty of times he had to do this for Sammy when they were kids. Why she insisted on making him go to this horror show just for some simple things baffled him. But yet, the image of the girl he loved, back in the bunker laid up alone and wallowing in germs gave him the final push he needed to take a step forward, triggering the doors to open.

He grabbed a basket and instantly felt lost and slightly intimidated. Looking around he took the first few hesitant steps towards the endless aisles in front of him. She gave him a list, but he thought it looked pretty sparse of any of the good stuff he used to get Sam. Where were the cans of Chicken & Stars soup… the marshmallow fluff… the boxed mac and cheese? All she asked him to get was oranges, Nyquil and Gatorade. 

“Not even a box of Saltines?!” he mumbled incredulously, looking at the paper again and shaking his head.

He started by the produce and found the oranges. Piled high on a display, he absently grabbed the first two his hand touched. A quick avalanche of citrus began rolling down the sides. In a panic, he dropped the basket and caught most before they crashed to the floor. Looking around to see how much attention he gained, he sighed when he realized no one saw. Carefully, Dean placed the oranges back and silently prayed they would stay put. 

Snatching his basket and quickly walking away, Dean bypassed most of the home goods aisles until he found himself boxed in by a display of everything you would need to make smores at home. Dean’s eyes lit up and he immediately grabbed one of each, tossing them into the basket, and moving along down towards the cereal. A box of Lucky Charms caught his eye, and he added it to his basket before nodding in satisfaction.

“This is what I’m talking about,” he muttered with a satisfied grin and continued through the aisles, feeling better about his trip to the big box store. 

Rounding the corner, his attention was in looking up at the sign for the next aisle. He was hoping the cans of soup would be there somewhere when suddenly the hard bump of a shopping cart rammed straight into his side. 

“Excuse you, son!” an older, gray-haired woman admonished as Dean’s box of Lucky Charms went tumbling out of the basket thanks to the collision.

“S-Sorry--” he stuttered, bending down to pick up the box and wrinkled his nose at the narrowed eye expression she was giving him. 

She looked into his basket and shook her head. “This generation… can’t even shop for a proper meal,” she mumbled as she moved along her way. 

“I hate these places,” he groaned. “Why couldn’t I just go to the Gas n Sip. Coulda got all this there…”

Two aisles later, Dean found the cans of condensed Chicken & Stars soup that was a sure-fire way to get her to feel better. Any time Sam had been sick, Dean would get all the essentials, soup included, making Sammy better in no time. If Dean was feeling fancy, he would crumble the saltines on top and Sam would think it was the best thing in the world. Smiling at the memory, he tossed a few into the basket then went on to find the sports drinks she asked for. 

The last item on her very shortlist was the Nyquil. She said it would help her sleep off whatever germs were making her feel like death. He had no doubt that it would, but she would also need sustenance; hence the variety of heavily processed foods he was lugging around in the basket. Half paying attention to where he was wandering, Dean found himself in unfamiliar territory. Thinking he was somewhere near the meds, he began to examine some of the boxes on the shelves. 

As he scanned the boxes and tubes in front of him and read the words like ‘Vagisil’ and ‘Summer’s Eve’ his head snapped up and he took a step back. Realizing he was in the feminine hygiene aisle, he quickly turned on his heel and stepped lively towards where he took a wrong turn. 

“Wrooong aisle,” he said with a nervous laugh just as he nearly ran into the same old lady he did before. 

“You lost, son?” she asked, relishing in the uncomfortable expression he wore. 

“I… um… Nyquil?” he stammered.

“One more aisle over,” she replied with an exasperated huff. “Guess this generation can’t read, either.”

Dean held back all the comments that swirled through his mind and continued on to the correct aisle, biting his tongue as he went. Finding the requested item, Dean took a moment to try and discern which variety she would want. Finally plucking the bottle of neon green liquid from the shelves, he then noticed a variety of other things he thought she may need but didn’t ask for. Stuffing the basket full, he felt a raw sense of satisfaction as he examined all the things that were nearly overflowing from it and headed towards the front of the store.

Once Dean finally made it to the checkout. He lined up all of his goodies on the belt and watched as the clerk—Keith, who’s name tag was overshadowed by a giant pin that read, ‘Be Patient with Me! I’m New!’—studied each item slowly, looking for the bar code to rake across the scanner. Dean’s impatience grew with each painstakingly snail-like pass of an item over the register, the resounding beeeep that followed chipping away at the last of his patience. 

By the time the pimply-faced teenage clerk picked up the box of tissues, then Lucky Charms, Dean heard him snicker under his breath.

“Sick kid at home?” he asked. “My mom used ta buy this shit for me when I was sick.”

Dean flashed a fake but polite smile. “Girlfriend. And she’s waiting for me, so can we speed this along, a little, please?”

“Girlfriend?” Keith snorted again just as he passed the last item, a jar of marshmallow fluff over the red laser light then held it up, shaking it in a mocking fashion. “What is she, twelve?”

Dean snatched it from his hand, threw it in the bag, and did it all with a glare of his intense green eyes. One that made Keith assume would result in his death should he speak another word. 

Continuing to stare down the very young and very nervous cashier, Dean averted his eyes for just a moment, to see a small, plush little teddy bear holding a heart and a miniature mylar ballon, also decked out in hearts, sitting on the top of Keith’s register. Making intense eye contact with Keith, Dean reached out, and added it to the belt and stared the kid down until he finally scanned it, then placed it in the bag. 

The small bit of fear reflected in Keith’s expression was enough to calm Dean’s annoyance. “Buddy,” he said, as he relaxed his gaze as he drew out his wallet, looked at the final tally, and slapped down the total amount in cash, “let me tell you something. When you finally get the opportunity to touch a woman--something I assume is still years away for you--and you find the woman that makes you realize that it's all worth fighting for... A trip to the grocery store to get her everything she could possibly need is the easiest thing in the world to do. Even if it means dodging old ladies and Vagisil. Alright?”

Keith could only nod and wait until Dean gathered his few bags up before taking the cash that resided on the metal table beyond the register. 

The cool air hit Dean’s face as he exited through the second set of automatic doors that led to the parking lot. Throwing the bags on the floor of the Impala, he slid behind the wheel and smiled a soft, thoughtful smile. It was something he did every time he was about to head home knowing she was there, without even realizing he was doing it. 

Back at the bunker, she was curled up in the fetal position in the bed she shared with Dean; head pounding and a sheen of sweat coating her skin. Though she were freezing internally, the fever that raged told her body to both sweat and shiver at the same time. Praying Dean would return soon with the few necessary items, she tried to reposition herself on the bed so she could drink water before falling back down to the mattress, exhausted.

The flu, or whatever it was infesting her, had taken its toll. She had been down for two days, and not able to do much more than lay in bed. Sam had left on a hunt a few days prior, and Dean was doing his best to make sure she had what she needed while still sending Sam support for the job at hand. 

Off in the depths of the halls, familiar sounds of footsteps were coming closer. Hoping it was Dean, she did her best to push the sweaty remnants of hair aside and adjust the t-shirt she wore, so she didn’t look as bad as she thought she did. The faint knock at the door made her look up and call out for them to come in, but the dryness of her throat protested, sending her into a coughing fit.

The door opened, Sam was coming in to check on her, but stopped in his tracks and covered his face with his hand when he saw how sick she really was. 

“Whoa. What the hell happened to you? When I left you had the sniffles,” he said, his voice muffled through his fingers. 

“The flu happened,” she rasped in reply between coughs.

“Where’s Dean?”

“Getting supplies. I hope... He’s been gone a while. Probably because I asked him to go to the actual store. Not the gas station.”

Sam laughed and nodded. “I’m sure he’s having quite the adventure. Alright, let me go see what we got in the kitchen in the meantime. You really do look like crap.”

“Gee. Thanks. Didn’t realize,” she muttered sarcastically before finally falling back to the mattress.

In the kitchen, Sam pulled out a variety of ingredients and was happy to realize he could make what he intended without having to make a supply run of his own. The soup he threw together was simmering, filling the kitchen and surrounding hallways of the bunker with a delicious aroma by the time Dean made it home. 

Dropping the bags on the table, Dean watched his brother curiously for a moment as he slipped the jacket from his shoulders. 

“What’s that?” he asked, peering over Sam’s much taller shoulder. 

“Soup. Or did you not notice the Ebola situation going on in your room?”

“I got her soup. Along with everything else she needs to get better,” he replied, rolling his eyes behind Sam’s back. 

Without turning around, Sam replied, “Let me guess. Chicken and stars, marshmallow fluff and saltines.”

“Yeah… but also Nyquil, oranges, and Gatorade,” Dean retorted with an incredulous snort but left out the part where they were her suggestions. “But, yeah, I absolutely got some other necessities. Hey, don’t knock it, they always worked for you.”

“They worked for me because after you turned around and left, I would sneak down to the closest store and get actual medicine and real soup.”

“Real--Sam… this IS real. Just add water, heat, and stir.”

Sam shook his head and turned back to the stove. “My point is, she cannot live and get better off fluff, alone. Go give her the meds and a Gatorade, this will be ready soon.”

Dean silently mocked his brother’s instructions and grabbed the bag with the few things she specifically asked for, along with a few other things he thought she may want. By the time he reached their shared bedroom and cracked the door open, he was relieved to see that she was sleeping peacefully. Her hair was sweaty and pushed back from her face which was still flush with fever, but it didn’t stop him from leaving a sweet kiss against her head. 

Placing the bag aside, he retrieved the foul-smelling medicine and poured her a shot in the enclosed cup before gently shaking her awake. As she started to come around, he readied the bottle of Gatorade so she could easily take both and then go back to sleep.

“Hey sleepyhead,” he said as she opened her eyes and smiled despite feeling like she’d been hit by a truck.

“Hey…” she pushed herself up on her elbows and looked around slightly confused. “Did I see Sam here earlier or was that a hallucination?”

Dean laughed. “He’s here. He’s making you soup.”

“Oh… that’s sweet. Did you grab--”

“I got everything on your list, and then some. But for now, take this…” he handed her the medicine, and then the bottle of fruit punch. “Then, have this.”

She did as told and once both were consumed, she laid back down on the pillow and smiled up at him. “Thank you, Dean. I know going to the store was a pain, but--”

“It was fine. As long as you got what you need.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t come back with half the store, honestly.”

“There may or may not be a few more bags in the kitchen. But for now, just get passed this fever, then we can talk about making smores with Lucky Charms.”

“What? Ewe.”

“No, it's good. Trust me. Make ya feel better in no time.”

“Hm, no. I’ll pass, but you knock yourself out,” she giggled and then closed her eyes. 

“You rest, okay? I’ll check on you in a bit. Hopefully, you’ll feel better and look a little less…” Dean trailed off, trying to find a nice way to put it. 

“A little less… what?”

“Well, you sorta look like a shifter that didn’t quite shift all the way. Kinda pale and gooey,” he shrugged, and despite her weakened state, earned him a solid punch in the arm from his girlfriend. 

“Jerk.”

“Yeah, well, you love me,” he winked and stood from the bed. “Oh, I uh, got you a few other things in the bag there. But they can wait. Just get try and get some sleep.”

She rolled her eyes, but then with as much energy as she could muster, reached for the bag and looked inside. Pulling out the small bear with the balloon, her eyes found him quickly and he felt a rush of feeling for how she was looking at him. 

“I love it, thank you,” she said and held it close to her. Once she removed the balloon, she burrowed into the covers with the bear and sighed contentedly. Dean bent down to kiss her head again, and before he turned to leave the room, she called out for him. 

“Dean, wait.” Sitting up again, she knew she only had another moment before her head dictated she lay it back down. “Thank you for everything. I don’t know how I got so lucky, but thank you for all you do for me.”

“Of course, sweetheart. I’d do anything for you. Get some sleep. I’ll check on you soon.”

He waited until she laid back down and quietly closed the door behind him. A little smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he realized she was the one who could potentially domesticate him, the thought of which didn’t scare him the way it would have before. As Dean made his way back towards the kitchen, the only thing that did scare him was realizing he forgot to get any kind of disinfecting spray to bomb the bunker with. Despite how cute she may have looked cuddling the small bear and falling asleep in his bed, he didn’t want anyone else to suffer from her Ebola-like germs.

Everything Tags: @sorenmarie87 // @yallgotkik

SPN Tags: @kazosa // @wings-of-a-raven // @closetspngirl // @idreamofplaid// @screechingartisancashbailiff // @linki-locks11 // @winchesterxfamilybusiness// @spnhollis // @sandlee44 // @stoneyggirl // @clarinette07 // @negans-wife // @deans-baby-momma // @hobby27 // @breereadsthings // @katehuntington // @81mysteriouslyme // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @deathofmissjackson // @lauravic // @aomi-nabi // @akshi8278 // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare// @coffeebooksandfandom // @rebelminxy // @22sarah08 // @fictionalabyss // @adoptdontshoppets // @blackcherrywhiskey // @babypieandwhiskey // @maddiepants // @lefthologramdeer // @his-paradox // @unlikelygalaxygiver

#spngenrebingo #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x reader insert #spn fan fics #spn bingo

[straykidsuniversal]

The Phoenix and The Fallen Star⭐️

Pairing: Seo Changbin x Lee Felix

Genre: Angst x Fluff

Warning: Swearing

A/N: Shoutout to my friend for the inspiration and guidance ⭐️

Summary: Lee Felix (20) is a student studying at Yonsei Law School. He is a very intelligent and independent student who works mornings during the week to pay off his massive amount of debt at a local dance studio teaching kids aged 5-10 years old how to dance. After an unexpected death of not only a co-worker he’s been working with for years, but also a close companion of his; he decides that he has to keep their memories alive so, he does something quite unconventional for a law student and gets a tattoo in his best friend’s honor. Seo Changbin (22) works at the most popular tattoo parlor in Seoul, Korea. (Seoul Ink Tattoo Studio) Changbin has one of the biggest names in the industry; everyone wants this talented tattoo artist to tat them up. His name gets thrown around like the L o v e word. Everybody knows his name, except for Lee Felix. Will the two cross paths? Keep reading to find out.

As Felix walks down the narrow streets of Seoul in a bit of a haze; he somehow manages to focus on an older man who is puffing a cigarette outside the gas station. Felix is the most anxious he’s ever been in his life. He’s getting his first tattoo today. What would his family think of their son who is studying law? Is he now rebelling against the system? Will he ever get a job in the work force? Felix snaps out of these negative thoughts and decides to walk over to this man. “E-excuse me sir” he stumbles over his words. “Would you happen to have an extra cigarette and a light?” He’s never even taking a sip of beer in his life and now all of a sudden he’s giving into the nicotine. The man doesn’t say more than one word. “Yeah.” He pulls out the box of Marlboro and hands the shaky boy a cigarette. Felix thanks him and places the cigarette between his quivering lips. The generous man lights it up for him and he’s on his way; he has somewhere to be after all. He inhales the strong smoke and starts coughing like crazy and watches as all the smoke leaves his mouth and into the crisp air. Felix comes across every store you could ever imagine before finally making it to his destination. Felix reads the sign in bright neon lights and big bold letters SEOUL INK TATTOO STUDIO. #1 TATTOO STUDIO IN SEOUL.

Felix puts out his first cigarette and takes a deep breath before opening the door and entering this foreign place. This is all for you. He thinks to himself as he looks around at all the pictures and tattoo designs on the wall. The blond haired boy listens in on the heavy guitar based music which sounded so unfamiliar from his classical pieces he’d listen to while studying. He notices the people around him aren’t dressed in a white button down shirt and a pastel pink cardigan like himself. They are drowning in black clothes from head to toe. Just when he thought his heart couldn’t beat through his chest any faster it could. Just when he thought his sweaty palms couldn’t get any sweater they did just that. Felix gulped as his eyes landed on the handsome man working behind the counter and his eyes went into full focus. One of the first things Felix noticed about the dark haired tattoo artist was his smile that sparkled like sunrays on fresh powdered snow to every single customer he spoke with. His eyes were like a magnetic force. Felix wanted to follow his chestnut brown eyes wherever they wandered. His soft and lush raven like hair went along with his whole e boy look. He had an eyebrow piercing, a lip piercing, and his ears pierced with diamond studs. His tattoo collection was pretty impressive as well. He had a whole sleeve complete and who knows what else.

“Next in line please” the tattoo artist calls to Felix who seems to be in his own dream world. “Hello” he waves his hands in front of his face. Felix snaps out of his thoughts and makes eye contact with the man realizing he’s first in line now. “O-oh sorry” he stumbles across his words and bites down on his knuckles. “How can I help you today? Are you looking to get a tattoo?” He says in an excitable tone assuming he’s a newbie to the tattoo world. There he goes again flashing that charming smile; perhaps his heart melted right there. “Yes, actually I have an idea for a tattoo that I want.. to put on my body.” Felix scrunches his nose as he cringes at his choice of words. “May I have a look?” Changbin asks politely as he looks at the cutie before him. He looks into Felix’s pure Bambi like eyes and his blond locks that fall near his eyes. He also notices his bright appearance in choice of clothing and the dark piercings in his ear. He tries not to giggle at the boy attempting to be darker than he truly is. “Ah yeah sure.” Felix pulls up a picture of two stars and shows it to the professional. “It’s Peter Pan inspired. Second star to the right.” He smiles and waits for the raven haired guy’s response. “Easy enough I can take you back right away. I’m Changbin by the way.” Changbin starts leading him to the back. “You can sit right here. Is this your first time getting inked?” Changbin points to the seat. Felix takes a seat in the chair and shyly responds, “yes, this will be my first tattoo ever.” He looks closely at all of changbin’s dope tattoos. “You have quite the collection.” Felix smiles up at the older who is busy sketching out the stars with a pencil and paper. “Tattoos are like a gateway drug to me once I got this one it was never enough and now here I am covered in tattoos.” Changbin giggles as he points to his first tattoo that’s only partially showing. It strikes interest in felix and he stirs up another question for the artist. “May I ask what it is and what exactly it means to you?” Changbin puts down the sketch briefly and rolls up his sleeve revealing a Phoenix. “This was my first ever tat. I’m really into Greek Mythology and I love the Phoenix and what it symbolizes. It was at a time in my life when I had a rebirth. I wanted to start again. I didn’t have the easiest upbringing. My mom had me at seventeen and prioritized the party life and drugs over me and my dad you know how that story goes.” Changbin looks down to the ground. Changbin has never opened up so much to a stranger in his life. What has gotten into him? Felix listens intently to everything Changbin says and admires his monumental tattoo along with his muscular biceps. “Wow, I love that. I’m so glad you turned something negative into something positive.” Felix shakes his head.

Changbin shrugs his shoulders, “I guess so. So what’s the Peter Pan Star inspired tattoo about?” He asks curiously as he finishes up the sketch. Felix freezes as he flashes back to the recent traumatic event. “The one star is for my grandmother who passed away a few years ago and the..” Felix pauses for a moment since it’s still a very touchy subject for him. “The second star is for a good friend of mine who recently passed away.” Felix’s voice breaks as he spills the words out. “Oh my gosh.. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to trigger you.” Changbin unconsciously places his hand on his arm to comfort him. “It’s alright. It’s not your fault. He was my best friend.” Felix can still hear his cries when he found out the news. “His name was Taemin. He had a seizure in his sleep and ah it killed him unexpectedly.” Changbin can see the pain in Felix’s eyes and caresses his arm. “Wow, this world can be so damn cruel! I’m so sorry for your loss. I know I’m just some random tattoo artist, but I’m here for you if you ever want to talk about it. What’s your name?” Changbin grabs some purple,blue, and yellow to add some color to the stars that mean the world to the Bambi eyed boy. “Thank you that really means a lot to me. So, overall the stars to me symbolize my siruis. They are the brightest stars in my night sky and they give me guidance when I feel alone and lost. Sorry I forgot to mention that my name is Felix” Felix smiles as he gets the words out. “Would you like to see what I’ve come up with?” Changbin sticks his tongue out slightly due to concentrating on final touches to the the beautiful sparkly purple, blue, and yellow stars he’s sketched out. Felix admires how cute the dark boy looks when he’s deep in thought and concentration. “I’d love to!” Felix claps his hands excitedly and tries to peek at the paper with the sketch on it not being able to contain his curiosity. Seo Changbin turns the paper around revealing his hard work to Felix. “What do ya think?” Changbin raises an eyebrow. Felix’s eyes water as soon as he sees what he imagined for himself come to life. “I-it’s absolutely beautiful. I love it. That’s exactly what I want.” Felix shakes his head and places his hand over his heart. “Really? I’m so glad that you love it.” Changbin feels euphoria overcoming him seeing how touched Felix was. “The next question is where would you like this tattoo? It could go on your hand, wrist, arm,leg wherever you desire.” Changbin brings the words to life by touching his hand gently; sliding his hand down his wrist onto his arm.

Felix feels butterflies in his tummy. What does this mean? He hasn’t felt butterflies in his stomach since Taemin. Does he really have a crush on some random tattoo artist he just met today? What’s not to like though? He’s one of the most handsome men he’s ever seen besides Taemin. He’s super sweet too for someone’s who attire could point to other darker directions. “Well, I was thinking in a place that’s kind of hidden.” He bites his lip nervously. “I’m a dance teacher I work with little kids.” Felix doesn’t want to reveal he’s a law student that might change changbin’s perspective of him completely. “Why not? What’s so bad about stars? You should show them off.” Changbin giggles. “But, if you really want to hide them.. I’d say your thigh or back.” Felix thinks for a moment. Yeah what’s so bad about a little tattoo for my grandmom and best friend. “Fuck it dude. L-let’s just do this. I want it on my left forearm.” Changbin is a bit shocked and his eyes widen. “Yes! I’m so excited to do this. You also must have done some research because your forearm is one of the least sensitive spots to get a tattoo, but it may still be a bit painful.” Changbin preps the area with things he will need and hands off his sketch for someone to put it onto a stencil transfer. He cleans the needles and rubs rubbing alcohol onto Felix’s forearm. “Are you nervous?” Changbin asks as he looks up to Felix. “Just a little bit.” Felix says only a little when in reality he’s actually extremely nervous. “You’ll be alright” Changbin takes the stencil transfer and places it in the middle of his left forearm. “Is this good? Where exactly do you want it?” Felix looks at the placement and approves, “that’s perfect.” He smiles as it sets in that it’s actually happening. He can’t believe he’s rebelling against his parents beliefs. Changbin places some soap on his arm. “This will help it to stick better to your skin and it will allow the image to appear a bit darker, so when I’m ready to actually come in with the tattoo gun I can trace it with ease.” Changbin explains thoroughly to the younger as he presses the stencil down. Felix listens in on every word, but can’t help to get distracted by how attractive he is. “Yeah? Okay.” Felix says with no emotion. “Are you sure you want to do this? You can still say no it’s not to late yet.” Changbin looks at Felix who seems uncertain. “Oh hell no. I want to do this.” Felix sounds determined this time around. Changbin grins as he pulls off the stencil transfer and places an ointment over the temporary like tattoo. He then gets his tattoo gun ready along with the ink and turns on the tattoo gun. “I’m now going to trace along these lines.” He gets closer to his skin. “Okay. I’m ready.” Felix closes his eyes and relaxes as he focuses on his breathing.”

Felix feels like he just closed his eyes when he hears the tattoo gun go silent and Changbin’s raspy voice. “It’s all done. It looks fantastic dude..You did great.” Changbin wipes off any remaining ink that wasn’t suppose to be there and smiles at Felix. Felix slowly opens up his eyes and looks down at the permanent ink on his forehead. It’s a masterpiece. Felix’s eyes become glossy at the sight. “Thank you thank you soooo much!! I love it.” Felix gets up and hugs Changbin carefully not to touch his tattoo. “You’re so welcome. It was my pleasure.” Changbin pats his back. “It has to be one of my favorite tattoos I’ve ever done.” Changbin tried not to get emotional himself. “Would you mind if I take a picture?” Changbin pulls out his phone. “I want to remember this one.”

“Of course, but ah first..” Felix bites his lip as he grows some confidence and takes Changbin’s phone and puts his phone number in. “Text me it.” Felix winks handing his phone back to Changbin. Changbin is a bit stocked by how bold his customer just was and tries not to reveal how flattered he is. “Ah sure no problem.” Changbin opens the camera and snaps a couple photos of Felix’s new tattoo. “Please, come back to me if you want more tattoos. It would be my honor to work with you again.” Changbin rings him up and Felix goes on about his day with a new crush and a brand new tattoo.

10:33 PM

Changbin got done his shift at 10:30 and hops in his car and curses to himself realizing he forgot to text Felix the pictures of his new tattoo from earlier. He searches for Felix’s name in his phone and texts him.

Changbin: Hey ✋ sorry I forgot to text you here’s that photo you wanted. *inserts photo of Felix’s stars tattoo* btw, I heard tonight is a full moon 🌕 you wanna come see it with me?

Felix notices his phone light up in his peripheral vision and groans into his massive law textbook. He opens the message and reads it knowing it’s changbin. He falls out of his chair and his classical music stops playing. Changbin wants to go out with me.. is this a date? No way. What do I say? Felix’s mind races. Changbin waits patiently and uses his steering wheel as his own custom made drum.

Felix: Thanks I really do love it. I think it would only be appropriate to see my Sirius in the night sky tonight along with the queen herself the full moon. 😁❤️ Pick me up at 0325 Daehangno Street. What are you wearing tonight? I have no clue what to wear.

Felix sends the text message and does a happy dance. Changbin receives the message and can’t wipe the smile off his face. Changbinnie puts the address into google maps.

Changbin: I’m only 15-20 minutes away from your apartment I’m leaving now. This is the outfit I’m wearing.

15-20 minutes?! Felix starts panicking and looking through his roommates clothes for an edgier look like Changbin’s. He somehow manages to find something and snaps a selfie.

Felix: okay I’m ready and waiting outside. 😌 my look for tonight 🖤

Changbin just about crashes the car when he sees Felix’s very attractive selfie and places his phone back down as he spots the edgy blond outside waiting for him. Felix looks in the car to make sure it’s Binnie before getting inside.

“You look quite ah” Felix tries to think of a word. “You look quite ravishing tonight.” Felix facepalms once again at his word choice. “Thanks that’s really sweet. I didn’t know you were a man who could pull off both a pastel pink cardigan cutesy look and a sexy dark look.” Changbin can’t hide his blush this time around and giggles. Felix immediately feels his ears burn up and his face turn a bright pink. “T-thank you for that compliment. I’m very unpredictable.” Felix notices the lion tattoo on Changbin’s hand. “Are you a Leo?” Felix asks out of no where. “Yeah how the hell did you know that? Are you a psychic or some shit?” Changbin glances over at him surprised. “Your tattoo.. it’s a lion which are Leos spirit animal.” Felix giggles at Changbin being clueless. “Oh yeah. I forgot I had that for a second. I also have the sun Leo’s ruling planet on my ankle. What’s your sign?” Changbin glances at him before pulling into an open field. “I’m a Virgo one with the bears. This is a really pretty spot.” Felix looks around him and hops out of the car before Changbin even has time to turn off the engine.

Felix immediately finds the perfect spot and lays down in the grass and looks up to the beautiful night sky. The stars looked like a mess in an art class; someone accidentally spilled a bottle of sparkles and glitter all over the table; except this beautiful mess was in the night sky. Nothing was one hundred percent perfect about the stars alignment, but that’s what made it so damn surreal. The moon was shimmering off in the distance letting everybody know that she’s still the starring role. Changbin looks up at the sky and takes in all it’s breathtaking features, but he gets completely lost in how stunning Felix looks in the moonlight. He lays down next to him. “Clearly, you know I’m a bad ass tattoo artist and I know that you teach dance to little kiddos. What is that like?” Changbin turns his body so he’s facing Felix. “I love dance and I love kids so putting those two things together is the best of both worlds. The kids are always so excited to learn something new and I’m always excited to teach them. It’s also where I met Taemin. He was one of the best dancers I had ever known in my life.” Felix glances over and notices changbin looking closely at him.

“I bet he was. I wish I could have met him. He sounds like he was a great guy. You gotta show me some of your moves sometime. I’d love to see your skills brought to life.” Felix looks back up to the stars. “Yeah, he really was one of a kind. The really crazy thing about all of this is that you remind me of him so much.” Changbin looks down at Felix’s shaking hand and holds it caressing it with his thumb. “Maybe it was destiny that we met. Every thing happens for a reason Lix and I strongly believe in my core that we met for a reason. I never ever talk about my past especially growing up parentless, but with you I felt so free.” Changbin squeezes Felix’s hand. “Yeah, I think you are right. I believe in destiny and I believe you’ve come to me at a point in my life I needed someone like you the most.” Felix caresses Changbin’s cheek having no clue on earth what in the hell has gotten into him. This boy does something to his heart and he can’t hold back anymore. He’s held back on so much in his life. It’s time for him to make a move. Changbin locks eyes with Felix in this moment. Felix finds himself briefly glancing down at Binnie’s kissable lips. Changbin wants this kiss just as bad. “How crazy would I be if I said I feel I’m destined to kiss you right now?” Felix inches himself closer to Changbin. “Just a little bit” Changbin plays with Felix’s fingers and leans in to Felix’s touch as he caresses his cheek. Felix takes this moment to go for what he wants and he leans in slowly and kisses Changbin’s lips gently like a delicate flower. The instant moment their lips touched they both envisioned fireworks going off like the Fourth of July. Sparks were flying. It was very magical to say the least. Felix pulled away remaining only a few inches from his face and leaned into Changbin’s cute nose and gave him an eskimo kiss before flopping down shyly into his chest. Changbin contently wrapped his arms around Felix and kissed his head.

“For the first time ever, I felt something when someone kissed me. You’re a special one Felix.” Changbin whispered softly as he played with Felix’s hair. “Only you and Taemin.” He replied and then covered his mouth realizing what he said. “No..no it’s cool I figured there was a romantic connection there. I’m honored that I can be on his level.” Changbin rubs his back. Felix looks at the time and realizes he has to wake up early tomorrow so he can study for an important test coming up. “Look, I really hate to cut this short, but I really have to get some sleep I have dance lessons early tomorrow morning.” Felix quickly sits up. “Ah okay it’s not a problem at all.” They arrive back outside of Felix’s apartment complex and they say their goodbyes and Changbin grabs Felix’s hand before he leaves. “Promise me that you will let me take you out on another date?” Changbin looks into his eyes sincerely. “I promise. I had so much fun.” Felix kisses his cheek before running off inside. “Goodnight Changbin.” Changbin mumbles, “Night” before taking off and heading home.

The next morning Felix dreads the sound of his alarm clock. “Shut up.. I know” he whines as he rolls out of bed and puts on his yellow hoodie and ripped blue jeans along with his vans and his glasses. He takes the fake earrings out and grabs his backpack with all his books to study and heads to the local coffee shop. Changbin gets up and goes about his daily routine and drives to the coffee shop to wake him up for his long shift at work. He spots Felix in the coffee shop and his eyes light up as he enters with confidence. “Oh hey! I didn’t know you like coffee and whatca reading there hmm?” changbin raises an eyebrow at Felix’s studious appearance. “Yeah yeah coffee is great” Felix slams his law book closed and stretches across the cover of the book letting out a big fake yawn. “Oh you know just a book about canines.” Changbin looks very confused at Felix’s odd behavior and notices the glasses and no piercings. “Nice earrings they suit you.” Changbin pinches Felix’s earlobe and walks up to order his coffee.

God damnit Lee Felix just tell him the truth. Do you really think he will care? Changbin walks back over and sits down. “I’m a law student at Yonsei Law School. I didn’t tell you because I thought you would lose interest in me because I’m some nerd and not this cool dude.” He spills it all out and looks down avoiding eye contact. “Felix, never and I repeat never ever change who you are for someone else. Stay true to who you are. I don’t give a shit that you are an intelligent individual who wants to have a successful career and that you are going to one of the top schools in Seoul. I think that’s awesome and I’m proud of you. You need to have more pride in who you are. You might be a nerd, but you’re a cool one. This doesn’t change the way I see you. I like you for you.” Changbin places his finger on Felix’s heart.

Felix shakes his head and wipes his tears. All his life his family never allowed him to truly express himself or show his true emotions. “T-thank you so much.” Felix hugged Changbin so tight in that coffee shop and for once in his life he didn’t give a shit who was looking or who the hell was judging him. This was who he was and no one would change him for a damn thing. This was Felix’s rebirth. It was the rise of the Phoenix and The rise of the Fallen Star.

#kpop #stray kids #skz #changlix #gay love #love #lgbtq #lee felix #stray kids changbin #bang chan #i.n stray kids #han jisung #lee minho #lee know #minsung #jeongchan #woolix #woochan #seungmin stray kids #hyunjin stray kids #changjin #stray kids fanfic #fanfic #fluff #kpop fluff #stray kids angst #woojin stray kids #kpop imagines

[lumosinlove]

Solntse

part ii

Remus sits in Lily and James’ tiny living room and tries to ignore the subtly laid out pillow and blankets set on the corner of the couch. Lily doesn’t let him.

“Your apartment has flees.”

Remus sets his glass down, “That was one bug and it was a beetle.”

Lily twists her hair over one shoulder, unrelenting, “Remus. Please.” She nods towards the pillow, “Just—I’m worried. We’re worried.”

Remus looks away so he doesn’t have to see the way James nods, they way they’re both looking at him like he’s already a lost cause. He wishes for a moment he’d never told them what he does other than serve pizza and take the early shifts at the gas station around the block, but then he’d be all alone in it. And they were his best friends, that was why he had told them. Just in case one day all of James’ fears came true and some guy murdered Remus in a hotel room. Or something.

James sighs, “Mate, we’re not ganging up on you.”

“No, I know.” Remus nods down at his mug of tea, “I know. I just…I don’t want to be that friend you can’t get rid of. Like. That would be awful.”

“Re, you’re never going to become that.” Lily puts a warm hand on his shoulder, squeezing, “That’s not how we think about it at all. We just want to know your safe.”

James raises his mug to his mouth, “As safe as you can be…”

“James.” Lily snips, then her face turns soft again for Remus, “Will you stay here?”

“Lils, really, my apartment is fine.” He curls his feet further beneath him, “I’ll finish my tea and go. Don’t worry.”

He thinks back to his two night hotel escapade and shakes his head more firmly at Lily. He already feels enough like a charity case as it is. Even if he did get good money for it. Sirius had pushed an extra eighty dollars into his hand at the door and closed it before Remus could protest. He had pressed a chapped kiss to his cheek too. Remus was still mulling that over.

When he finally does make it out of the apartment he pulls his ratty coat tightly over his shoulders and ducks his head against the wind. He could probably buy a new one if Sirius called again. He did ask for two nights in a row, and it went great so, maybe. But he didn’t want to be flashy about any new money. His landlord had already raised his eyebrows when Remus had handed over two months rent in advanced.

His apartment wasn’t flea infested although it did give off that sort of look. He had a cheep futon bed frame, just to keep his mattress off the floor so it didn’t mold, and a dresser from IKEA. His kitchen consisted of a stove and a sink. The gas was usually pretty iffy and his sink ran mostly cold, like his shower, but…he had a roof and food. It’s fine. He has James and Lily if he was really, really in trouble but he doesn’t want it to come to that. He’ll never want it to come to that.

He throws his keys down on the dresser and goes to check the leak under the sink. It hasn’t gotten worse but he empties out what water is in the bucket just while he’s there. He re-tapes the crack in the window and makes a note to ask his landlord about that. Again. He’s just sitting down on his bed when his phone rings. He groans and closes his eyes when he pulls it out, hoping it isn’t one of his less polite customers. He sighs in relief when he sees the name.

“Frank, hi.” Frank almost never wants sex. He likes to talk. He’s lonely. Remus can relate. He’s the son of two wealth-soaked parents who don’t pay him a lick of attention. Remus can half relate. “How are you, mate?”

“Oh. Hi, Remus. Wasn’t sure I’d get you, um. I’m fine. I—um. Was wondering…” He trails off.

“Sure, when were you thinking? I’ve got something Tuesday and Sunday and you know when I work, so…”

“Actually, I was thinking now?” His voice is up an entire octave with nerves, “I just…Family problems right now. Was hoping to just talk a bit.”

Remus runs a hand over his face but tries not to pause too long. He doesn’t want Frank to think he doesn’t want to, “Sounds great! Should I meet you at the—“

“I couldn’t get the usual room. It’s 207 tonight. Same hotel though, the Pierre.”

Remus nods, tries to keep a smile in his voice, “Great. See you soon.”

He’s barely hung up when another name flashes up at him. He’s almost embarrassed by how fast he answers, “Sirius. Hi.” That didn’t come out anywhere close to how he wanted it to.

“Remus! Life is good?”

Remus laughs lightly, still caught off guard but warmed by Sirius’ simple honesty, “Uh, yeah, life is good. How are you?���

“Good. Busy. Always busy, you know? I’m at airport now, going to be in town on Wednesday. You want see together? Or, ah, not together.”

“Each other.” Remus supplies.

“Yes, perfect. You always know. What you think, Remus?”

Remus half wishes Sirius would stop saying his name like that and half wishes he’ll never stop saying his name like that, “Yeah, that works for me. What time were you thinking?”

“Seven? I get us dinner in room, so don’t eat. I’m, ah…” Sirius lets out a soft laugh and Remus presses the speaker closer to his ear, “I’m think about you a lot.”

Remus swallows over a suddenly dry throat, “Yeah?”

“Hm.” There’s a loud speaker in the background and Sirius says something low in Russian, “Flight calling me. Wednesday okay, yes?”

“Yes. Have a good flight.”

“You too. Or—“ They both laugh, “Okay, I’m go now. Bye, Remus.”

The line goes dead and Remus lets the phone fall to the bed. He breathes in deeply and looks down. He’s half hard in his pants now and he really doesn’t know why. He’s suppose to be on his way to Frank’s, he tips well, he honestly needs Remus a little bit and…fuck. He splashes some freezing water on his face from the sink and yanks his door shut as he leaves.

Frank’s is fine. The hotel room is nice and Remus ends up sucking him off—twice. He doesn’t get hard either time but Frank seems either completely fine with that or he doesn’t notice. What does get him going is the ping he gets on his phone while he’s walking home from the tube. It’s a picture. Of Sirius. A selfie. He’s grinning in front of a beautiful sunset outside a plane window. There’s no message except a few sideways parentheses that Remus takes as smiles. Looking at the grin triggers thinking about Sirius’ large, warm hands on his hips and back. That leads to thinking about the way Sirius had carefully pushed his fingers inside of Remus, then the hot slide of his cock to replace them, his weight covering Remus’ back—

By the time Remus is walking up the stairs to his apartment again he’s more or less waddling around his tented trousers. By the time he’s throwing his keys on his dresser all he can do is lean back against his door and shove his hand into his boxers. They’re already damp with pre-come so what’s the point anyway? He smears his thumb over his head and squeezes the base, letting out a breath. It’s not as good as Sirius and his fucking huge palms. Now that he’s got a hand wrapped around himself he can really feel the difference. He pushes his pants down around his knees so he can get two hands around himself instead, twisting around the head and keeping a tight grip around the shaft. It barely takes a dozen pulls before he’s shooting into his fist with a harsh sound, Sirius’ name almost on his lips. Almost. He makes the mistake of thinking about the way Sirius had trailed his fingertips over his sensitive cock after he’d made Remus come in his mouth, keeping the pleasurable nerves alight, and takes a cold shower so he doesn’t have to go again. The shower only makes him think about how, next time, maybe Sirius won’t come untouched. Maybe Remus will get to return the favor. He doesn’t even know how much of Sirius he could fit in his mouth but fuck if he doesn’t want to try. He groans and wraps a hand around himself again. He’s too sensitive but he doesn’t care. He works himself fast and hard until his cock is a flushed red and he comes weakly against the shower wall, panting into the cool spray.

He looks at his phone as he towels off his hair. It’s Saturday, and it’s going to be a long couple days.

~

There’s a different woman at the front desk this time and Remus is glad. Not that he thinks the other one would remember him but, still. He stares at the twelve on the door for a moment, trying to calm his heart rate, before he knocks.

The door doesn’t open immediately so he knocks again, feeling more awkward by the second.

This time there’s a muffled shout and a few seconds later the door is yanked open by Sirius—dripping wet and a towel hastily wrapped around his waist.

“Sorry!” He gasps, “Sorry, flight late, felt kind of like plane—plane all over me? Thought I be fast, sorry.”

“Okay.” Remus meant to say it’s okay but, well, Sirius’ towel is slipping sort of low.

“Come in, come in, I’m be ready in minute.”

Ready for what? Remus wants to ask.

He goes to sit on one of the couches and strokes his hands over a soft pillows while Sirius pads back to the shower, dropping his towel without closing the door. For a second, Remus debates on whether he can consider that as an invitation or not. He stands up twice and sits back down before the water shuts off and he sits again. Sirius emerges a second later, grabbing the towel from the floor to wrap around his waist and another for his hair.  He rubs at his hair until the waves fluff around his ears and into his eyes. He smiles over at Remus somewhat guiltily.

“Sorry again. You want look at menu?” Sirius flips open a sleek looking suitcase and starts rifling through it, “Starving. Airplane food most bad, you know?”

Remus doesn’t but he’s not about to start that conversation. Instead he reaches for the leather-bound hotel book, “Where did you come from?”

“Sydney, ah…Hard for me to say.”

“Australia.”

Sirius laughs and pulls a loose fitting pair of sweatpants on—bare, “Yes, right.” A white long sleeve shirt follows and—to Remus’ surprised delight—a black snapback. It sits snugly on his damp hair, pushing the front part back out of his eyes while the rest wings out above his ears. Remus can see the shape of his ring necklace through his shirt. He swallows. Sirius looks good.

He pulls some warm looking socks on and Remus glances briefly at the hole in the heel on his own left foot. The couch bounces a little as Sirius settles next to him, leaning in close to look at the menu, “Good food? What you like?”

Remus tries to read the menu, he really does, but Sirius’ arm is thrown over the back of the couch  and his fingertips are brushing over where he sweater gives way to skin. He holds the menu out to Sirius, “You decide. I’ll eat anything.”

Sirius gives him a teasingly disapproving look but takes the menu and reaches towards the side table for the phone. He orders too much. A steak, fries, a plate of brisket ravioli, a cheese board, a salad, calamari, and two slices of chocolate cake. Remus doesn’t know where they’re going to put it all, but he hopes maybe he can take some of it home.

“We do tea later,” Sirius reaches out and fans one of Remus’ curls between his fingers. “After.” He amends, “They say thirty minutes.” Then his fingers are lightly brushing Remus’ hip, just beneath his sweater, “We stay busy while wait. Is okay?”

“Yeah.” Remus breathes, because what Sirius doesn’t know is that he got off to the mere memories of what they did last time every night leading up to now. Sometimes twice. Of course it’s okay. He’s never had a job this fucking okay, and he’ll damn sure make the most of it until Sirius moves on. They always do. Remus usually feels more grateful when they do, but he has a feeling Sirius will be different.

Sirius flashes him a grin and tugs him right into his lap. His lips are warm and chapped against Remus’, but the rough texture is nice. Remus feels like it keeps him there, in Sirius’ arms. He runs his tongue across Sirius’ bottom lip just to feel it and is rewarded with a soft sound and a palm to the small of his back. Sirius, who seems to be able to take Remus aback in almost everything he does, is holding Remus close, chest to chest. Not by the hips, not by the shoulders. Remus has never had any problems with abuse and he’s lucky in that way but Sirius, Sirius isn’t holding him like he’s there for sex at all. He’s cradling Remus in his lap, hands running lazily up and down his back. He’s licking into his mouth like they have all the time in the world, like they’ve been kissing forever and they’ll do it tomorrow, and tomorrow.

Remus’ palms cup his jaw and he runs his fingers along the edge of the snapback.

“You want off?” Sirius’ voice sounds like he’s just woken up.

Remus shakes his head and his eyes slip closed as Sirius’ mouth moves to his jaw, “No.”

Sirius’ warm breath against his neck as he laughs softly almost feels better than the wet kisses he’s leaving there. Almost.

They stay like that until the knock on the door makes Remus blink his eyes open blearily, suddenly aware of how warm he is.

Sirius shifts him to the side gently, kneeling on the couch for one last peck, “I’m get food, relax here.”

Remus blinks at him, licks his kiss-swollen lips, and honestly just wants to ask Sirius why he is like this. He rests his head back on the couch and listens to Sirius’ bright voice chatting away to the bell boy who brought their food. He’s thanking him, telling him how good it all looks, and Remus thinks maybe he’s just this nice to everyone he meets. He isn’t sure what to do with that.

“Hey,” Sirius head pokes back through the door, cart trailing him, “Food.”

Remus isn’t going to say no to that.

The spread of food looks even bigger when laid out and Remus can’t help but laugh as Sirus sits down next to him again, “Sirius, this is…a lot.”

Sirius shrugs one shoulder, “We don’t finish, you take home.”

Remus isn’t going to say no to that, either. He has a brief moment of wondering whether ordering this much was purposeful on Sirius’ part, but pushes it aside. That’s ridiculous. Sirius doesn’t even know him, much less anything about his financial situation. Well. He might know a little given who they are to each other.

Remus spends most of the meal listening to Sirius try to explain some funny story that happened on his trip, and anticipating the occasional moments of being fed bits of steak and such by Sirius, who barely breaks in talking despite how it takes Remus’ breath for a moment.

“I spend lot of time in hotel, you know?” Sirius’ voice breaks into Remus’ thoughts, mid story. He wished he’d been listening fully to know how to respond.

“I, ah, lonely?”

Sirius shrugs, but shoves a large scoop of pasta in his mouth. Remus takes that as a yes.

“How did you…” Remus searches for the right word before trying, “find me?”

Sirius actually pinks a little at that, “Ah. Friend. You know him. Recommend. Say you very sweet.”

Remus nods and respects the anonymity even if he’s dying to know who, “Sweet, huh?”

Sirius smiles a little, “I’m think so, too.”

They move onto the cake and the hotel had sent up an two extra desserts, seemingly just because Sirius is Sirius.

“I’m stay here lot, they know me.”

“Probably because you order the entire menu anyway.” Remus jokes.

It makes Sirius’ entire face light up, spreading his hands, “Hey, why not? Hungry after long day of flying.” He knocks his ankle against Remus’, “Good food, best company.”

Remus rolls his eyes a little and Sirius snorts. That shouldn’t be attractive, but it is.

“You live here always?” Sirius asks through a bite of cheesecake, “London?”

“Yeah, always.”

“Born here?”

Remus nods, “Yeah. I live a few streets over from my parent’s flat.”

“Must be so nice.” Sirius is smiling, but his eyes are down at his plate and he looks a little mournful. His fingertips not holding his fork are twisting the ring around his neck,  “Be near family always.”

Remus takes a bite instead of answering. It had been nice. For a while.

“Not…Not nice?” Sirius says softly, “Sorry, not want to bring up bad things, Remus—“

“No. No, it’s okay. It’s fine, I just…yeah, I don’t really talk to my parents much these days.”

Sirius places a warm hand on his thigh, thumb rubbing on the inside slowly. But it isn’t sexual. It isn’t even verging on sexual. It’s soothing and warm, and it makes Remus want to keep talking.

“Not since I came out.” He finally manages, “To them. They weren’t…” But it turns out that’s all he can say on the matter.

“Make you feel better…” Sirius wets his lips, “Parents not know. Mine, I’m saying. Scared to tell, not good thing in Russia.” He gives Remus’ thigh a little squeeze, “I understand. Remus, it’s—it’s most brave.”

Remus blinks hard, “Yeah.” He doesn’t know why he’s sitting here having this semi-melt down with Sirius. Sirius definitely isn’t paying for this. He’s probably annoyed with him under all his kind words and so Remus snuffles and digs his palms into his eyes, trying to wipe the tears away and the redness that’s probably there both. There’s nothing really to do to make this not an awkward transition. How do you go from tears to sex? And with a stranger? “I’m sorry.” He begins, “Fuck, this—was not what I had planned.”

“Remus, it’s not apology—no, okay?” He’s suddenly pushing the food table away and tucking his legs beneath himself, sitting on his socked-heels and taking both of Remus’ hands, thumbs rubbing gently against the vulnerable insides of Remus’ wrists, “I’m not mind, really. Really.”

“I’ll take this out of your pay. Honestly, Sirius, this isn’t what you brought me here for, I just want you to know that I know that.” Remus can’t help it though, and despite his words curls his fingers around Sirius’, “Sorry."

“Please stop saying, Remus.” Sirius tone is firm, “Please, you—not an apology.” Even the word ‘apology’ sounds nice in Sirius’ mouth.

“I…make okay? A bit?” Sirius tugs very lightly on Remus’ hands but when Remus shakes his head he—he lets go. Which Remus can’t decide how he feels about that.

“Sorry.” He says again, then at Sirius’ face, he pushes a hand through his hair, “Fuck, sorry—Sor—“

And then Sirius is kissing him. His thumbs are stroking slowly along his cheeks and he’s sucking Remus’ bottom lip slowly into his mouth, brushing his tongue along it with the same amount of leisure. Remus sighs into it, fingers digging into his own thighs for a moment before he’s leaning forward and pressing his palms flat on Sirius’.

“Only if want.” Sirius says against his mouth, “Remus.” He pulls away just enough to look at Remus’ glassy eyes, “You not want a second ago, I’m just want no more sorry. No, ah, not need to do anything, okay?” He curls his fingers back around Remus’ ears, around the curls there, “карамель, can just put movie on. Have more cake.”

Remus sniffles a little, blinking hard at Sirius, “Did—Did you just call me caramel?” He remembers the soft word from last time.

Sirius smiles, a bit, and lifts one shoulder, “It’s good, no? It’s…not sure how to say…small names important in Russia. Mean two people are close.”

Is that really what we are? Remus wants to ask. He sort of wants to yell it because, as great as this is, he sees nothing but a darker end. For himself, anyway.

“Oh.” Is all he says out loud and falls sideways a little on the couch into the cushions. He’s suddenly so tired. Sirius doesn’t seem to mind, though, and mirrors his position, their knees knocking together. His soft smile is still aimed right at Remus. “What’s yours then?”

Sirius’ smile grows, “Mama give to me when little.” He raises his eyebrows, “Little bit funny, not laugh.”

Remus feels a smile of his own start up and he uses his sleeve to wipe his nose, sitting up a little more, “I won’t laugh.”

“Sivushka.” It rolls nicely off of Sirius’ tongue, and his cheeks pink a little but he looks pleased, “Sort of…for family? Friends. Not so much lover, too…small?”

“Casual?” Remus offers, “Like, it means a different feeling.”

Sirius’ smile is soft, “So good with english. So helpful.”

“Sivushka.” Remus tries it out, but it doesn’t sound half as good. Then, he can’t help it, heart in his throat when he asks, “What’s…what’s more than friends? Like, not—just, I’m curious what that would be.”

“Lover? Sirusya, maybe.” Then he smiles, eyes crinkling warmly, “You like? You call me?”

“Surely someone already calls you that.” Remus tries to keep his voice light. I mean, look at you. He wants to add.

Sirius sits up at that a little, eyes going hard, hand—that had been rubbing idly against Remus’ knee—going still, “No. No one call me.”

Remus swallows, “I—I didn’t mean—“

“I’m not—изменя́ть.” He huffs in frustration, “изменя́ть—I’m not know, not know, okay?”

Remus’s chest goes cold, “Okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

“Not be here if with—someone else.” Sirius shakes his head, “Not like that, Remus. I’m not.” The phrase is followed by a disgruntled spell of Russian that Remus does his best to follow through tone alone.

“I know.” Remus finally says, “I know you aren’t.” Because he’s only met Sirius twice but he can honestly say he does know this about him, “I’m sorry.”

“Not apology, карамель.” Sirius rubs his hands over his face, “Too much action, sorry.”

Remus looks on in confusion, “What?”

“Me, me,” Sirius gestures aggressively towards himself, “Me. Too much action. Not right.”

Overreaction, Remus thinks and nods, “No, I understand.”

“I’m know…what guys you probably see doing…this.” Sirius doesn’t look at him as he acknowledges exactly why Remus is there for what feels like the first time other than money exchanges, “Not wrong for you to think. But no.”

“Sirius, it’s okay.” But that feels wrong somehow and so he says instead, “I mean, we’ve done this three times.”

Sirius is quiet for a long moment this time. “It’s true.” Then, after running his fingers over his necklace a few times, “You have other small name?”

The topic change pings a little, “Um. Not anything big. Re, mostly, if anything.”

“Re.” It sounds like a lovely mess of vowel in Sirius’ mouth, “That’s all?”

Remus nods, “Nothing like Russia, huh?”

Sirius runs a hand over his face one more time but when he moves it there’s a trace of his usual smile, “I’m find you one, not worry.” Then, eyes down and voice quiet but questioning, “You have…small name…for lover?”

Remus swallows. His throat is so dry all of a sudden so he just shakes his head, then realizes Sirius isn’t looking at him so he croaks out, “No.”

Sirius nods back, “Oh.” Then he grabs the remote and pushes it into Remus’ hand, “Find something. I’m call for tea and get money before forget. Be back.”

It seems like the end of the conversation, but the conversation doesn’t feel over. Remus choses a movie, but he couldn’t say what it was about. When its over Sirius has to tuck the money into Remus’ back pocket himself. He presses another kiss to Remus’ cheek. Then Remus doesn’t hear from him for two weeks.

#wolfstar #wolfstar headcanons #wolfstar fic #wolfstar au #wolfstar fluff #wolfstar angst #harry potter #harry potter fic #harry potter headcanons #harry potter au #harry potter fluff #harry potter angst #sirius black #writing #remus lupin #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #sirius/remus #remus/sirius #the marauders era #the marauders era headacnons #james potter #lily evans #solntse #lumosinlove #russian!sirius #callboy!remus

[unknown-messenger]

Some quick trigger warnings: contains drinking, forced drug use, and violence!

The penthouse was hardly ever quiet anymore. MC and Jumin seemed to be fighting around the clock, even when Jumin wasn’t home. They’d fight over the phone, they’d find ways to argue. The guards honestly thought it’s a miracle they were still together for one, and they hadn’t lost their voices, two.

Jumin had come home late, although it wasn’t from work. He had gone to see Rika and had dinner with her, even though he hadn’t had dinner with his girlfriend for over a week. Been working late and all that.

Jumin walked in the door wearing his usual suit, seeing MC sitting on the couch with her phone in one hand, a mostly full bottle of wine in the other.

“I’m home.” Jumin said from the entryway, taking off his shoes.

“Oh, that’s nice of you.” MC put down the bottle on the side table and stood, going to hug Jumin.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, hugging her back, but mildly sceptical.

“You smell like perfume, and it’s not mine.” MC narrowed her eyes at him, walking away quickly from him - revealing her intentions of the hug and confirming her suspicions.

“Let me guess….either you got a little too comfy with a client…” MC took a swig of wine, “or, you had dinner at Rika’s. Which one.” MC tapped her foot on the floor.

“Can’t I have dinner with a friend?” Jumin sighed heavily, knowing where this conversation was going.

“Okay, let’s talk about that for a minute. First off - you and I haven’t had a meal together in at least a week, and you go see your darling friend Rika who you make goo goo eyes every time you look at her, without even talking to me about it first. So yeah, I take a little bit of issue with that. And don’t make me look like some sort of jealous bitch because of it.”

“Goo goo eyes? You’re so childish.” Jumin rolled his eyes, tone cool.

“Childish? No, I’m concerned this thing between you and Rika is more than friendship, Jumin! Whether you know it or not, I think you still have feelings for her, and what does that make me? Sloppy seconds?!” MC yelled.

“Are you accusing me of cheating?!”

“I don’t know, am I?!”

Jumin stormed out of the penthouse, and MC plopped back on the couch, both equally pissed off at each other and needing some time alone. Muttering to herself, MC turned on the TV to some trashy news network as background noise as she polished off the most expensive bottle of wine that she had taken from Jumin’s storage out of sheer spite.

Not really giving two shits - the rather tipsy MC (she had quite the tolerance), wandered into the massive kitchen, eating a fair amount of the food that Jumin had stored, leaving all of the cupboard doors open, something that she knew drove Jumin crazy.

Deciding to go back to old apartment for the night, she walked into her and Jumin’s shared closet to put on some warmer clothes before going out into the rather chilly night. After changing into some warmer jeans, a sweater, and sneakers, she spotted Jumin’s always neatly kept tie drawer with a devilish smirk. Opening it slowly, she moved each tie down and slightly to the right inside. Letting out a small chuckle, she walked out. MC felt a little bad, but the possibility that he was cheating on her…he kind of deserved it. Some tie disorganization, cupboards open, and a bottle of wine that he could most defiantly replace were nothing compared to the therapy she may need if her suspicions turned out to be true. Even if they weren’t, she may need it anyway.

Sighing, she left the bedroom and the penthouse, the guards first trying to stop her - knowing the consequences from their employer if they allowed his girlfriend to leave intoxicated.

“I’m fine, I swear.” MC promised, walking a straight line - heel-toe, heel-toe, with her finger touching her nose and her arm stretching back out. They noticed that she could walk completely straight, and after looking between themselves, they allowed her to go, not wanting to put up too much of a fight with her.

Going down the elevator, MC passed all of the amenities offered in the building, and walked out the front door, hands in her pockets.

It was quite dark out by now, although the street lamps were very frequent in this part of the city. Nearly no one was out, although you would see the occasional couple walking hand in hand down the street, looking at the shops. MC walked past a jeweller, where there were actually many couples for this hour - both younger and older, looking at rings. Sadly sighing, MC continued on down the sidewalk, not looking back at the high end shop.

MC started to get lost in her thoughts, and the streetlights started to become less frequent. She only snapped out of her thoughts when she ran right into a stop sign, her head hitting the cool metal. Rubbing the sore spot, she looked around, and noticed she had no idea where she was.

“Oh shit.” She whispered to herself. The buildings around her were mostly brick, and some were abandoned, the only two functioning ones closed for the night. She must have been walking for hours. Turning back, MC wandered the way she had came for a few minutes before spotting a long ally way with a gas station on the other side. Hesitant to go down an ally, she looked around for another way - but didn’t see any other choice. Taking out her phone, she noticed it was only 15% charged. She may being paranoid, but paranoid is better than dead. Going into her recents, she called Jaehee - and when she picked up, she just explained that they had to just make random conversation for a few minutes. It didn’t matter about what, and apologized for calling her so late.

Deciding that any plausible attacker would be dissuaded by seeing her talking to someone, MC embarked down the ally. She was most of the way there when the conversation stopped suddenly, MC seeing a frustratingly familiar face lit up dimly by the light of a phone. Blonde hair, green eyes, and a brown and white dress. MC lowered the phone a little, and called Rika’s name slowly - voice dripping with confusion. This wasn’t anywhere near where Rika lived, and what could she possibly be doing around here?

“What are you doing here?” MC asked, looking around her and pressing her phone receiver to her sweater so that Jaehee couldn’t hear them talking.

“To take you to paradise of course.” Rika smiled a sickeningly sweet smile, MC looking at her with a look of horror and confusion, and in her still mildly tipsy state was not able to comprehend much. Jaehee, still on the phone, was calling MC’s name urgently, although no one could hear her. Before MC could say anything - she felt two hands grab her from behind, forcing grabbing her around her waist. She screamed, the grip forcing her to drop her phone. It landed face down - and smashed, ending the call. A cloth was forced over her face, and MC went limp.

~

A undetermined amount of time later, MC woke up with a killer headache, although she doubted it was from any kind of hangover. Blinking her eyes open, she saw a man, or she assumed it was a man, she couldn’t make out his features - they were covered in a black cloak with gold trim - and Rika, although she was wearing a different outfit. When MC tried to move, she found she couldn’t - her arms were chained to a wall.  

“What the hell?” MC said, struggling against the chains, trying to pull herself free, but they only dug into her skin.

Rika seemed to ignore her, turning to the hooded figure.

“Is the elixir ready?” She asked, her voice airy and irritating.

“Not yet, Saviour.”

“Saviour?” MC couldn’t help but chuckle, despite her circumstances. “Saviour of what? Trust me, she’s just a home-wrecker.” MC glared at Rika, who turned around sharply with a rage in her eyes that MC had never seen before. Rika took three quick strides toward the MC and punched her square in the face.

Meanwhile….

Jaehee had informed Jumin of the call immediately after it had ended. Regretful for leaving her alone, and scared he tried calling her again, and again, but to no answer. Calling Seven this time, Jumin was relieved to hear his friend answer the phone.

“I need you to track MC’s phone.” Jumin said before he even said hello.

“Hello to you too.” Seven chuckled. “Why?” He asked, and Jumin could hear a chair sliding and the clacking of a keyboard in the background.

“Something may have happened to her and I can’t reach her. How fast can you-”

“I have her location.” Seven interrupted Jumin, giving him the address. “I’ll meet you there.” Jumin thanked him, Seven hanging up first.

The two of them met in the ally, which was now lit with the natural daylight. They did find MC’s phone, although the screen was cracked.

“Jaehee, you were on the phone with her when you heard it fall, yeah?” Seven asked, still on his knees. Jumin had brought her with him, as she had possible information that could help.

“Yes, it seemed like she was talking to someone, although I don’t know who.” Jaehee answered. “She had muffled the phone or something. I did hear her scream before the call ended.”

“Okay.” Seven muttered under his breath. “So she was probably attacked by someone she knew.” Seven tapped his chin a few times, standing up - taking the phone in his hand.

“Jumin…. does MC wear a smart watch by any chance?”

~~~~

Face beaten and bloodied, MC felt utterly defeated. She was alone in the cell but her hands remained in chains. She allowed her head to slump forward, although it put strain on the back of her neck. Her legs hurt from the so called “Believers” kicking her, and she would no doubt be bruised later. Spitting up blood, MC knew that her suspicions about Rika were true, she did have malicious intentions, and that Rika was insane - but that wasn’t the time to pull “I told you so”. There were bigger things to worry about. There were footprints down the hall, MC lifting her head, seeing Rika about to enter the cell along with two believers, holding some florescent blue-green fluid in their hands.

“Finally we have made the elixir. After me being gone for so long, it took some time to get our hands on the materials again, but we managed.” Rika shot the same sick smile that she was giving MC back to her believers who nodded.

“Now, here you go.” Rika held it out for MC to drink willingly.

“Unless that’s a Blue Hawaiian, I’m not interested.” MC mustered her last bit of sass.

“It is if you want it to be.” Rika said, her voice sickeningly sweet. “I promise, it will bring you to paradise, and we can all be happy.” Rika held it up to her lips, and squeezed her mouth hard, forcing it open. Rika tilted her head back, and forced the liquid down her throat - holding her head back by her hair.

MC held the liquid in the back of her throat, trying to pretend to swallow - but Rika wouldn’t let go, instead covering her mouth and nose until she had to swallow it.

~

By the time Jumin and Seven got to the location that they had tracked her down to, it was nearly dark. The abandoned brick building on the outside of town didn’t look like anything special, it’s boarded up windows looking like Seven had brought them to the wrong place, but there was no way that was the case. Jumin was so anxious he was ready to storm the place, but Seven reminded him that they needed to know what was in there first - otherwise they could end up getting themselves killed, and what could would that do MC?

Jumin ensured that his connections would be ready for when they called him to come in, as they were going to be ready and waiting in the air in nearly twenty minutes. The watch was a little harder to trace due to the lack of signal to anything, but he was still able to manage it. It’s bluetooth connection to some of the phone’s capabilities had been severed, but it was still trackable - it just took some more working around.

As he finished hacking into the surveillance system, Seven turned to the anxious and irritated Jumin.

“Okay, here’s how we find her, without finding her.” Seven showed Jumin his screen, before he turned it back to himself allowing Jumin to look over his shoulder.

Seven flipped through many of the cameras finding nothing but strange people in cloaks walking around the building, doing nothing of interest, until they spotted someone shocking. A pale blonde woman. Seven stopped the camera, and froze the frame.

“Is that….?” Seven trailed off, zooming in on the image.

“Rika?” Jumin finished, his voice cracking. Jumin pulled out his phone, noticing he had one bar, and called Rika, telling Seven to go back to where she was presently. Confirming their hypothesis, the woman they had seen on the CCTV pulled a phone out of her back pocket and answered at the same time as Rika on the other line of Jumin’s call.

“Hi Jumin!” Rika said in her usually cheerful voice, which Jumin now found very eerie. “What’s going on?” She asked, and Jumin couldn’t answer. “Jumin?” She said after a minute of no response. “Did you butt dial me?” She laughed, and hung up after a minute of nothing on his end.

“Oh my God.”

~~

MC’s vision had gone very strange. This wasn’t like being tipsy or drunk, this was something completely different. She was seeing almost double, and every colour was brighter than it had previously seemed. She swayed in her chains, and when she blinked, it was slower than before. She felt like she could hear everything, and there were whispers all around her. Small whispers, not quite saying words, but…saying something. Like…what you would do when you’re young to look like you’re telling a secret to someone but you’re not really saying any words. pishpishpsihpsihspih…..pishpishpsihpsihspih….pishpishpsihpsihspih….

~~~

Seven and Jumin continued to flip through the CCTV cameras looking for MC, before they finally found her. Or, at least…what looked like her. She was beaten, bloody, and acting strange. Seven zoomed in, and they could make out a little of her facial features. She was very swollen and bruised, swaying her head back and forth. Her pupils were very dilated, and she looked just…awful.

Jumin opened the car door, getting out and running his hands through his hair roughly. Seven got out as well, still holding the laptop.

“Alright, I know where this is in the building. I know a way in…their security is pretty dodgy. Let’s just get her - and go. We’ll deal with the rest of this later.” Seven put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Seven lead the way - down the grassy hill carefully and into one of the only windows not covered by boards. The men had to climb in individually, and it was a very tight squeeze for both of them - but they managed. Jumin simply followed Seven silently - the expert hacker having a nearly photographic memory - and the fear of getting caught too high for Jumin to speak.

They did manage to find the hallway leading to the cell where MC was kept without anyone seeing them - although they did hear some people walking and conversing on the floors above them. From the sounds of it, they were preparing for some sort of ritual?

Rounding the corner to MC’s cell, Seven stopped them upon hearing voices. Two male, one distinct female voice - Rika’s voice.

The sound of MC’s cell opening clattered through the hall - nearly echoing, and Seven thought for a moment before gesturing for Jumin to follow him - but as silently as possible.

Figuring this was the only chance they would get with MC’s cell unlocked, Seven grabbed one of the hooded men and threw him into the other while Jumin ran into the cell - grabbing Rika by the arm before she could strike MC across the face. She turned around suddenly - shocked to see Jumin standing there.

“Jumin?!” She cried out, so shocked tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

Jumin didn’t even answer her, he just pressed the button on his watch - and the boarded windows broke in, a whole team of geared men breaking into the building - one grabbing Rika and the others running to storm the rest of the building. Jumin shouted out to the one with Rika to give him the keys to the chains that bound MC that she had, to which he demanded she give him - and she eventually complied after he twisted her arm behind her back. Jumin freed MC without a second thought, grabbing her before she fell and gently holding her in his arms. Jumin and Seven took her to the Hospital, Jumin sitting in the backseat with her the whole time.

“MC? Can you hear me?” He asked while they sat in the back of Seven’s car, on the way to the Hospital. MC nodded and looked around the car - still dizzy and disoriented - her head felt like it was splitting in two.

~~~

Jumin hardly left the hospital. MC was there for days, the doctors analyzing what was put in her system. It was a mixture of many different things, and according to several doctors, she was lucky that it was given orally. Now in police custody, Rika was arrested for assault, attempted murder, and kidnapping. Once he finally got to take MC home, Jumin waited on her hand and foot, catered to her every need.

“It’s not your fault you know.” MC chuckled one evening as he brought her a glass of water in bed, even though she insisted she could get it herself. “It’s not like you kicked me out, I went for the walk by my choice.” She smiled at him, gesturing for him to lie down next to her.

“I know,” Jumin replied, complying with her silent request, “but I still feel if I had come home to have dinner with you instead it wouldn’t have–”

“She would have found some other way then.” MC rested her head under Jumin’s chin. “Let’s not fight anymore, okay?”

“There’s nothing more to fight about.” Jumin chuckled.

Here you go! Hope you enjoyed, thanks for the ask!!!

I apologize for my unnecessarily sassy MC - that’s just how it be today. 

#requests #my writing #mystic messenger #jumin han x mc #jumin han #jumin mystic messenger #jumin han angst #mystic messenger angst #angst then fluff #tw: violence #tw: forced drug use #sassy mc #holy shit my girl sassy #i love her #707 #saeyoung choi #ask

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Hand That Reaches for God- Chapter 8

***Sometimes staying away is the easiest move. Keeping a safe distance, especially for Emerson and Dean Winchester. So, when the Maklen twins come home again, they don’t anticipate the feelings that Emerson will get having to see him again. When tragedy strikes, the Winchester brothers and the Maklen twins are forced to face, not only their feelings, but each other. In a story about pain, family, abandonment, and desire, the couples have to decide if survival, without love, is enough.***

Warnings: Angst, violence, death, mutual pinning, age difference, language, abuse, eventual smut.

Chapter Eight

“How exciting - how nice, to have a little love - but what am I to do?” - Virginia Woolf

-5 Years Before-

“I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

“Come on, Cranky. Just smile. It won’t hurt, ya know?” Dean chuckled from the front seat, his sunglasses resting on his nose.

“Nobody asked you, Johnny Cash.”

“I know that was supposed to be an insult, but I take it as compliment.” He chuckled and started to whistle Folsom Prison Blues.

All of the windows of the Impala were down. Ophelia’s hand was out the window, rolling in the waves of air. “He’s right, you know!”

“Nobody asked you.”

Sam laughed and turned back to look at the girls. “Come on, Em.”

“Don’t come on me.” She huffed.

“She’s allergic to fun.” Pheli said, leaning forward to kiss Sam from the back seat. “Ignore her.”

“Jesus, you two! Not on the leather.” Dean laughed swatting at the couple.

It was three months until Dean left for the military, and the four of them were spending as much time together as possible, even though the twins were the only two who knew. In turn, Emerson couldn’t stop staring at him. She’d started having pretty graphic nightmares of him stepping on land mines, or coming home with only one leg. She would run to him, but she would never reach him in time. She would wake up with his blood on her hands.

“Em?”

“Hm?” Her eyebrows raised at the sound of his voice.

“You getting out of the car?”

She looked around and noticed that they stopped. She opened up the door to the Impala, and immediately heard the screams. They came from all directions. The roar from the carts climbing up the hills. Steel on steel as the rides screeched to a halt at the end of the tracks.

“I love Happy Fun Land!” Pheli screeched, bouncing up and down, her hand gripping Sam’s. He laughed in response and kissed her head.

“Such a terrible name.” Emerson complained.

“Come on, Grumpy.” Dean said throwing an arm around her to pull her forward.

“Back off, Winchester.” She batted him away, but kept pace with the group.

It was Ophelia’s idea to spend the day at the amusement park. Summer had officially began and it was just what the doctor ordered. Maybe if the doctor ordered torture and spending too much money, but who was Emerson to deny Pheli a day of fun? It wasn’t really in her. So she bought a ticket and hopped in the back of the Impala.

“Alright so what’s first?” Sam asked, curling his finger around one of Pheli’s braids.

“I want something fried!”

“Phel you can’t eat something fried before you go on rides, you’ll throw up.” Emerson said, bumping her sisters hip.

“I will not throw up!”

“Throwing up is half the fun of the amusement park.” Dean teased.

“You’ve never seen her puke.” Emerson raised an eyebrow. “It isn’t pretty.”

“That’s Sam’s problem.”

“It’ll be all of our problems if she throws up. Trust me.”

“She’s right.” Sam chuckled.

“You all suck.” Pheli complained.

“You love us, Maklen, admit it.” Dean grinned.

“I think you’re thinking of Emerson.” Phel laughed, skipping ahead of the group. “We are going to have fun today! It’s a royal decree!”

-15 Days After-

They made their way back to the Impala after the hospital. The girls slept in the backseat, cuddled together. Emerson’s head was in Pheli’s lap, and Pheli’s head rested against the window.

Sam glanced back at them and smiled. “They’re out.”

“Finally.” Dean said, his eyes flickering to the rear view mirror. “Em’s barely slept.”

“Who does that sound like?”

“Shut up.” Dean gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. They’d spent the night in the hospital. The girls needed to say goodbye.

There wasn’t any movement in the hospital that he could detect, and he would’ve known. He was up all night with his finger on the trigger of his gun. It wasn’t any different than being in war. He got used to the constant callous on his trigger finger. He told himself, when he was discharged, that he wouldn’t touch another gun. But the situation they were in was the perfect excuse to break his own rules. No matter what guns made him into.

“It’s looking stormy.” Sam commented, squinting through the windshield.

It did. The sky looked angry. It was dark, to the point that it almost looked like night time ahead of them, but it wasn’t. It was the early morning. White licks of lightening shot across the sky in a jagged line. Thunder boomed, shaking the road beneath them.

“Maybe we should find cover.” Sam offered, as if it hadn’t occurred to Dean. He shot his younger brother a look.

“There’s nothing for miles.” He gestured to the trees. “And after that fucking snake, man, we don’t know what’s out there.”

“Wait, what road is this?” Sam squinted at the signs that they were speeding by on the highway. They hadn’t seen any other cars. It seemed that everyone tried to evacuate taking the other highway out of town. “Shit, Dean. You know what’s on this highway?”

“I don’t know, Sammy. Some gas station that sells nerd merchandise?”

“No, you cranky asshole, Happy Fun Land!”

Dean was tempted to slam on his breaks immediately and make Sam get out, but the whole impending doom of a storm kept his foot steadily on the gas. “We are not going to Happy Fun Land, Samuel.”

“Aw, come on.”

“It’s not like it’ll be running.”

“Well, yeah, but they have tons of buildings. We can find shelter there.”

“You’re no different than when you were ten.” Dean grumbled glancing at the billboard advertising the amusement park. His fingers itched at the memory in the back of his mind from the last time that they went together. “Fine. You’re right, anyway. Not sure what else is out here.”

“Hell yes! Phel will be so excited.” He grinned widely.

“You’re so fucking weird.”

“Am not. Nostalgic, yeah, but not weird.”

“Sure thing, kid.”

-5 Years Before-

“Who is down for a roller coaster?” Dean asked, wiggling his eyebrows at the group.

“Me!” Phel said, jumping up and down. “Sam, will you hold my hand?”

“Of course I will.” He winked at her.

“My protector.” She purred, lacing her fingers with Sams.

Emerson rolled her eyes and Dean took a step closer to her. “Guess it’s just you and me, Em.”

She shook her head. “No way. You can’t pay me enough to get on that.”

“If not payment,” He began, stepping even closer. Pheli and Sam were kissing and didn’t notice the older Winchester approaching her. “Then what do you want, Maklen?”

“Nothing from you, Winchester.” She said, her voice hitched in her throat.

“Mhm.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“Come on.” He said quietly just to her. “Just ride it with me one, and if you hate it then I’ll sit out with you on the rest of the rides.”

“No you won’t.”

“Scouts honor.” He held up his three fingers together, batting his eyelashes.

“You weren’t a scout.”

“No, but Sammy was.” Dean grinned widely. “Come on today is supposed to be fun!”

“Fine! I’ll go just... stop being so annoying.” She pushed past him, trying to get the heat that was climbing up her neck and onto her cheeks to calm the fuck down.

Dean smirked, watching her walk away, knowing he’d won at least that small battle.

The four of them settled into their seats on the roller coaster. “You’ll protect me?” Pheli asked, one more time, to Sam.

“From anything.” He promised, kissing her.

“Will you protect me?” Dean asked Emerson, doing a perfect Ophelia impression.

She couldn’t help but bust into a fit of giggles. “Fuck off, Dean.”

“Hey, that isn’t your line.”

She winked at him, and the rollercoaster shot forward, immediately creeping up a hill. Emerson felt her stomach drop. She could feel her pulse in her ears. She gripped the arm bar tightly, her knuckles white.

“You okay?” He asked her, as the crept toward the top.

“Yes!” She said, her voice a little too high pitched. “I can’t fucking believe you talked me into this.”

He smiled at her a little, unable to hide how adorable she looked with her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip before offering his open palm to her. “I actually will protect you, ya know that, right?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Her eyes were clamped shut tightly. “Just tell me when it’s over.”

“I think you’ll know when it’s over.” He teased, his eyes never leaving her.

Then they dropped over the edge. They plummeted down, and her eyes shot open, her hand immediately grabbing Deans. He curled his fingers around hers and let her squeeze.

They rounded a corner and she slid against him, screaming, tears streaming down her cheeks. He laughed, and he felt a little mean for it, but he couldn’t help it. She was so fucking adorable. The cart traveled the hills, around tight curves, through the trees. Emerson screamed the whole way, digging her nails into the back of Deans hand.

They came to a quick stop. He expected her to shoot him an angry look for laughing at her, but instead she turned her body and buried her tear streaked face into his chest.

“Hey, you good?” He asked, wrapping an arm around her. The cart jolted forward so they could get parked and exit.

“Fuck you, Dean Winchester.”

“Hey.” He lifted her face and wiped her tears. Her eyes were red and her mouth was open, letting out ragged breaths. Dean held her face in his hands and he offered her a smile. “You hated it, didn’t you?”

“How can you tell?”

“Em, are you okay?” Pheli asked from outside of the cart, but Emerson didn’t look at her sister. Her eyes didn’t leave Dean’s.

“I’m sorry I made you come.” He said softly. “I’ll sit out with you for the rest of the day.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah I do. A deal’s a deal.”

-15 Days After-

The sky was looking even more menacing as the black Chevy Impala pulled into the parking lot of the amusement park. There were more cars than expected, but it seemed empty, just like everything else.

“Twins.” Dean said, glancing back at the girls. “Aye, we need to get cover. Looks like rain’s comin.”

“Hm?” Pheli asked, opening her eyes. “Shit, where are we?”

“Look around.” Sam said with a smile.

“Oh my god!” She squealed, causing Emerson to shake awake.

“What the fuck?” Emerson asked with a yawn. “What’s going on?”

“They took us to Happy Fun Land!” Pheli squealed.

Emerson sat up and squinted out the window. “Is this a joke?”

“I wish.” Dean laughed. “But no. It looks like the weathers about to get bad, and we needed some more protection than Baby can give us.”

Emerson offered Dean an exhausted, tight smile. “Back on with the masks.”

“Yup.” He said as he grabbed his.

The four of them slid their masks on and grabbed their bags from the trunk. Dean took the lead, like usual, but this time Emerson was on his heels. Jana’s death had wrecked her, and she didn’t want to stay behind anymore. It was time for her to take control.

They pushed into the park, to find a place to take cover. Everything was dark. All of the rides had been disabled. It looked so much less magical not all lit up. Trash was pushed by a gentle wind, and danced along the cobblestone pathway.

Pheli’s grip tightened on Sam’s hand. It wasn’t the way she remembered it. She knew that things were bad, that was pretty clear, but it was hard to find the magic when Happy Fun Land looked so crushed.

The sky growled it anger, thunder rolling over their heads. Dean glanced around before spotting a diner. He waved them forward and they pushed into the restaurant. It was all glass walls and windows, but the back portion was covered by thick walls, in case they had to take cover.

The tables were still covered in food, molding fries and burgers sat, covered in dried ketchup, right where their owners had left them. Dean picked up the red baskets from a long booth and threw them out before settling in.

-5 Years Before-

“Burgers? Really? We can have burgers anywhere.”

“Yeah, but they’re always good.” Dean grinned.

“I want something weird. A funnel cake?” Pheli grinned, batting her eyelashes at Sam.

“You got it.”

“And then we are doing the roller coaster that goes upside down!”

“Perfect.” Sam grinned widely.

“I’ll stay with Dean.” Emerson said before the two couples parted ways.

“Wow, volunteering to stay with me? What’d I do to deserve this honor, m’lady?”

“You were being nice. Don’t fuck it up.” She said before going up to order a set of cheese fries.

Dean ordered a bacon cheeseburger, duh,  and a root beer float. They sat across from each other in a booth near the window. People chased their children down the cobblestone path outside of the window , couples held hands and shared ice cream cones, everyone was living their life, but yet Dean was staring at her. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“Yeah.” He said, reaching forward, brushing her bottom lip with his thumb. “Got it.” He murmured.

She pressed her lips closed. She felt like she was looking at him for the first time. His eyes were green. Green. Like the apples she’d eat in the fall after they were dipped in caramel. His lips were full, and they looked soft like a fresh peach. He had a sky full of stars of freckles on his nose and cheeks. She wanted to reach forward and connect them all with her index finger. To find a picture in him like Pheli did when they looked at the clouds. “What’s this?” She asked, reaching forward, across the table, and plucking at the necklace around his neck.

“Sammy gave it to me when we were kids.”

“And you still wear it?” She ran her fingers over the weird, misshapen metal face around his neck.

“Of course I do.”

Dean Winchester danced with his mom, he sat out with her when the roller coaster was too much, even though he wanted to go, he wore some ugly necklace for years just because Sam gave it to him. “You know, you’re more than what you seem to be, Dean Winchester.”

“So are you, Emerson Maklen.”

She leaned forward, to reach for his touch again before something came over her. He was a good man. He was leaving. He was going to Afghanistan in three months. She recoiled back to her seat and shoved five cheese covered french fries into her mouth.

-15 Days After-

Emerson looked out the window with her arms crossed. She spent so much time trying to be what she was supposed to be according to other people, according to herself. She went to the college that Ophelia wanted to go to, because they were expected to do everything together. She went to homecoming with Dean, because Pheli wanted her to. She said no to Dean countless times, because he wasn’t right for her. She didn’t even know why she was always resisting. It was fucking exhausting being so self righteous all the time. Being so bottled. The sky shook above them with an angry clap of thunder. She understood how it felt. She wanted to scream, too.

The rain came down a few droplets at first. No one seemed to notice, but Emerson. She noticed. She stepped closer, pressing her gloved hand to the glass on the window. “My god.” She whispered inside of her mask, before turning, and running toward the door.

Her index finger worked its way inside of the glove on her opposite hand, peeling it away. Both were falling to the floor. Her fingers curled under the chin of the gas mask, pulling it up and over her head. It crashed to the floor as she pushed out into the rain.

“Emerson, no!” Dean shouted inside of his mask. The three that were left at the table scurried to their feet, they ran after her only to find her standing in the middle of the cobblestone street, with her face looking toward the sky and her arms open. Clear rain poured over her. Clear. She laughed and spun in a circle.

Dean pulled off his own mask, Pheli, and Sam followed.

“Come on in, the water’s fine!” She laughed, spinning in circles.

Ophelia didn’t need to be asked twice. She stripped herself out of her jacket and ran into the warm, Summer rain. She locked hands with her sister and they spun around, their hair getting soaked. Emerson pulled her into a hug and ruffled her hair.

“Fuck it.” Sam said, dropping his own mask. He ran into the middle of the two girls, picking Pheli up. He threw her over his shoulder causing her to squeal.

“Come on!” Emerson said, waving for Dean to join them. She looked beautiful in the rain. “You’re more than what you seem to be, Dean Winchester.” She pushed her soaked hair behind her ears, laughing as Pheli kicked barely missing her head. “You see me, Dean, and I see you.” She did see him. She always did. “You think you’re so fucking cute, don’t you?”

So he ran to her. He dropped his fucking gas mask in a puddle and he ran to her, pulling her into his arms. He was always going to run to her. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Fancy meeting you here.” She murmured, her nose brushing his.

He blinked the rain out of his eyelashes. “Small world.”

“Mhm.” She mumbled before holding the back of his head in her hand, and pulling him closer, closing the space between them. His lips were the way she always expected them to be, soft and warm, despite the cool wetness from the rain. She could feel the surprise in his lips, his mouth opening slightly when her lips pressed to his. Then he smiled, his eyes fluttering closed, and he kissed her back. He put his hands under her thighs, hoisting her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held his face in her hands.

His scruff scratched against her face but she didn’t care. She was kissing Dean Winchester! He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, asking for permission. She opened her lips to let him in. She was letting go. It was raining, and they weren’t burning. They weren’t red. Things were finally looking up.

Pheli smacked Sam’s shoulder when he put her down and they booth applauded. “Fucking finally!” She laughed, wrapping her arms around Sam’s waist.

Emerson pulled back from him, panting, her forehead pressed to his.

“Does this mean you actually like me?” He asked, his shit eating grin taking up most of his face, but his eyes were soft, vulnerable.

“To put it mildly.” She murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

His smile softened, his teeth disappearing under his lips. His eyes closed and he slowly lowered Emerson back to the ground, her feet splashing in the puddle below them. His hands never left her, and she was still pressed against him. She looked up at him with a smile. She never thought she would be one of those girls to kiss in the rain. It seemed more Pheli’s style, but yet. But yet...

“What was that?” Sam asked, turning and squinting into the rain.

It was a miracle that they heard it at all under the roar of the downpour. It was a single groan at first, and sounded a bit like Dean when he was woken up too early. Then it was more like a sea of groans, and foot steps.

“What the...”

They were close enough to be seen then, with their mouths open, and hands gripping, reaching for them. They were soaked, their eyes glowing red in the darkness. People. Twenty of them at least, their skin looked like it was burnt, bubbling and red. Their mouths hung open, their heads titled in curiosity as they walked through the rain, seemingly careless about the water. The first in the group looked up and made eye contact with Emerson. The creature looked like it was once a woman, from her small stature and long stringy hair, but now she was something else all together. She opened her jaw to let out a horrible, blood curdling scream as she pointed a bony, burnt up, fleshy finger at the four of them.

“Run.” Emerson said, as Dean curled his fingers sound hers. “Fucking run!”

—————

Chapter Nine

Get caught up!

Tag List:

@purpleskiesandcherrypies

#fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #writing #mine #spn #fic #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #DeanXofc #samxofc #Apocalypse #apocalypse au #supernatural au #otp #angst #violence #eventual smut #fluff #mutual pinning

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

Fic: Come As You Are (1/11)

THIS IS FINALLY HERE OH MY GOD. 

Summary: A series of codas/tags/missing scenes to every episode of the first season of TItans. In the first episode, our protagonists are moving towards each other, but first, they each navigate the existential nightmare that is their own mind.

Warnings: SPOILERS for the whole series, some swearing, lot of dense parenthetical nonsense and fancy formatting. Dick and Rachel marinate in their own anxiety. I’ve also taken the liberty to fill in some gaps that were left by canon.

this is meant to be a companion series to my episode recap series. i’m in the midst of my worst writer’s block ever--it took two whole months just to write this chapter; i’m still far from happy with it, but if i looked at it anymore i was going to scream--but i hope to finish both the recap series and this fic series before s2 airs this fall. 

(s/o to @cautiousamber whose continued love for the show and for what it's doing delights me always)

Come As You Are

1.01

Strange things live inside Rachel’s head.

When she was little, people around her would come to her in her dreams in coloured silhouettes, glowing and wailing, ripped into pieces by monsters that lurked in the shadowy corners of her mind. As she grew, the figures grew more refined, more recognisable, but they never stopped screaming; when she heard words, it was only the monster that spoke.

I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU, RACHEL

The years passed, and the dreams started to leak into the real world: she would see strange, fresh scars on Melissa’s arms while trembling in her arms after another DREAM; hazy, coloured halos followed people she knew and horrible things happened to people she hated; the monster would stare back at her in the mirror now, eyes inky black, leaking venom into her veins. TRUST ME, the monster would say, calm while everybody else screamed, and Rachel, well. After a point, she forgot to scream, too.

Then one night, she dreams of a little boy on the trapeze who watches his parents fall to their deaths, and the monster does something it has never done before: it laughs.

-

“Master Dick, I trust you received the package I sent you last week?”

Dick idly doodles a large ‘R’ on his notepad while wedging his phone between his shoulder and his ear. “I did, Alfred, it came in just this morning. Thanks. I, uh,” he makes the edges sharper, the ends like knife blades, “I should’ve called to let you know earlier.”

“Yes,” Alfred says crisply, “You should have.”

He twists the pad until it looks like the R is in motion, bounding across the page. Two tables over, Detective Oyode flings a casefile onto his desk in disgust. Across the room, Johnson is eyeing Dick with suspicious disdain. The air is heavy with the smell of stale coffee; there’s a lingering whiff of cigarette smoke from the balcony where Carter, Takashi and Mulligan take smoke breaks twice every hour, on the dot. The floor buzzes with steady chatter, the clicking of computer keys and ringing phones. Dick’s active cases tray is screamingly empty.

“I’ve been busy,” he says. “Settling in, and all that.”

“I see.” A pregnant pause. “And I suppose your new responsibilities as a police detective is the only reason you requested that I send over your modified batarangs?”

“Birdarangs,” Dick says, without thinking.

“Ah. Yes.” Alfred’s voice turns fond. “It’s been well over a decade since you came up with that convention, Master Dick; I must confess that it is good to hear it again. More than anything… it is reassuring to see that you haven’t decided to retire Robin altogether.”

A knot of anxiety tightens somewhere behind Dick’s sternum. This is about as secure a line as he can get without actually using the comms in his Robin suit, but it’s still jarring to hear someone just—just say it aloud like that. Especially after—

Dick’s grip on his pen tightens and he scores across the ‘R’ with such ferocity that the nib tears through the paper. Johnson’s put his coffee mug aside and is starting to walk in his direction and if Dick tenses any more he’s sure he’s going to do something he’ll regret. “Sorry, Alfred,” he says. “Something’s come up; I gotta go.”

“Very well, Master Dick. I hope that you will continue to keep in touch.”

“Bye.” He slips the phone in his pocket, gets up, and tosses his ruined pad in the wastebin. He neatly sidesteps Johnson, swipes the abandoned casefile from Oyode’s desk, and hurries out of the precinct.

-

(it’s all right. you’re beautiful.)

Now that (she’s) put some distance between (her) and (her) attackers (hot metal projectiles where there should be nothing but fire, but she can’t—she can’t—), the molten panic that’s been fuelling (her) escape abates, just a little. (She) slows to a walk, pulling (her) coat close.

(it’s cold, but she’s known colder.)

The further (she) walks from the woods, the less desolate it is. There are more buildings here and more people, turning to look at (her) as (she) walks by them. Almost on instinct, (she) turns into a gas station and makes (her) way into the bathroom, coming to a stop in front of a grimy mirror. (She) is all edge and glorious skin, shining and sharp.

(beautiful. you will know it. and more importantly, they will too.)

(She) empties her purse to find documents and keys and a dozen little opaque clues as to (her) identity. (She) is Kory Anders, and the name is both everything and nothing at all. It is everything because it fits, slots into place effortlessly in her mind like she’s known it all along, but doesn’t trigger a cascade of memories, or anything other than flashes of light and bone-deep cold (and unimaginable pain).

No matter. She is Kory Anders, and this is as good a starting point as any. Besides, she is sure that the real her has a taste for adventure.

-

When the fight’s over, Dick changes into regular clothes a couple of dead-end alleyways over and limps back to his car, trying very hard not to think about Batmobiles, or Batcaves, or anything bat-related whatsoever. His shoulders ache with tension and his knuckles feel pulverised—he isn’t quite used to being the ones delivering all the punches yet. There’s blood and glass in his hair and the acrid stench of used smoke pellets lingers around him like a miasma; he’s stuffed his costume and weapons back in the case, but there are still red smears around the lock and—

—he’s not even entirely sure he’s managed to leave the site of the fight clean; or if he’s gotten all the security cams in the alley; it’s been so long since he’s done this and even longer since he’s done it alone—

(All right. Deep breath. Deep breath. Another one. And another one.)

Everything feels even more absurd when, later in the night, he’s stuck in downtown traffic, trying to breathe past bruised ribs and the bite of glass shards in his fingers. It wasn’t supposed to be like this; moving this far from Gotham was supposed to be the start of a clean break. He’d been slowly working up to visiting Wayne Manor one more time (one last time, but he can’t—he can’t bring himself to—) to return the Robin costume, trying to reconcile the memories of safety and comfort he had under Bruce and Alfred’s care with yawning isolation of that gigantic mansion, the stomach-dropping terror that he would be abandoned (again) if he failed (again), and the anger that never seemed to stop simmering regardless of how much he punched, how much he cried, how much he laughed.

Being Robin without Batman feels like something vital’s been cut out of him, but just being Dick Grayson isn’t enough for all the evil in the world.

Dick stumbles into his apartment building, trying very hard not to make carrying a giant silver briefcase in the dark seem suspicious. He enters his apartment—dangerously open to the world but devoid of shadows—and lets himself slump onto the sofa. He’s going to (clean his costume and equipment, scrub the security cam feeds, clean the car of bloodstains and evidence, destroy the copy of Oyode’s file that he’d made, type up a report for his personal log) but for now he closes his eyes and—breathes.

Just—

Just for a minute.

-

The city is drab and cold in ways Rachel is entirely unused to; for some reason, she thinks of old white bedsheets turned grey from use and wear and repeated washing over years and years. Melissa ripped one of them into rags the last time Rachel DID SOMETHING STUPID, knocked over a vase, cut her hand on the shattered pieces, and dripped blood all over the kitchen floor. Melissa’d spent an entire afternoon scrubbing at bloodstains, refusing to answer to Rachel’s tearful apologies. (The voice told her to break the next vase over Melissa’s head, which made Rachel want to vomit.)

Melissa had washed the blood out of those rags as thoroughly as she could, leaving them even more dirty-grey than they were. That’s what the city looks like: wrung of colour, washed and washed again into grey submission—

“We’re here,” the officer in the front seat of the car says, dropping Rachel abruptly out of her thoughts. She’s taken into the precinct and asked to sit inside a windowless room; it isn’t until the officer that’s trying to get her attention touches her shoulder and she flinches, light and sound and terror rushing in, that the numbness abates and the voice snarls KILL HIM!

can’twon’tdon’t—

The officer looks shocked for a moment before his expression softens and he backs away. “Somebody will come talk to you now, okay?” he says, and leaves. Rachel waits and picks at the fraying edges of her sleeves, wishing—not for the first time—that she’d brought her phone along. It’s not like she has anybody to call, really; she just wants something to do that’s not staring at the walls (of an interrogation room, this is an interrogation room) and trying not to think about how desperately alone she is right now.

A few minutes later, Detective Dick Grayson walks in and introduces himself. Rachel jolts at the sight of him; she can hardly hear what he’s saying over the chorus of holy shit! holy shit! that’s taken over her mind, because holy shit—this is the little boy on the trapeze. He glows blood-red, and every movement of his leaves behind smudges of light and colour and life in this otherwise cement-grey room.

She holds his hands, tells him, you’re the boy from the circus; he frowns, but doesn’t tell her she’s crazy, or stupid, or BADWRONGEVIL. Dick Grayson promises to help her, and for the first time since watching her mother fall to the floor with a bullet hole through her head, Rachel feels hope.

-

Kory Anders is on a plane to the United States.

Twelve hours ago, she didn’t know her name; now she not only has an identity, but a destination, a purpose (a mission). Everything from swiping cards to speaking a dozen different tongues to summoning fire to her fingertips to the clean, beautiful effortlessness of throwing an asshole across a hotel room has been… intuitive; she thinks as she does, moves as she feels, learns as she touches. She doesn’t know what she will find when she lands (knows without really knowing that where she is going is both impossibly vast and comically small) but she’s going to start with looking for the girl in the photo and see where that leads her.

(--to a bubble suspended in infinite nothingness, shackles around her wrists and feet—)

And if that means burning up a few more entitled assholes along the way, so be it.

#titans #my fic #dick grayson #rachel roth #koriand'r #alfred pennyworth #*flops around exhaustedly*

[brothermouzongaming]

Divisiveness in Rage 2

What little promotional material there was for Rage 2 interested me. The idea of a nitro-fueled FPS surrounding an open world and a heavy power fantasy. I wasn’t expecting an enthralling story with deep and rich characters that would stitch me into the fabric of the world created. I was expecting a rip-roaring hail of bullets in the shape of a gun the likes of which I would ride across the map destroying everything that did so much as exhale in my presence. In short, that is what I got but it’s quite mixed. The “boots on the ground” combat, and I use that term lightly, is smooth as hell and lets you the player take on the various mobs and gangs of the wasteland in the way you want. The vehicular combat is more sparse and anecdotal in the sense that they are typically randomly occurring events as opposed to the convoy routes. The world itself is big but not Horizon Zero Dawn or Assassin’s Creed Odyssey “oh my god how did they even fit all this on one disc” big, it’s more than manageable. The biomes are varied and impressive in detail despite some being more vacant than I’d like.  All in all, it’s at the very least better than the bland world of Rage 1, and at best it’s a gorgeous backdrop for the best FPS action since Doom 2016.

Anger Surrounds

There isn’t a lot in the way of introduction and it’s cause the game and it’s creators understand what you’re here for: shooty bang. You literally pick a gender and are handed a gun. After the first big firefight, the world is literally open to you. This exploration is encouraged because you don’t gain abilities or weapons unless you find Arks which are silos scattered around the map. Normally I’d be mad about another icon cluttering the map but it’s at least a way of getting stronger while discovering the hovels and holes your enemies hide in, grabbing some cash and feltrite (upgrade currency) along the way. It’s essentially the best version of the Far Cry towers ever.

The world is very pretty both graphically and from an art direction aspect. Boggy swamps, desert, rocky canyons, and even suburbia is sprinkled into the colorful and sometimes striking scenery of the world around you. Some structures are established like roadblocks, resource stations, or mutant nests, some are just dressing to fill out the world, but the best is the elaborate gang camps that go from close quarters combat to open courtyards that have you working with cover and elevation. Most main and side mission areas appear to be carefully designed to be engaging set pieces that vary from open lots littered with obstacles to break up the battlefield and enhance the functionality of some abilities. If the map itself doesn’t grab you, the way the world is designed to make combat as fun as possible definitely will. 

Walker Wasteland Ranger tonight at 9 

Rage 1 very much gave you the feeling of having your back against the wall. In Rage 2 if you ever find yourself in that situation you push off that wall and crush whatever is in your way into misy and gristle. You are the baddest thing breathing and everything in this game is about making you feel that. I can’t tell if the progression is deep or cleverly padded and that might be fine by me, I haven’t decided yet. When you first see how many currencies there are in the game it makes anyone that knows what AAA games have been doing lately sweat profusely. Fortunately, Rage 2 gives you plenty of opportunities to load up on the kind of cash you spend in stores, the kind on upgrades, weapon skins and mods, it's all here for you to take when you want it you just have to kill a bunch of baddies to get it. Thankfully there isn’t a single gun that doesn’t feel incredible and unique. From the way the rifle spits a volley or the kick from the shotgun; all of them are a dream and when used in tandem with the abilities it makes for very enticing gameplay. The abilities span all aspects of combat and their refresh time doesn’t allow them to be spammed but lets a player that bounces from skill to skill always have one refresh by the time the effect of the current one wears off. They really found a way for the guns to play into abilities and vice-versa which only makes spicing up combat easier. In Destiny when you throw a grenade, that’s it. Did you use your melee? Oh that’s cool but, that’s also it. In Rage 2 I can mix up abilities to create different means of destruction and death in a much more satisfying way. Even the more nuanced abilities like the Rush and Focus are used to bolster the minimal downtime firefights give you. 

From McQueen to Mater

The sixteen vehicles are divisive stars of Rage 2 and it really shows, alongside the facelifted combat, that Id and Avalanche tried to not lose sight of what the original game was focussed around. This rendition’s vehicular combat is much better with weighty pit maneuvers and pretty smart auto tracking from turrets. Alongside this, the vehicles simply must be redone Mad Max vehicles Avalanche never got to use or something cause they just work in a way Bethesda hasn’t been able to claim in a long time. The Phoenix, your signature ride, is the best of both worlds with it being quick and tanky with a litany of additions you can make to it. You’ll see vehicles that have no weapons (why would you even), some speedsters that drop nuke mines behind them, a tank that is slower than frozen shit but also practically indestructible and armed to the teeth. There is fast travel but there is also the Icarus which is a hoverbike and though it can handle like a shopping cart with one wing (more on that later). When it does work its nice to get to where you’re going quicker meanwhile not missing out on any points of interest along the way to where you’re going. Vehicular combat is serviceable and engaging once you get the controls under your fingers.

rAGED

I don’t have too many issues with this game, some are typical nitpicks but others are definitely more egregious. The world though colorful and varied is very “basic open world game” format, I was kind of hoping for some kind of expansion on a version of game we are wildly overly saturated with. The mini games like MobTV and races (which make a comeback from the original) are great but the typical icon littered map is a little draining at times. Which brings me to the endgame because with consideration of just how last gen this game seems to be design wise, I fear they didn’t think about something as “modern” as having an endgame model outside of the season pass and totally unnecessary “live service” content drops. I feel like they missed their own mark and could’ve really populated the world with quite a few more enemies but instead, there are a lot of times where it’s actually quite isolated even in some intriguing areas.

Oh, and every situation that yields dialogue in the open world is wildly repetitive like the writers could not be fucked to give the character anything more than the one decent line you get to hear when approaching a mutant nest, gas station, or bandit hideout or the mobile trader oh my god it’s absolutely torturous especially when you don’t feel like returning to a town and they typically come around fairly consistently.  

Back to the Icarus flying bike thing. Mother Fuck that thing can be absolutely unbearable. You see the right trigger merely starts the engines with minor altitude control, the left trigger lowers yourself. The vehicle is supposed to identify altitude and the height of oncoming structures and mountain faces on its own and adjust automatically. But it doesn’t and you’re often sitting there like a fucking idiot ramming into every mountain and building you come across. Why didn’t they map an ascend and descend control to the face buttons? How did no one catch how lopsided that thing controls?

Let’s continue to discuss vehicles, shall we? I talked about the good of the actual combat and the weapons it comes with. What I didn’t talk about was how the controls for said vehicles go from tight and responsive to sludgey and “too fast for the game”. It’s like the vehicle is going too fast for your controller. So many times I’ve gone sailing over the cliffside curve or undercutting and completely killing my momentum. The margin for error is really thin. 

The progression system for weapons is...suspect. On the surface, it’s deep, you unlock tiers of upgrades with feltrite and then use upgrade/mod tokens to select the actual mod itself. It seems really unnecessary to have to purchase the ability to spend your tokens to upgrade your weapon. Just typing that made my brain fuzzy, it’s too many steps. At least with the skills each tier in itself comes with a boost to that specific skill but with weapons, you’re literally just adding steps for now real reason. Thankfully there’s no connection to monetization or anything like that. What it does have though is a premium currency for weapon skins which....whoopie...but thankfully that really is the extent of it. Not that it’s okay at all. 

Conclusion

People are gonna compare this game to Far Cry New Dawn and I don’t believe many should give too much thought to that comparison. Outside of the bright post-apocalyptic setting (an aesthetic Rage 2 established first for the record), I feel like Rage 2 is more consistent in what it sets out to deliver. Not to mention the combat is just head and shoulders better in Rage 2 and if you go in knowing you won’t leave with a story that changed your life or even really impact you at all but instead expect a white knuckle shooter designed to keep you on your toes and keep the kill count increasing. This game is fun and once this goes on sale there will literally be no excuse. 

tl;dr I give Rage 2 an 7 but I can’t stress this enough this is one of the best First Person Shooters I’ve ever played from a mechanics standpoint. The game appears to be this good despite the rest of the game design and execution. 

#Rage 2 #bethesda game studios #id software #avalanche studios #video games #gaming

[idreamofhazeleyes]

Ties in Blood -- Chapter 23

Took longer then expected. Be prepared for some blood and a minor break down.

@mrswhozeewhatsis @percussiongirl2017 @winchestergirl-13 @impala-dreamer @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @optimisticpeacecollector5 @arazialotis @malinq-ashida

Chapter 23

Aaliyah killed the engine and climbed out of the car. There was something about the apartment building that just called out to her. Just as she closed the door behind her came the familiar rumble of the Impala. She hadn’t expected to see them so soon, but maybe it was a good thing. Sam was the first one to spot her and flashed her a gentle smile. Aaliyah returned the smile as she circled around the cars. She didn’t pull away when he took her in with a hug.

“I’m sorry about Amanda,” he told her.

“Thanks, Sam.” She squeezed him before pulling away. “Dean.”

“Sam told me,” the elder brother answered. “Remind me to stand you a round after we finish this case.”

Aaliyah shook her head. “I’m good on alcohol for a while. What’s the case? Sam mentioned one of your dad’s storage units was broken into.”

“Are you sure you wanna help?” Sam asked.

“Positive. I can’t hide away in some crappy motel for a week before I get over it.” Aaliyah suppressed the shiver caused by the memory of swallowing the pills. “Any idea what we’re looking for?”

“Not a clue,” Dean answered, getting antsy. “But there’s a couple assholes here that have it. Go get your gun.”

Aaliyah heard Dean and Sam mutter to each other as she returned to her car and fished out her hand gun. She jogged after them toward the door. The three of them fell into line as they had once before; Dean in front, Aaliyah behind him, and Sam in the rear. A sense of being secured with the boys settled over her as they all climbed the stairs. She heard yelling from a hallway and gestured to Dean. He nodded and led the way down to the door the yelling came from.

Each of them took a spot at the door; Dean positioned so he can bust the door in, Sam across from him, and Aaliyah back against the wall ready to charge in after them. Aaliyah nodded when Dean glanced at her, making sure they all were ready. She didn’t blink when the door was kicked in and Dean shouted for those in the room to freeze. Sliding behind Sam, Aaliyah spotted an old metal container that looked like it held a good thousand rounds. She cursed the luck it was already open.

One of the two men Sam and Dean held up yelled, asking if they were cops. Aaliyah caught the gaze of the one Dean held to the table where a rabbit’s foot rested. She held back any comment about the foot, knowing she’d seen worse things, and lunged for it just as Dean was pushed by the man. She missed when a shot went off. Unsure of what was happening admit all the pushing and yelling, Aaliyah was hauled up to her feet by the back of her jacket. The one that had been cornered by Dean put the muzzle of his gun against her head.

“Stop or she dies,” the man said.

Her mind and body froze. After all the years of hunting, Aaliyah hadn’t planned on being killed by a person.

“Okay, now hang on a minute,” Dean said, his hands spread out to show he held no weapon. “You know she hasn’t done anything to you.”

“But she’s involved,” the man said.

Aaliyah shifted her eyes around the room without turning her head before seeing the rabbit’s foot in Sam’s hand. He matched her own gaze and nodded. She watched him toss it toward her, waiting for the right moment to reach out and grab hold of it. Just then, the man who had held her at gunpoint pulled the trigger. Aaliyah pivoted away from him and grabbed his gun from him with her free hand. She made a full circle and looked between what she held before up to the man. Aaliyah felt her mouth pull into a smirk and watched the man trip backward over the couch. Behind her was a crash. She looked back over a shoulder to see a bookshelf had fallen on the second man.

Aaliyah held up the rabbit’s foot. “I’d be damned,” she said. “We should stop for some food.” She put the foot into a pocket and smiled. “First, I’m making a stop for gas.”

“Meet us at Biggerson’s,” Sam said.

***

Aaliyah walked back to the car with a bag of road snacks that got put into the backseat before she put the gas nozzle into the car. She leaned against the vehicle before looking into the paper bag that held all the scratch off tickets. It had been a thought back at the apartment. If more than one of the tickets paid off big time, Aaliyah figured she’d let the boys have a turn with the rabbit’s foot. The pump stopped when the car tank was filled and Aaliyah replaced the nozzle.

She found a coin as she settled into the driver’s seat before pulling out a scratch off. Part of her didn’t actually believe that she’d win anything more than five dollars. Yet Aaliyah stared at the scratch off to see that she gained the maximum pay out for it. She scratched off half the bag, each ticket yielded its maximum payout. Aaliyah glanced around her and reached over and tossed the tickets she scratched off into the glove box.

Aaliyah glanced into the bag at the rest of the scratch offs and decided to wait until she reached the restaurant. She drove off from the gas station for the restaurant. She looked for the Impala in the parking lot but didn’t find it. Claiming a parking spot, Aaliyah fished out the coin she had used on the scratch offs and finished the bag; each ticket again yielding max payout. A good million or so dollars. It would keep her set on money for a while. A knuckle rap at the window startled Aaliyah, dropping some of the scratch offs. She gathered what she could before putting them into the glove box.

“Heya, Sam,” Aaliyah half chided when she climbed out of the car, making sure it was locked. She gave him a smile and fished out the rabbit’s foot, handing it over to him. “If you two can hand on to this long enough, scratch offs.”

“Are you okay? Really?” Sam asked, turning for the Impala, pocketing the foot.

“I … I don’t know, Sam,” Aaliyah fell into step with Sam. “Amanda had been the one to help me ease into hunting after the werewolf. I feel guilty for not being able to make it to her in time. But …” She took a deep breath. “I think she was grateful I was there at the end.” She spotted Dean working his way through some of his own scratch off tickets, a big smile on his face. “I guess the luck spread to you guys, huh?” She gestured to Dean when she caught Sam’s confused expression.

“Yeah, I guess.” Sam’s cell started ringing and he answered. “Hey, Bobby.”

Aaliyah wandered away from him, catching pieces of the conversation. At one point she saw Sam glance over at her. She ambled back over as he put Bobby on speaker. “Hey, Bobby,” she greeted.

“Dammit, Aaliyah,” Bobby cursed. “What got in your head?”

“I was trying to help on a case. Apparently I can’t do that now without one of you three yelling at what I do.” She shifted her weight. “What kinda mess did we get into now?”

Bobby sighed. “At least you know you’re in a hole. That rabbit’s foot ain’t no dime store knock off, kid. It’s real Hoodoo, Old World stuff. Made a hundred years ago by a Baton Rouge priestess.”

“It’s a hell of a luck charm,” Sam cut in.

“It’s not a luck charm,” Bobby corrected. “She made it to kill people. See, you touch it, you own it. Sure, you get a good run of luck to beat the devil. But you lose it, that luck turns. It turns so bad that you’re dead within a week.”

“How can we break the curse?” Aaliyah asked.

There was a sigh from Bobby’s end. “I don’t know if you can. Just sit tight and lemme look through the books and make some calls.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Sam said before ending the call.

“Look, we’re up fifteen grand,” Dean said, coming over and showing Sam the scratch offs.

Aaliyah let out a little huff, gaining Dean’s attention. He looked at her and Aaliyah wasn’t sure if he would walk away or stay and say something. He walked past her without a word. Okay, fine. Deal with the rabbit foot first, then maybe yell and argue about her choice later. Aaliyah trailed after the brothers into the restaurant where Dean asked a table for three. She flinched when an alarm started going off. One of the excited staff members pushed her up between Sam and Dean as several flashes went off. Aaliyah ducked away when her eyes recovered from the flashes of pictures being taken and followed along to a booth.

She ate in relative silence next to Dean enjoyed his meal – followed by a bowl of ice cream – and Sam had his nose in his laptop. Aaliyah watched the waitress fill Sam’s coffee and held back a scoff as she spilled some of the hot liquid. Aaliyah watched the waitress flirt a little before walking away. There was something about that waitress Aaliyah couldn’t put a finger on. She turned her attention back to finishing her fries before Sam manages to spill his coffee onto the table and himself. In his jump from the table, he bumped into another waitress, sending things everywhere.

“We can’t go anywhere with him,” Aaliyah muttered to Dean as he shifted out of the booth.

“How was that good?” Dean asked.

Aaliyah watched Sam pat down his coat pockets to find the rabbit’s foot was missing. She followed after them out of the restaurant at a slower pace. There was no way she was gonna risk her luck now. Sam tripped up somehow, managing to cut through his jeans and scrap both his knees.

“I hate to see how bad my luck turns,” Aaliyah comments as she helped Sam to his feet. Her face contorted with slight disgust when she inspected his knees. “I think we need to get back to that apartment.” She glanced over at Dean, who seemed to be thinking before he motioned to the Impala.

Aaliyah stayed quiet in the backseat, not willing to take the chance of starting an argument with Dean driving. She started to space out while looking out the window, watching the scenery race by. At some point her mind pulled up the image of finding Amanda in the motel tub. Her palms started to clam up and a small layer of sweat was soaked up by her clothes.

“Dean, stop the car,” Aaliyah said, rolling down the window. She shivered from the wind hitting her skin. She swallowed hard as her heart raced, thumping against her ribs.

“What? You can’t handle a little speed?” he shot back.

“I mean it, stop.” Aaliyah looked to the front seat and met Sam’s gaze.

“Dean, pull over,” Sam told his brother.

Aaliyah heard him grumble even as the car moved off the road. She opened the door as it slowed and fell out when the car made a complete stop. Hands helped her into sitting up and put her back against the back wheel of the car. Her lungs struggled to expand in their attempt to breathe. She could hear the brothers talk about something as she pulled her knees up and put her head between them. Aaliyah closed her eyes in an effort to calm herself down. She heard shuffling from Sam and Dean sitting down on either side of her. Neither of them spoke to her as her body came through the other side of whatever was happening.

“Thanks,” Aaliyah told them, propping her chin on her arms. “I don’t know what happened.”

“You panicked,” Dean told her.

She winced at hearing the anger being held back from him. He must have sensed that since Aaliyah felt his body release some tension.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Wanna talk about it?”

Aaliyah shifted her eyes in his direction, unsure where this gentle side of him was coming from. Did she really wanna talk about finding Amanda in the motel bathroom and being there at the end? Or did she want it just eat her away until she broke again? “I do, but it’s still too fresh for me. If I stop for a moment, it’ll all just bubble up again.”

“Are you sure?” Sam questioned.

Aaliyah heard the worry in his voice, the way he was wanting to help but not wanting to press too hard. “Remember how I said Amanda was gutted by that wendigo? I don’t mean it sliced just a little bit to show some fat or muscle. I mean her guts were falling out and there was no hope of me fixing her up, gutted.”

“God,” Dean breathed. “And she was still alive?”

“Barely.” Aaliyah shuddered at the image of Amanda in the bathtub. “I don’t know how she managed to get into the tub at the motel; or how long she was there before I showed up.” She shifted her arms down and hugged her legs. “I can’t shake this feeling like there should have been more I could have done to help her. Amanda didn’t deserve to die in a crappy motel room with her guts hanging out.”

“It’s a short life for us,” Dean said, his voice soft. “Not every hunter gets to grow old and get to sit at home and help those out doing the dirty work.”

Aaliyah’s mind brought up the fight she had with the werewolf. How did it not sever her spine? Or go just a bit too far on her side? She fought back the tears that threatened to fall. In defiance, she pushed herself up to her feet. “I can’t do this anymore.” She took a few steps away from the car

“Wait just a second,” Dean said, working himself up after her. “What are you talking about?”

Aaliyah snapped back around to face him. “I want out, Dean.” She took a deep breath to steady herself. “I’m going back to get my car.” She started in the direction they were coming from.

“Aaliyah, wait,” Sam called after her. “You’re blaming yourself for something you had no control over.”

Aaliyah stopped as her gaze fell to her feet. “She was my best friend in college. She didn’t ask any questions, just for me to be her friend. I was the one who dragged her back into hunting when I went looking for my dad and Xander. She wanted out of the killing, the long days that blurred together, the stupid greasy food, the …” Aaliyah’s throat caught a little. She didn’t fight the first few tears that escaped down her cheeks. She turned around to face Sam. “I can blame myself for Amanda’s death when I dragged her out of retirement.”

She didn’t fight Sam off when he stepped in close and wrapped his arms around her. Her cries were muffled by his jacket that were stained with her tears. Her good friend was dead because she didn’t want Aaliyah to go out on her second hunt alone.

A hand rubbed Aaliyah’s back in an attempt to help sooth her. Aaliyah wasn’t sure how long they stood there before the tears stopped and she wrapped her arms around Sam. “Thanks, Sam.” She pulled away and wiped her nose with the sleeve of her jacket.

“Yes, well, as touching as that was,” Dean cut in. “We’re still missing a foot here.”

Aaliyah turned her attention to him and glared. “I don’t wanna hear it. Sue me for a friend’s death finally hitting me.” She watched him open and close his mouth in an attempt to say something but didn’t. All he did was gesture back to the Impala, even opened the back door for her. Aaliyah debated if she really wanted to be in an enclosed space with Dean before accepting the ride along. She laid down as Dean closed the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. Her mind finally gave out and slipped into unconsciousness.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Dean’s voice drifted into Aaliyah’s head. “Time to wake up.”

“Shove off, dickwad,” Aaliyah spat at him before trying to roll away from him.

There was a moment of silence before Dean started again. “Listen, Aaliyah. I’m sorry about Amanda. Really, I am. I promise, once this shit with the rabbit’s foot and Bela’s done, I’ll get you nice and drunk.”

“Bela?” Aaliyah moaned, her body moved enough so she could look at Dean. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“She’s the one who got our rabbit foot,” Dean said.

Aaliyah worked herself into sitting up. “Nah, like I’ve heard her name whispered by a couple hunters when I went after Amanda.” She rubbed her eyes before looking around. “Did I sleep the day away?”

“Thought it was better if you did. Wanna stay here or join Sammy in the motel room?”

“Why does that sound so wrong?” Aaliyah slid over to the open door and used the car to brace herself until her legs started working again. “You sure you don’t want help with Bela?” The question made Dean stop.

“That doesn’t sound half bad. We’ll move your car off this way.”

***

After moving her car, Aaliyah grabbed her bags and headed into the motel room. She put the bags on a bed and stood there. She heard Dean tell Sam not to do or touch anything; just sit in a chair in the middle of the room.

“Hey, Aaliyah,” Dean called to her. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Take a hot shower and relax. Read a book. Read Sam a book.”

Aaliyah sighed as the motel door closed behind Dean. He had a point; she would be fine. Maybe the hot shower would help her somehow. She rooted around a bag and pulled out a change of clothes before darting into the bathroom; the door left partially open. She started the water before stripping off her grimy clothes.

“Aaliyah,” Sam’s voice drifted into the bathroom. “You okay in there?”

“Yeah, just … taking my time. Don’t wanna slip and fall and break something.” Aaliyah stepped into the tub and started washing up. She was about half way through scrubbing the little bar of soap over her body when she heard Sam making noise. “Come on, Sam. You couldn’t give me ten minutes.” She rushed through rinsing off the soap and nearly tripped getting out of the tub. A small panic noise escaped her mouth when a foot slipped from under her, pulling a leg muscle. Relieved that she hadn’t died, Aaliyah reached behind her and turned the water off. “Sammy?” Her hair dripped water onto the bottom of the tub.

Aaliyah slid herself over the tub’s edge and dried herself a little before rushing through putting her clothes on. She swore to herself if anything happened, she’d kill Sam herself. Just when she went to open the door, something told her to stop and wait. The sound of the motel door opening reached her before a pair of voices started up. From what Aaliyah could hear, the two men worked to get Sam into a chair and tied up. She cursed her luck when she remembered that her phone and weapons were out there.

“Hey, there’s someone else here,” one of the voices spoke up.

“Nah, gotta be our friend’s here,” the other replied.

Aaliyah heard footsteps move toward the bathroom and stood just out of the swing range of the door. It opened to reveal a brown haired with a sparse goatee.

“Well, well,” he said. “A friend. Come on out, sweetheart. We won’t bite.” He moved to step into the bathroom.

Aaliyah adjusted her stance and struck the man with a punch to the face. It sent him back a few steps, enough for her to adjust again and charged at him linebacker style. He had managed to recover from the punch and grabbed hold of her shirt.

“Come now, honey,” he said, struggling against Aaliyah’s hold. “No need to put up a fight.”

Aaliyah freed herself from his hold, her shirt slipped off. Part of her was glad to have tossed on a bra. She struck once more. “I’m not your honey or sweetheart.”

“Hey,” the second man called out, stopping the fight. “Can’t you tell she’s a hunter? And a liability? Give back her shirt, then tie her up right here next to our friend.”

Aaliyah snatched her offered shirt and put it on before walking over to the empty chair that had been placed next to Sam. Her mind raced in the attempt of trying to figure out how to get out of the mess when Sam came back around.

“He lives,” the blond haired man said.

Aaliyah shook her head when Sam looked at her.

“Who are you?” he asked. “What …”

The blond snapped his fingers in Sam’s face. “I thought I was sent by Gordon.”

“Who’s that?” Aaliyah asked before gaining a ‘shut up’ expression from the blond.

“If you don’t keep quiet …” he threatened.

“You’d do what? Mmm? Kill me?”

“Nah, I’ll just kill Sam here and leave you tied up here. But I’m not here for that.” The man started pacing. “I’m here because of what you did with that gate.”

“The hell gate?”

“We did all that we could to stop it,” Sam said.

“Lie. You were in on it and what their plan is.”

“We don’t,” Sam protested. “You’re wrong about all of it.”

The blond man stopped pacing and turned his attention to Sam. “Come on, Sam. You must know something. I’d hate to see what could happen to your pretty little friend here.”

Aaliyah narrowed her eyes at the man while Sam remained silent. The man slapped Sam, causing a small noise to catch in Aaliyah’s throat.

“Gordon told me all about your powers,” the man said. “How you’re some psychic freak.”

“No, not anymore,” Sam said. “No visions, no powers, nothing. I …”

“Liar.” The man punched. “Now, no more lies. There’s an army of demons out there pushing at a world on the brink. We’re on deck for the endgame, aren’t we? So, maybe, you can understand why we can’t take chances.” He pulled his gun and aimed it at Aaliyah.

Her heart thumped against her ribs.

“Whoa, hang on a minute,” Sam protested.

“Hey, Kubrik, just ….” the brown hair man started.

“No, you saw what happened, Creedy,” Kubrik interrupted. “Ask yourself, why are we here? Because you saw a picture online? Because we chose this motel instead of another? Luck like that doesn’t happen.”

“Look, I can explain …” Sam started up

“Shut up,” Kubrik yelled. “It’s God; leading us here to do his work. It’s destiny.”

Aaliyah closed her eyes as she heard another gun being cocked.

“Nope, just a rabbit’s foot.” The voice sounded familiar.

Aaliyah dared to open her eyes to see Kubrik turning to face Dean. She struggled to free herself from the chair while Dean dealt with Kubrik and Creedy. Her eyes involuntarily rolled when Dean claimed he was Batman. “If you’re Batman, I’m Red Hood.”

Dean replied with a noise as he started to free Sam before moving to her.

She rubbed her wrists as she stood. “Now what?”

Dean pulled out the rabbit’s foot. “We burn it.”

***

Aaliyah made sure her scratch off tickets were secured in a boot before returning to the small camp fire. Burning the rabbit’s foot, along with a few herbs, was the only way to lift the bad luck. She stepped into the light of the fire just as a gun was cocked. “Oh, come on.”

“Oh, who’s this?” a female voice questioned. “A new friend of yours, Winchester? Why don’t you tell Dean here to hand over the rabbit’s foot.”

“Bela,” Aaliyah whispered to herself. “Why don’t you put the gun down? And we can talk this over?”

A shot echoed in the cemetery and a cry sounded.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dean asked. “You can’t be going ‘round shooting people?”

“I can’t hit you,” Bela told him. “Besides, it’s a shoulder wound. I can aim. Put the foot on the ground.”

“Alright, take it easy.”

Aaliyah watched Dean start to put the foot down before tossing it at Bela. Aaliyah smirked when the other woman caught it and cursed. “Now whatcha say? Wanna destroy it?”

Bela moved and dropped the foot into the fire. “Thanks. I’m out one and a half million and on the bad side of a psychotic buyer.”

“I’m not feeling a little bit bad about that,” Dean snarked. “How about you two?”

Aaliyah shook her head. “Not one bit.” She kept her eye on Bela as she went over and leaned on the headstone where Dean’s jacket was draped.

“Maybe next time I’ll leave you out to dry,” Bela said.

“Just go away,” Aaliyah half pled, her head tilted to a side. She swore she saw a smirk from Bela.

“Have a nice night, you three.”

“There’s something about her,” Aaliyah said, walking over to Dean as Bela walked away. “I don’t if I should like her or not.”

“There’s nothing about her you shouldn’t like,” Dean said, gathering up his things. “You two good?”

“I’ll live,” Sam assured him.

Aaliyah walked with them toward the cemetery entrance.

“Back to normal, I guess,” Dean said. “No bad luck or good luck. But he-ee-ey, we’re up 46000 dollars. Nearly forgot … the … scratch off…”

Aaliyah caught him searching his jacket out of the corner of her eye to come up empty. She chuckled when a car raced off down the road. “I knew there was something about her I liked.”

“She took off with your portion too,” Dean told her.

“Not really.” Aaliyah hunched down and pulled out all the tickets she had hit in her boots. “I got these back when I still had the foot. At best guess … I got a good half million or so.” She pulled them out of Dean’s reach. “We all get a share, no matter what.”

“Then what?” Sam asked.

Aaliyah shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I need some time to figure things out. Come on. I’ll cash these in.”

#spn fanfic angst death

[notsofly]

Ties in Blood Chapter 23

@mrswhozeewhatsis @impala-dreamer @idreamofplaid @percussiongirl2017 @squirrelnotsam @winchestergirl-13

Chapter 23

Aaliyah killed the engine and climbed out of the car. There was something about the apartment building that just called out to her. Just as she closed the door behind her came the familiar rumble of the Impala. She hadn’t expected to see them so soon, but maybe it was a good thing. Sam was the first one to spot her and flashed her a gentle smile. Aaliyah returned the smile as she circled around the cars. She didn’t pull away when he took her in with a hug.

“I’m sorry about Amanda,” he told her.

“Thanks, Sam.” She squeezed him before pulling away. “Dean.”

“Sam told me,” the elder brother answered. “Remind me to stand you a round after we finish this case.”

Aaliyah shook her head. “I’m good on alcohol for a while. What’s the case? Sam mentioned one of your dad’s storage units was broken into.”

“Are you sure you wanna help?” Sam asked.

“Positive. I can’t hide away in some crappy motel for a week before I get over it.” Aaliyah suppressed the shiver caused by the memory of swallowing the pills. “Any idea what we’re looking for?”

“Not a clue,” Dean answered, getting antsy. “But there’s a couple assholes here that have it. Go get your gun.”

Aaliyah heard Dean and Sam mutter to each other as she returned to her car and fished out her hand gun. She jogged after them toward the door. The three of them fell into line as they had once before; Dean in front, Aaliyah behind him, and Sam in the rear. A sense of being secured with the boys settled over her as they all climbed the stairs. She heard yelling from a hallway and gestured to Dean. He nodded and led the way down to the door the yelling came from.

Each of them took a spot at the door; Dean positioned so he can bust the door in, Sam across from him, and Aaliyah back against the wall ready to charge in after them. Aaliyah nodded when Dean glanced at her, making sure they all were ready. She didn’t blink when the door was kicked in and Dean shouted for those in the room to freeze. Sliding behind Sam, Aaliyah spotted an old metal container that looked like it held a good thousand rounds. She cursed the luck it was already open.

One of the two men Sam and Dean held up yelled, asking if they were cops. Aaliyah caught the gaze of the one Dean held to the table where a rabbit’s foot rested. She held back any comment about the foot, knowing she’d seen worse things, and lunged for it just as Dean was pushed by the man. She missed when a shot went off. Unsure of what was happening admit all the pushing and yelling, Aaliyah was hauled up to her feet by the back of her jacket. The one that had been cornered by Dean put the muzzle of his gun against her head.

“Stop or she dies,” the man said.

Her mind and body froze. After all the years of hunting, Aaliyah hadn’t planned on being killed by a person.

“Okay, now hang on a minute,” Dean said, his hands spread out to show he held no weapon. “You know she hasn’t done anything to you.”

“But she’s involved,” the man said.

Aaliyah shifted her eyes around the room without turning her head before seeing the rabbit’s foot in Sam’s hand. He matched her own gaze and nodded. She watched him toss it toward her, waiting for the right moment to reach out and grab hold of it. Just then, the man who had held her at gunpoint pulled the trigger. Aaliyah pivoted away from him and grabbed his gun from him with her free hand. She made a full circle and looked between what she held before up to the man. Aaliyah felt her mouth pull into a smirk and watched the man trip backward over the couch. Behind her was a crash. She looked back over a shoulder to see a bookshelf had fallen on the second man.

Aaliyah held up the rabbit’s foot. “I’d be damned,” she said. “We should stop for some food.” She put the foot into a pocket and smiled. “First, I’m making a stop for gas.”

“Meet us at Biggerson’s,” Sam said.

***

Aaliyah walked back to the car with a bag of road snacks that got put into the backseat before she put the gas nozzle into the car. She leaned against the vehicle before looking into the paper bag that held all the scratch off tickets. It had been a thought back at the apartment. If more than one of the tickets paid off big time, Aaliyah figured she’d let the boys have a turn with the rabbit’s foot. The pump stopped when the car tank was filled and Aaliyah replaced the nozzle.

She found a coin as she settled into the driver’s seat before pulling out a scratch off. Part of her didn’t actually believe that she’d win anything more than five dollars. Yet Aaliyah stared at the scratch off to see that she gained the maximum pay out for it. She scratched off half the bag, each ticket yielded its maximum payout. Aaliyah glanced around her and reached over and tossed the tickets she scratched off into the glove box.

Aaliyah glanced into the bag at the rest of the scratch offs and decided to wait until she reached the restaurant. She drove off from the gas station for the restaurant. She looked for the Impala in the parking lot but didn’t find it. Claiming a parking spot, Aaliyah fished out the coin she had used on the scratch offs and finished the bag; each ticket again yielding max payout. A good million or so dollars. It would keep her set on money for a while. A knuckle rap at the window startled Aaliyah, dropping some of the scratch offs. She gathered what she could before putting them into the glove box.

“Heya, Sam,” Aaliyah half chided when she climbed out of the car, making sure it was locked. She gave him a smile and fished out the rabbit’s foot, handing it over to him. “If you two can hand on to this long enough, scratch offs.”

“Are you okay? Really?” Sam asked, turning for the Impala, pocketing the foot.

“I … I don’t know, Sam,” Aaliyah fell into step with Sam. “Amanda had been the one to help me ease into hunting after the werewolf. I feel guilty for not being able to make it to her in time. But …” She took a deep breath. “I think she was grateful I was there at the end.” She spotted Dean working his way through some of his own scratch off tickets, a big smile on his face. “I guess the luck spread to you guys, huh?” She gestured to Dean when she caught Sam’s confused expression.

“Yeah, I guess.” Sam’s cell started ringing and he answered. “Hey, Bobby.”

Aaliyah wandered away from him, catching pieces of the conversation. At one point she saw Sam glance over at her. She ambled back over as he put Bobby on speaker. “Hey, Bobby,” she greeted.

“Dammit, Aaliyah,” Bobby cursed. “What got in your head?”

“I was trying to help on a case. Apparently I can’t do that now without one of you three yelling at what I do.” She shifted her weight. “What kinda mess did we get into now?”

Bobby sighed. “At least you know you’re in a hole. That rabbit’s foot ain’t no dime store knock off, kid. It’s real Hoodoo, Old World stuff. Made a hundred years ago by a Baton Rouge priestess.”

“It’s a hell of a luck charm,” Sam cut in.

“It’s not a luck charm,” Bobby corrected. “She made it to kill people. See, you touch it, you own it. Sure, you get a good run of luck to beat the devil. But you lose it, that luck turns. It turns so bad that you’re dead within a week.”

“How can we break the curse?” Aaliyah asked.

There was a sigh from Bobby’s end. “I don’t know if you can. Just sit tight and lemme look through the books and make some calls.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Sam said before ending the call.

“Look, we’re up fifteen grand,” Dean said, coming over and showing Sam the scratch offs.

Aaliyah let out a little huff, gaining Dean’s attention. He looked at her and Aaliyah wasn’t sure if he would walk away or stay and say something. He walked past her without a word. Okay, fine. Deal with the rabbit foot first, then maybe yell and argue about her choice later. Aaliyah trailed after the brothers into the restaurant where Dean asked a table for three. She flinched when an alarm started going off. One of the excited staff members pushed her up between Sam and Dean as several flashes went off. Aaliyah ducked away when her eyes recovered from the flashes of pictures being taken and followed along to a booth.

She ate in relative silence next to Dean enjoyed his meal – followed by a bowl of ice cream – and Sam had his nose in his laptop. Aaliyah watched the waitress fill Sam’s coffee and held back a scoff as she spilled some of the hot liquid. Aaliyah watched the waitress flirt a little before walking away. There was something about that waitress Aaliyah couldn’t put a finger on. She turned her attention back to finishing her fries before Sam manages to spill his coffee onto the table and himself. In his jump from the table, he bumped into another waitress, sending things everywhere.

“We can’t go anywhere with him,” Aaliyah muttered to Dean as he shifted out of the booth.

“How was that good?” Dean asked.

Aaliyah watched Sam pat down his coat pockets to find the rabbit’s foot was missing. She followed after them out of the restaurant at a slower pace. There was no way she was gonna risk her luck now. Sam tripped up somehow, managing to cut through his jeans and scrap both his knees.

“I hate to see how bad my luck turns,” Aaliyah comments as she helped Sam to his feet. Her face contorted with slight disgust when she inspected his knees. “I think we need to get back to that apartment.” She glanced over at Dean, who seemed to be thinking before he motioned to the Impala.

Aaliyah stayed quiet in the backseat, not willing to take the chance of starting an argument with Dean driving. She started to space out while looking out the window, watching the scenery race by. At some point her mind pulled up the image of finding Amanda in the motel tub. Her palms started to clam up and a small layer of sweat was soaked up by her clothes.

“Dean, stop the car,” Aaliyah said, rolling down the window. She shivered from the wind hitting her skin. She swallowed hard as her heart raced, thumping against her ribs.

“What? You can’t handle a little speed?” he shot back.

“I mean it, stop.” Aaliyah looked to the front seat and met Sam’s gaze.

“Dean, pull over,” Sam told his brother.

Aaliyah heard him grumble even as the car moved off the road. She opened the door as it slowed and fell out when the car made a complete stop. Hands helped her into sitting up and put her back against the back wheel of the car. Her lungs struggled to expand in their attempt to breathe. She could hear the brothers talk about something as she pulled her knees up and put her head between them. Aaliyah closed her eyes in an effort to calm herself down. She heard shuffling from Sam and Dean sitting down on either side of her. Neither of them spoke to her as her body came through the other side of whatever was happening.

“Thanks,” Aaliyah told them, propping her chin on her arms. “I don’t know what happened.”

“You panicked,” Dean told her.

She winced at hearing the anger being held back from him. He must have sensed that since Aaliyah felt his body release some tension.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Wanna talk about it?”

Aaliyah shifted her eyes in his direction, unsure where this gentle side of him was coming from. Did she really wanna talk about finding Amanda in the motel bathroom and being there at the end? Or did she want it just eat her away until she broke again? “I do, but it’s still too fresh for me. If I stop for a moment, it’ll all just bubble up again.”

“Are you sure?” Sam questioned.

Aaliyah heard the worry in his voice, the way he was wanting to help but not wanting to press too hard. “Remember how I said Amanda was gutted by that wendigo? I don’t mean it sliced just a little bit to show some fat or muscle. I mean her guts were falling out and there was no hope of me fixing her up, gutted.”

“God,” Dean breathed. “And she was still alive?”

“Barely.” Aaliyah shuddered at the image of Amanda in the bathtub. “I don’t know how she managed to get into the tub at the motel; or how long she was there before I showed up.” She shifted her arms down and hugged her legs. “I can’t shake this feeling like there should have been more I could have done to help her. Amanda didn’t deserve to die in a crappy motel room with her guts hanging out.”

“It’s a short life for us,” Dean said, his voice soft. “Not every hunter gets to grow old and get to sit at home and help those out doing the dirty work.”

Aaliyah’s mind brought up the fight she had with the werewolf. How did it not sever her spine? Or go just a bit too far on her side? She fought back the tears that threatened to fall. In defiance, she pushed herself up to her feet. “I can’t do this anymore.” She took a few steps away from the car

“Wait just a second,” Dean said, working himself up after her. “What are you talking about?”

Aaliyah snapped back around to face him. “I want out, Dean.” She took a deep breath to steady herself. “I’m going back to get my car.” She started in the direction they were coming from.

“Aaliyah, wait,” Sam called after her. “You’re blaming yourself for something you had no control over.”

Aaliyah stopped as her gaze fell to her feet. “She was my best friend in college. She didn’t ask any questions, just for me to be her friend. I was the one who dragged her back into hunting when I went looking for my dad and Xander. She wanted out of the killing, the long days that blurred together, the stupid greasy food, the …” Aaliyah’s throat caught a little. She didn’t fight the first few tears that escaped down her cheeks. She turned around to face Sam. “I can blame myself for Amanda’s death when I dragged her out of retirement.”

She didn’t fight Sam off when he stepped in close and wrapped his arms around her. Her cries were muffled by his jacket that were stained with her tears. Her good friend was dead because she didn’t want Aaliyah to go out on her second hunt alone.

A hand rubbed Aaliyah’s back in an attempt to help sooth her. Aaliyah wasn’t sure how long they stood there before the tears stopped and she wrapped her arms around Sam. “Thanks, Sam.” She pulled away and wiped her nose with the sleeve of her jacket.

“Yes, well, as touching as that was,” Dean cut in. “We’re still missing a foot here.”

Aaliyah turned her attention to him and glared. “I don’t wanna hear it. Sue me for a friend’s death finally hitting me.” She watched him open and close his mouth in an attempt to say something but didn’t. All he did was gesture back to the Impala, even opened the back door for her. Aaliyah debated if she really wanted to be in an enclosed space with Dean before accepting the ride along. She laid down as Dean closed the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. Her mind finally gave out and slipped into unconsciousness.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Dean’s voice drifted into Aaliyah’s head. “Time to wake up.”

“Shove off, dickwad,” Aaliyah spat at him before trying to roll away from him.

There was a moment of silence before Dean started again. “Listen, Aaliyah. I’m sorry about Amanda. Really, I am. I promise, once this shit with the rabbit’s foot and Bela’s done, I’ll get you nice and drunk.”

“Bela?” Aaliyah moaned, her body moved enough so she could look at Dean. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“She’s the one who got our rabbit foot,” Dean said.

Aaliyah worked herself into sitting up. “Nah, like I’ve heard her name whispered by a couple hunters when I went after Amanda.” She rubbed her eyes before looking around. “Did I sleep the day away?”

“Thought it was better if you did. Wanna stay here or join Sammy in the motel room?”

“Why does that sound so wrong?” Aaliyah slid over to the open door and used the car to brace herself until her legs started working again. “You sure you don’t want help with Bela?” The question made Dean stop.

“That doesn’t sound half bad. We’ll move your car off this way.”

***

After moving her car, Aaliyah grabbed her bags and headed into the motel room. She put the bags on a bed and stood there. She heard Dean tell Sam not to do or touch anything; just sit in a chair in the middle of the room.

“Hey, Aaliyah,” Dean called to her. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Take a hot shower and relax. Read a book. Read Sam a book.”

Aaliyah sighed as the motel door closed behind Dean. He had a point; she would be fine. Maybe the hot shower would help her somehow. She rooted around a bag and pulled out a change of clothes before darting into the bathroom; the door left partially open. She started the water before stripping off her grimy clothes.

“Aaliyah,” Sam’s voice drifted into the bathroom. “You okay in there?”

“Yeah, just … taking my time. Don’t wanna slip and fall and break something.” Aaliyah stepped into the tub and started washing up. She was about half way through scrubbing the little bar of soap over her body when she heard Sam making noise. “Come on, Sam. You couldn’t give me ten minutes.” She rushed through rinsing off the soap and nearly tripped getting out of the tub. A small panic noise escaped her mouth when a foot slipped from under her, pulling a leg muscle. Relieved that she hadn’t died, Aaliyah reached behind her and turned the water off. “Sammy?” Her hair dripped water onto the bottom of the tub.

Aaliyah slid herself over the tub’s edge and dried herself a little before rushing through putting her clothes on. She swore to herself if anything happened, she’d kill Sam herself. Just when she went to open the door, something told her to stop and wait. The sound of the motel door opening reached her before a pair of voices started up. From what Aaliyah could hear, the two men worked to get Sam into a chair and tied up. She cursed her luck when she remembered that her phone and weapons were out there.

“Hey, there’s someone else here,” one of the voices spoke up.

“Nah, gotta be our friend’s here,” the other replied.

Aaliyah heard footsteps move toward the bathroom and stood just out of the swing range of the door. It opened to reveal a brown haired with a sparse goatee.

“Well, well,” he said. “A friend. Come on out, sweetheart. We won’t bite.” He moved to step into the bathroom.

Aaliyah adjusted her stance and struck the man with a punch to the face. It sent him back a few steps, enough for her to adjust again and charged at him linebacker style. He had managed to recover from the punch and grabbed hold of her shirt.

“Come now, honey,” he said, struggling against Aaliyah’s hold. “No need to put up a fight.”

Aaliyah freed herself from his hold, her shirt slipped off. Part of her was glad to have tossed on a bra. She struck once more. “I’m not your honey or sweetheart.”

“Hey,” the second man called out, stopping the fight. “Can’t you tell she’s a hunter? And a liability? Give back her shirt, then tie her up right here next to our friend.”

Aaliyah snatched her offered shirt and put it on before walking over to the empty chair that had been placed next to Sam. Her mind raced in the attempt of trying to figure out how to get out of the mess when Sam came back around.

“He lives,” the blond haired man said.

Aaliyah shook her head when Sam looked at her.

“Who are you?” he asked. “What …”

The blond snapped his fingers in Sam’s face. “I thought I was sent by Gordon.”

“Who’s that?” Aaliyah asked before gaining a ‘shut up’ expression from the blond.

“If you don’t keep quiet …” he threatened.

“You’d do what? Mmm? Kill me?”

“Nah, I’ll just kill Sam here and leave you tied up here. But I’m not here for that.” The man started pacing. “I’m here because of what you did with that gate.”

“The hell gate?”

“We did all that we could to stop it,” Sam said.

“Lie. You were in on it and what their plan is.”

“We don’t,” Sam protested. “You’re wrong about all of it.”

The blond man stopped pacing and turned his attention to Sam. “Come on, Sam. You must know something. I’d hate to see what could happen to your pretty little friend here.”

Aaliyah narrowed her eyes at the man while Sam remained silent. The man slapped Sam, causing a small noise to catch in Aaliyah’s throat.

“Gordon told me all about your powers,” the man said. “How you’re some psychic freak.”

“No, not anymore,” Sam said. “No visions, no powers, nothing. I …”

“Liar.” The man punched. “Now, no more lies. There’s an army of demons out there pushing at a world on the brink. We’re on deck for the endgame, aren’t we? So, maybe, you can understand why we can’t take chances.” He pulled his gun and aimed it at Aaliyah.

Her heart thumped against her ribs.

“Whoa, hang on a minute,” Sam protested.

“Hey, Kubrik, just ….” the brown hair man started.

“No, you saw what happened, Creedy,” Kubrik interrupted. “Ask yourself, why are we here? Because you saw a picture online? Because we chose this motel instead of another? Luck like that doesn’t happen.”

“Look, I can explain …” Sam started up

“Shut up,” Kubrik yelled. “It’s God; leading us here to do his work. It’s destiny.”

Aaliyah closed her eyes as she heard another gun being cocked.

“Nope, just a rabbit’s foot.” The voice sounded familiar.

Aaliyah dared to open her eyes to see Kubrik turning to face Dean. She struggled to free herself from the chair while Dean dealt with Kubrik and Creedy. Her eyes involuntarily rolled when Dean claimed he was Batman. “If you’re Batman, I’m Red Hood.”

Dean replied with a noise as he started to free Sam before moving to her.

She rubbed her wrists as she stood. “Now what?”

Dean pulled out the rabbit’s foot. “We burn it.”

***

Aaliyah made sure her scratch off tickets were secured in a boot before returning to the small camp fire. Burning the rabbit’s foot, along with a few herbs, was the only way to lift the bad luck. She stepped into the light of the fire just as a gun was cocked. “Oh, come on.”

“Oh, who’s this?” a female voice questioned. “A new friend of yours, Winchester? Why don’t you tell Dean here to hand over the rabbit’s foot.”

“Bela,” Aaliyah whispered to herself. “Why don’t you put the gun down? And we can talk this over?”

A shot echoed in the cemetery and a cry sounded.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dean asked. “You can’t be going ‘round shooting people?”

“I can’t hit you,” Bela told him. “Besides, it’s a shoulder wound. I can aim. Put the foot on the ground.”

“Alright, take it easy.”

Aaliyah watched Dean start to put the foot down before tossing it at Bela. Aaliyah smirked when the other woman caught it and cursed. “Now whatcha say? Wanna destroy it?”

Bela moved and dropped the foot into the fire. “Thanks. I’m out one and a half million and on the bad side of a psychotic buyer.”

“I’m not feeling a little bit bad about that,” Dean snarked. “How about you two?”

Aaliyah shook her head. “Not one bit.” She kept her eye on Bela as she went over and leaned on the headstone where Dean’s jacket was draped.

“Maybe next time I’ll leave you out to dry,” Bela said.

“Just go away,” Aaliyah half pled, her head tilted to a side. She swore she saw a smirk from Bela.

“Have a nice night, you three.”

“There’s something about her,” Aaliyah said, walking over to Dean as Bela walked away. “I don’t if I should like her or not.”

“There’s nothing about her you shouldn’t like,” Dean said, gathering up his things. “You two good?”

“I’ll live,” Sam assured him.

Aaliyah walked with them toward the cemetery entrance.

“Back to normal, I guess,” Dean said. “No bad luck or good luck. But he-ee-ey, we’re up 46000 dollars. Nearly forgot … the … scratch off…”

Aaliyah caught him searching his jacket out of the corner of her eye to come up empty. She chuckled when a car raced off down the road. “I knew there was something about her I liked.”

“She took off with your portion too,” Dean told her.

“Not really.” Aaliyah hunched down and pulled out all the tickets she had hit in her boots. “I got these back when I still had the foot. At best guess … I got a good half million or so.” She pulled them out of Dean’s reach. “We all get a share, no matter what.”

“Then what?” Sam asked.

Aaliyah shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I need some time to figure things out. Come on. I’ll cash these in.”

#supernatural spn fanfic

[dentalrecordsmusic]

Album Review: Pedro the Lion - “Phoenix”

We finally made it. 2019 is here and kicking off with an album from Pedro the Lion? Like THE Pedro the Lion? It feels appropriate that I’m starting this piece in a sister location to the coffee shop I frequented during my time at college (more for convenience than the quality of coffee), and of course, I still have trouble connecting to the free wifi. There’s a certain nostalgia that washes over the brain when I hear someone mention David Bazan’s revered three-piece. It’s been almost two decades since Pedro’s last album, Achilles Heel, released in 2004, described as Pedro “going out on a high note artistically (if not emotionally)”. It’s apparent that whoever wrote this blurb did not expect Pedro to return anytime soon, if ever, but I believe we were all caught off guard last year when the group announced their signing with super label Polyvinyl last January and beginning work on the songs that would become Phoenix.

My fascination with Bazan is quite young compared to some of my friends’ passions and Bazan’s career which began in 1995 (the year I was born). I credit this mini-obsession with anything Bazan to one of my favorite professors, Dr. David Dark, who not only teaches, but writes books about the intersectionality of faith, people, politics, and pop culture. Looking back, it shouldn’t have been surprising that Dark and Bazan are actually close friends and have led talks on these subjects at least once.

Nostalgia is defined as “a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations”. Even before hearing anything off of this record, memories of living near the desert city were triggered while reading the titles and I knew that this would probably be one of my favorite records of 2019. After listening, I can definitely confirm this to be true. Similar home plans can be found all across the valley, all within a few minutes’ drive of several Circle K locations, and the grid that Phoenix is built on made the trip home very easy to navigate.  As someone who lived in Phoenix for even just three years, let me tell you, Circle K trips are essential to the culture.

The first single dropped off of Phoenix, titled “Yellow Bike”, comes in off of a fade from instrumental intro “Sunrise”. A driving bass line is soon joined by Bazan’s trademark croon, painting an image of Bazan waking up to a new “two-wheeled” bike under the tree, landing the first of many blows of nostalgia throughout this LP. Tapping into Bazan’s trademark use of biblical themes, the chorus of this strong opening track ends with a bleak image of new-found freedom on the streets in a city that you thought that you could call home:

“Leaving early, packing light/That little ache inside/My kingdom for someone to ride with.”

Fast forward from 1981, in which this song is set to the past decade-and-a-half of scrapping Pedro for solo work, Bazan touches on the loneliness that can be experienced out on the road when he sings:

“Going back and forth/In vans and rental cars/ On the 10 the 5 the 90 and the 95/In love with every stretch of road/ But when I drive them on my own/They remind me of what it was like/Astride my yellow bike/My kingdom for someone.”

“Clean Up” is a feel-good musical number juxtaposed with lyrics touching on the difficulties of growing older and becoming independent in the execution of seemingly small necessities of living. Touching again on his religious upbringing, Bazan sings in the second verse:

“I tried eternity and a couple of other drugs/Such a romantic place to hide/from taking my lumps/I still get overwhelmed and think about giving up.”

If you’re looking for a good song to just hop in your car and drive around to, I’d like to recommend “Clean Up” be somewhere near the top of your list.

Having lived in Phoenix for three years and going to a high school just down the street from the famed gas station/convenience store combo, “Circle K” is another track that hits pretty close to home for me on this record. Opening up with a nice descending guitar line drenched in reverb to expand the aural landscape, you really can’t help but nod along with the drums on this track when it comes on. Looking back on trying to save up money for a skateboard, Bazan crafts one of his signature yearning melodies for lyrics that resonate with anyone who grew up watching the X-Games or playing Tony Hawk’s Pro-Skater games:

“Saving up for a Santa Cruz skateboard/Kid sister said how much have you saved/I calculated then hung my head in shame/I spent it all at Circle K/Dreaming it was only pocket change.”

As someone who always made an after-school trek down to this beautiful establishment, I can confirm that one gets carried away when presented with the wall-to-wall options for taking in ungodly amounts of sugar. Bazan gives us insight into the idea that presentation is everything when he sings:

“Windows covering one wall of the store/Shelves bathed in the golden hour glow/I spent it all at the Circle K/Dreaming that the light would never change.”

If you’ve never been to a Circle K gas station, head over to your preferred maps app or website and get to the nearest location as soon as possible. You can thank me when you recover from the sugar/grease hangover. I’ll understand.

Before I digress anymore or write about every song, I’ll end with one of my favorites on the back side of the record: “Black Canyon”. If song titles were meant to trigger an emotional response somewhere near the back of our brains, this one gets the job done. Bass, guitar and Bazan’s voice start this one off as a dark, brooding trio over lyrics that quickly take us from a view of open road to something much more devastating:

“Just after midnight/Black Canyon Freeway/ A man, when he could no longer deal/Stepped in front of 18 wheels.”

Sticking to the Pedro canon of emotionally hard-hitting lyrics over dissonant guitar lines (think “Second Best” from their 2002 album Control), this song is a drone of unsettling noise from the guitar throughout the verse sections. Everything resolves when Bazan sings a chorus that I can already hear a crowd shouting along to:

“Get this truck off my back/Don’t know what I expected/But that hurt really bad/Where were my people at/Coiled up like a rattlesnake/Waiting to attack.”

This already super heavy and emotionally devastating track ends in a cacophony of sound over Bazan reaching towards the upper limits of his vocal range as he almost screams:

“Tell them your stories/If you carry them by yourself/The gorier the details/The more you are alone in hell.”

I know some people who love Bazan and everything that he’s done, others who don’t really get the hype, and others who really can’t stand others’ worship of the songsmith at all. Personally, I sit in the first camp, and I probably will until I die if we’re being honest. If you’re in either of the other groups, I can understand how elitism in music is one of the most frustrating and usually infuriating phenomena we encounter around our scenes. However, I don’t think anyone can deny that David Bazan and Pedro the Lion are objectively good at making music. Simple, polished tracks with raw, vulnerable lyrics that drip with personal experience have created a cult following across the past twenty-four years. Phoenix may not go down as Pedro’s best work, but I believe that it was an appropriate first step back into the spotlight.

Tyler Wells writes for Dental Records Music News. You can follow him on Instagram and Twitter.

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