#is being hanged in the building next door. so soon after strangling his brother and seeing his own mother die at the claws of a demon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelfishofthelord · 3 years

Text

(and heal)

hurt/comfort fic, set in 11x02 if Ephraim followed through on his threat of "what should we cut off first?"

It’s been a few days. A few days since they killed Death and unleashed the Darkness and fought off hoards of zombie-like infected people. A few days since the Darkness became a baby and then disappeared from her own nursery. A few days Sam found a cure for the infected after having the poison coursing through his own veins.

It’s also been a few days since they’ve heard from Castiel.

They can’t track his phone, no matter how many times Dean has told Sam to check again.

(What I have, you can’t help me.)

They followed up on a sightings of seeing a man like him but they still haven’t turned up anything that will lead them to where he is now. From the eyewitness reports it sounds like he’s been hexed with Rowena’s attack dog curse.

(Sam, Dean. Goodbye.)

They’ve also been looking for Rowena and Crowley, hoping one would lead to him Neither of them have been found yet.

(It may be some time before we see one another again.)

A few days stretches like a chasm before them, black and boundless. They keep circling and searching the same area where the last sighting was reporting, more to make them feel like they’re doing something than because it’s actually effective. They don’t talk much; not about Dean finally being free of the Mark, or about the Darkness, or if Castiel is going to be found dead or alive. The scratchy throat of the radio is the only running conversation as they move from town to town, the long shadow of the Impala crawling like a funeral procession of one.

Then they hear something: a rumor in a diner. Nothing more than the chatty whispers of teenagers at the next table slurping giant gulps of soda between munching on sliders. One of the girls is talking about an abandoned sawmill on the edge of the next town that sometimes screams at starry nights; about dusty black windows illuminated with sparks that another boy dismisses as a trick of the moonlight.

Stars don't scream; Sam and Dean know better than to think the natural is responsible for the unnatural.

If they can’t find Castiel, Sam and Dean figure, they may as well get rid of whatever spirit might be haunting the sawmill before some kid believes the stories enough to check it out for themselves. As soon as they pull up to the skeletal building, however, Sam reaches over and switches the radio off. Dean’s fingers move to turn off the engine, but it takes him a few seconds to connect with the key because his eyes are fixed on the sight in front of them.

There’s no mistaking the familiar style of the mark etched in blood on the outside of the building. It’s warding sigils. Angels. Angels are here, or have been here, which means Castiel must be here, or close by at least.

The two brothers arm themselves, silently, thoroughly. Blades two each. Sigiled cuffs. Holy fire in one pocket, lighter in the other. Flashlights with beams wide as the mouth of a cave. The door squeaks when they push it open, a long, protracted hiss of rusty hinges. There’s enough cobwebs hanging from the ceiling to reach their nostrils so they breathe shallowly, trying not to inhale too sharply as they move forward. More sigils are painted on the walls inside, blood mingled with the unwiped sawdust. Whoever was--is--here didn’t want to be found by anyone, man or inhuman.

Towards the back of the main room Dean finds the first body. A man in his late twenties, perhaps, wearing a dark suit, striped tie christened with a gaping, bloodless hole in the center. Angel. Dean steps over him, aiming the flashlight left and right until the beam falls across a second body lying face down. Then he turns the flashlight to the other side of the room and it illuminates the wide-open mouth of a third dead angel. His mouth hangs open as he sits propped up against the corner, one hand clasped over a deep wound at his side that has long stopped sputtering grace.

“So angels got him,” Sam whispers, unnecessarily, more because the thought had never crossed their mind. In the past few days of searching for their friend the two had entertained the thought of spells or demons or perhaps the Darkness taking Castiel hostage, but not his own family.

“Bastards,” Dean mutters, kicking the foot of the one face down beside them. “Looks like they got what was coming to them.”

Sam frowns slightly, squinting in the pale light as they walk forward. The sitting angel with the side wound looks familiar, like the vessel Hannah took when they talked to her at Heaven’s gate. He’s about to say something when Dean lowers the light down to a spot on the ground. “Sam,” he vocalizes hoarsely.

He follows his brother’s gaze to the glint of metal near his feet. The breath of the flashlight washes over the scattered tools on the floor--a wrench, a rusty circular saw leaning against the wall like a dark moon, and then-- Sam recognizes what it is. It’s been several years but it’s hard to forget the curve of the metal contraption that was fitted on the screaming angel in Crowley’s lair.

“What’s this doing here?” Dean breathes, bending towards it. The torture device is speckled with blood--fresh blood that leaves a smear on his finger when he touches it. Half of the long pins in the side are missing. One of them is glimmering a few inches away under the toppled over table, the sharp end slick and red.

“Let’s just get Cas and get out of here.” Sam steadies his own voice with determination and nods towards the doorway ahead. The plastic flaps of the entrance shimmer as they push them aside and walk in to find themselves standing in a windowless dark room. While Dean fumbles with his sputtering flashlight and then goes towards the side to feel for a light switch, Sam moves forward cautiously, only to crash into a round, hard corner of what must be another table.

“Shit,” he mutters as he stumbles to his knees, hard, just as Dean flips the switch.

Light drowns the room.

Sam’s eyes widen. He stays on his knees, body electric with shock. Besides him his brother makes a horrible choking noise that sounds very similar to “Cas.”

“No,” Sam whispers. His tongue feels heavy and swollen.

Dean’s legs are pitching him from side to side and he means to make them walk forward but they don’t. They can’t. His eyes flicker from side to side, up and down over the sight before him, like tracing a dot-to-dot pattern again and again.

Castiel--pinned against the wall, arms eagle spread. Metal pins driven into either side of his head, giving him long bloody side burns. His feet --shoeless, sockless-- are dangling limply from his ankles where two more pins are driven in. The palms of his hands are stretched open, fingers curled limply around the spikes embedded into the center.

Castiel’s eyelids are shut. Somewhere in the back of the mounting scream in Dean’s mind he realizes that he’s looking at a corpse and every muscle in his body dissolves.

Before he too, hits the ground beside his immobile younger brother, the corpse blinks.

They both leap to their feet and sprint forward immediately. “Get him down,” they gasp to each other at the same time. Sam goes to pull out the pins in his ankles while Dean hooks his arms under Castiel’s to hold him up so he won’t tear his palms when the weight sags.

“Hey, hey,” he repeats, brushing the matted hair out of Castiel’s eyes. “We’re here, Cas. We’re here.”

Castiel blinks, opening his left eye half way. “D’n.” The white of his eyes are webbed in red streaks. His lips are split and yellow-crusted.

“It’s okay.” Dean sucks in a breath and puts two finger on the pin in the right side of Castiel’s head. “It’s okay.” He pulls quickly, hurling the pin behind him before reaching for the next one. Castiel doesn’t even so much as flinch, which worries Dean even more.

When the pin on the left is removed the angel suddenly sags forward, sending Dean lurching back slightly before he bends on one knee to balance the weight. “I’ve got you,” he gasps, circling a hand around his back only to sink into the dampness of open flesh. Castiel’s entire back is lacerated to the point where Dean can’t tell where the skin ends and the exposed muscle and tissue begin. The marble white of his spine shows through the blood, black lines on the ridges showing where his back had been scraped raw against the concrete wall. Dean tries not to look at the spot on the wall where Castiel had been impaled, but he sees it anyways, the red spread of blood filling the corner of his eyes.

Castiel slumps bonelessly into his shoulder. “It’s okay,” Dean murmurs thickly. “S’okay.”

“They cut off his hands.” The announcement comes from above, in a strangled voice that must be Sam’s. Dean jolts his head up and then nearly falls backwards. He’d assumed that Castiel had fallen forward because Sam had removed the pins in his palms.

But his brother is standing there, immobile, next to a hand impaled into the wall. Dean drops his eyes to Castiel’s arms, the ones hanging loosely beside his. The ones that end in a smooth circle sliced clean from the wrist.

“They cut off his hands,” Sam repeats, unaware that he’s repeating himself. He tugs the pin loose and the amputated appendage falls into his outstretched hand. It feels heavier than he thought, fits smaller into his own palm. His knees are starting to fold again and he braces himself against the wall with one hand to keep from collapsing. Somewhere at the side he’s dimly aware of the sob-like sound coming from his brother as he clutches the angel in his arms tighter.

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#gotta get this one before whumptober #tw aftermath of torture #my spn fic #userjeb #slipper007 #rambleoncas #userbon #seraphcastiel #offbeattraxx #playedwright #tuserari #lyntracks #friendshapedcastiel #hurt comfort fic #spn s11

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author-morgan · 3 years

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Could I request a sub!Halfdan please? Its such an underused trope in this fandom

of courseeee. ♥ hope you enjoy this little fluffy-filth ficlet with Halfdan. :) Halfdan x fem!Reader

HARALD FINEHAIR LEANS against one of the dock posts, his arms crossed, though a kindly smile graces his countenance upon hearing the good news. Soon Tamdrup would have another young child running about, causing trouble for the townsfolk —just as he and his brother had when they were younger and wilder. He can’t help his eyes from darting to your middle. It is still too soon for the signs to show, but there is already something different —a new spark in your eyes, Freyja’s soft glow surrounding you. “You’ll have to tell him sooner or later,” Harald muses, rubbing the dark whiskers on his chin.

“I know” —you look up from the knotted fishnet laid across your lap, smiling sheepishly— “I know, Harald.” You’d been searching for the right moment for almost a fortnight now. If not for Harald catching you leaving the medicine woman’s hut with a pouch of herbs for morning sickness, he wouldn’t know either.

“He’s going be happy,” he assures you, recalling the warm spring evening you wed his brother —a crown of wildflowers upon your brow. That must have been some six years ago, in the weeks before sailing to join Ragnar Lothbrok in his raids on Frankia and Paris. Harald doesn’t think he’s ever seen Halfdan so happy as when he first called you his wife, but he suspects his brother will be just as ecstatic when you share the good news.

“We’ve waited years for this day to come,” you almost whisper, still disbelieving at times. Over the years, you had begun to fear the worse —even before your marriage to Halfdan. All the times you lay together, there was never a child, never any signs life would take root, and it certainly was not for lack of trying. He swore it did not make a difference to him. Halfdan loved you, child or no —but as the years crept by, you couldn’t deny your desire for a family, especially seeing him play at swords with the children of Tamdrup. Alas, the gods finally heeded your prayers. Harald moves from the post to the small sandy shore, sitting next to you, helping unknot and repair the fishnet. You nudge his ribs with your elbow. “You’re going to be an uncle.” Harald smiles again.

THE WOOD PLANKS creak underfoot just outside your chambers, iron hinges creak and groan when the heavy door is pushed ajar, you lift your gaze from the heddles of the loom, glimpsing your husband’s reflection in a cloudy silver looking glass as he nears you. His arms snake around your waist, pulling you away from your work and into him. He’s been on a hunt the last three days —the scent of moss and fresh soil still linger in his clothes and beard. It’s always a good feeling being held like this, but you cannot forget your resolve. You were supposed to be upset with him, and the soft kiss on your shoulder and neck won’t be enough to get him out of this. “I’m not speaking to you, Halfdan,” you remind him, wiggling from his embrace.

He lets you go, laughing under his breath. “You just did,” he remarks, lips kinked into a playful smile, half-hidden beneath the golden whiskers on his upper lip and chin. Halfdan knows this bout will pass —quick as a summer storm— neither of you can stay angry at each other over trivial things. “Still mad?” It’s a teasing question and one he already knows the answer to when you glare at him, arms crossed.

“Yes,” you lament, “you ate the last honey cake.” You saved the last little honey cake from supper, knowing how much you’d begun craving them of late, but when you woke the next morning, Halfdan was already off to help his brother, and the plate on the table tucked away in the corner of the room was empty save for crumbs.

Halfdan grips onto your arms, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your biceps through the wool sleeves of your dress. You know when he’s trying to be charming —his smiles are wider, he flicks the hair falling over his right eye to the side, and his eyes, dark and warm, take on a glint of mischief. “And I regret it, deeply,” he confesses, embellishing his apology. His hands slide down your arms, fingers interlocking with yours. Halfdan lifts your hands —placing a quick yet lingering kiss on your knuckles, drawing you closer. “What can I do to make it up to you?” He asks.

“Trying to seduce me?” You ask, brow raised —feigning annoyance. But it’s close to impossible when he cranes down, lips hovering over yours. He’s so close you can almost feel the tickle of his beard.

“Maybe,” he muses, letting your hands go and seizing you by the hips, fingers twisting into the green wool of your dress, “it’s worked in the past, hasn’t it?” You shake your head, smiling, unable to resist his charms or your desire to fall into his arms after he’s left you in a cold and lonely bed.

At first, he tenses when your hands slide up his chest to his shoulders, then relaxes when your tilt your chin up, pulling the two of you closer. “Kiss me, husband,” you whisper —it’s a command and one he is happy to oblige. His lips brush against yours, teasing when he pulls back a little before surging forward again. You sigh into his kiss, hands moving to rest on his neck and jaw. His tongue parts your lips, and you welcome him with a soft moan, pushing your hand through his hair.

He draws back, just long enough to take a deep breath and move his hands from your hips and to your face, cupping your cheeks as he kisses you again —this time with more fervor, and it sends heat rushing to the pits of your belly. Frantically, you pull at his tunic, hands sliding beneath the hem to feel his warm skin and the muscles of his abdomen ripple under your touch. Halfdan groans when he breaks away, pulling his tunic overhead and tossing it aside without care —eyes dark with lust when you run your hands across his pectorals.

“I want you, Halfdan,” you tell him, pushing his shoulders back toward the bed, “now.” He falls onto the mattress when the back of his knees hit —the wooden frame creaking at the sudden impact of his weight— and watches as you slide your dress off your shoulders, letting it pool around your ankles. Halfdan groans at the sight of your newly naked skin as your stride to him, a playful and teasing glint in your eyes.

Leaning over him, your hands go the laces of his britches —quickly untying them— and fingers hook underneath the waistband, tugging them off. Halfdan helps you, lifting his hips, hurriedly shimmying them off for you to toss to the side. You sit back, really taking in the sight of him. Half his face shrouded behind his wild blond hair, his eyes are glassy and half-lidded, pupils blown wide with want. You smile, enjoying having him like this —with a dusting of a pinkish-blush all over, from his cheeks to his ears and even down his neck. His lips are wet and bitten pink from your kisses, mouth hanging open slightly as his chest —a smooth plane of taut muscle— rises and falls with his labored breathing. Then your gaze darts to his cock, painfully hard and resting against his stomach.

Halfdan isn’t one to give up control easily, but he’ll let you have your fun for now —he owes you this at the very least for eating the last honey cake. His gaze is like burning embers when you straddle him. His hands drag down the arch of your back, thumbs catching in the creases of your hips and thighs to push you back towards his cock, but you won’t let him win so easily. You reach for his hands, pulling them away from your hips, and press them into the mattress on either side of his head. Straightening, you let his hands go but give him a look of warning —one that tells him not to move. The defiance flares in his eyes, but you smile, bending down to lick a stripe across his chest and are rewarded with his low groan.

Moving back up, you press your lips firmly against his, offering him little control —nibbling light on his bottom lip— enjoying playing with him for as long as you can. Opening your mouth to his, Halfdan attempts to push forward with a moan and deepen the kiss, but you pull away, hands resting on his chest. “I see why you like this so much,” you tease, lightly raking your nails down his ribs, watching him shiver. “Do I make you beg too?” You ask, looking down at him with a raised brow.

“Kjære min,” he warns, voice a low rasp, but whatever he means to say next dies on the tip of his tongue as a strangled groan. His hips press up off the bed when your fingers wrap around his cock, stroking him from base to tip, thumb following along one of the throbbing veins on the underside. You shuffle back, eagerly, guiding the weeping head of his cock between your slick folds until it catches on the entrance of your aching cunt, and you press back further until the slight resistance gives way, sinking onto him with a lurid moan —echoed by his own strangled groan and a string of curses.

You fall still, not moving —torture for you both— but seeing Halfdan’s hands twist into the patchwork of pelts below is worth it. Alas, you end the torment, slowly rocking and twisting your hips, building a pleasant rhythm, working yourself on top of him. His lips are parted, breathing heavily as he watches you use him —watches how your cunt takes him in over and over again, a sight that drives him to oblivion and paired with how you whimper and moan, hands fondling your breasts, he thinks he could finish then and there.

But then you lift yourself, pulling off him just far enough that only the tip of his cock is left inside you before sinking back down, hips meeting his again. He digs his heels into the bed, attempting to aid you as you bounced and twisted atop him. “Halfdan,” you whimper, knowing you need more than this —you need his touch. He’s quick to answer the soft pleading, hands squeezing against your hips, arms flexing to lift and drag you across his cock himself as his hips roll upwards, pressing deeper it feels than ever before.

Leaning down, you press your lips to his —panting against his mouth as your chests move against one another, hips rolling and filling the room with the unceremonious sound of flesh slapping against flesh and a chorus of low moans and breathy praises. You rest your forehead on his, hand tanging into his hair as the knot in your belly tightens, a familiar warmth starting to take old at your extremities. Halfdan hears the subtle hitch in your breathing, feels your walls flutter around him, gripping onto his cock —a greedy vise, but he won’t relent until you’re both spent.

It doesn’t take much longer for Halfdan to let go, his hips stuttering, cock twitching deep inside you —filling you with warmth. The way you move, rolling against him, causes your clit to catch on his pubic bone, just right, giving you the friction you need to fall too, calling out his name like a prayer. You don’t have the strength to keep going. All your energy sapped away —shoulders shaking, elbows ready to give. Halfdan urges you down to rest on his chest, and you tuck your face into the underside of his jaw, breathing heavily, smiling against his neck when you feel the tickle of his beard against your cheek. His arms come around you, heavy and secure, holding you close and tight. Other than the sound of your breathing mixing with his, there is only the drumming of your own heartbeat in your ears and the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth.

For a handful of precious moments, you stay like that —too sluggish to move— the pads of his rough fingertips tracing a crooked path up and down your spine. It isn’t until you feel his softened cock slip from your warmth and his seed trickling down your thighs that you clench and sit up again —knees still jelly. Then you look over Halfdan. He’s ruined —hair in a mess, clinging to his sweat-slick forehead, cheeks flushed red with exertion. But his eyes are closed, and his breathing relaxed. “Still mad?” He asks, one warm-brown eye popping open to look up at you —skin glowing in the mix of daylight and firelight.

“No,” you laugh, leaning back down —nose just barely brushing against his, your breaths mingling. Halfdan’s hands follow the curve of your hips, along your waist, and across your shoulders before taking your face in both his hands. You smile, balancing your weight on one forearm, reaching to brush back the strands of yellow hair clinging to his face, pausing for a moment to trace the lines and twists of his tattoo. He tilts his chin up, surprising you with his kiss, and rolls both of you onto your sides.

“Halfdan,” you breathe, reaching for his hand resting on your hip and twining your fingers with his. His gaze is focused —intent— he’s close to asking if something is wrong or if he’s done something else besides eating your last precious honey cake when you smile, squeezing his hand before bringing it to rest on your stomach. There’s a spark in his dark eyes like he knows but is still unsure if this means what he thinks. “I am with child,” you tell him, watching his dark eyes widen with the announcement.

Halfdan falls silent; his lips parted, brow furrowed —wrinkling the blue-black ink on his forehead— almost disbelieving that after so many years, he would be a father, that you would have a family together. “Mine?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper and filled with wonder.

Your smile widens. “Of course, it’s yours, silly man,” you laugh, scooting closer to him —pressing your forehead against his, resting a hand on his neck, and letting your thumb stroke over the raised silver scar there. “You’re my husband.” Even after the years gone by, it still feels good to call Halfdan your husband.

He smiles, eyes crinkling, wrinkling the dark tattoos on his cheeks and brows as he leans into you, closing the small space between your lips. It’s soft, exceptionally so, and sweet —far sweeter than most of his kisses. Halfdan kisses a line across your cheek, pulling you close, his hand still resting against your stomach, wondering how long it will be until your belly begins to grow and if he would make for a good father. “I won’t eat your honey cakes anymore,” he breathes, earning a huff of laughter from you as you nuzzle your face into his chest, feeling your heart swell, falling further in love with him.

[ taglist: @elizabethroestone @ahotmesswithprivilege @naaladareia @charming-merlin @certifiedlittleshit @pat-talks @gossamarnie ] if you want to be added to my Vikings (Harad, Halfdan, and Ragnar) taglist, just let me know! if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you.

#Halfdan #Halfdan the Black #Halfdan x Reader #Halfdan the Black x Reader #Halfdan Imagine #Halfdan Fanfiction #Vikings Imagine #Vikings Fanfiction #my writing #requested #anonymous #that's 'my dear' in norse btw

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roberttchase · 3 years

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Manner minded or double trouble? Both SO matty? Maybe Christie looking after him?

double trouble: [character] is sick and injured.

I will be writing the manner minded one separately :) I hope you enjoy this (somewhat more detailed than I'd originally planned) ficlet.

Send prompts to my inbox.

+ + +

If you were to ask Matt Casey if he thought he was lucky, for the most part he would answer with 'no'. Yes, he's lucky enough to have Sylvie Brett as a girlfriend, lucky to have gone to the fire academy, lucky to have been promoted to a lieutenant and then captain. But he also had an emotionally abusive father as a teenager, a murderer for a mother, his girlfriend of eight years was killed, his wife left him. For every good thing, it feels like there are three bad things in his life.

So he can't even really say it's a surprise when, while on scene helping squad rescue two victims in a car that's balancing precariously close to the frozen Chicago River, Matt loses his balance, slips from the hood of the car, and falls almost twelve feet onto the ice that then suddenly cracks underneath him, submerging him in below forty degree water. Nothing in his life is ever easy. Intense pain radiates from his chest, his body feels like it's on fire, and then nothing.

From there, the scene is absolute chaos. Sylvie and Violet are both off shift, spending the entire week in Joliet helping teach at a conference. The two paramedics that are on scene are instantly calling for backup, while both Severide and Tony frantically suit up in scuba gear for precaution. Boden's yelling orders, but the three other members of truck are all frozen, staring at the large hole in the ice, from which their Captain is currently very much not getting out of.

+ + +

"Christie, you really don't have to do this, Severi-"

"I know what Severide said, but I'd feel more comfortable if you stayed with me." Christie Casey frowns, looking at her younger brother. He's at least four shades paler than he should be, cheeks flushed and eyes dull. Stubble consumes the lower half of his face, and the firefighter looks exhausted. She can't say that she blames him, not with the hell that he's gone through the past thirty six hours.

She'd gotten the call from Stella Kidd yesterday, a kind but shaky voice telling her that Casey, Matt, had fallen into an icy river, and was at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center being treated for two broken ribs and mild hypothermia. Arriving half an hour later, she'd been taken into Matt's room, where they had him on enough pain medication he was basically incoherent. One of the doctors had explained to her that the next few hours were important for any person who'd almost drowned- inhalation of the river water had occurred, and aspiration pneumonia was a large possibility. For a naive moment, Christie was certain that Matt would be fine.

Matt's never that lucky.

It's how she finds herself now, half glaring at her brother, who's been given instructions to stay with someone for the next forty eight hours, while his body wars with itself. The red haired doctor had explained that unless the mans fever reaches over 102, or his breathing deteriorates, he's allowed to stay out of the hospital. Severide's offered to let him stay at the loft, to take next shift off and watch over his best friend, but she tells her brothers best friend no. She needs to be able to watch over her little brother, if his paramedic girlfriend can't.

She's already talked to Sylvie, had called her only an hour after getting the call herself. They'd come to the conclusion that as long as someone was there to watch Matt, she needed to finish up the week for the CFD and CEMS.

"You ready to leave? I'm bringing you back to my place. Violet's got the guest room all ready for you."

Matt blinks and then nods, shoulders curved in slightly, one arm wrapped around his side. He looks a little woozy, though that could be from the pain pills being pumped through his body. That, or the fever he's sporting. April wheels him to the front of the hospital while Christie grabs her car and pulls it up to the curb.

Half an hour later, Matt's being helped into the guest room, where, sure enough, the bed has fresh sheets and a few extra pillows have been added for the man who isn't supposed to lay flat on his back. She gets him under the covers, thankful he's cooperating, and by the time she's back with the meds in a little plastic cup, as well as a glass of water, Matt's asleep.

"Matt, hey, you have to wake up and take your medicine, then you can go back to sleep, okay?" She shakes him as gently as possible, not wanting to hurt his ribs any more than they already are. She must knock something loose though, because not a second later he starts coughing, low and harsh, and his eyes flutter open. Gasping for air, they wait for his chest to stop spasming. His arm is cradling his side and she feels terrible, wishing she could help.

"I just need you to take this medicine, then you can sleep again," she promises, holding the cup out for him. When he nods, the woman lets the small pills tumble onto his open palm, and soon he's swallowing them tiredly.

"C-Can you stay?" The words are quiet and hang in the air as she turns to leave. Pausing, Christie turns back and is struck by just how young Matt looks, laying there with fever flushed cheeks and sallow skin.

Moving slowly, the woman gets into the other side of the bed, carefully shifting to get comfortable.

"Just like old times huh?"

She knows he's referring to their childhood. Christie can't help but smirk a little at the memories.

"Are you talking about when you would come crying to me because you were afraid of the dark?" Her tone is teasing, and instinctively she lets her fingers find his hair, running them through it just like she did when they were young teens and their father had been yelling at them.

A laugh bubbles out of Matt's throat, but it quickly changes to coughing, and it takes a moment for Matt to calm down, sipping water before replying.

"I was actually talking about when I was eight and caught whatever that punk across the street had after he coughed on me. I remember I was out of school for a week, and you stayed with me as much as you could."

She remembers it well.

+ + +

Matt never gets sick, not when he was a baby, and not now. She's always been the one to come down with colds or strep throat, and Matt always manages to avoid germs. He had been sick once when he was a toddler, once, but other than that, she can't remember him ever even getting a runny nose. And then Michael Jeffries goes and coughs all over him on the bus when she's in fifth grade and he's in third, and Matt's record of not getting sick goes down the drain.

It had been on a Monday. That following Thursday afternoon, Christie's waiting for Matt to get on the bus when their bus driver tells her that her brother has apparently gone home early. The whole ride home, the eleven year old is upset, not for her brother, but at the fact she wasn't taken out early either. Why did Matt get to go home and play when she didn't? By the time she's walking into their small home, the blonde is stomping her feet and slamming the door behind her, ready to ask why her stupid brother gets such special treatment.

Instantly though, she realizes something is wrong. Mommy isn't downstairs like she normally is, but instead of being worried, the girl let sher anger build. Running up the stairs, her ponytail swaying behind her, Christie's ready to yell and throw a tantrum, but she freezes when she sees her mom sitting on Matt's small twin bed. She's holding their big blue bowl that she always gets out when Christie's stomach is sick, and Matt is throwing up, coughing and spluttering after, while she rubs his back. Cautiously, Christie walks into the doorway.

"Mommy...what wrong with Matt?"

Nancy and Matt look up, the older woman rubbing her sons back.

"Matt's just not feeling well honey, he'll be alright."

Christie frowns and looks at her brother, whose cheeks are a startling bright pink, his skin pale.

"He looks really sick..." Suddenly she's not mad at all anymore, instead she's worried, no, scared. Matt doesn't get sick. That's his superpower, just like hers is liking vegetables.

Before any more words are spoken, Matt coughs and lets out a strangled little whine. "M-Mommy..."

Christie turns her face away as Matt gets sick this time, not wanting to watch anyone throw up. Instead, she goes and busies herself with finding paper and her crayons. Sitting down on her bedroom floor, the eleven year old goes to town with making her brother a get well soon card, the only thing she knows she can do in this moment.

That night, while she and mommy eat downstairs, Christie can hear Matt crying with Daddy. The second she finishes her food and washes her plate off, the blonde runs upstairs, wanting to make sure the younger boy is okay. She stops in front of his room, but no one's there, the twin sized bed with dark green sheets is empty, even his beloved stuffed bear is gone. Walking further down the hall, she sees the two she's been looking for in her parents king sized bed.

Matt's laying against Daddy, Bear clutched in his hand, his ear against the boys lip. Daddy smiles at her and puts a finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet. Nodding, Christie tiptoes in and peers at them both, before climbing in putting a delicate hand on Matt's shoulder, hoping he'll be ok.

+ + +

Brought back to the present, Christie feels Matt's forehead and sighs. "just try and sleep okay? I'll be here if you need me, okay? I won't let anything bad happen to you Matt."

It's as if it's all he's been waiting to hear. It takes him all of two minutes to fall back asleep, head resting against his sisters shoulder. She supposes that this can be the start of all the years she'd missed taking care of him after she'd left for college. He deserves it.

#prompt #my fic #matt casey #casey siblings #chicago fire #lmm-snez-things #this got slightly carried away oops #bb!matt

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keytomythoughts · 3 years

Text

Perfection Imperfections | Chapter 1

Chapter Index

»»—————————————-　

Finally, summer break. It’s been a while since I was able to go home. Having to attend high school rather far from my home in Seoul, I never thought that I’d adjust to the new environment. Fortunately, I wasn’t entirely alone, since I stayed with my aunt for the four years of my high school life. School wasn’t so bad, but the homesickness is what killed it for me. Even though it was my parents' idea to send me a rather vast distance—me not being too excited about it, but I knew I wouldn’t get my way in the end—there was some good that came from it. The two only good things, actually.

I glance outside the train window, the buildings of Busan zooming past me. Sure, it may not be my home, but I won’t lie. I’m really going to miss this place. My phone suddenly vibrates in my lap, glancing down to see a text from my group chat, smiling as I respond.

(Binnie)

R u still on the train?

Yeah have been for the past like 30 mins

(Eunuwu)

Going back to ur parents? Or r u moving out?

Funny

Yk I can’t move out, at least not on my own. My parents won’t allow it

(Binnie)

What about Jaehyun?

Idk, they rlly dc what he does tbh

They’re just hell-bent on me getting into the top schools and shit

(Eunuwu)

Damn, rough

Mhm

(Binnie)

Try talking to them, u never know

They might change their minds?

Nah, I already know how it’s gonna end

Me crying and stuffing myself with pints of ice cream

(Eunuwu)

Doesn't sound so bad

(Binnie)

¬_¬

(Eunuwu)

Except for the crying part ofc

But c’mon it cant really be THAT bad

I’ve been over plenty of times, they seem nice

(Binnie)

U’ve been to her house??

Yeah him and oppa are friends too

(Binnie)

Righttt forgot lol

And that’s bc you were there dumbass and half of the time ur either in oppa’s room or out somewhere

Interaction with my parents = minimal

(Binnie)

That sounds awful ngl :( sorry Hyuna

But hey we should all hang soon!

(Eunuwu)

I’ll be in Seoul for the summer too so y not?

I miss y’all :’(

Ok I should be there around like 5 ish so I’ll text then

(Binnie)

Aww I miss u toooo

(Eunuwu)

*puke*

Shut up, ur just jealous

(Eunuwu)

Me? Jealous?? Of what, ur face?

Yea no thx, Ive got a great face already

And personality 0:)

Gr8, explains why ur still single

(Binnie)

LOLL

She got u there bro

(Eunuwu)

Shut up

Ur talking as if u’ve got a gf

Idiot

(Binnie)

At least I didnt reject them as coldly as u did lol

See? My point exactly

Your fAcE scared off every girl in sight bc of tht pErSoNaLiTy

I almost feel bad for them, u little heart breaker

(Binnie)

He made a couple of em cry I heard

Rlly?!?

YAH

U MORON

(Eunuwu)

Bin wtf

(Binnie)

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

U JERK HOW COULD U??

Those poor girls omg

Im so kicking ur ass when I c u

(Binnie)

Me 2

(Eunuwu)

Wtf?? Y???

(Binnie)

No reason lol, just feel like it

And this is why ily Binnie

(Binnie)

:D <3

(Eunuwu)

GROSS

Can it u demon

Read 4:02 PM

I snort, turning off my phone and placing it back down on my lap as I go back to staring outside my left-hand window again. Meet Cha Eunwoo and Moon Bin, my two best friends. The only reason I got through high school how I did without major setbacks. Sure, there was the occasional homesickness and all, but had I not met these two, I probably wouldn’t have even attended and graduated.

Being so far away from the place I grew up never really suited me, and they saw it right away from day one how lonely and upset I looked. I didn't seem to fit in, especially since I skipped a grade and was placed in classes that were very advanced for me. Not that I minded the vigor, but it was hard for me to socialize, let alone make friends.

That’s when I met them. Freshman year in homeroom before my first literature class. Moon Bin, a boy with parted, coppery-golden hair accompanied by his shy, puppy-eye smile and sweet nature, offered me an empty seat next to him in class, even going as far as to share his textbook and asking how I found the school. No doubt, I was embarrassed and immensely shy, stuttering over my words and failing to meet his soft gaze. However, he didn’t make fun of me nor find me odd. All he did was smile, laughing lightly at my slightly flustered state. He stuck his hand out, introducing himself (most people just call him Moonbin or Bin) with that smile of his, thus the start of our new friendship. Since then, he became someone who always knew how to cheer me up when I was feeling down. No moment was ever dull with him by my side.

Eunwoo, the tall, brooding black-haired and charismatic student almost everyone knew (and crushed on) of, was usually with Moonbin when we hung out together, but he normally kept to himself. Though quiet and sometimes reserved with his intimidating looks, it didn’t take long for him to break the ice with us, the three of us becoming close friends. Promising to stay like this until we went to college and beyond. Regardless if we all diverge and tread different paths, we would always converge and come back to one another.

Four years flew by and graduation was upon us. Just like that, the two became like family to me, my ride-or-die duo. The two who were able to turn my world upside down, finding solace in a time where I thought it was nearly impossible for me to.

My thoughts are interrupted by my “Move” ringtone—yes, I’m a huge Lee Taemin fan—looking down at my phone again to see it’s my brother calling. I sigh, picking up the call.

“What?”

He gasps dramatically. “Is that any way to address your loving older brother after being away for so long?”

I snort, shaking my head. “Loving my ass, oppa. How are mom and dad?”

“They’re fine, living. Didn’t you tell them you’re coming home?”

“Nope, I don’t even text them that often. You already know this..”

He sighs. “Yeah, I figured.”

There’s a slight pause on his end, but he continues. “You took the three-thirty train, right? So you’ll be here around five or so?”

“Yeah, give or take.”

I look out the window again to see the endless stretch of greenery and flowing springs, sometimes even children playing in the fields. I grin mischievously, deciding to poke fun at my brother when he doesn’t respond right away.

“What, you miss me?”

He makes a sound similar to throwing up. “As if. I got so used to the peace and quiet. I’m not ready for it to go away.”

“Yah!” I realize that I had yelled a bit too loudly and eyes were now trained on me, and I bow my head in apology. I lower my voice, “You’re such an asshole.”

“Oh, I know, but you still love me anyway.”

“Shut up.”

I can hear his laugh resonate through the phone and a smile unknowingly tugs at my lips. I wouldn’t say it out loud, but it’s true. When I lived with my aunt in Busan for the duration of high school, I missed Jaehyun a lot. Though two years older than me, he didn’t seem to alienate me the way my parents do. While I hate the notion that they spoil Jaehyun endlessly and let him do as he wishes, I won’t lie and say that he was a prick about it. He could’ve been, but he never came off as selfish. I’m really close with my brother, shocking as it may be. Sibling relationships are like that—one minute you want to strangle them with their intestines and the next you’re singing duets together. Crazy, but that’s how it is for us. My parents don’t really pay me any attention, so Jaehyun decides to do that instead. Not complaining though. I’d rather take his pranking and teasing over my parents’ demands and reprimands any day.

“Aight, I’m heading out for a bit. Text me when you arrive.”

I smile again. “Will do, but make sure to get me food!”

“Let me think…” He hums, and I can practically sense the smirk on his end. “Nope. Get your own.”

“Oppa!”

Jaehyun laughs. “See you in a bit, Hyuna. Get here safely. Bye!”

He hangs up the call before I get a chance to retort, and I scoff. Typical of my brother. He knows how much I enjoy street food, and every time he goes out, it’s almost certain that most of the time he stops somewhere to eat. Did he ever bring food back? Sure, but by the time I’d get to it, most of it was gone anyways. That only lasted a little while before I had gone upstate anyways, so he had more food for himself, I guess.

As the train barrels down the tracks, I feel my heart racing in excitement, but there’s also a slight ounce of dread. I really don’t know why. I want to believe it’s because I’ve been away for too long, but part of me knows it’s the fact that I’ll have to face my parents again. Knowing that I only have two months to decide where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do, I know the bitter truth is that those decisions won’t be left up to me. Last time, I was sent to Busan.

God knows where I’d be sent to now.

***

“Final destination of the KTX Busan-Seoul train at Seoul Station is approaching and will arrive at 05:30 PM. The doors to alight are on the right hand side. All passengers are requested to dismount the train upon arrival. Thank you.”

That’s my stop.

Gathering my bag and hand luggage, I patiently wait for the train to pull up at the station. Seeing the familiar shops and buildings around me makes my legs bounce up and down in both excitement and anticipation.

Four long years away from Seoul...

Before getting off, I quickly text the group chat and then my brother, letting them all know that I’ve reached safely. Side-stepping the other passengers exiting the subway doors, I carefully land onto the platform with my luggage in tow. I breathe in the air around as I stretch my arms up into the sky, the grin widening on my face.

It sure as hell feels good to be back home.

I try my best to maneuver through the crowds, but it doesn’t stop the rush of people knocking into me. At times like these, I curse my genetics for favoring my older brother instead of me in terms of height. Eventually, I come to a clearing and when my eyes glance upwards, I spot a rather familiar dark brown-haired six-foot-tall male amongst the small crowd waving me over.

“Hyuna, over here!”

I gasp, my eyes widening. “Oppa!”

He smiles as I begin walking towards him, my feet hurriedly moving across the concrete. The distance between us shortens and I abandon my luggage as he opens his arms wide.

Only for me to sucker punch him in the stomach.

He yelps in pain, grimacing as he holds his abdomen. “Shit, that hurt. What has Aunt Sua been feeding you up there? Rocks?”

I smack his shoulder, my blood slightly boiling in anger. “Yah, why didn’t you tell me you were coming?! Do you know how much money I blew off for the bus fare?”

He straightens his back before going to rub his shoulder, then behind his neck.

“Fine, fine. My bad. I wanted to surprise you, but I guess that didn’t work, did it?”

I cross my arms over my chest, huffing in annoyance. He sighs, nodding.

“Okay, okay, I’ll compensate you. Dinner’s on me.”

At this I grin, blinking excitedly. I grab onto his arm and shake it vigorously. “Really? You mean it? You’re the best, oppa!”

“Look at this brat..” he taunts, shaking his head. In a flash, he headlocks me and rubs the top of my head harshly with his knuckles, upsetting the neatly-tied auburn ponytail.

“Yah! Quit it!” I smack his arms and flail in protest, but he chuckles, saying this is what I get for cunningly finding a way to exploit him the minute I stepped back into Seoul.

What can I say? It’s a talent.

He lets go eventually, and I try to smooth down my already-tangled hair. I grumble incoherently but Jaehyun pulls me into his embrace, wrapping his arms around me. His free hand gently pats the side of my head in comfort.

“Welcome home, sis.”

I stand there stiff for a second before hugging back. He squeezes me tighter and I find myself smiling into his shoulder.

“Good to be back,” I whisper.

We stand like that for a moment before he pats my back a couple of times, us pulling away from each other soon after. He reaches behind me to grab my hand luggage as he shoulders my bag. I tell him that I can carry them just fine, but he starts walking away from the platform to the parking lot. I call out after him as I run to catch up, and I can see the corners of his mouth twitch. Jaehyun leads me to his car, a sleek matte-silver convertible Mustang. My mouth drops open in shock at its stunning beauty, my body forcing itself to remain composed for the sake of avoiding public self-embarrassment.

He throws my luggage in the back seat before he turns to me, smirking at my expression. “You like it?”

“Shit, do I like it? I love it!” I run my fingers over its metallic surface, the silver exterior gleaming in the evening glow. Grinning, I stare up at my brother who catches my gaze as I stand next to the driver’s seat, my fingers already curled on the handle.

“Can I—”

“No.”

“Please—”

“Nope.”

I pout as I pull my hand away and step to the side. Jaehyun chuckles, rubbing my head playfully before getting into the driver’s seat and starting the car. The engine purrs to life as my brother pulls out his shades and wears them. He looks at me and cocks his head to the passenger seat.

“Don’t just stand there. Get in.”

Smiling, I quickly make my way over to the other side and slip into the passenger seat. I barely have time to buckle in before Jaehyun speeds off. I scream in fright, but he laughs heartily, telling me to let loose.

With the wind harshly whipping around us, I close my eyes and tilt my head upwards, absorbing the remnants of my childhood in a place I’ll always call home. A place where my heart always feels at ease.

My name is Jung Hyuna. I’m eighteen years old, and this is my story.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

#moonbin x oc #moonbin ff #moonbin fic #moon bin #cha eunwoo #jung jaehyun #astro #nct #fanfiction #my writings #mine

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rochiomaru · 3 years

Text

Destiny

I am on the Numancia, sailing towards Mariejois. Just the thought of that place causes bile to burn the back of my throat. I spit over the side of the boat and grimace in distaste. If there was ever an epitome for the tragedy that has befallen me in my lifetime, it is found within its walls. I swing my head back and roll my shoulders as a wide sneer plasters itself on my face. I begin to laugh as I think of the fools living there, and the Marines I am on my way to meet within its gates.

Despite the bitter taste in my mouth, a smile finds its way on my face while I consider the events of the last couple of years since Rosinante’s betrayal. I still cannot stand to be in the snow to this day, but do manage to find my way to Minion island at the same time each year since he died. I can feel that wretched heat that always threatens to fill my eyes when I think of my broth… of the traitor lying on the frozen ground. I try to tell myself that my chest tightening and the sudden tightness of my throat is simply anger. I know it’s a lie, but that will have to be sufficient until I return there next time.

As my ship comes closer to the harbor, I can see that other ships have already docked within the walls surrounding the city. It surprises me that they would allow so many pirates into such proximity to such a supposedly holy place. I realize that these pirates are essentially held out as dogs on leashes, but even a trained dog can still bite its owner, should the mood strike it. The thought of the shichibukai turning on the marines makes me laugh as I picture bloody corpses and gore splattered along the pristine walls of Mariejois.

Once the Numancia has properly anchored and I give word to my crew that I am disembarking, I use my strings to fly the last few hundred meters to the shore. I see no need to entrust my family to the marines, even if I do hold all the cards in this particular game. I have been burned once by these bastards; they shall not get the chance to do it again. Until I know more about what being a warlord entails, my ship will stay outside of the walls.

Once I land on the dock, I see Sengoku and Tsuru standing there with about a dozen marines. I stop to stretch my arms over my head and crack my neck. I want them to realize exactly who it is they are up against, if they are planning an attack. I am fairly certain this was not a trap, as the invitation to join the warlords did not come from this loser. I have spoken with people, much higher up the ranks than Sengoku. He is, after all, simply their puppet. I begin to laugh at the thought and walk towards them slowly. If they are in a hurry, they can come to me.

The one they call “the Budda” confronts me first. He has the same look of hatred that Rosi...the Commander had that day as he stops me from getting closer to the entryway. I stop and look down at him, though I must admit the jackass isn’t that much shorter than me, but enough that I can smirk and allow some haki to push against him. Since submerging myself more into the underworld after that incident, I have found even greater information about my enemies. It’s quite useful what power and intimidation can buy. Now that my bloodlust is fully unleashed, no one is willing to stand against the Joker. Several marines were more than helpful in giving me details as to how my former brother came to be raised by this man and set against me.

I lean forward and speak, “Greetings, Fleet Admiral. How thoughtful of you to come and welcome me.” I cock my head to the side and let my tongue fall out as the sarcastic words practically drip with venomous undertones. My mind is beginning to scream and my thoughts are hard to control, but I have come to accept my own madness these past couple of years. Though I plan to burn the world, and these fools with it for what they have done, I can bide my time.

His face turns a beautiful shade of purple as anger wells within him. A vein becomes visible on his temple and he grits his teeth while he slowly begins to speak, “Captain Donquixote, of the Donquixote Pirates. Welcome to the Royal Shichibukai…”

I watch in amusement and he appears to begin choking somewhat. A half sobbing noise comes from within the man’s throat before he coughs and forces out the next sentence. “Your bounty of 340,000,000 is hereby exonerated.”

I spy a solitary tear in his eye and cannot control the laughter that comes from my chest. I am so enraged that I want to slaughter everyone on this damned island. How dare he act like the victim?! This is the fucking bastard that set my precious brother against me and forced me to remove him from this life! I have no biological family to speak of due to this piece of trash in front of my face! And he has the utter gall to consider himself the one wronged?

The laughter comes louder and deeper from within me and soon I am doubled over with it. I have to laugh to keep myself from flying into a murderous rampage. The time to massacre this vermin has not come yet. However, I do not think Sengoku appreciates my benevolence. The harder I laugh, the more outraged he becomes.

Finally he screams and begins to shimmer. His body is morphing as he grows and turns golden, and his men take arms against me. My laughter stops instantly, as if cut by a blade. Quicker than anyone’s eye can see, I engage my strings and every man he has is strung in the air by their throat. My smile is gone, and I hold my right hand outward with slender fingers extended. Tsuru keeps calm and steps between myself and the Budda, all of our eyes look upwards to the struggling soldiers as blood begins to drip softly from the wounds digging into their tender flesh.

“Do not test me. I did not come here to fight, but I will finish this,” I inform them coldly, leaving no room for doubt as to my power. The voices I have come to live with and that own my soul are screaming to end the lives of the men hanging from my strings. They push me to make an example of these rats for having attempted to strike out against me without provocation. My teeth are grinding tighter and faster as I lose myself in the chaos within my own tormented mind, and my fingers begin to curl which causes the threads to tighten their hold on the men.

Tsuru puts her wrinkled hand on my arm and I hear a slight gasp come from her lips, but suddenly everything goes quiet within my mind. I search for the demons that haunt me every moment, but they seem to have withdrawn from my consciousness. Slowly I meet her eyes and she says softly, “You are not what I imagined you to be, brat.” I swallow a lump in my throat as a warm feeling settles in my chest. Though they really look nothing alike, there is something in her brown eyes that reminds me of my mother.

The moments seem to tick off endlessly as we consider one another and she then admonishes in a louder voice, “Maybe you should quit with these games and we can get to business, eh?” The fearlessness of this old woman as she looks me in my face amuses me greatly and I smile at her. I drop my hand, causing the soldiers to fall from the sky. I can’t help but to chuckle at the sounds of them moaning while trying to stand and see to the superficial cuts and bruises on their worthless necks. It isn’t like I did any permanent damage.

"Anything for you, grandmother,” I chirp while blowing the older woman a kiss. She grunts and rolls her eyes at me, but I am sure I see a small smile in the corner of her mouth. I cannot help but to like her, and offer her a smile in return. She is so very interesting, and I think these meetings may not be nearly so dull if she is involved.

Sengoku, on the other hand, still looks like he wants to kill me. The smile fades from my face and I clench my hands at my sides. She notices my change and quickly turns towards him. “Come on, you old fool! It’s time to start the meeting,” she snaps while grabbing a hold of his collar, causing him to bend forward. She then drags him behind her and into the building, the marines staggering after them.

I watch the door they disappeared through and continue to stew about the confrontation with that bastard. If it wouldn’t be so damn inconvenient to my plans, I would use my strings to strangle the life out of Sengoku here and now! However, I know that with this meeting to officially make me one of the Royal Shichibukai, I will have to have more interactions with him similar to the one we just experienced.

The only joy I get is knowing the influence I hold over the Elder Stars. To watch that piece of shit have to bow to my whims simply because of who I can make a call to if he displeases me, almost makes all of this worth it. I cannot help but to laugh at the thought of him pissing himself in fear at what the Stars may do to him or his underlings if the Elders are pushed too far, or pressed with the right information. Perhaps Sengoku shouldn’t have turned the Commander against me, hmmm? Fucking bastard.

I take a few more deep breaths and close my eyes. I notice that the voices have returned to my mind, and though the reprieve was amusing, I revel in the chaos beginning to swarm in my mind. I have lived with it for so long, that I honestly don’t know how to react to life without them now. After a few more breaths, I realize it’s time to move on. I head into Navy Headquarters.

In the time it takes to enter the building and walk the hallway to where I am to meet the others, I prepare myself for whatever may come once I enter the room with the Warlords. Though I fear none of them, I know they are all powerful pirates and need to be on guard for any possible plots against myself or my family.

With a wide grin in place, I enter the room. It is time to step into the next phase of my destiny.

#donquixote doflamingo #tsuru #my demons #drabbles #sengoku the buddha #doffy #love that flamingo #donquixote rosinante #shichibukai

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lustinglilac · 4 years

Text

Everything About You

A/N: This is a long one but, I’ve been meaning to post it, just hadn’t had the time to edit it until now! It’s a couple of different parts happening over a span of 3 days leading up to them finally getting together. (Not based on any episode in particular)

Pairing: EZ Reyes x OC (Nestor’s sister)

Warnings: blood, death, shooting, guns, strong language, brief sexual harassment, 18+, smut, choking, oral (m/f receiving), vocal EZ, unprotected sex.

Word count: 33.1 k (sorry, I couldn’t stop typing)

*gif not mine*

Thursday, 2:15 PM She rolled over in her empty bed, sighing, plain white sleep shirt rising over the curve of her ass.

“Fuck!” She was going to be late to Miguel’s interrogation. Her phone had at least five missed calls from her brother and three messages from her boss, Miguel.

She braced herself for the angry man on the other line as she finally called him back, “Where the fuck are you, Nic?” Her brother’s voice coming through tight on the other side.

“Nestor, fucking relax. I just got up.” She admitted cringing at her words, hopping on one leg trying to put on her pants and talk to him at the same time. She stumbled over the mess of laundry she had on the floor of her room, kicking it to the side to deal with later.

“Hurry the fuck up. The guys are going to be here soon and I can’t have my right hand not show up.” He hangs up abruptly, not giving her a chance to respond. He could be so frustrating at times.

She looked at her outfit in the mirror before brushing her teeth and fixing her hair to look somewhat presentable.

She knew Miguel’s cartel dressed to the nines but, in all honesty, she couldn’t be bothered right now considering she was too late to pick out a decent outfit, going for a more laid back option.

2:35 PM She had a few more minutes before she had to show up, taking her chances, grabbing the keys to her Cadillac and running out the door. She stopped at their local Starbucks, the drive thru line surprisingly empty. Luck was definitely on her side today as she ordered her espresso and paid, downing the tiny cup in two gulps.

“Si tú me llama'. Nos vamo' pa' tu casa. Nos quedamo' en la cama. Sin pijama, sin pijama.” The radio played softly in the background, making her hum along; she came to a halt at the shady spot where people did not make it out alive most of the time.

It was three o’clock on the dot as she cursed under her breath, throwing her empty Starbucks cup on the ground and walking quickly into the building; her breathing never faltering thanks to her rigorous exercise routine.

“She’ll be here, Miguel, she was just running an errand for me—“ Nestor’s voice sounded as she rounded the corner, coming to a halt at the gate.

“I’m here.” She smiled, panting slightly, as twelve pairs of eyes landed on her. Some widened, others more dark as they looked at her from head to toe, eyeing her body. She walked past the men closest to the gate, the Mayans, excusing herself and making her way towards her boss.

Nestor shook his head, running a hand down his face as Miguel all but frowned at her. He had known her and Nestor since they were younger, always having their backs because he knew they always had his. Miguel smiled, pulling her in for a kiss on the cheek as she gladly accepted before flipping off her brother behind Miguel’s embrace.

“Gonna let me get one last fuck in before I die, Galindo? How fucking thoughtful of you.” A strangled voice seethed to her left as the room was stunned into dead silence now.

She bit her lip anxiously, closing her eyes, huffing quietly as Miguel held a firm grasp on her as not to let her interfere with what was going to happen next.

“Hijo de puta— what the fuck did you just say?” Nestor abandoned his position at the table of weapons altogether narrowing his eyes at the perpetrator, tied up to the pew and struggling to breath.

“Hermano—“ Her voice coming out small in the room full of men. She knew what he was about to do. The man on the wooden pew messed with the wrong Oceteva as realization dawned across his bloody face.

“That’s his sister?!” A muffled voice from one of the men in leather vests gasped before being shut up by another older gentleman.

“Please— I-I didn’t know! Please!” Nestor had already brought his gun to the traitor’s temple, pulling the trigger without hesitation. She flinched slightly as the man’s body lay limp on the seat, Nestor telling his men to clean up the mess.

“Sorry you had to hear that—“ Miguel apologized sincerely, patting the younger woman on the shoulder as she shrugged. She was used to seeing and hearing worse from men who thought she was just another easy girl, Nestor always coming to her defense when it did happen though. She’d always told him, “Nestor, I can handle myself.” Yet, he couldn’t help but be protective. She was his baby sister after all.

“It’s fine. What can I do for you, though?” She crossed her arms over her chest as she watched her brother’s movements behind Miguel. He was pissed the fuck off, to say the least.

“I’d like to introduce you to my newest hires.” He walked her over to the stunned men in the corner, who wouldn’t dare make eye contact with her. Hell, not after what just happened. She smiled tightly, despite wanting to roll her eyes at their sheepish behavior.

“They will be working with us, reporting back any suspicious activity going on that we may have missed. Although that is highly unlikely.” He stated matter of factly making her nod her head in agreement. “Gentlemen, this is Nicole Oceteva, Nestor’s second in command and his sister.” Miguel kept his naturally stoic posture as he introduced her.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Oceteva. We look forward to working with you.” She read the name tag of the person who had spoken to her, choosing his words carefully, Presidente.

“Please, call me Nicole.” She smiled warmly, sticking out her hand for him to shake. “I look forward to getting to know all of you.”

EZ furrowed his brows, eyeing her warily. How the hell had she been so comfortable after what just happened minutes ago?

“Bishop.” The older man returned her smile as he turned around to his crew and introduced them, “This is Riz, Taza, Tranq, Gilly.” He pauses to let them shake her hand hesitantly, “Coco, Angel, and EZ.” The younger looking Mayans more confident in stretching out their hands for her to shake.

She couldn’t take her eyes off of EZ as he had been introduced, his touch lingering the longest. She pulled away from his warm grasp on her hand immediately at the sound of her brother’s voice, “Nicole—“

Miguel let her go as he stayed behind, whispering something to the Mayans that had to do with business no doubt.

EZ had felt the same, he felt a spark run up his hand as soon as she had taken it. He knew she could sense it, too. He watched her walk away, the sway of her hips distracting him, until Miguel cleared his throat, nearly catching him staring.

“You didn’t need to do that, Nestor—“ She huffed as the dead body had been taken away seconds ago, eyeing the pew in which it once lay.

He scoffed, stubborn as ever, “Nah, he deserved it, trust me. Next time, you come here on time, even earlier than when I tell you, I don’t want you slipping up again, understand?” He looked down at her shorter frame, trying to intimidate her but he knew better than that.

“Mhmm.” She mocked. They both knew she probably wasn’t going to kick her habit because Miguel was too lenient when it came to her, he loved her like his own sister considering he never had one, she was the closest thing.

The Mayans were long gone by now as Miguel strode back to the siblings in his tailored suit.

“Everything okay?” Miguel scanned her face for any signs of distress as she nodded confidently, attempting to grab one of the guns from her brother’s array of weapons.

“Yes. How’s Emily? And my nephew?” She asked eagerly as Nestor slapped her hand away, making her pout and turn back to her boss.

“They’re doing well. Your nephew misses you, Nicole, don’t be a stranger. You are always welcome in our home. In fact, I have a charity event set up for this weekend, I would love for you to be there.” Miguel spoke as one of his men put on his suit jacket for him, straightening it out.

She contemplated her decision for a moment, tossing her hair to the side, “She’ll be there. I could use the help anyway.” Before she even had a chance to answer, her brother had spoken for her.

“Great. Saturday night, six o’clock sharp.” Smoothing down his collar, he turned on his heel and exited the building. She grinned politely until he was out of sight and then turned to frown at her brother.

“You’re not my lawyer, I don’t understand why you need to answer for me.” She stomped her foot like a child.

“When you start acting right, I’ll consider it.” Nestor huffed and fixed the holsters hanging under his arms.

“You literally embarrassed me in front of those guys! Three of which were so fucking cute!” She clenched her jaw tightly, wanting nothing more than to shove him into the wall for being so protective.

“Hey, watch your mouth.” He raised his eyebrows at her confession. “I won’t let you get involved with some lowlife who worships his bicycle.”

She could not believe how persistent her brother was, “Pretty sure they’re motorcycles. And next time don’t bother calling me when I’m running late. I’ll show up when I want to.” She turned away from him and strutted out of the stuffy room and into the daylight, Nestor hot on her heels.

“You stopped for coffee? Really, Nic?” He scoffed as he kicked the discarded paper cup towards her.

“I was thirsty!” She grumbled and slammed her car door shut, thanking God she didn’t have to see him until at least the night before Miguel’s gala. It’s not that they didn’t have a good relationship as brother and sister but he did manage to get on her nerves, a lot of the time.

She finally calmed down and put her car into reverse, backing out into the street, deciding on not heading home just yet. She made her way past the busy streets, traffic hitting hard at this time of the day. She finally got to where she wanted, pulling over into the designated parking spot.

She needed to find a decent dress for Saturday, she couldn’t show up in just anything. And if her favorite Mayan, at the moment, was going to be there Nicole definitely wanted to step up her game.

She was welcomed immediately into the air conditioned boutique, as the ladies had come to recognize her since the few times she’d shopped there with Emily.

“Nicole, what can we do for you?” The store manager smirked as she stalked towards her favorite customer. Nicole didn’t respond just yet as she eyed the rack of new dresses that hadn’t even been taken out of their plastic bags.

“Hmmm... I need a dress. Preferably long, preferably blue. Nothing too revealing but also, I don’t wanna look like a nun.” She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow as the staff scrambled to find her what she’d just described.

She took a seat on the plush sofa as they presented her dress after dress, flipping through them like pages of a magazine. Until one finally caught her eye, it was gorgeous right down to the detailing. It was the only one that had been on an actual mannequin.

“I’ll take it.” Nicole was floored by the way it looked on the mannequin and to be honest, she couldn’t wait to wear it. She’d have to find a way to conceal her thigh holster in it considering that the hip-high slit left little to be desired. Nestor was going to flip out, but she didn’t care. She wanted it more than anything.

“And it’s just your size. It was meant to be, Nicki.” The manager held her hand out greedily to take her credit card, swiping it and packing the dress neatly into a box, handing her the bag.

“Muchas gracias, chicas.” She blew them a kiss and walked out into the warm air of her town once again.

She couldn’t wait to get home to try on the dress, speeding off in the direction of her house. Nicole grabbed her belongings and headed inside, dead bolting her door and running down the hall to her room.

She stripped off her clothes leaving her in a black lace thong and her bra, taking the dress out and placing it up against her body, the smooth silk fabric rubbing against her skin softly. She slipped it on with ease, the fabric tightening at her waistline and flowing loosely down the back of her legs.

Nicole picked up her thigh holster, securing it around her thigh to test it, it would definitely not be concealed but she’d have to deal with the consequences if she wanted to wear this stunning piece. And she really did.

With a soft sigh, she took the dress off carefully, placing it back in its box for safe keeping.

Nicole walked down the hall to her spacious kitchen, preparing herself a bowl of pasta and sunk down into the couch to enjoy it. Before she knew it, she’d dozed off with the TV playing in the background, a small blanket draped over her body. ••• “You got a deathwish? Hey, EZ—“ Angel was fuming as his brother had pissed him off yet again.

“What?” The younger Reyes turned around abruptly, glaring at Angel.

“Don’t do it man, I saw that look in your eyes. Nestor’s sister, don’t fucking do it.” He warned him as Ezekiel scoffed loudly.

“What look? I didn’t do shit, Angel. Tranquillo.” He was getting defensive and Angel knew better than to press him. Not yet at least.

“She’s the competition. You never fuck the competition.” Coco piped up from his spot at the bar, downing his beer in a few quick sips.

“What do you know about competition, loco?” Gilly couldn’t help but comment.

“Matter fact, what do you know about fucking?” Angel waited for a reply from the Mayan, grunting amusedly when he didn’t get one, “That’s what I thought.”

“Blowing this out of proportion, as always.” EZ was beyond angered at the way they spoke about a woman they barely even knew. He wondered if she’d be there Saturday night.

They’d been invited to Miguel’s gala as a second pair of eyes and ears. Bishop hesitantly accepted since he knew it wouldn’t really be their scene but, they were desperate for money so they took the invite anyway.

EZ was tired from the day’s events, slipping out of the clubhouse, driving his bike all the way to his father’s, settling in for the night. ••• “Nicki! Open the door!” A loud banging on her front door interrupted her training session, pausing her music making her huff loudly running to answer it at the sound of her brother’s voice.

“What, Nestor?!” She swung the door open aggressively, wiping the sweat off of her brow and going back to her workout in the spare room.

He came in with two other guards she hadn’t seen before, she figured they were new hires considering the event was going to be packed with strangers and it was being held in Miguel’s own home.

Nestor held up a blueprint of the mansion to her face, “We need to go over the layout.”

She sighed loudly, stopping her assault on the punching bag and looking between him and the two new members, “I’m listening.”

“We keep it tight, secure, we have eyes and ears in every corner of the room, got it?” Nestor laid the paper flat on the desk in front of them, “This hallway right here has no cameras, it’s a weak spot, that’s where Nicole will be positioned. You two, front entrance, ID guests and make sure their names appear on the list.” He spoke aggressively, making sure his crew heard every word of the plan.

“This,” She motioned to the group, “Could’ve been a group FaceTime, Nestor, not a house visit.”

“That’s what I said.” One of the new guys snorted, earning a death stare from his boss.

She rolled her eyes at the way the man shut up immediately, apologizing to Nestor, not daring to look at him.

“Yes! Thank you, he gets it!“ She turned to the young man bold enough to speak back to her brother, “Don’t let him intimidate you.” She winked.

“That’s enough!” Nestor’s hand coming down harsh onto the wooden desk, crumpling up the blueprint, “I’ll see you on Saturday Nicole, and don’t be fucking late.” With that, he and his men left her home letting her get back to her activities.

She locked the door behind them, downing a water bottle, breathing quite heavily as she checked her phone for any new messages.

With a heavy sigh, she got up from the couch, heading for her shower to cool off. She needed to do her nails, picking a nice red color from her selection of nail polishes before stepping into the mist of water.

She washed off the sweat, shaving off the thin layer of stubble that had accumulated on her legs before doing the same to her underarms. She stepped out, drying off her body and applying some moisturizing cream, she sat at her vanity concentrating on shaping and filing her long nails perfectly.

Once she was pleased with the way they’d come out, she waited until they were dry to start touching anything. She needed to get her things ready for tomorrow evening.

She neatly folded her clothes and placed them in their respective drawers before tidying up her bed. She would have to be on high alert the whole night considering she had one of the weaker spots to guard. She picked out an outfit to wear for the remainder of the day, settling on a black shirt and a pair of cargo pants with sneakers.

She forgot that she promised her brother she would have dinner with him tonight, checking the time in order to start cooking something up to bring over to his place.

Dinner time rolled around, Nicole grabbing her belongings and heading over to Nestor’s. He didn’t live far, about fifteen minutes away by car; they used to live together until Nicole wanted to have her own space and Nestor his which was understandable.

“Qué pasó?” She smiled as he opened up the door to his lavish home, not a speck of dust anywhere.

“Hey. Thought you wouldn’t show.” He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek, ruffling her hair slightly and taking the glass tupperware from her hands.

“You ready for tomorrow night?” She spoke, setting up the island with two plates and utensils, uncovering her food. She hummed pleasantly as the smell filled her nostrils.

Nestor looked at her, “Yeah, we have everything secured. What are you wearin’?” He asked her around a mouthful of salad.

“A dress.” She tried to divert the attention to another subject, “You?”

“Okay, why’re you actin’ so weird? What color? Maybe I’ll match with you.” He laughed loudly at the disgusted look on her face, not that he was planning to match with her but it was funny to rile her up.

“Don’t even. People already think we look like twins, let's not give them another reason to add to the list.” She scoffed.

They wrapped up their dinner silently, getting comfortable on each end of one of his couches, watching whatever movie was playing on TV. The siblings enjoyed one another’s company, as much as they won’t admit it, because growing up they only really ever had each other.

It was getting dark out and Nicole really didn’t wanna be falling asleep at the wheel, calling it a night as Nestor walked her to the door, “See you tomorrow, hermana. Get home safe.”

Before she could respond, a knock at the door startled her as she looked at her brother with a curious expression, “You expecting someone?”

“Ah shit. It’s the bike riders.” He opened the door up, revealing the same men she’d seen yesterday, smiling at them over Nestor’s shoulder.

Her eyes scanned the group of them for EZ, not being able to tell who was who underneath their helmets and the fact that it was quite dark out.

“Nestor, can we talk?” Bishop spoke calmly. Nestor grunted a response, seeing his sister out in order to handle the business until she protested, wanting to hear what they had to say.

“Absolutely. What about?” Nicole stood at the doorway, questioning the older man. Bishop looked over his shoulder at his club, looking back to the siblings with a grin.

“Nicole— I excused you. You can go.” Nestor pointed his stare at her, motioning for her to leave.

She scoffed, raising her eyebrows, wanting so badly to argue with him right now but deciding not to, “Ugh. You’re fucking annoying, and don’t forget it. Goodbye.” She stomped her foot, huffing in frustration as Nestor snickered obnoxiously at her attitude.

“What did you want to talk about?” Nestor’s hushed voice sounded behind her.

She was barely watching where she was going as she headed to her car, catching herself before she bumped into a mass of muscle, “Excuse me.” She whispered harshly, looking up at the figure.

It was him. Her breath caught in her throat, she was flustered for the first time and if anyone knew Nicole, they knew she never got flustered that easily.

“Sorry.” EZ coughed, moving out of her way, a few snickers were heard behind him.

“No, don’t be. My fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” She bit her lip, watching him shift his eyes between her and her brother at the door who hadn’t noticed their interaction yet.

“All good.” EZ smiled down at her smaller frame, mentally face palming himself for his lame choice of words. All good? Really, Ezekiel?

“Well, have a goodnight. See you around.” Her eyes held a glimmer of hope that he’d return the same words.

“Yeah, see you around.” He breathed out, keeping his distance, just as Bishop had finished conversing with Nestor.

With that, she left the scene, hot and bothered, all eyes on her due to the interaction that just occurred. ••• Slipping on the beautiful silk fabric, she secured her gun to her thigh holster, trying to conceal it as best as she could; the thigh high split really brought attention to that part of her legs.

Nicole was almost ready to go, checking often to make sure her brother hadn’t arrived to pick her up yet. She made sure her purse had all of her essentials in it and put on one more coat of lip gloss just for safe measure. She figured she wasn’t going to get on Nestor’s nerves tonight considering it was a huge event and it was important to Miguel.

She slipped on her heels, making sure they were snug before heading down the hall slowly, adjusting her dress every now and then. Her hair flowed down her back, makeup kept to a minimum as not to overpower the color and details on her dress.

Nestor was outside with his men, honking once to signal his arrival just as she closed the door behind her and turned around, eyes following her every move to the waiting car.

“Where’s the rest of your dress?” Here he goes again. She rolled her eyes at his old fashioned thinking, flipping him off and settling into the passenger seat, smiling over her shoulder at two of their men who occupied the backseat.

“Not even a ‘Hi Nicole, how are you?’ ‘Oh, Nicole you look beautiful’.” She hit his shoulder.

Nestor scoffed, continuing to drive for another few minutes before pulling up to the lavish mansion. It was a quarter to six when they’d arrived and some guests had already begun populating the front yard, waiting to be checked by security.

She opened her door, swinging her legs out as elegantly as possible, trying not to catch the dress on anything. Her heels clicked on the pavement as she strutted past the front door with Nestor and his posse, winking to the two younger men who had been at her house the other day.

Miguel turned around upon hearing the doors open, “Que bonita. You look beautiful, as always.” He marveled at the young woman, pulling her in for a kiss on the cheek just as Emily emerged with her son on her hip.

“Nicole! Oh my goodness.” Emily gawked at her from head to toe, eyes wide as she took in what she was wearing.

“Hey! I missed you!” They hugged each other tightly.

Nicole placed a kiss on her nephew’s cheek as he smiled at her, “I cannot get enough of that face. Look how big you got!” She cooed.

The ladies had a lot to catch up on since the last time they’d seen each other, gossiping and laughing occasionally as guests poured in. Her eyes searching every now and again for the soft brown ones she’d grown accustomed to.

She kept a watchful eye out for that hallway Nestor had positioned her to, making sure no one went out of their sight of vision. After an hour of chatting with guests and receiving multiple compliments, and some stares due to her scandalous dress, he finally decided to show up.

Her breath caught in her throat as she turned around, facing the handsome man who wore all black and he looked damn good. She bit her lip absentmindedly as she watched him, easily slip through the crowd, not once leaving his club’s side.

“You’re drooling, hermana.” Nestor nudged her, smirking once he caught sight of who it was she was staring at.

She gasped, “Shut up.” Grumbling something under her breath, she turned around, taking a sip of her drink and conversing with the men at the bar. She threw her head back, laughing at a story, completely missing the fact that some scumbag was trying to talk her up. Though, the boys around the bar were quick to shut up, on guard as the sleeze made a scene.

“Beautiful body and easy access? I could have fun with you.” He slurred, bold enough to thrust his hand out to grab her exposed thigh.

She clenched her jaw, shocked that someone had the nerve to come up to her like this, looking around her at the stunned faces, the whole room going silent, as she turned around slowly catching the perp’s hand, twisting it back with a vengeance, moving her body out of the way to slam his head into the wooden bar, pulling him back by his hair as he groaned in pain, nose gushing blood.

“Not so fucking easy now, huh?” She seethed in his ear as she let go of him harshly, the man stumbling back nearly unconscious, guests moving out of the way to let him fall to the ground. He choked on his own tongue as the men behind her pulled him up, dragging his body outside.

“If this motherfucker got blood on my dress—“ She huffed silently checking the fabric for any signs of red spots. She sighed out of relief once she saw that her dress hadn’t been dirtied.

“You good?” Nestor came to her side immediately, making sure his sister was okay before proceeding to deal with the drunken bastard outside.

She smiled politely at the people still staring, making her way to the hallway that she was securing, knowing they wouldn’t know where she was. She needed a second to breath.

EZ had been watching though, the whole ordeal from the moment the man had made a bet with his buddy at the bar that he could land “that hot piece of ass” and it made his blood boil but he wasn’t going to make a scene. Her expression was deadly, he noted, as she turned around to face the bastard. He was stunned but kind of turned on at the fact that she was able to handle her own.

“Man, I wouldn’t wanna fuck with her.” Coco had commented next to him as they were taking the drunkard out of the room. EZ simply grinned, watching as Nicole composed herself and walked off, eyes following her body the whole way down a dark hallway.

“I’m gonna go find the bathroom.” He downed the rest of his drink, fixing his jacket as he stood, looking around discreetly making sure no one saw him follow her.

There they were, together, in a secluded corridor of Miguel’s mansion, tension at an all time high.

Her eyes had to be deceiving her as she gasped, looking at the man standing in front of her, “You lost?” She asked him, pretty eyes widening as he shook his head sheepishly.

“Nah, I’m right where I wanna be, actually. You okay? I saw what happened—“

She stepped closer, almost closing the space between them, heat radiating off both of their bodies, “I’m okay. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” She shrugged nonchalantly, meeting his gaze once again.

“Good. Just wanted to make sure.” EZ reached his hand out cautiously, holding her small jaw in his much larger hand tilting her head up, “You don’t deserve to be treated like that. I know, better than anyone, this is a man’s world, they’re intimidated by you, shit, most of my guys are too. You’re somethin’ else, Nicole.” He inched closer until she melted into him, lips pressing softly into hers.

He pulled away, realizing where he was, “Shit. I’m sorry.” But he wasn’t met with resistance, instead she pulled him back down by the lapels of his suit jacket, whimpering softly when she caught his lip with her teeth.

She pulled back breathlessly, panting slightly, lips swollen and wet, “Fuck me.” Her doe eyes looked up at him, tempting him to take her right then and there.

He groaned lowly, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, if he wasn’t hard two minutes ago, he was definitely rock hard now. His self control was slipping more and more as she took his hand, running it down her body to the thigh high slit that could make any man fall to his knees.

She watched him the whole time, even when she took his long, thick fingers and slid them past her holster and into the flimsy thong covering her pussy, his breath hitching slightly as he felt how fucking wet she was.

She shivered as he finally took control, swiping a finger up her slit collecting the sweet cum that pooled there, bringing his hand out and up to her waiting mouth as she sucked on his fingers, moaning softly around them, shooting a wave of pleasure straight to his cock.

He leaned down to press his lips to her temple, “Are you sure?” He asked her as she let go of his fingers with a pop.

“Yes, please.” She nodded her head waiting for his next move.

He shut his eyes for a second, breathing out, reveling in the way she spoke so politely. She was going to be the death of him, literally and figuratively.

EZ slowly backed her up to the wall, the molding digging into her back as she gasped, pressing his lips to hers once more desperately. He needed to feel her, to taste her right now.

He grunted as she pressed her hips into his, bringing her palm down to cup him through his black slacks, “Fuck, I been wanting this since the day I first saw you. You’re perfect.” He grinned softly at her as she stared up at him, wanting more.

“Then do it, EZ. Ruin me.” She tempted him. He didn’t need to hear anything else after that, eyes clouded with desire as he kneeled down in front of her, grabbing her left calf and placing it on one of his sturdy shoulders.

She literally felt like she was dreaming, she, like him, couldn’t believe this was happening right now. He nudged her clit over her thong, rubbing it till she whimpered for him, pulling down her thong harshly and spreading her lips with his fingers to his hungry gaze.

“Perfect. Everything about you is.” He hummed making her throb, pressing her head into the wall behind her as he leaned in, pressing his tongue flat to her pussy.

“Oh, fuck.” She was a mess above him and he’d barely even started. As per her request, he was definitely going to ruin her.

He licked at her clit, then fucked her with his tongue, adding a single finger to the equation, “That’s tight.” He growled against her, chin wet with her arousal as he continued his assault.

“Yes, yes, oh fuck.” She whimpered, barely catching her breath, the only sound in the hallway was that of her soaked cunt. Her ears were ringing, her vision nearly went black when he curled his finger against that one spot that made her dizzy.

She was dripping, making a mess on his face, and he couldn’t stop, her smell alone enticing him wanting to make her cum at least 4 times with just his mouth.

“Gonna cum?” He hummed, pressing deeper and rubbing her clit even faster as her body tightened and then spasmed without warning, her release covering his hand down to his wrist.

“Oh my god. You were fucking made for that.” She praises him, pulling him up for a searing kiss.

“I could barely get two fingers in you. So fucking tight.” He spoke against her mouth, biting her lip and letting it go making her giggle.

“I wanna return the favor. Please.” She spoke eagerly, cupping him through his pants again. He was huge, she could already tell and it excited her that much more.

“Nah, you don’t have to—“

“But I want to, EZ. I want you to fuck my mouth.” She pouted.

For the second time that night, he’d lost his cool, his desire for her overpowering his mind. She pulled him into the empty spare room that she knew all too well, having spent multiple sleepless nights in there when she had nowhere else to go, when Miguel was kind enough to help her out for a few months before she could stand on her own two feet.

“Woah— whose bed is this? I don’t wanna intrude.” EZ tugged on her hand, making her stop and explain.

“Don’t worry. It used to be mine. No one’s gonna find us, trust me.” She assured him as he eased up only slightly, the dreaded thought of someone catching them still in the back of his mind.

She kicked off her heels, hiking up her dress, getting onto the large bed, “EZ, relax. Wanna make you feel good.” She was level with his face now as she pulled him closer to her and made him sit back against the headboard.

Her eager hands undid his belt buckle and then his zipper, reaching a hand into the waistband of his boxers, feeling his cock pulsate under her touch.

“Fuck.” He grunted breathlessly, helping her pull him out all the way, pushing his pants and boxers down his thighs a little more.

“Shit. You’re big.” She gasped quietly, seeing him in all his glory, his cock fully erect and leaking cum at the tip. She took him into her hand, pumping slowly, biting her lip as she watched him struggle not to thrust into her hand.

He couldn’t take it anymore, beginning to push her head down gently towards his dick, “Gonna take me all the way in your throat? Fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”

Nicole let out a satisfied hum at his words, she licked a long line from the underside of his cock to the top, repeating the action again making the Mayan hiss at the divine feeling.

“Keep doing that, yeah, just like that— fuck.” He groaned sending a wave of heat straight to her pussy. As embarrassing as it was, she was wet again just from his words.

She tested the waters, delving deeper, licking and sucking, the slurping noises obscene in the darkness of the room.

He pushed her head down deeper, fingers threading through her hair as he guided her on his length, her tongue never ceasing.

“Mmmm, fuck.” He gasped, jaw going slack as he watched her incredible mouth take what she can of him, her hand doing the rest of the work at his base. He thrusted into her mouth making her gag lewdly around his tip, sending him over the edge for the first time.

She swallowed every last bit of his seed, wiping some spit at the side of her mouth. She unbuttoned his shirt quickly, wanting nothing more than to feel the abdominal muscles underneath and lick at his tanned skin.

She straddled his waist, careful not to step on her dress, the thigh high slit proving to be of use in this situation as she grinded down on his bare cock.

EZ palmed at her breast, pulling down the cup revealing to him a shiny metal bar pierced through the nipple, swiping a calloused thumb across it, making her arch into his rough touch, “So sexy. Wanna fuck you, make you mine, baby.” He licked at it, the coolness of the bar sending a shiver down his own spine.

She took it upon herself to grab at his cock, aligning him with her soaking wet hole, sinking down slowly as both their breathing nearly stopped at the sensation.

“Fuck, yes.” She whimpered as he adjusted his grip on her curvy hips, scrunching up her gown just enough to get a good hold on her to thrust upwards.

“Too fuckin’ tight, shit.” He struggled to catch his breath and bottom out at the same time, inching his way into her making sure she was comfortable enough. He finally bottomed out, staying still for a minute until she clenched around him deliciously, begging him to move.

She whimpered when he finally decided to give a little testing thrust upwards, his cock engulfed in her warm, wet pussy, never wanting to leave. She couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan, the feeling all too much for her to handle.

She grinded down on him one more time before he took matters into his own hands, ridding himself of his dress shirt and placing a chaste kiss to her swollen lips.

“Wanna get a better angle, mi amor— make sure you feel me.” He grunts, pulling himself painfully slowly out of her, leaving her to clench around nothing, her thighs burning.

He placed her legs to the side, helping her slide the dress down her body until it was all the way off, leaning his head down to kiss just above the soft skin of her navel.

She didn’t have a moment to compose herself before she was being coaxed down gently to her hands and knees, ass up in the air for his viewing pleasure.

“EZ, please—“ She let out a breathy moan as the cool air hit her most sensitive spot that he’d been in just a minute prior. He cursed, watching her pussy still clench around nothing and listening to her breathing pick up.

“I got you, sweetheart.” He promised her, placing a soft kiss to the bottom of her spine, making her shiver. She was dripping, her core pulsed with anticipation of what was going to come next from him.

He wrapped a calloused palm around each one of her thighs, spreading her for him, pumping his length once more before inserting himself into her. Her walls stretched to accommodate him, though he couldn’t see it, her face contorted in the pain and pleasure of it all. Her grip on the sheets below her tightened as he pulled her back onto him, making her hiss softly.

“Nicole— shit.” EZ grunted behind her, struggling to catch his breath as she clenched around him wanting him to move already.

He wrapped a hand around her hair, arching her back into him, and thrusted in and out of her tight heat. Her breath caught in her throat, choking on her words at the new position.

“Yes, baby, oh fuck!” She panted, barely able to form any other words.

Ezekiel let go of her hair, bringing his palm to rest against the column of her throat and squeezing a tiny bit, kissing the side of her cheek and groaning into her ear when he felt her pussy squeeze his cock as he’d done so.

Oh, so she was into that shit? Ezekiel smirked against her cheek, choking her just enough, bringing his other hand down to rub harsh circles into her clit. Her nails sunk into the wrist between her thighs when her body almost gave out, writhing with pleasure as he held her tightly against him.

“Don’t fucking stop— oh my god.” Her throat raw from the activities as she continued to meet his thrusts, feeling the swollen head of his dick press against her g-spot vigorously with every snap of his hips.

“Let go— cum for me, baby.” EZ sighed in her ear, the fingers on her sensitive clit never easing up. He felt her body tense, milking his cock for all it was worth as she came.

“Where the fuck did she go?” A muffled voice accompanied by footsteps sounded in the hallway.

“Shit—“ She was panting and gasping as she came down from her high but he had yet to find his own release.

“Can you stay quiet for me? Hmmm?” EZ whispered, pulling out of her swollen, dripping cunt and flipping her onto her back. She nodded wordlessly as he penetrated her once more.

“Feel so fucking good— wanna stay here forever with you.” The Mayan grunted, placing a kiss to the inside of her thigh, thrusts never slowing down as he chased his own orgasm.

She let a loud moan slip between her lips. EZ clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes rolled back as the tight feeling in the pit of her stomach returned. She was about to cum for the third time that night.

The snap of his hips began to get sloppier, eventually tempting him to pull out, thick white cum painting the lower half of her abdomen.

“Wow—“ She gasped softly before being cut off.

The door handle to the room they were currently using jiggled, his eyes flitting between her and the locked door. He huffed quietly, pulling on his boxer briefs and helping Nicole slip on her thong.

“EZ—“

“Ezekiel— my name’s Ezekiel.” He whispered, smiling at her.

“Ezekiel— I really enjoyed this. Us. And I don’t want it to be a one time thing—“ Her eyes held a glint of hope that he’d felt the same way.

“Yeah, me too.” He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her softly. Before they even had time to react, the door swung open harshly.

“Get the fuck out. Right now.” Nestor’s voice deadly as the two of them pulled away. She barely even had her dress on, grabbing the comforter off the bed and shielding herself from her brother’s view and the extra eyes behind him.

“Nestor wait—“ Her voice wavered, she couldn’t look him in the eye, especially not now.

“Nah— get fucking dressed. Party’s over.” Nestor seethed, glaring at the half naked man standing next to his sister, “I’m not done with you yet, puto.”

With that, he and his men left them to get dressed. Ezekiel shook his head, mind racing a thousand miles a minute.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” She sighed, wiping away the single tear that ran down her face.

“Hey, hold on, what’re you sorry for?” He took her jaw in his palm holding it gently and caressing the skin of her cheek, “Family is family. He’s always gonna worry about you, he’s your brother. Believe me, I know more than anyone.”

“I’m honestly surprised he didn’t shoot me—“ He chuckled lightly, trying to lighten the mood.

“I wouldn’t have let him.” She sniffled, shutting her eyes for a split second before composing herself.

“Oh, yeah? My protector, huh?” He smiled down at her, kissing the top of her head, taking her smaller hand in his and walking out of the room.

#ez reyes x oc #nicole oceteva #mayans mc #ez reyes smut #ez reyes #nestor oceteva #ezekiel reyes

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saxxxology · 4 years

Text

Cosmo Says - 2

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader WARNINGS: smut: p/v sex, oral sex, some dom/sub themes, eventual threesome, exploration of kinks, and more NOTE: Do not save or repost my work without my consent. I don’t tag for spoilers, so feel free to message me with any questions you have. This work is 18+ only.

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Sam’s phone buzzes in his pocket. Tugging it free, he unlocks the screen and goes right to the chat string. There’s a new message from you. Odd, considering you hate texting and would rather call than send a—

Oh.

> i’ve always thought about your cock ;)

His blood turns hot. It’s been a while since he’d gotten a text like this, the last time he’d done this sort of thing, he’d been left hanging and given up. That was a while ago.

In the four years you’ve been with them you’ve all seen each other in the near-nude quite a bit, after walking in on showers, clothing changes, sex, everything. He thinks ‘well, I've always thought about your tits’ as a silent reply, but changes it at the last minute.

< What about it?

Your little chat bubble pops up, wavering back and forth for several long seconds before a message finally pops up.

> how it looks. how it feels.

He chuckles to himself, ignoring Dean’s nagging “what is it” and attempt to lean over and get a peek at whatever’s amused his little brother. Dean only earns himself a muttered “fuck off” as Sam taps on the keyboard.

< You’re telling me this just now? Why?

> cosmo said sexting is good ;)

Ahhh, yes, of course. You’ve been indulging in that damn magazine again. Might as well entertain while he’s into it.

< On the road. Want a pic later?

> yes, please :)

He smirks to himself as his dick gives an interested twitch.

< Are you gonna treat me, too?

> if you’re good. drive safe.

“What was that about?”

Sam turns his phone over. His cheeks are bright red, he’s sure of it. “What was what?”

“Somethin’ got you happy,” Dean makes a grab for the phone, somehow keeps the Impala straight on the road, and misses as Sam yanks his device out of his brother’s reach.

“Fuck you,” he retorts, grinning despite himself.

“Was it Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “She okay?”

“She’s fine.” Sam clears his throat and stares out the window, trying to will his dick to stand down. He’s seen your tits on several occasions, the most notable being when he’d walked in on you touching yourself under the covers, rolling a nipple between your fingers with a hand apparently between your legs. The memory always comes to him when he needs it, and it never fails to do its job.

“Anything juicy?”

Sam’s throat goes dry. “What?”

“She got anything on the case,” Dean clarifies.

“Uh, no.” Sam makes a show of checking his phone again, as if you might have sent something relevant to their travels. “She, uh, just wanted to check in.”

Dean relents, but gives his brother a shifty look as they continue down the long, empty stretch of road.

They pull into a motel just after six. Dean sticks around long enough to drop his stuff, use the bathroom, and takes off for the closest bar. Sam takes advantage of the fact that he’s alone to throw the lock on the door and stretch out on his bed, phone in hand. The lure of privacy finally overwhelms him, and he shoves his jeans down his thighs, gathering his cock in one hand as he shoots you a message.

< Hey

You reply within seconds.

> what you got for me?

Sam grins and strokes himself firmly, getting himself hard and ready.

< Gimmie a minute

> can’t get it up?

< Feel free to help.

> mmm i can wait ;)

You’re relaxing in bed, phone in hand. Sam’s little chat bubble keeps popping up and dissapearing, and you can’t tell if he keeps fucking up the camera or not.

> I’m sending this on Snapchat

You roll your eyes. Of course, he’s paranoid about Dean getting into his phone.

< i’m waiting

After a good five minutes, a little yellow notification pops up on your screen. A thrill of excitement makes its way through your stomach, and you open the app and scroll to the fresh chat string.

Holy goddamn.

He’s thick and long, flushed dark and glistening at the tip. Gripping himself at the base, held between his thumb and index finger. He’s shaved clean, or waxed, and you feel heat swirl between your legs at the thought of what he might feel like inside you. A quick screenshot lights up your screen, and you smile when Sam’s text comes through.

> Screenshot? Really?

You giggle, typing back.

< i liked it. keep touching yourself.

> Wasn’t planning on stopping

< video?

> Hang on

You set your phone down to wait and quickly undress, getting comfortable on the bed as the anticipation builds. When another Snaptchat notification pops up, you slide a hand between your legs, teasing your clit as you open the video, volume on high.

“Oh, fuck…” Sam’s breathy moan echoes through the receiver as the camera focuses on his cock. His hand’s moving steadily up and down, twisting around the head. You lose yourself in it, watching closely as his abs tighten, hips moving up so he can fuck up into his fist.

The video only lasts a good fifteen seconds before it times out, and you let your head fall back onto the pillow as you try to process the heated glory of what you’ve witnessed.

> Enjoy?

You raise your phone up to type a quick reply.

< yes - more?

> Define more.

< i want to see you cum

The next ten minutes are filled with the sound of Sam’s moaning on repeat in your head as you stroke and touch and rub yourself. You won’t cum quite yet—you’re just amping yourself up.

When your phone vibrates, you’re quick to snatch it up and scroll to the new message.

It’s almost a minute of Sam just panting and grunting, the phone angled down by his hip so you can see his cock aimed up towards his stomach. His fingers tighten, loosen, pumping up and down until he lets go with a strangled grunt and several drawn-out sighs as he spurts thick, white ropes of cum onto his abs. The video cuts off before he’s truly done, but you’re left satisfied as you shoot him a text with trembling fingers.

< messy boy ;)

> Haha. Can I see you now? Please?

Such a gentleman.

< what do u want to see?

Sam takes a hot minute to wipe himself clean before replying. He knows exactly what he wants to see.

< How wet are you?

> really wet

< Show me.

He sits back against the headboard, breath held as he waits. As soon as the little chat notification pops up, he opens the image and lets out a long, drawn-out moan at the sight of your middle finger, shiny with slick and nestled between the bare lips of your pussy. He’s so engrossed in the image that he forgets to snap a screenshot and asks for a second.

You send it without question, this one where you’ve got two fingers pressed down over your clit and Sam can see the soft pink inside of your cunt, flushed and swollen and shiny…

< I want to be inside you so bad is all he can manage to text you as his cock gives a solid twitch.

> mmm maybe when u get back…

Sam’s mouth waters at the thought, and he’s halfway through typing a reply when you send a follow up that makes his cock perk up in his boxers.

> i bet cumming on your dick would feel real good

Sam rubs a palm over his thigh—he can’t remember the last time he got hard twice in a row…

< Are you touching yourself?

> yeah

< Show me.

He slides a hand inside his boxers, stroking slowly as he waits.

It’s well worth it: your legs are spread wide, two fingers swirling on your clit. He can see your cunt squeezing around nothing, and debates if it’s worth asking you to use one of the toys he knows you have.

< Good girl… make yourself cum for me.

The next video, like his, takes a while to come through. He continues to rub and stroke himself, more intent on alleviating the pressure between his legs rather than having another orgasm. He wonders how warm and tight you’d be on him��it’s been a while since he got his dick wet and he’d be lying if he said his jackoff sessions the last few weeks have totally not been drenched in thoughts of you riding him, grabbing at him and begging for him...

His phone buzzes, and he bites down on his lower lip as he opens the video.

Fucking. Hell.

It’s two minutes of your hips rolling, thighs trembling, moans changing in pitch and intensity. Sam pinpoints the exact moment when your orgasm peaks: you let out a long, high-pitched cry of pleasure as your body convulses, and he can tell that you’re fighting to keep your legs spread long enough for your shaky video to capture the rest of it.

By the time the recording ends, Sam’s ready to bust hands-free. He pulls his hand from his cock and replies, breathing through his nose as he fights to keep some form of self-control.

< Gorgeous.

> next time i cum, i want you inside me.

Sam groans, shifting uncomfortably as he types a reply.

< We’ll be back by the end of the week. Think you can wait that long?

> yes

< I wanna taste you.

> you can ;)

Sam licks his lower lip, desperate to find some relief. He needs a shower, anyway, he can take more time in there.

< Gonna clean up and get to bed. You all good back there?

> got cosmo to hold me down until u get back. send me a pic in the morning?

< Of what?

> you know. goodnight.

The rest of this work is available on Patreon for $3. Head on over and subscribe! If you want to be tagged, click here!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!!!

FOREVER TAGS: @atc74 @crashdevlin @defenderrosetyler @daughterofthenight117 @emberocrpblog @emoryhemsworth @ellen-reincarnated1967 @fangirl-and-medstudent-help @fandom-princess-forevermore @heartsaved @kittenofdoomage @kickingitwithkirk @lovelyrocker @lunarsaturn88 @mariekoukie6661 @mrswhozeewhatsis @neii3n @nellachain @percussiongirl2017 @ssworldofsw @squirrel-moose-winchester @sea040561 @sammysnaughtygirl @starsandasteroids @spnwoman @serpentbaby @thecleverdame @tumbler-tidbits @thelittleredwhocould @winecatsandpizza @zombiewerewolfqueen @85natalie @4won

#cosmo says...#sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam x reader x dean #sam x reader #dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #sam winchester x you #dean winchester x you #sam winchester reader insert #dean winchester reader insert

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whitecatindisguise · 4 years

Text

The Sundrop Alchemist (16)

Wohoo! Another chapter so soon??? Welp, what can I say? With the cliffhanger like that in the last chapter, I just NEEDED to write next one asap! So, here it is! Hope you guys like it!

Summary: The alchemy brothers have to face Donella, the woman more than ready to do anything to keep them from escaping.

TW: Donella, strangling, animal abuse, brief mentions of past injuries, death threats

AO3 link is here.

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Chapter 16: The Great Escape

Varian was frozen in fear, staring at Donella’s angered face. The woman looked between the alchemist in her grip and Hugo standing several steps away, all colour drained from the teen’s face.

“So you are betraying me, darling?” She asked, the calmness of her voice only adding to the tense atmosphere. Hugo flinched and stepped back, his green eyes darting between the door and the boy held by the woman.

“I-... What you’re doing is wrong!” The bespectacled teen argued, his voice trembling slightly. He was afraid, good. “He- Varian didn’t do anything to you! He doesn’t deserve this!”

“Are you undermining my methods, darling?” Donella raised an eyebrow and Hugo shrunk away.

“N-no. I mean-” The teen stuttered, trying to come up with an answer.

“I don’t understand, Hugo. All those years, I’ve been nothing but good for you.” The woman continued, staring down at him. “You had food, a place to live in, a job. Would you rather I left you on the street where I found you?”

“N-no! That’s not what I-!” Hugo tried to argue but Donella didn’t let him.

“And now you’re throwing it all away for him?” She pulled Varian closer, the boy crying out at the grip on his arm. “The boy you know only for several days? What is it about him that you even considered betraying me, hm?” She forcefully grabbed Varian’s chin with the other hand and squeezed it painfully.

Ruddiger let out an angered cry and launched at Donella, claws and teeth out. The woman rolled her eyes and in one quick movement released her grip on the boy’s chin, the other hand still holding his arm, and punched the animal away. The raccoon flew through the air and hit the wall, a pained chitter escaping his mouth.

“Ruddiger!” Varian cried and tried to run to his friend, only to be pulled away harshly by the strong grip on his arm.

“You are not going anywhere, Sundrop.” Donella hissed. “One way or another, I will get this power out of you. Even if I’ll have to use more… drastic measures.”

Varian’s breath stopped at the words, implications too obvious to miss them. He started to struggle more, pulling on his arm in an attempt to release the death grip. Donella clicked her tongue in annoyance and roughly pushed the boy at the closest wall, his back hitting the stones harshly. He cried out in pain, tears filling his eyes, when a gloved hand closed on his throat.

“Fine, we’ll do it your way, darling.” The woman snarled, pulling the boy up, so his feet won’t touch the floor, hand still clenched around his neck.

Varian struggled in the grip, his breathing becoming sharp and shallow. He desperately clawed at the gloved hand, trying to loosen the grip before it’s too late. The corners of his vision were already darkening, meaning there was not enough oxygen getting to his brain. His movements were slowing down but he wasn’t stopping. Stopping meant giving up. And he didn’t want to give up.

Suddenly, the grip on his neck disappeared and he fell to the floor, grasping for breath. His lungs burnt, vision was swimming, but he could breath. He noticed a bundle of grey scurry to his side and heard anxious chittering.

“M’fine, buddy.” He slurred, breathing heavily. He pushed himself up and against the wall, trying to focus on steadying his breathing.

The sounds of struggle caught his attention. Varian looked towards the source of the sounds and it took him a moment to understand what was going on.

It seemed Hugo had barrelled into Donella while she was strangling the younger alchemist, and now the two were locked in a fight on the floor. Right then, Donella launched a precise kick at Hugo’s stomach, the teen crying out in pain.

“Hugo!” Varian shouted, scrambling to his feet to help him.

“D-don’t, Goggles! Just run!” The bespectacled teen wheezed out. He had several bruises and cuts on his face, glasses dangling from one ear.

“I’m not leaving you here!” Varian argued and cried out when Donella launched herself at him.

“Neither of you are leaving this building!” She shouted, pushing the startled boy into the adjacent wall and reaching for the knife strapped to her hip.

Hugo let out a roar of anger and barrelled into the woman again, getting her off the long-haired boy. She growled angrily and in one swift movement she switched the sides, now Hugo being sprawled under the furious woman.

“I’ve had enough of your games, you insolent brat!” Donella shouted, a knife raised to strike. Hugo’s eyes widened in realisation, as he tried desperately to escape. The hand lowered and Hugo snapped his eyes close, awaiting the strike.

Surprisingly, it didn’t come. Instead, he heard a familiar SMACK and felt something heavy slam into his body. Startled, he opened his eyes to see Donella’s unconscious body sprawled on his own, and heavily panting Varian standing over them, frying pan in his hand.

“A-are you okay?” The blue-eyed boy asked and Hugo was never in his life more glad for Varian being there.

“Y-yeah.” The bespectacled boy replied after a second of shock and managed to push Donella off him. “I never thought I would be glad to hear that smacking sound.” He laughed and Varian gave him a sheepish smile.

“I… I just saw her over you, knife in her hand and I- reacted.” The blue-eyed boy explained, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“You saved my life, Goggles.” Hugo smiled and stood up, stealing a glance at the unconscious woman. “We’d better get out of here before she wakes up. Or someone comes to check what’s going on, since we weren’t exactly the most quiet about our little fight.”

“That’s- that’s a good idea.” Varian nodded and scooped Ruddiger into his arms, his satchel hanging on his shoulder.

They ran towards the door, Hugo checking if the coast outside was clear, before darting into the night. Varian didn’t know how long they were running, but the moon moved halfway through the sky by the time they finally stopped to take a breath. They slumped to the grass, breathing heavily.

“So- so what now?” Varian finally asked, as his breathing calmed enough to let him say the whole sentence without wheezing. He moved his head to look at Hugo, laying on the grass next to him.

“I… I don’t know.” The bespectacled teen replied, staring at the sky above them. “I haven’t really planned that much forward.”

Varian hummed in response and looked up at the stars again. So much has happened since he left the tower. He wasn’t even sure how much time had passed when he was in that dark cell. But it didn’t matter anyway, Mother is going to be furious once he comes back, one way or another. There is no way he could explain his injuries as failed experiments. She wouldn’t believe him, especially with how long he was absent. Talking about that-

“Hey, Hugo?” He called out, moving his head once again to look at the teen. He heard a questioning hum and continued. “How long was I-?”

Hugo tensed at the implication of the question but answered nevertheless.

“A week.” He said, his tone sad. He sighed and turned to face the boy. “I’m sorry, Blondie. It’s all my fault. The capture… and everything.”

“I don’t blame you.” Varian shook his head and smiled. “You still helped me escape. And you treated my arm.”

“Which wouldn’t even happen if I didn’t come to your tower.” Hugo mumbled and Varian pushed himself up on his elbow, facing the teen properly.

“You said so yourself, Donella wanted my powers. If she wouldn’t send you, she would somebody else.” He argued, and smiled again. “And, despite everything that happened, I’m glad she chose you. I know I must have been a handful, with all my crazy ideas, dream-talking, babbling about alchemy and everything. But you still held up to your part of the deal and made this trip memorable. I… You’re like a brother I never had, Hugo.”

“A-and you’re like a brother to me, Goggles.” Hugo finally smiled back.

From behind the trees, two men observed the whole scene. They looked at Hugo and grinned maliciously.

“Time for some payback, McCoy.” One of them said and they both laughed silently.

------

Donella Smack Count: 1 (Let’s be honest, she deserved that one.)

So that officially ends Donella Arc. But the boys are not in the clear yet. What else is there for them, I wonder...?

#varian #hugo #donella #ruddiger #the sundrop alchemist #the boys finally escape the mad woman #but are they really safe yet?#tw: donella #tw: strangling #tw: death threats #tw: animal abuse #tw: brief mention of past injuries #donella smack count #alchemy brothers #kitty mom writes

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megalony · 4 years

Text

Second chances- Part 3

This is the latest part in my Billy/ Four series which I hope everyone is enjoying so far.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy

Series taglist: @multi-fandom-iimagines @dreashappyworld

Summary: (Y/n) believes being in the group is her second chance and Billy starts to believe it was his chance too as it brought (Y/n) into his life. But their newest mission is far from easy.

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"He's been under for one minute thirty, he's gonna drown." Seven whispered the words through his mic as he closed one eye, concentrating on the image across from him that was becoming increasingly worrying.

The longer he stared at Billy, the more worried he became because Billy was not a professional diver or swimmer. He wasn't trained on how to hold his breath for long periods of time and if he reached the two-minute marker he was going to pass out under the water and it would lead to him drowning.

Pressing his hands against the glass wall of the pool he was submerged under, Billy tried to see through the chlorinated water that was stinging at his eyes. He couldn't see where Seven was, nor could he properly see the building across from the one he was now on top of. Pushing himself an inch or two away from the glass, Billy fumbled with his dwindling energy and reached behind the vest and jumper he was wearing. His fingers tightly latched around the bullet he felt hanging there and he clenched it in his hand before he closed his eyes.

Billy didn't believe in luck and he didn't believe that praying ever did any good but right now he had to believe in something. This mission was already becoming a shitshow like Florence was and Billy had felt like he needed something back then to ground him.

The bullet around his neck was enough right now to make him calmer as he didn't bother to try and pray in his head or beg for his life. He simply pictured (Y/n) standing in front of him with that smile that simply made him want to trap her in his arms and kiss the life out of her.

"Four, move to the right."

Forcing his eyes open, Billy swam over to the pointed corner of the pool and wedged himself there, unsure what Seven was going to try and do. Realisation flooded through Billy when he heard the noise of the glass breaking and saw a familiar dark golden circle swim through the water. Pushing himself over, Billy pressed his lips to the crack in the glass, his head swimming too when he felt the much-needed oxygen flooding through his body and getting to his brain.

Letting go of the bullet hanging beneath his clothing, he pressed both hands to the glass as he took in enough oxygen he needed before pushing himself away from the wall when Seven told him the coast was clear.

Maybe there was some kind of luck to the bullet after all.

Getting out of the pool, Billy didn't care about the water dripping down his frame as he started to clip himself up to the wire so he could climb down the side of the building and stick the speakers to the glass so they would shatter. He had a head for heights, he kind of had to since he was the skywalker of the group but it didn't stop the nerves from shooting through him at the knowledge he was ninety stories high. The last time he was high up, clinging to the side of a building like this, he fell.

"One, I don't like this. There's more people coming up the stairs." (Y/n) whispered her words into her mic as she tore the gas mask from her face, not needing it anymore.

She pressed her back up against a bookcase with Three standing by her side, the effects of the laughing gas seemingly wearing out of his system now. There were only meant to be seven people guarding the president's brother but there had been at least twelve people they had taken out so far. And (Y/n) could hear more footsteps approaching from the stairwell. They had five more minutes until the police got here and they couldn't get back downstairs yet with all the armed guards trying to get to them.

This was supposed to be a quick in and out mission.

Get the brother, get him in the zipline and get out again but it was looking like they wouldn't be able to get out.

"I don't know where they're all coming from. Change of plans, both of you just get to the roof with Four and get on that line and get out." One couldn't risk losing anyone else on the team and he couldn't tell them to go all the way downstairs to get to the car Five was going to get ready. They would have to use the line and get to the next building and escape that way.

The moment the doors opened and a flurry of guards speeded in, (Y/n) nodded at Three. The pair of them pushed off the bookcase and started hurrying out of the small corner they had hidden away in.

(Y/n) was thankful she had put padding on her shoulder because the rather large rifle she had in her hands was pressing down on her shoulder which would create a bruise if she didn't have the extra fabric pressed under her shirt. A hiss escaped her lips when she hit one of the four statues lined up instead of a target but she soon made up for the error, sending the man smashing against the window behind him which ended with an oddly shaped splatter of blood decorating the glass.

Ducking down behind a pillar, (Y/n) threw the rifle to the side and swapped it for a handgun she had strapped to her holster on her thigh. She counted under her breath before crouching over and running from her hiding spot, sending three bullets at two targets before she managed to get to the stairs.

Her body curled up against the silver bannister as she glanced her eyes around for Three who was almost with her.

When the taller man reached her, (Y/n) spun around and started heading up the stairs, aiming her gun and firing within a second when she saw a target running down the stairs towards them. Three hurried ahead and took the lead but when he got near the top of the stairs, he and (Y/n) both stopped to listen to what Seven was talking about.

"I've got a very bad idea."

"No, no only good ideas please." One was quick to respond but even he knew that they were open for any suggestions right now because they were running out of options. They were being surrounded and it looked like their exit was going to be smothered any moment now.

"I'm open for anything, Seven do it." (Y/n) responded as she looked at Three who nodded.

"This is another shitshow, let's wrap it up quickly." Billy nodded his head at (Y/n) when he caught her eye, the president's brother close behind him as Billy had his hand scrunched up in the man's shirt to stop him from trying to run away. This was going south very quickly, whatever ideas they could have would be accepted by everyone.

"Okay, everyone grab hold of something."

(Y/n)'s eyes narrowed as she turned her head to look at Three but he didn't know what the idea was either. But the moment a rather loud, creaking sound erupted in their ears, they found themselves looking upwards towards the roof that they were so close to. Three peered up the last few steps into the night sky but he felt unable to catch a breath when he heard the glass of the swimming pool beginning to shatter from the number of fractures it was receiving.

"Holy fuck." (Y/n) felt her voice wavering as Three turned to face her and motioned with his hands for her to move rapidly. He started bounding down the stairs towards her as the unmistakable sound of water seemed to run up behind them.

A gasp left (Y/n)'s lips as both she and Three reached their arms out the moment they leapt off the fifth step. Their hands latched around the rectangular lights hanging from the ceiling as (Y/n) brought her legs up to try and wrap them around the light for added security. Her eyes managed to see Billy grabbing the target's hands and pressing them to the bannister before he did the same, holding onto one of the silver poles as he moved into a crouching position to keep himself stable.

Billy and the target were tucked into a rather neat corner so when the water hit, they wouldn't be in the middle of things.

A scream left (Y/n)'s lips as she felt the water suddenly licking at her heels before it fell like a brick wall right into her back. The momentum it held was something she had never felt before and she thought for a moment that the light fitting was surely going to break from her weight and the force and pressure of the water.

The sound of the gushing river pelted through her ears as it soaked over her and flooded beneath her feet. When she managed to open her eyes, (Y/n) saw everyone in the water's stride was getting pulled under and taken wherever the water wanted to go.

Breathing was a very hard task to come by at this point when before it had been a task (Y/n) never had to think about. She tried to keep her legs around the light fitting she was gripping to but her bad hip was straining from the position and the force of the water so she dropped her legs so she was simply hanging by her hands. Anxiety fluttered in her chest like a swarm of butterflies as she wondered how much water had been in that pool for it to be lasting this long. The stairs were no longer stairs, they were the formations of a waterfall that seemed to have an endless supply of water.

Another scream tore from (Y/n)'s lips but for a completely different reason. One of the men being taken out by the water either tried to aim his gun for the light fitting she and Three were hanging from or he simply pulled the trigger by mistake.

Either way, the unmistakable feeling of a bullet scraped past (Y/n)'s bad hip like a flash of lightning. The pressure from the water and the pain from the bullet caused (Y/n) to lose her grip on the light she was clinging to for dear life. A strangled gasp left (Y/n)'s lips as her body bashed into the counter below her before the water took hold of her like vines wrapping around her body and taking control.

(Y/n) spluttered through the water to try and keep her head above the tide so she could breathe which became easier when she started to move as the water thinned out. But there was nothing to cling on to, everything was too slippery and there was nothing stable that could hold her weight in place. Her eyes found Billy's as she scrambled to slow herself down or grab onto something but she couldn't do more than flail her arms around in distress.

Billy couldn't breathe.

He found his body burning against the cold water licking at his skin and his features growing hot and red from the fire that was burning inside him. He couldn't let go of the bannister and risk washing out of the building himself and (Y/n) was too far away for him to reach her or even try and help her. So he did the only thing he could think of.

He grabbed the bullet hanging around his neck and punctured it into the palm of his hand from the force he was holding it with.

He muttered 'second chance' to himself over and over like it was a chant that he had to make himself believe or he would go mad. His eyes watched (Y/n) intently with such a blaze of worry that he was almost looking through her.

Scanning her eyes around desperately, (Y/n) saw she was heading for the window that had no glass anymore from the objects and people that had been washed up against it and broken the glass away. Turning herself so she was laying on her side, (Y/n) stretched her arms out and held her breath in her lungs. Her gloved hands latched onto the pillar that was missing the glass to hold as she felt like she was flying when her legs and lower half suddenly propelled out of the hotel.

She could feel the air trying to hold her up but if all of her weight went out it would let her sink through its layers until she reached the ground.

Tightening her hands because of the water, (Y/n) swung around and twisted her hands as she felt her legs hit through the other empty windowpane and land on the concrete floor. She quickly pulled her legs up to her stomach and curled her body up against the small metal pillar that she clung to as the rest of the water washed past her like it no longer held any interest in her.

Billy let out a breath of utter relief when he saw (Y/n) fly around the outside before swinging herself back inside. When he saw she was safely curled up, he let out the breath he had trapped in his lungs and loosened his grip on the bullet that he knew had to have some sort of luck in it.

"You drowned the team." One muttered as he shook his head in disbelief, wondering how on Earth the team managed to survive through Seven's suicide mission.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What do you mean you're leaving the team?" There was a tone of disbelief in One's voice as he scoffed like she had just told him a lie that he could see right through.

"Take a guess, jackass." (Y/n) snapped back as she leaned her head to the side, an unamused and very irritated expression on her face as she felt herself deflating like a popped balloon. There was really only one thing that (Y/n) could mean by saying she wanted to leave the team so either One was having a very stupid moment here or he was simply refusing to believe what she was telling him.

"And where are you going, what will you do? I hate to have to remind you but you don't have an identity anymore. You can't go back into the world without one." His words rung true but they failed in comparison to what it meant by staying in the team if things weren't going to change.

(Y/n) didn't want to be apart of something that would leave someone behind at the first sign of danger. She couldn't be part of this team that didn't value anyone and didn't care or even have respect for them. This was not how things should be and (Y/n) would rather face the world again without her identity than risk spending the rest of her life in this dysfunctional group.

"You can if you know the right people." (Y/n) retorted, but her words weren't as fuelled as her previous ones had been. She knew it would be relatively easy to create a new life for herself, she was just not in the mood for an argument she knew was going to take place.

"Why give everything up to just quit now? We've all given our lives up, Two. We all knew what we were walking into, you think because things get hard it will be easy to walk away?" One threw his arms out at his sides as he couldn't understand her logic. He had given his life up as well, they had all thrown their lives away to do this and they all knew it would be hard. (Y/n) knew like the rest of them that doing this meant there was almost no chance of getting a normal life or leaving this without actually dying.

"I'll tell you why. I walked into this thinking that if I was in some sort of danger, you all would have my back. I thought that if I got into trouble, no worries, I've got five other idiots around to help me but no. We all follow you're fucking rules and you say that if someone is in danger, then fuck them. Leave them like they're already dead and just keep on walking. Well guess what, I don't roll that way."

(Y/n) shouted the words before pressing her hand into his chest and shoving him away from her.

(Y/n) thought that this was a proper team, a proper family that she was joining but it wasn't. It was a group ruled by a jackass who decided that instead of helping one of their own, they would leave them to perish and act like they never existed. He thought that giving everyone a number and degrading them to simply a number and a status such as Doctor or Skywalker was enough. He thought that was fine and taking away their humanity was okay because they were doing something good.

But they were still alive, they were still people and they still deserved to talk and act like they were human beings. And they deserved to be helped by the other people on their team that they were meant to trust.

"It's for safety-"

"I don't give a shit, One! If Five falls, I will help her up. If you are trapped I will go back and save your ass. And if Four is being beaten to a pulp on top of a building I expect you to stop the bloody car and help him because this is what we do. You say we need everyone on the team to do this mission but you act like we are all replaceable and that is not right. I'm not being a part of a group that has no morals but a hell of a lot of rules that make no sense. If you don't have my back, I'm not joining in and being expected to have yours."

One was the person who was acting like they were all replaceable but they weren't. There were not many other people in the world that would give up their lives to join a suicide mission like this. They were all needed and leaving someone for dead wasn't the way to go about things.

If he didn't value their safety or have the compassion to go back for his team then (Y/n) was not going to be part of a team and be expected to respect and help One. She was not letting him act like Kingpin and the top man when his rules were not there to keep them safe, they were there to stop minor complications that were not life-threatening or threats to the mission.

"She's right." Billy folded his arms over his chest as he finally lifted his head and looked over at One who simply rolled his eyes.

"You don't have to be grateful to her-"

"No, he should be grateful to me for saving his ass. What's the point in doing this together if we're not allowed to help each other out? You've got us pitted against each other to the point we may as well be doing this on our own because we only share the same plan, other than that we fend for ourselves and you know it. I'm with her, if you don't change things we'll walk." Seven spoke up despite the welling anxiety in his chest.

He had shot the man attacking Billy and had stopped the car when (Y/n) shouted at him to do so and to wait and help Billy. He had been in the military and that was a family. They went back for each other and they helped each other out, he wasn't being a part of this if the same rules didn't apply.

One sighed, tipping his head down as he knew whatever he said was going to be shot down.

"Alright, fine. What do you want to change?"

#ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy imagine #imagine #four #billy x reader #billy #six underground #six underground imagine #second chances

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mycatshuman · 5 years

Text

I Put A Spell On You

All Hallows Eve

Pairings: eventual prinxiety, logicality, Remile

Warnings: talk of bad break up and bad ex, please let me know if I missed any.

Thank you so so much to @civilsounds17 and @icequeenoriginal if it weren't for you two fabulous people, this probably wouldn't exist outside of Google docks. Thank you. 💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💜💜💜💜💜💜

Please forgive me for not having the read more. The mobile thing isn't working for me and I have no way to a desktop version.

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Salem, Massachusetts, 2019

An older woman in black steps through the aisles of desks as her students listen to her tale. "And so, the Sanderson brothers were hanged by the Salem town folk. And now, there are those who say that on Halloween night, two black cats still guard the old Sanderson house. Warning off any who might make the witches come back from the dead." The teacher threw a handful of plastic spiders at a student in front of Roman Prince. The student shrieked before the class dissolved into giggles.

Roman scoffed. "Give me a break."

The teacher raised an eyebrow. "Do we have a skeptic in our midst?" She asked

Roman rolled his eyes. "Halloween is nothing but a holiday invented by the candy companies to earn more money. It's all a conspiracy."

Now normally, Roman would be all for Halloween, but due to a recent event that had him crying to sleep most nights, he was all too grumpy and hurt to properly get excited for the spooky holiday.

"It just so happens that Halloween is based on the ancient feast known as All Hallow's Eve. It's said to be the one night a year where the spirits of the dead can return to Earth," a young teen, wearing a soft cream-colored sweater corrected. Emile Picani. Roman groaned. He loved his friend. He did! And he really appreciated his friend trying to cheer him up with some knowledge on one of his favorite holidays, but at this moment he really couldn't deal with it. He was just too down in the dumps. He really shouldn't let it affect him. He should be happy and bright, but he just couldn't find it in himself.

"Whatever."

The bell rang and teenagers filed out of the classroom. Emile grabbed his things and then waited for Roman to gather his stuff before they both left the classroom to meet up with Patton.

They found their cheery friend outside waiting for them underneath one of the tall trees outside of the high school. The two friends watched as an orange leaf floated down and landed in Patton's curly auburn hair. Roman let a small smile spread across his face at the sight of his friend with a leaf in his hair. The two friends walked up to stand by Patton as he finished a conversation with someone in his cooking class. Once he was done and the other person left, Patton turned to his friends with a smile.

"Hey, guys! How was Miss Dennison's class?" The bubbly teen pushed up his circular glasses and pulled his grey cardigan tighter around himself to offer some protection against the crisp fall air.

Emile shot a glance towards Roman, his warm brown eyes twinkling with concern. "Well, she told the story about the Sanderson Brothers. So that was nice." He left out the part about Roman's "outburst", unsure if whether or not he should mention it. The three set off towards their neighborhood. Their feet crunching on random leaves as they walked down the sidewalk.

Roman sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He suddenly felt incredibly guilty. He dropped his arm and shoved his hands in the pockets of his letterman jacket. "Hey, Emile," he called softly, his friend in question turned his attention to him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so grumpy."

Emile gave his friend an empathic smile. "It's okay, Roman. I know you're feeling a little down."

The elephant in the room made Patton grimace. The knowledge of his friend hurting made unpleasant emotions storm his mind.

He forced a smile on his face. "So, what are we doing for Halloween tonight?" He asked, trying to change the subject.

Roman bit his lip. "I don't think I want to do anything tonight."

"What?!?!" Both Emile and Patton exclaimed, shock evident on their faces, Halloween was one of their friend’s favorite holidays.

Roman shrugged and looked away as they walked along the sidewalk. Young children in costumes ran by excitedly on their hunt for candy in the late daylight. "I just want to get my homework done before the weekend."

Emile and Patton shared a look as they followed after Roman. "But you love Halloween. You always have the best costumes."

"You always spend months planning and working on your costumes. So why....?"

Roman's shoulders hunched up by his ears and he pulled on his jacket sleeves. "Well, I just wanted to be mature, you know." Roman picked at the red and gold stripes of his jacket. He forced down the lump in his throat. "I-I mean, Matt didn't like that I was so immature. He was tired of the singing and dancing and childish movies. That's why he left so I just thought that I should probably grow up if I ever wanted to actually be able to be romanced." He forced his line of sight on a distant tree to avoid the sympathetic looks from his friends.

Emile bit his lip as he tried to come to a decision on how to approach this conversation. Meanwhile, Patton was fuming. He half wanted to strangle Roman's ex. How dare he make his best friend feel this way?!?! It made him so mad and upset. He let out a silent huff of breath. After taking a deep breath to slowly calm down, he took a few moments to think up a plan. Then he rushed forward to catch up with his friend and walk beside Roman. "Hey! I have an idea!" Roman raised an eyebrow as he shot a glance towards Patton, Emile sharing a similar expression.

"What is it?" Emile asked.

Patton began to physically vibrate as he held in a squeal, building up the excitement. "Come on Patton? Share with the class." Roman chuckled, thankful for the distraction.

"We should go to the Sanderson House!" He burst out energetically. His friends raised an eyebrow in sync.

"Why?"

"The kitties! What if they're there!!" He squealed. Roman snorted.

"But you're allergic," Emile said.

"No one can stop me."

Roman scoffed. "You wouldn't go alone, there could be spiders."

Patton shivered, the cool autumn air not being the cause but certainly not helping him. "Mm. While the idea of the creepy-crawly death dealers is scary, I still want to see if the cats are there."

Roman rolled his eyes. "I highly doubt that the 'brothers turned cats' are there, Patton."

"It's scientifically impossible," Emile added once he caught up. "But, it does sound very appealing."

"You too, Emile?" Roman asked.

Emile grinned. "Hey, cats are worth everything."

Roman rolled his eyes. "Alright, yeah, let’s go to the Sanderson house tonight. Sounds fun. Sounds dangerous. Let's go!" He exclaimed as they finally entered their neighborhood. "When are we going?"

Patton shrugged and pulled out a bag of trail mix and began munching on his snack. "Sometime tonight. I guess." He munched on his food thoughtfully for a few moments, deciding the best way to approach the subject he was about to bring up. "So, are you going to dress up?"

Roman bit his lip. "I guess I could throw something together real quick if you wanted me to."

Patton nodded and Emile let out a soft breath. "I'm going as a Dad."

Roman nodded. "Interesting. Why?"

Patton shrugged. "I don't know, just sounded like a good excuse to use a bunch of puns."

Emile nodded. "Sounds nice. I'm going as a therapist." He fixed his glasses smiling brightly.

"These are things you guys actually want to be, why dress up like them?" Roman asked.

His friends shrugged. "Well, we want to see if it actually makes us happy."

Roman nodded absently. His thoughts trailing off towards what he could possibly do for a costume in just a few hours. Soon enough they came to his house. He waved goodbye to his friends and rushed inside and up the stairs to his bedroom as fast as possible before bursting through his door and dropping his backpack on the floor. He shut his door and leaned back against it, resting his head as he let out a deep sigh. He took a glance around and felt his heart twist painfully.

Roman used to like his room. There were Disney posters everywhere. And there were musical posters and playbills pinned to every surface. There were stuffed animals on the bed, a sewing machine on the desk, complete with a box of fabric sitting underneath. That's how his room looked when he first got together with Matt. And that's how it looked through their whole relationship. Unfortunately, it was the same room they had their breakup fight in. All Roman had asked was if they could watch Moana. Then Matt exploded, calling him immature and childish because of all the things he did and enjoyed. Then he left. And Roman was left alone in his room that was too childish for his first boyfriend. After a few hours of crying Roman had ripped the posters and playbills off the walls and shoved them on a shelf in his closet. He shoved the stuffed animals, sewing machine, and fabrics behind his clothes in the closet.

He hardly opened his closest anymore. He grabbed most of his clothes from his dresser. He didn't like his room anymore. It was so bare. So, boring. He didn't like being in his room anymore. He glanced towards the closed doors on the opposite side of his room and bit his lip. He suddenly remembered what he had been working on before his boyfriend had come in to break up with him. He inched over to the doors and braced himself to open them. He whipped open the doors and found all of his favorite things sitting neglected in boxes.

He kneeled down and dragged out one of the boxes and began shifting around and then his hands closed around a piece of white fabric. He pulled it out and felt a tingle in his fingers as he spread out the mostly finished costume and felt his lips twitch slightly. He set the costume on the floor before pulling out the rest of what he needed. He suddenly felt a little more excited about tonight. It would be nice to get out of the house. Sort of like an adventure.

Roman smiled as he set to work finishing his costume. He had the eerie feeling that this was an adventure that was going to change his life. For better or worse, he had no idea what it would be. He just hoped it would be for the better.

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Taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist

If you wish to be added or taken off, please let me know.

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riverdalepoet · 4 years

Text

You’re Not So Bad Yourself

Sweet Pea and OC Fic

Written as a gift for the amazing @cactiem as part of the @southsidearchive ‘s event A Very Merry Hissmas Secret Santa Fic Exchange. I had so much fun writing this little piece and hope you enjoy reading it!!!

Word Count: 2606

Summary: Sweet Pea and Reese never saw eye to eye, but when Sweets is put in charge of her security detail, will that change?

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“What the hell do you mean, no other choice?” I raved, pacing in front of FP and Jughead while Sweet Pea stayed behind them with crossed arms.

“Exactly what I said, Reese,” FP shot back. “The Ghoulies have a price on your head after that stunt you pulled at the Quarry. If we’re going to keep you safe, someone has to be with you at all times. Sweet Pea has the night shift. He is staying with you and that’s final.”

I stopped my frenzied movements, daring to glance back at the stone faced Serpent they were speaking of. One look at his icy expression had me turning back to answer my leaders. “It’s not my fault. They shouldn’t have talked to me like that,” I whispered, earning a chuckle from all three Serpents.

“You broke Malachi’s arm, slugger. Did you expect them to forget that?” Jughead scoffed, joining Sweet Pea by the fire. “It was bold, I’ll give you that, but you can’t fight them alone; not now. Let us help you.”

Sweet Pea’s smirk caught my attention and I held his gaze, daring him to make fun of me. We had known each other our entire lives, but could never quite master the art of civil conversation. Sweet Pea ignored my weak attempt at intimidation all together and laughed, “That I would’ve paid to see.”

I flipped him the bird in retaliation, refusing to look at his smug face.

Despite my urge to argue, I took a minute to think their offer over. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I barely got away from the Ghouls that night, and that was before they were after revenge. Truthfully, I had been worried about what might happen if they caught me. This morning was too close of a call. Having Sweet Pea there with me would be annoying and we’d probably fight a hundred times before morning, but for some reason it made me feel safer, so I reluctantly agreed to the Joneses plan.

“Princess, you made the right choice. We’re going to have a great time,” Sweet Pea murmured in my ear as he followed me to where his bike was parked. I reached back to smack his shoulder, disgust evident on my face.

“Disgusting pig,” I muttered stopping in front of his motorcycle.

“Annoying hard ass,” he shot back straddling the seat and shoving his helmet in my direction. “Your place or mine?” As much as I longed for the comfort of my bed, my instincts were screaming against it.

Sweet Pea huffed as I thought it over, shifting his balance from one leg to the other. He never did like to be kept waiting, and the cold did nothing to help his patience. “Any day now, princess!”

I bit back the insult that was hiding just behind my teeth and answered him sheepishly, climbing on the bike behind him, “I think we better go with yours. It’s possible that they might know where I live.”

Immediately, Sweets went rigid, turning his head to eye me suspiciously. “Yeah, Jughead told me that. But I’m curious. How, pray tell, would they have figured that out?”

I hid my head behind his shoulder, hoping to miss the judging look that was sure to follow my explanation. “Because I might have hooked up with Mordecai last summer at my house.”

“His brother? Do you have a death wish? You must.” Sweet Pea immediately got off the bike to face me with his eyes matching the fire in his voice.

“Hypocrite,” I fired back, standing chest to chest with him. “You sleep with Ghoulies all the time! Nobody ever gives you shit for it!”

He reached for the lapels of my jacket and clutched them tightly. “I don’t take them home, that’s a damn rookie mistake. And I sure as hell don’t break their brother’s arm. I just want to keep you safe, but you make it so unbelievably hard.”

A slight blush spread onto my cheeks. Sweet Pea didn’t scare me. While most shrink under his steely glare and the intensity of his voice, I always fought back. I could handle his rage, but his sincerity caught me off guard. “Sorry you’re stuck with me tonight,” I mumbled, unable to think of anything else to say.

To my surprise, he chuckled softly releasing his hold on me. “I volunteered, actually. Come on, we can keep arguing back at my place. At least we’ll be warm.”

I staggered back behind him, stunned. The short ride to his trailer was silent as I mulled over why he would ever volunteer to spend an entire night with me. I hadn’t noticed we had arrived until a large hand reached for my chin, lifting it slightly to meet my eyes. “What’s got you quiet? This might be the longest you’ve ever gone without saying anything.”

I ignored the insult altogether. “Why?”

His crooked smile faltered slightly, and I could tell that he knew exactly what I was talking about. “Cause I didn’t trust anybody else to do it. Can we please go inside now?”

I laughed and nodded, accepting his answer… for now. Sweet Pea’s trailer was not what I expected. The living room was immaculate; no piles of laundry or discarded beer cans. Instead, there were neatly folded blankets and a lemon scented air freshener. A small smile grew on my face and he laughed at my reaction. “Shocked that I know how to clean, princess?”

“Actually, yes, I am. Very.”

He shook his head, shrugging out of his jacket and reaching to take mine. “Do you need anything? I know you didn’t really have much time to grab your stuff.”

My mind raced and I reached for my bag, rummaging through to see what I did manage to snag as I was rushed out of my room. “You don’t have any sweat pants I could borrow, do you? I brought clothes for tomorrow and an extra t-shirt, just not pants.”

His grin made me nervous for what he was about to say next. I backed away slowly as he matched my steps. “Oh I don’t mind if you go pantless. In fact, I encourage it.”

I snorted at his dirty comment and chucked a pillow at his head.

He held his hands up in surrender, making his way back to the bedroom. “Kidding, kidding. I’ll grab you some. Make yourself comfortable.”

line break?

After a quick shower and changing into the clothes Sweet Pea found for me, I joined him back in the living room. He was stretched out in the recliner, one arm slung over his head and scrolling through his phone. “Feel better?” he asked as I plopped on the couch.

“Like a new woman. It’s been a long damn day.” I reached for the blanket on the back of the couch and snuggled into it.

“So I heard. Jughead said he just barely got there before the Ghouls showed up. That must’ve been a hell of a wake-up call.”

“God, was it ever.”

“REESE? REESE! Get up!” Jughead yelled, yanking my bedroom door open and jolting me awake. His eyes were frantic and he grabbed my bag to stuff random things from my drawers inside. Quickly, I reached for my robe and scrambled from the safety of my bed to confront him.

“Jug, what’s going on?” My toe found the menacingly sharp edge of the bed frame and a slew of curse words came tumbling from my mouth stopping Jughead in his tracks.

“They’re coming! They’re pissed! We’ve got to get you out of here.” My stomach dropped at the realization of the “they” he was referring to and I instantly joined him filling my bag and throwing on clothes before following him out to his truck. I knew exactly who was after me and why Jughead was so panicked.

Something had told me to stay away from the Quarry last night, but Toni stubbornly insisted. The uneasy feeling only worsened as thirty minutes went by with no sign of my favorite pink-haired Serpent. When the Ghoulies had started to pile in, I shot Toni a quick text and stood up to leave before any of them noticed that I was the only Serpent there.

Unfortunately, Malachi spotted me right as reached my car. “Not so fast, darling. Reese, isn’t it?”

I groaned, opening the door and trying to get inside, only to have Malachi reach out to stop me. “You know…Mordecai speaks of you all the time…in great detail. Maybe, I’d like to see what he sees in you, baby snake.”

Before I could stop myself and before Malachi had the chance to grab me, I reached for the crowbar under my seat and swung it him. I heard the crunch as soon as it made impact, but I didn’t stop to look. I threw the car in drive and took off, making sure to call Jughead and tell him how royally I had just fucked up.

“Why were you even out there? You knew they’ve pretty much taken it over,” Sweet Pea asked jarring me from my thoughts.

“Oh…Toni wanted to hang out. Said she was feeling nostalgic, but she never showed. Something must’ve come up.”

Sweet Pea’s jaw tightened. “Remind me to talk to her about that. Last night could’ve gone a hell of a lot worse, and she just left you there.”

The same unfamiliar nervousness from earlier tonight crept over me and I scrambled to speak. “No--no. Please, Pea, she feels bad enough. It was fine. I’m fine!”

He shook his head, mumbling about the code and being distracted, but I was too busy trying to figure out why he cared. “Come on, Reese, I’m beat. Let’s go to sleep.”

“Where am I sleeping?” I asked, hopping up from the couch and returning the blanket neatly to its rightful place.

“In my bed.” Sweet Pea tossed me a bottle of water and I caught it with a confused look on my face.

“Then where are you sleeping?” Clearly I had missed something.

“In my bed,” he answered with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, clearly entertained by the rosy blush in my cheeks.

My eyes widened, and I barely managed to muster up a strangled, “why?!”

“Because I like my bed.” He coughed to cover up the chuckle that was building in his chest. “Look, if I sleep in the living room and you sleep in my room, I’d be worried someone would come through the bedroom window and I wouldn’t be able to get there in time. If you sleep in the living room and I sleep in my bed, I’d be worried that someone would come in through the front door. If we both sleep in the living room, we’d both be miserable, so what’s the point? That only leaves one logical solution…bed buddy.”

I huffed dramatically, hating to admit that he had a point more than anything. “You don’t sleep in the nude, do you?”

He erupted into laughter and trudged over to sling his arm around my shoulders once he caught his breath. “Only if you ask nicely.”

Sweet Pea’s room was cozy and surprised me just as much as the living room and kitchen. There were lamps and throw pillows and worn books on the nightstand. I sat my bag on the chair by the end of the bed and ran my hand up the bedspread.

“You like it?” Sweet Pea asked, tugging his shirt over his head and turning the sheets down. “Fangs’ Abuela gave it to me for my birthday. She really helped me fix up this place.”

I smiled at the mention of that woman. Abuela was an angel to the lonely kids of the Southside- the orphans, the rejects, the rebels--she loved them just the same. She always knew the right things to say and do. “I’m proud of you, Pea. Really, it looks amazing in here. I can barely keep up with laundry since my mom split. I don’t know how you do it.”

As he sat on the bed, he reached for my hand to pull me down beside him. “I forgot she left, shit, I’m sorry. Wait, who has Noah? Should we go get him?”

I shook my head at his worried expression, leaning gratefully into the pillows behind me. “Abuela has him actually. Noah and Enzo are best friends. Besides, Fangs is there too, so I know he’ll be safe.”

“Still, I’m gonna call Fangs to check in later. It was hard enough when my folks left and I had to take care of myself. I don’t know if I could’ve taken care of a kid too.”

I thought of my kid brother--cherub faced and golden-haired--and my heart tugged. He was my Achilles’ Heel and as hard as it was to keep him safe and happy and healthy, I wouldn’t change a thing. “I love him, and I didn’t want him to feel like he was missing anything. I would do anything for him.”

To my surprise, Sweet Pea’s arms reached out for me to pull me into his side. “You’re a good sister, you punk.”

I giggled against his chest and glanced up at him, curious about the sudden change in our chemistry. “You’re a good housekeeper, apparently. Are you hiring?”

He jokingly shoved me away and we both sank deeper into the bed on our sides facing each other. “You couldn’t afford me.”

“Darn.”

His face, still bright from laughter, went serious again and my stomach instinctively tightened. “If you ever need help with the house or with Noah, please call. I guess I didn’t realize how much you had on your plate.”

I stiffened, uncomfortable accepting help of any form. “I’m doing the best I can.”

For the second time tonight, his hand snuck under my chin and I tried desperately to fight against his hold as he made me look at him. “Hey…I know. All I’m saying is that you don’t have to do it alone.”

I sat quietly for a moment as he slowly relaxed his grip on my chin. I thought back to the arguments and snide remarks we exchanged over the years. I had known this man for as long as I could remember and dreaded being in the same room as him, but tonight something was different. It was like I had never really known him at all. “Why are you being so nice to me?

The rough tips of his fingers brushed against the lines of my face before he answered and I held my breath in anticipation. “Maybe I’m starting to realize you aren’t the worst person to be stuck protecting.”

The blush that was ever present tonight returned, but I scooted closer to him earning a smile in the process. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

No Ghoulie bothered us that night, and Sweet Pea took both me and Noah in until the smoke cleared. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months until eventually there was more of our stuff at his place than there was at my own. Sweet Pea helped me make sure that Noah had a good life and having someone to help meant more to me than I ever could’ve imagined. The same man that once made my skin crawl grew on me and became the most important person in my life. If I knew that getting into trouble would’ve brought me here and given me the family I had always hoped to have, I’d break Malachi’s arm a hundred times over.

#southsidearchive #sweet pea #sweet pea x oc #sweet pea fic #riverdalepoet

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lukn4inspo · 5 years

Text

Gif It To Me Part 2

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Plus size Reader (Y/N)

Words: 1651

Summary: What happens after Sam and Y/N find something unexpected in the Impala

Warnings: Smut, NSFW 18+, unprotected sex (this is fiction, be safe y’all), cheesy yet sexy Sam, squirting, dirty talk

A/N: reposting cuz idk what happened

Part 1

“Oh, I’ve been thinking about handling you for a long time.” He was leaning into you so you had to fall back against the mattress and smiling his sunshine smile at your laugh. You never knew he was such a cheesy flirt. “I love to see you smile,” he said quietly. Your eyes widened at the unexpected sentiment. Nuzzling his face, you caught his lip and gently sucked it. You let your head fall back and waited for his reaction. He studied your face then captured your lips, slow but passionate. He wrapped both arms around your waist and lifted you farther up the bed, not wanting to lose any contact.

The rest of the room was blocked out by his body and his arms encircled you completely, holding your hips and chest tight against him. His soft lips pressed harder, faster, more demanding. It was like he wanted to crawl inside your skin. Neither of you heard the door open but you caught Dean’s mutter of eww, gross. Sam threw up a middle finger as his brother quickly shut the door again.

“Want you,” Sam rasped. You nodded eagerly while his hands slipped under your shirt. “Show me. Show me how you want me to touch you.” You drew in a sharp breath and exposed your breasts, pulling his head down to suckle. He groaned and slipped a hand under your waistband, finding no panties and squeezing hard. His sucking mouth had you arching and dripping so you guided that hand down and pressed it firmly against your lower lips. He shuddered at your wetness when he sunk his fingers in slow. His head lifted to watch your face as he rolled your nipple and stroked you from the inside. “Let’s see if I like your orgasm face as much as your smile.”

It was another cheesy line but you were pretty damn distracted by his long fingers petting you so deep, twisting and pressing slow and strong. His eyes were intent as if he were memorizing your feel. You unbuttoned his shirt and let your fingertips drift down. No undershirt today. Bowed over you with his soft hair and intense eyes and shirt hanging open over that solid chest and stomach, he was a beautiful sight.

“God, you’re beautiful,” you murmured. He paused, startled but pleased.

“I think that’s my line.” The fingers wrapped around your breast dug in and you caressed that hand. “Perfect for me,” he mumbled. You didn’t know if you were supposed to hear that part but his hands did indeed fit to your generous curves better than anyone else’s ever had. A strong push and his fingertips rolled forward over your G spot and dragged down. Your mouth dropped open on a ragged breath then you pulled him down for a kiss. He nipped at your neck.

“I wanna watch you,” he breathed. “Can I? Like my very own porn. Strip you down and see all of you when you come on my fingers. Can I have that, Y/N?” The shudder ran all the way down your spine and caused your hips to jerk toward him. Or maybe it was the short fast strokes of his fingertips over your G spot.

“Yes. Yes, Sam. You can have that.” He stripped you quick and none too gently. Knowing this amazingly sexy man was so turned on at the thought of watching you was a glorious feeling. He pushed your knees up high and planted your feet so your swollen lips were completely exposed and he just looked at you for a minute. You watched as he gently spread you open and petted each individual part. Outer lips, inner lips, circling the opening, a firm line up to the clit, pulling off then rubbing the hood around and directly over it. When his eyes lifted to your face they were dark and predatory. His two middle fingers plunged in, knuckles pressing hard on the outside but inside oh-so-light touches drifting around your cervix. He must’ve liked your shocked groan because he licked lips and bit your thigh. “Fuck,” you breathed.

“Soon,” he promised, twisting his wrist and pressing a spot on your back wall that felt almost as good as the front. “When you’re ready for me.” You wanted to say you were ready now but you were not prepared to give up his hands just yet. The one not buried inside you was drifting over the rest of your body, curving around your sides, squeezing your ass. Judging by his uneven breathing and the small wet spot on the front of his jeans he was enjoying every minute.

He kept thrusting and exploring as he worked you. The way he challenged your walls to open and stretch had you scooping your hips up toward him and moaning brokenly. It was so intense you never thought to wonder why he was so determined to open you up. Your first orgasm hit with his wet thumb circling your clit. Your hips and thighs locked upward and you clung to his hand unable to breath for a few seconds.

“Oh my god, if you squeeze my cock that tight I might pass out. Fuck.” He kissed you desperately, still carefully moving his fingers but no longer pressing on your clit. Your arms were wrapped around him now under the soft flannel. “You gotta tell me. Have you ever squirted before?”

“Every now and then.” He groaned and shuddered.

“I bet I could get you there. If you trust me and don’t hold back. I wanna fuck you now, baby. Can I?”

The growled words had you whimpering and arching into him. Instead of answering you undid his belt and jeans and pushed his boxers down. Feeling the different textures of his clothing rubbing your skin while you were completely bare was a sensual experience. You swept light strokes up his oh my deliciously large cock and traced the head up your slit, it slid like silk around your clitoris, and back down.

All the strength left your thighs. They just fell open as he started pushing into you, your swollen flesh making room for all that hard, hot cock. Somehow, you were breathless and whimpering at the same time. When he was fully seated he breathed hard and heavy against your ear, trying to collect himself. But when he pulled back he was grinning like a smug bastard.

“I bet you’ll make the sweetest little helpless sounds when you come on my cock,” he rocked forward and you whined. Okay, he could be as smug as he wanted. He rested his head against you and gave a lingering kiss. “You’ll tell me if I hurt you.” It was a statement rather than a question but you could tell he expected an answer. Needed it. You ghosted your mouth soft and wet over his.

“Yes, Sam.” You emphasized your words by contracting and releasing your muscles around him. He almost collapsed with a strangled groan. One palm rested on the bed above your shoulder. The other cupped your cheek, fingers sunk in your hair. It was the most intimate moment you’d had in a long time and you could see in his eyes he was just as effected. Your eyes held as you both started rolling against each other. No holding back, no hiding. Every desperate sound weighing heavy in the air between you, building, and building. Hips moving faster, reluctant to draw apart, then slamming back together. Normally, you’d be cussing like a sailor but there were no words to be found. Just noises and breath and frantic kisses, nails digging and dragging, fingers kneading, holding on so hard.

Your next orgasm pulled a scream from you which he answered with a shaken yell but he couldn’t seem to stop moving. He kept pounding, holding you as close as possible, until he pushed you into another one that rolled into two more. You were writhing and bucking beneath him and his muscles were shaking where he surrounded you. When he finally came shouting your name and holding your shoulders down as if you were trying to get away, it drew another climax from you that sent you floating. Time was no more than a vague concept. Breathing was overrated. This, this feeling, was your drug of choice.

“I think you broke me.” You’d forgotten he was worried about hurting you until he tensed. “My higher brain functions are shot to hell.” You laughed and patted his back and he relaxed again.

“Back atcha,” he mumbled at the pillow. He rolled off to the side in a boneless heap. His hand was still caught under you so he scratched lightly at your scalp. “So when we can walk and all that shit, do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

“Oh my god, Sam, you’re such a fucking romantic.”

“It’s called being adorkable. That’s what happens when my brain is fried.”

“Oh really? That’s what it is?” A heavy sigh. “I guess I’ll date you anyway. But later. Much later. After Gatorade and a shower.”

“That sounds awesome!” He groped around for his phone and texted Dean.

Bring Gatorade

Fuck you. Get your own Gatorade.

Y/N says please and she’ll love you forever.

….fine.

In about 30 minutes you’d both regained enough energy to get up and shower and found Sam was right. You had, in fact, squirted but you were both too caught up to notice. His boxers and jeans were drenched and you were inordinately proud of that. He kept a goofy smile while you washed each other and even after when you were retrieving your drinks from Dean. You expected some resistance when you suggested he get another room. At least a good bit of griping but when he saw the expression on his brother’s face he just grumbled alright, fucking lovebirds.

#plus size reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader #smut #supernatural #supernatural smut

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lickrustdavid · 4 years

Text

Apple Juice and Graham Crackers

Rated: T for Language Word Count: 4.6k Warnings: Injury, Light Medical Talk, Mentions of Nausea and Vomiting (AO3)

It’s about half way down, a mile left, that everything goes to hell in a hand basket. Patrick doesn’t see the root this time, arched up from the ground, and he trips. Instinctively, he throws his arms out to catch himself, but the angle is wrong and it happens too fast for him to fix it. He hears a faint scream- Alexis. She tells him later it was his own.

Hiking is something that Patrick loves, he’s done it for years, and while he enjoys the outdoors and the exercise, his fiancé doesn’t. It doesn’t bother him, he understands that it’s not for everyone, and David had definitely proved that on their hike to the proposal. They’ve started closing the apothecary early on Tuesday, the least busy day of the week. Of course Patrick talked to a few customers, getting a feel for how people would react to the store being closed, which had been surprisingly well received.

It’s nice having a day that they’re not rushed to get out of bed and are able to wake up slowly, have some intimate time together. The other upside is that Patrick gets to hike. It’s a way of exercise and somewhat of a recalibration for him, leaving for a couple of hours or so, allowing David to see Stevie or his family alone. David’s made sure to be clear that he’s happy to skip the hikes, assuring Patrick he wasn’t feeling left out, and that he’d rather spend the few hours working on organizing his closet or doing extra skin care and eating pizza.

The past month though, it’s been different. Instead of hiking alone, Alexis has been accompanying him, and while at first he was unsure but still gladly willing to give it a chance, now he enjoys her company and he likes getting to build a relationship with another Rose. They’re closer in age than he and David, only by a year, but they both like to remind him, making jokes about being an old man.

This particular Tuesday, the sun is shining and it’s a nice sixty five degree day, the middle of September cooling down from the heat of summer. He and David both wake up around the same time, spending some time kissing and cuddling, savoring the time they get to spend together like this. After finishing the morning with blow jobs, they lay back against the bed, both smiling.

“That was….wow,” David breathes out, laughing a little. Patrick knows how he feels and he can’t help but lean back over, fingertips skimming the man’s skin again, pressing warm, slow kisses to his mouth, traveling down his jaw and then to his neck. “Mm, babe, we need to get up,” he reminds, but it’s breathy and high as he squirms a little.

“You’re right,” Patrick mumbles, finally pulling back after a few more kisses. “You have that thing with Stevie right? It’s further away than Elmdale?” He tries to remember, getting up and stretching, just his boxer briefs on. David allows himself to admire the view before getting up too, feeling a little grumpy for having to stop their morning.

“Mhm, it’s some…” David waves his hand, trying to remember. “Some place like an hour and a half away, I don’t really remember. It’s for the motel though, so ugh. Now I’m regretting saying yes.”

Patrick laughs, shaking his head. “You’ll have fun. You know you will, you’ll get food and you’ll gossip and be judgemental at whatever you’ll be doing,” he teases, pressing another quick kiss to his fiance’s lips before moving to change. David huffs but doesn’t say anything else as he goes to start his skincare routine. Patrick leaves sooner than David, giving him a quick kiss on the lips despite David’s noise of protest, in the middle of washing his face. “It’s not going to mess up your face David, it’s a kiss,” he laughs, kissing him one more time before leaving to go pick up Alexis.

While they drive, Alexis puts on some music from her phone, mostly songs Patrick doesn’t know, but he does get to belt Umbrella by Rihanna. Alexis records it and sends it to David, earning a reply of ‘I’m not sure if I’m scared or turned on’. They get to the mountain, both happy for some fresh air. It sometimes catches Patrick off guard, how different Alexis is to what he’d assumed she’d be like. He would have never guessed she liked hiking, but here they are, about to do a two mile hike. They walk at a good pace, definitely not leisurely strolling as they start their ascend.

“So like….is David a screamer?” Alexis asks curiously, glancing over at her soon to be brother-in-law, a sly grin appearing. It takes Patrick a minute to realize what she’s even asking and he blushes, mouth hanging open a little, trying to decide how to respond. “I mean, it’s not that embarrassing, I’m don’t want like...every detail of your sex life, because, ew. But I’ve always wanted to know.”

“I...uhm….” He debates on what to say. He knows David would be weirded out with his sister knowing, but it’s not like he hasn’t made it known to others. “Promise you won’t tell?” Patrick blushes a little and Alexis’s smile widens.

“That’s all the info I need,” she laughs, but then shakes her head. “I’m not going to tell my brother I know he screams when he has sex Patrick, I’m not that gross,” she wrinkles her nose, ponytail swishing back and forth “Besides, this is our time. Nothing gets said to anyone,” she shrugs as if it’s obvious. It’s oddly sweet.

He mutters a ‘ridiculous’ under his breath, but he’s only amused, no heat behind the word. “How are things with your business? Anything new since last week?” Patrick asks, stepping around a root that’s sticking out of the ground.

“I think I’m going to start working on a social media thing for a bar in Elmdale, they want to talk to me on Friday,” she smiles, looking excited. “I mean, they’re pretty popular, so it’ll be a bigger thing than most of the stuff I’ve done...well, if you exclude my moms stuff,” Alexis explains. Patrick gives her a high five.

“That’s awesome!! You’ll have to let us know how it goes. And no matter what we’ll take you out for drinks,” he decides, knowing they can invite Stevie too. If it all goes well, he’ll ask Mr. and Mrs. Rose too. “They’d be crazy not to hire you, you’re amazing.”

The hike continues and when they reach the top, they sit down on one of the benches to catch their breath. Alexis drinks some water and Patrick grabs a cliff bar from his bag, munching on it while looking at the scenery, even though they’ve admired it for almost two months straight. Eventually they start making their way down, passing only a couple other people, smiling to acknowledge them. Both walk past the small waterfall, happy to let the misty air cool them off a moment. It’s about half way down, a mile left, that everything goes to hell in a hand basket. Patrick doesn’t see the root this time, arched up from the ground, and he trips. Instinctively, he throws his arms out to catch himself, but the angle is wrong and it happens too fast for him to fix it. He hears a faint scream- Alexis. She tells him later it was own.

Alexis lets out a gasp and he hears an ‘oh my god, Patrick!’ but the only thing his brain can focus on is the sudden and intense pain that blooms from his wrist into his fingers and up his arm. “Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck….” he whines out, still on the ground. Alexis crouches down next to him, watching as he cradles his wrist to his chest, already swelling. He turns away from her, hazy but still aware of what’s about to happen and he can’t help the gag that rises from his throat, half digested cliff bar coming up.

“Okay uhm….” Alexis’s voice is panicked and shrill and he wants to comfort her but everything is muddled under the excruciating pain. He feels a hand on his back as he wipes his mouth on his right shoulder. “Let’s get to the car..” she says quickly, helping him up. Patrick stumbles a little as Alexis helps him up, directing a frown in his direction. He’s ashen-faced and nauseous, dizzy from the pain. “Do...do you think it’s broken?”

Nodding, Patrick squeezes his eyes shut tightly as another intense wave of pain rolls through his hand. “Definitely broken. Broke the same w-wrist in high school,” he clenches his jaw and continues walking down as quickly as his body will let him. They pass another person and earn a worried look but Alexis completely ignores them, focused solely on getting him to the ER. It takes almost twelve more minutes of walking before they see his car and he fumbles with his right hand, trying to get his keys out of his pocket.

“I’m driving,” Alexis says before he can ask her, taking the keys and opening and shutting the passenger door for him before getting in too. “Okay, the uh...the closest ER is Elmdale, so it’s probably like...thirty minutes from here….” she calculates as she pulls out and onto the road. Her whole body is shaking and her eyes are wide as she merges into the highway a moment later.

Holding his arm to his chest, not daring to actually touch his wrist, he turns his head to her. “I’ll be okay...I’m not dying,” Patrick promises, even if it feels like he is. The car hits a pothole and David sucks in a breath, a noise escaping his lips somewhere between a moan and a strangled cry, wrist bouncing against his chest.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” she grimaces, almost going to rub his arm but stops when she realizes that would only make it worse. The ride feels like it takes two hours, but it only takes twenty five minutes, Alexis not caring if she was going 70 in a 50 zone. Patrick’s gone deathly still and quiet, looking like someone who should be in a casket with how pale his is. It feels like his heartbeat is in his hand, throbbing every other second. He thinks this is worse than in high school, when Matt Collins shoved him onto the ice during hockey practice for not letting him score the most goals in their previous game, effectively breaking his wrist. He’d sat out six games because of him.

Alexis parks quickly right at the entrance of the ER, double glass doors opening at the motion. “Go in and I’ll be right there okay? I just need to park and I’ll be right there,” she promises. He almost tells her he can walk from where she parks, but then nausea swells in his stomach again so he gives her a tight lipped nod and gets out.

Getting to the front desk, the woman looks at him and instantly frowns. “I b-broke my wrist...uhm..” He feels nauseous again from walking and standing and talking. His color must change because suddenly she’s telling him to hold on and offering a smile, coming back a second later with a pale pink deep pan, handing it to him. Suddenly Alexis is at his side, arm on his right shoulder, looking at the nurse.

“Yeah, hi, uhm, he needs to see a doctor, like, now. His wrist is broken, and if they don’t fix it it can get messed up,” she explains to the nurse who looks at Patrick and then Alexis.

“Right..are you his wife?” She asks, making Alexis wrinkle her nose and frown.

“What? No, no, he’s my brother’s fiance, we were hiking,” Alexis looks distinctly annoyed that the woman isn’t taking him back. Patrick fumbles for his wallet, knowing everything that they need before he can even get in rotation. Pain shoots through his arm again as he jostles it.

“I h-have my insurance card,” he grits out, handing the woman the card and his license. She takes it and makes a copy, handing them the papers they need to fill out. “Alexis, can you grab that? I really need to sit down,” his voice is a little desperate and she nods, taking his cards back.

“Fill that out, bring it back up. We’ll get you in as quickly as we can. We only have one other person here for an injury, and if it’s any consolation, after seeing your wrist I’m going to let them know you need to get it looked at pronto.” The nurse smiles, making both of them feel a little better about it all.

“Thank you,” Alexis directs at her while herding Patrick into the waiting room, making sure to sit as far away from everyone else as possible. “Okay, here, I can fill it out for you,” she assures as they both drop into chairs. It takes the better part of twenty minutes for her to write down everything he says, his voice quiet and pinched. He thinks to look down at his wrist and oh. Okay. Now he understands. His wrist is bruised purple and green already, swollen completely. Patrick sees it’s not only his hand though, his pinky is swollen almost as badly as his wrist, bruised as well.

Alexis hurries back to the nurse with the paper and then sits back down next to him, looking anxious. “You’re really brave. I would have been sobbing,” she smiles at him, booping his nose. Patrick can’t help but smile back, feeling suddenly exhausted. The pain is still reverberating in his arm, aching mixed in with a sharp stinging sensation. She picks up her phone, which makes Patrick shake his head.

“Please don’t tell David yet. I...he doesn’t need to worry. I’m okay. I’ll call him after I get it wrapped up.” His voice lets on how much pain he’s in, how stressed and miserable he is, so Alexis nods and they sit there waiting.

“Patrick Brewer?” Patrick looks up, seeing a woman in dark blue scrubs with a chart at the door. He stands, feeling shaky, and then looks at Alexis.

“I’ll stay out here, no problem,” she says.

“I….would you mind...coming with me?”

Alexis’s face changes from cool to absolutely fond, lip jutting out. “Aw button, sure,” she stands too, following him back into triage. Sitting on the gurney, feeling hazy from the pain that’s not let up for over an hour, Patrick leans back, eyes shutting. He goes through the questions she asks, answering them all with a clenched jaw, breath shallow.

“Is there....can he please have like...something for the pain?” Alexis asks while it’s quiet, just the sound of the woman typing on the keyboard.

“Unfortunately we can’t give anything till the doctor sees him. It should be pretty soon though, I just need to put his info in and then we’re going to take him for an x-ray.” She assures. “Your husband will be just fine.”

“Oh we’re not together,” Alexis shakes her head.

Patrick’s taken down for an x-ray and Alexis is moved to a room a few doors down, left to bite at her thumbnail and worry about how badly Patrick’s hurt himself.

When he’s brought into the new room, Patrick feels close to throwing up again. The nurses had been gentle, but they’d still had to reposition his wrist a few times to get his bones at all angles. He really just wants to sleep. Sitting down on the gurney, he thanks the nurse as she lets them know the doctor will be in soon.

“I’m sorry….for making you do all this,” Patrick’s voice is hoarse, and his eyes open to find hers, giving her a grimace of a smile. He’s not sure how he’s going to make it up to her, but he will. Alexis looks at him like he’s crazy, shaking her head. She looks younger than she is, sitting in the black plastic chair.

“What was I going to do, leave you there? You’re basically my brother Patrick. I’ve...I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared in my life. I mean...I have, but...recently. Like..seeing you on the ground screaming and freaking the fuck out?” She shudders a little, nose wrinkling at the memory. “Honestly I just wish I could have done more. But you’re here now and you’re going to get it fixed. And I’m going to be the first one to sign your cast,” Alexis grins, diffusing the slight anxious worry that had built up.

“Tha-” They’re interrupted by a knock at the door. A petite woman with long brown hair walks in, holding black pictures in her hand.

“You must be Patrick Brewer, nice to meet you,” she says and her voice is comforting, like she was born to be a doctor. “I’m Dr. Meyers. You must be his wife,” she turns to Alexis who shakes her head for the third time that day.

“No, he’s my brother's fiance, but we get that alot,” she smiles, looking at Patrick and rolling her eyes fondly.

“Oh! Well nice to meet you Alexis. So,” Dr. Meyers walks up to the small lightbox on the wall and puts the first x-ray up, turning it on. The photo shows Patrick’s hand with an obvious white line out of place. Patrick winces, still leaning back, afraid if he moves again he’ll throw up.

“This is what we call a distal radius fracture. It looks like you’ve had one before, from the scarring I see?” She asks, making Patrick nod.

“I played hockey in high school,” he explains, making her laugh.

“That’ll do it. It doesn’t seem to be a bad enough move for you to need surgery, but we’ll definitely be setting it and putting you in a cast. We also…” she switches the x-ray photo to the other one, a closer photo of his fingers. “..will be doing your pinky as well, as it’s a pretty clean break too.”

Patrick’s face goes blank, making Alexis frown. He doesn’t say anything, so she takes it upon herself.

“Yeah, uhm. When you say set...like..putting it in a cast?”

“Unfortunately, with breaks like these, it’s easiest to move the bone back where it needs to be, and then cast it up, so it can regrow and heal.”

Patrick almost wishes he could take a photo of her face, if it wasn’t such a serious issue and he didn’t feel like crying from all the pain he’s in.

“But like...he’ll be asleep for it,” Alexis’s mouth is drawn into a line.

“It’s fine Alexis, I know what’s going to happen,” Patrick jumps in, giving her a reassuring grimace, once again nauseous. He knows how this goes. He’ll be awake, he’ll get a numbing agent, and then he’ll endure the most unpleasurable minute of his life, he’ll probably pass out like he did in high school, get re-x rayed and then he’ll be put in a cast.

Alexis is still frowning when he looks at her, but she nods and looks back at Dr. Myers. “Can he have medicine now? The nurse said he could once he saw you,” she worries at a piece of hair, fingers playing with it as she asks.

“Of course, I’ll get the nurse to bring some in, and then we’ll be in to start.”

“Thank you,” he says to Alexis, wondering if somehow she’s his guardian angel or something.

By the time he’s had his hydrocodone tablet and the shot to numb his bone, they work on setting his wrist and finger. Alexis has to look away, and Patrick doesn’t blame her. Though it’s not extremely painful, the sensation of it, the noise and the odd tugging, makes his stomach drop, makes sweat accumulate on his upper lip and forehead. He tries to push through it, but there’s an unsettling noise and then he’s blissfully unaware of everything.

Patrick blinks his eyes, feeling like he’s underwater. Moving his eyes, he sees Alexis and a nurse looking at him, Dr . Meyers by his side with apple juice and graham crackers. “Patrick, how are you feeling?” She asks. He wants to say ‘like shit’ but decides better of it.

“Uhm...weird. I passed out,” he says knowingly, to which the woman nods.

“Yes, but we managed to get it done while you were out. We’ll be putting a cast on as soon as you have some of this to get your blood sugar up,” she explains. She raises the gurney’s back up so he doesn’t have to move positions, and then Alexis is flouncing over, holding the juice for him while he eats the cracker with his right hand. “Do you have a color preference?”

Little pieces of different colored fiberglass wrap are hanging from a string, allowing him to see all the choices. He would choose white, but that would get gross, so instead he chooses the dark blue. Alexis snorts, smiling when he looks at her. “At least it’ll go with your clothes,” she teases.

Finishing up the juice and crackers, he starts feeling a little less miserable and gross from passing out. He’s out of it from the meds, but he’s not in pain, so really it’s a win. They put the stocking net on his arm, hand and pinky fingers, wrapping it in blue casting tape, then adding another layer of wet tape. After rubbing it smoothe, Dr. Meyers smiles at him gently. “We’ll get your papers that explain how to take care of it, even though I’m sure you remember the basics. You’re welcome to go to any urgent care or come back here in 8 weeks, just bring these papers back so we know it’s time.”

As they wait, Patrick looks at Alexis, who smiles. “I’m sure David will love it,” she teases, making him smile tiredly. “Oooh, hold on,” she grabs her phone where she’s been scrolling on instagram, switching it to her camera. “I wanna take a photo of you.”

Patrick tries to give a thumbs up with his casted hand, but because of his pinky, it looks more like he’s saying ‘hang ten dudes’. His face is bleary from exhaustion, adrenaline crash and hydrocodone, but he’s got a lopsided smile on his face. The doctor walks in a minute later, handing him the discharge papers. “Alright Mr.Brewer, you are free and ready to leave. I’m giving you a prescription for a couple of pain tablets to get you through the first couple of days if needed, then you can switch over to tylenol every 8 hours,” she explains.

They leave around four, making it back to Schitt’s Creek at almost five. Patrick’s asleep in the passenger side, but Alexis wakes him up when they get into town. “Alexis, can we get lasagna?” He loves lasagna and it sounds so good.

“Yeah, we can get lasagna. How about I go into the cafe and get it, and you stay out here and rest okay? Then we can get you in bed to eat it,” she suggests.

The photo of Patrick at the hospital gets sent to David by Alexis once Patrick’s in bed. He’s changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, thankfully able to do it by himself, propped up with pillows as he devours his portion of the lasagna. Quickly after sending the first photo, Alexis snaps another photo of David, sending it as well.

Patrick’s phone is on his nightstand when it starts ringing not twenty seconds after the photos say delivered. He fumbles for it, accidentally knocking it on the floor. “Fuck.” Alexis looks at him like a wounded puppy, laughing as she grabs it for him and he unlocks it. “Hello?”

“Oh my god, Patrick. Oh my- are you okay?! What happened?” David’s voice is loud and shrill in his ears.

“I...I fell, broke my wrist and finger. Alexis took me to the ER. I’m okay now. She got me lasagna too, she’s the best David. I’m so glad I’m going to be her brother,” Patrick feels like he has no filter as he talks, but can’t be bothered. Alexis plucks the phone out of his hand.

“He’s kind of high on hydrocodone right now,” she explains to her brother.

“What the fuck does he mean he broke his wrist and finger?! What happened?!” David demands, telling Stevie to drive faster.

“He tripped on the way back down the mountain and tried to catch himself. God David it was so fucking terrifying. One second we were talking and the next he was on the ground yelling and freaking out and like oh my god his wrist looked so gross. I had to help him get to the car because we were like a mile away, and then I took him to the ER,” Alexis says almost all in one breath.

“And...and he’s okay? You were with him?” David’s voice is suddenly quiet and Alexis frowns.

“He’s okay, I promise David. He’s...tired and high on pain meds, but he’s fine. And yeah, of course I was there. I was there when they had to fucking reset his bones which was so gross I like almost stepped out of the room. He passed out but they gave him juice and crackers. He’s home now, so please come see your little button, he misses you.”

“He passed out?!”

Alexis winces at the sheer pitch of his brother's voice. “Yes David, please try to keep up. He’s fine now,” she sighs, finally getting tired from the day's adventure.

“Okay, my fiance just broke his wrist, you don’t get to be mean!”

“I was literally there with him and spent three hours in an ER David, I took care of him. Don’t be such an asshole!”

David gets quiet for a second, and Patrick chooses that moment to yell ‘I love you David’ across to the phone.

“I’ll see you soon, tell him I love him,” David’s voice shakes a little.

Thirty minutes later, Patrick and Alexis are watching Pirates of the Caribbean on the laptop, both watching solely for Will Turner. They’re almost to the part where Elizabeth requests parlay, when David walks in, looking frantic and wide eyed. They both look up from the bed, Alexis propped up on David’s pillows, the laptop in between them.

“Patrick,” David moves quickly, tense shoulders relaxing, getting to see for himself that Patrick isn’t in any worse shape. The man in question looks up and smiles, sitting a little taller. “Oh my god, how are you feeling honey?”

“Good. Kinda floaty. They gave me good medicine,” he smiles. His eyes close, tired from everything, relaxing now that David’s here.

David presses a kiss to Patrick’s lips and then raises his head to look at Alexis.

“Thank you….for today. I know I don’t say it,” David takes a breath, tears pricking at his eyes. “But I love you. And...you helped practically save my fiance today. I owe you like...ten selfish days okay? And thank you for getting him lasagna,” he adds, kissing Patrick’s head.

“...I love you too David. Thank you. And yeah, you definitely owe me at least ten. I had to rub his back while he puked from pain. Ew. But...I wouldn’t have done anything different. And how could I not get him lasagna?! He was looking at me with his cute button face!”

She gets up gently in case Patrick’s asleep, then hugs David tightly. “Also every nurse and doctor thought we were married, which was weird. Like….he’s cute but no.”

“Okay, I seem to recall you trying to flirt with him when we first met him,” David’s eyes narrow and she laughs.

“He’s literally my brother David, stop,” she gives him a disgusted look. “Oh, also,” she moves towards the door, grabbing her bag. “I stole your Stella McCartney sweater because you totally owe me,” Alexis grins and then bolts out the door. “Byee!!”

#my fic #sunshine twins

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dalekofchaos · 5 years

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An analysis of Michael Myers as he's portrayed only in the original Halloween

From reddit user silviod

When we think of Michael Myers, we think of The Shape - standing, staring, white mask and blue overalls. We think of the music, and the relentless pursuit. We think of the iconography of the killer and his permeation into horror and cinema. What we generally don't think of is the human, and that makes sense: John Carpenter has often described him as being 'almost supernatural' and 'a force of nature.' In Halloween itself, released in 1978, Michael Myers' psychiatrist, Dr. Sam Loomis, describes Myers as being "pure and simply evil." He is evil personified, and that is it. But let's get into a bit more detail here, because despite everything, the Michael Myers that we see in the original Halloween has flesh and blood and hair.

Let's just get one thing out of the way straight away: Michael Myers isn't Laurie Strode's brother. This was, of course, a twist invented by the alcohol-infused mind of Carpenter and Hill for the 1981 sequel and has no relevance here. I'm talking specifically about Michael Myers as he's presented in Halloween and Halloween only. So we open with the POV shot of Myers killing his sister Judith. He walks outside and his mask is removed by his parents - he's near catatonic, and seems shocked at what he's done. Bullshit to all those who say he had a blank expression - that is not the fucking look of an expressionless kid. It might not be much, and his shock doesn't imply he's less evil, it just shows that this is probably his first exposure to anything of the magnitude of murder. Skip to years later, and Michael is 21. Let's outline the moments we spend with Michael, as well as his actions and the way he holds himself. Loomis and a nurse are going to Smiths Grove to pick him up and take him to be tried as an adult. As they approach the sanitarium, they notice many wandering inmates in the darkened fields. As Loomis gets out to investigate, Myers leaps onto the car from behind like an animal. He's swift and quick, and is already playful in his actions. He makes noise on top of the car to startle the nurse, then smashes the side window and tries to grab her. He jumps down, throws her out the car and hops in. He drives away. Now he embarks on his 100 mile plus road trip to Haddonfield.

On the way, he stops at a garage, kills a guy there, and steals his overalls. He arrives in Haddonfield, breaks into a shop and steals a mask. He returns to his old home, eats a dog, and sees Laurie walk up to the door. He decides to start following her, so he hops in the car and does so. He follows little Tommy, Laurie, and Laurie's friends. He stands on the streets and in gardens and intentionally exposes himself, then hides. He's letting them know that he's around. In my head, Myers was always robotic, with surgeon-like stillness, but he really isn't like that. He holds onto the trees as he hides behind them and leers out from the side. He stumbles and knocks a plant over when watching a girl in her house and backs away quickly as it made noise - or was this intentional? Either way, he's not anywhere near as robotic in his mannerisms as I remembered.

His stalking is deliberate and unsubtle. He doesn't give a shit if people notice him, as long as the ones he's targeting do. He's really getting off on this. Eventually, he decides to actually start killing them. He sees Annie naked, as she spills whatever-the-fuck-she-spills on herself. He watches her this entire time - these scenes constantly have Myers presence, because he's constantly there. At this point, he's staying within a tiny radius: just two houses. He's got everything else out the way now His sister's gravestone was successfully retrieved earlier and he's already popped that into the house ready to decorate his house-of-horrors. The killing begins. He's stalked for at least twelve hours, and by now he understands the people he's watching and he's figured out their interpersonal relationships. For a man who does twelve hours of stalking, his kills are pretty quick. A strangulation, a cut throat and a stabbing. It seems this isn't the ultimate goal for him, it's just the final piece in a long chain of excitements. When he killed Judith as a kid, he watched her first. It's probably likely that, for hours, days or weeks before the scene that opens Halloween, he was watching Judith not with eyes of a younger brother, but eyes of a killer.

He kills Annie and then takes her corpse upstairs where he positions her on the bed. He waits again, this time for someone else to arrive. Lynda and her boyfriend rock up soon after, so it's time to start killing. Michael has paid the least attention to these two in terms of stalking, so he gets to business quite a bit quicker. He lets them have sex - yes, this is a matter of him allowing them to, because he was there the entire time. Then, the guy goes downstairs to retrieve some beers. There, Michael makes a noise and then hides in a closet, waiting for the guy to investigate. He lunges out the closet and pierces the guys' chest, nailing him to the wall with the knife. The guy dies, and Myers does what is now considered one of his trademarks: his head tilt. He probably had a similar experience after killing Annie, but it cuts pretty soon after that one so we don't get to see it. Nick Castle - the actor portraying Myers - was told by Carpenter to act like a kid who had pinned a butterfly to a board: it's almost as if there is an element of curiosity here. And that's where we get to an interesting point: Myers has been catatonic and lifeless since the killing of his sister 15 years ago. Not a word spoken. We imagine Myers sat in his room, all day, every day, staring. Staring at the walls. He grew. He went through puberty. He grew into a man. All whilst in this state. It's not unreasonable to surmise from this that he's probably, on some level, in a state of arrested development. What could there be to develop him? He was, presumably, a normal child, in a normal household on a normal street in a normal school, before he murdered Judith. Whatever was brewing inside of him took over when he killed Judith, and he froze in that moment - he'd have to. He spent all of his time thinking about that kill, because if not, why would he instantly start trying to memorialise, to relive? Why bring his sister's gravestone to his new house of mayhem if he didn't have some affinity to it? Michael Myers is still that six year old boy, and he's still got that curiosity. Whatever it is that drives Michael to kill, it's in the same state as it was when he was six: he likely killed Judith out of curiosity, and here he is again. He's amazed that he just pinned someone to a wall! Wow, no longer does he only have one kill to fantasise about, but he's wracking up more and more.

He then follows this firey curiosity with another infamous Myers moment - he takes a bedsheet, cuts out two holes, puts it over his head, puts his recent victim's glasses over it and heads upstairs. He opens the door of the bedroom and stands there, then after a moment, edges himself closer. After a while, he strangles her and she dies. But let's think about this: after killing that guy, whose name I have just completely forgotten, he cuts holes out of a bedsheet and wears it like a ghost. What does this say about Michael Myers? He roamed around the kitchen searching for scissors, cut out eyeholes, put the bedsheet on over the mask he's already wearing and puts the glasses on top of that. Is this his sense of humour? Is this just a method of getting closer to his victim without her knowing, so she's easier to attack? Some people say it's that, but Michael Myers simply wouldn't care about that. She was in bed, naked, a few feet from him. If he opened the door as himself or as the bedsheet, it wouldn't matter. He's just curious, and weird. He wanted to watch her for a while. By doing this, he can see her not just in a state of fear, but in an unalarmed, happy state. He didn't know what she'd do, but he was curious and excited to see it. His decision to do this also shows his creative flair - even if he is celebrating an ode to Judith's original kill 15 years ago, he's doing different things. Lynda was in a bedroom, naked and post-sex with her boyfriend. The environmental factors were almost the same as Judith's original kill. If Michael was simply trying to recreate the kill as an obsession to the original kill, he wouldn't be adding new elements. Hes building on the old memories, he's improving himself, pushing himself.

So he starts piling the bodies in different ways: hanging upside-down in a closet, shoved onto a shelve and laid on the bed below his sister's gravestone. Now he waits for his next victim. Laurie comes, but this time she manages to fight back. There are two schools of thought now: was Laurie his final girl, or was she meant to be another victim? Was his plan supposed to end with Laurie, or was she simply going to be another body? Based on what we see, he wanted to fill that room, and likely the house, with bodies. Clearly, he had planned what he was going to do for a long time. In his head, as he sat at Smiths Grove, he thought specifically: I'm going to take Judith's gravestone and surround it with more bodies. Either that, or this is all just on a whim, but I don't buy that. He escaped for a reason, on the anniversary of her death. He knew what he was going to do all along.

I don't think Laurie was all that important to Michael's plan. If he had successfully killed her too, he'd have continued to just find more and more bodies until he couldn't anymore, setting the house he was in as a giant mousetrap for the people of Haddonfield to fall into. But he couldn't because Laurie kept attacking him and he kept falling.

Now let's look at Michael's invincibility and supposed supernatural abilities. She stabs him in the neck with a sewing needle and he falls to the ground. It takes a while for him to get back up, but a wound like that likely wouldn't kill straight away. Sure, it would incapacitate, but we've learnt that Michael can be very "inhumanly patient" when he wants to be, what with his time at Smiths Grove as an example. He gets up and continues - does he feel pain here? Did it affect him at all? The fact he was down for a while implies, at least to me, that Laurie did manage to strike a fatal blow with that needle, otherwise Myers would get up straight away. Either that, or he didn't feel it, and simply allowed her to get away a bit to continue the chase. We've already established how much Michael enjoys the chase and the stalk, so of course he's going to give her that edge again. Then she stabs him in the eye with a coathanger and then in the chest with his own kitchen knife. Fatal blow. He falls. She gets the kids out of the house, and then he... gets up again. What was he experiencing? What was he thinking? He does think, because he isn't an empty vessel, so what was he thinking? Was he confused that he wasn't dying, or was his single desire to kill so overwhelming that he was able to override everything and continue? Either way, he goes for one last attack, where she demasks him. Here, we see that his eye is messed up. So his body does respond normally to physical stimuli - his eye was stabbed so the eyelid curls up. He bleeds. He's definitely human.

Then he's shot six times, falls out of the window and gets up again. This is the moment that a normal human being couldn't survive, so how did he? He must've been baffled! But anyway, through all this, we have to imagine the same scenes playing out not with the globally-recognised Michael Myers horror icon, but with the man behind the mask. He's a weird 21 year old guy who killed his sister when he was six and now he's back. He does weird shit. He's curious about kills and amused at the ways he does them. He stalks and watches. He used his sister's gravestone in his new rituals. He's just a young guy who really fucking likes killing. I don't want to explain why - it wasn't druids, but it might be that he's a pure incarnation of evil. But even if he is, he isn't just a shape. He clearly has a personality, and enjoys the way he stalks, and understands humans and how to get under their skin. If we imagine the same film but without the mask, it's a different picture. He's just a complete fucking weirdo, and somehow, his pure desire to kill grew so overwhelming that it broke reality and transcended life and death, and allowed him to become something more - his giver of death allowed him to escape it himself. This is Michael Myers. Haddonfield weirdo.

Now, I don't want to denounce the concept of evil here. I don't want to portray the concept of evil as being bound to the supernatural - it's often described Myers is the incarnate of pure evil and therefore he is a force of nature and unstoppable/unkillable - not human. There are many cases in real life of men who are truly evil - or at least commit heinous acts in the same vein Myers does - and this is the real world, where there is no supernatural. His ability to withstand stabbings and gunshots is not related to that, and is, to me, the ambiguity and amalgamation of the character of Michael Myers: all of Michael's personality traits are the perfect bedding for pure evil in a supernatural sense, but this doesn't negate Michael from being a human being who has lived 21 years and has his own personality, thoughts and internal lexicon. There is a precise logic and rhythym to Michael, and that's precisely because of the way he's portrayed: hes curious, playful, intelligent, agile, sadistic and childlike. He's inventive and creative and driven. He's Michael fucking Myers!

#Halloween 1978 #Halloween #Michael Myers #Halloween Movies

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saau-official · 5 years

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Dark Pasts (Witherstorm)

(yooo little heads up this one is bad and I need to put a warning,,)

Orion was thrown to the muddy ground in small, damp chamber, where young Ranger and Trevor were waiting for him, sitting up beside each other on the bunk they had to share. His captor, a man who had no name, slammed the door behind the bloodied child and walked off, followed by a few others. Orion pushed himself to his feet shakily and Ranger and Trevor quickly jumped up to help him. His back was smothered in red, still bleeding lashes, some reaching around to his chest or neck. The twins helped him over to the bed, Trevor was nearly in tears.

Orion was only 16, his little twin brothers 11 each. They'd been trapped in slavery for about a year, and Orion's scars were constantly closed and reopened. His brothers hadn't a mark on them, he would always defend them, he would take the lashes for himself, so they would remained unharmed. He didn't know where he was, he could never see the sky, he could never leave the bunker. The last bit of clear sky he saw was when he was being dragged inside from the van they'd been thrown into.

It was day and night working for them. Orion would refuse to leaves his brothers' sides, working alongside them and never letting them out of his sight. He didn't want any harm coming upon them, and hoped that soon they'd be free from the torture anyway. Lashes every other night for Orion: there was always some sort of trouble. However Orion never cried from the pain. He fought through it, he didn't falter. He was weak, surely, but he never cried. He would tremble and he would stumble, but cry? Not once.

Not once, until years later, when Ranger, after just turning 16 himself, went missing for a couple hours, and Orion had no clue where he was. He took Trevor back to the musty bunks they shared and left him there, knowing he'd be safer there than out with the other slaves alone. When Orion left to search, it only took him around ten minutes before he found his little brother, collapsed on the ground by a back wall with nothing but a blanket to cover him, shivering and lying in a pit of his own tears and vomit.

He was a mess, face paled and coughing through his weakened trembling, dirtied scratch marks left on his neck, shoulders, hips and back. It left Orion in shock, for a moment he couldn't move at the sight, but once he regained his senses, he ran right to Ranger's side, immediately scooping the sobbing young man up into his arms. Ranger flailed for a moment and screamed, but Orion held him close and spoke gently to him.

"It's alright, it's just me, it's just me, Orion.. It's your brother, it's alright.."

At hearing Orion's voice, Ranger only relaxed slightly. He didn't try to escape anymore, instead he clung tightly onto his brother and sobbing into his ragged and torn shirt. Orion didn't need to know what happened. He just knew whoever the culprit was wouldn't live to his next meal. He didn't question Ranger on anything, he simply held him close, combing through his matted hair with his fingers and trying everything in his power to make sure he was somewhat comfortable.

He eventually took him back to the bunks, where he cleaned him up, got him in clean clothes, and took care of him to make sure he wasn't in too much pain. Orion sat by Ranger until he stopped crying, until he fell asleep, and then Orion himself broke into tears beside Ranger's bed. He blamed himself at first, for letting Ranger go off without supervision, and for a while he hated himself for it. Trevor didn't know what happened, but at seeing Orion cry he too sobbed. Orion didn't mean to frighten him, and this just made him more distressed, so he pulled Trevor into a hug, assuring him that it was going to be okay, and they both remained huddled up together on the muddy ground until they fell asleep through the night.

When the "masters" found out where they'd been, they'd nearly punished all of them 15 lashes for skipping labor, but once again Orion stepped up to protect his brothers. The 45 lashes should've killed him, but he lived out of spite. He reminded himself he still needed to find whoever harmed Ranger and return the pain worse.

And that's exactly what he did. Just barely healed from the previous wounds, he found the culprit of Ranger's scarring. A large man, another slave, who made the mistake of laughing of the incident in Orion's face. Orion nearly killed the man, strangling him until he'd gone unconscious, and had to be pulled off by "masters" and once again punished. This time, instead of the usual lashes, they dragged him away to a seperate area.

They locked him down, didn't bother to put him to sleep, and brought over nothing but a needle and plastic thread. The next hours were agonizing. Each piercing was slow and accurate, each one forcing more and more strangled cries from Orion's already strained throat. When the punishment was finished, he was left a bloodied heap in the mud, a hand over his stitched mouth as the thick red of his own blood mixed with the wet brown of the mud under him. He coughed and choked, finding himself unable to move his jaw without sending searing pain throughout his entire body.

He was only given a few minutes genuine recovery, before he was yanked to his feet, dragged back out, and thrown back into his bunk. Afterwards, he didn't wake up for two days. Trevor thought his brother had been murdered, and Ranger had to calm him, assuring him that he was still breathing, he was only resting. When Orion awoke again, it was just yet another set of lashes before being thrown back to work. He could speak no longer. No more words of comfort for his brothers, no more soft relaxing assurances. And if anything he was more sad than angry. He wanted his brothers to feel as safe as possible, and now he couldn't help as well as he could've.

Only a month passed before yet another tragedy came afoot. This time, the sound of a light, fast footsteps and panicked sobbing came from outside Orion's bunk. He stood, just as Trevor came running into the small room. He was a heaving, sobbing mess, looking as though he'd just escaped death. This time Orion felt nothing but a burning, raging despise of the man who had the audacity to even threaten to lay a finger on his youngest brother.

Trevor fell right into Orion's arms, crying and screaming into his shirt. His shirt was half ripped, and he had a scratch on his arm from the all too familiar nails of a fellow dirty slave. Orion didn't even wait this time. He comforted Trevor enough, lightly relieved to know that nothing had truly happened to him yet, and left the bunk to go on the hunt. When he found the culprit, this time he showed no mercy.

He did kill the man this time, no one was there to stop him. He strangled him dead, broke his neck with the strength, feeling the bones shatter himself, and then left his body hanging for others to see and fear, head twisted in a horrid direction and blood pouring from the mouth. Orion left his mark, and of course, was once again punished for the actions. This time he was sent with 30 lashes into the gladiator fights, where two slaves were pitted against each other to the death.

Orion, to everyone's surprise, won and won, continuously, until the feeling of death meant nothing to his hands. He could kill without question. He grew stronger, larger, more and more skilled. His stitches were many times torn out and replaced from the fights, but his opponents were always wrong about his weak spot. The year passed, and he learned to fight well enough that he became the champion, unstoppable and amusing to watch.

However, on the "masters'" part, they made a grave mistake. Orion knew how to kill, and that's exactly what he did, outside of the ring. He killed his way out of slavery. He killed other slaves and hated masters. He freed himself and his brothers and left with nothing but blood on his hands. Then they went home, to the only home they knew. The home of their father. Their mother was already dead, killed when they were very young by a robber who just wanted her purse and no one nearby would assist her. Their father was still there, living on scraps.

He heard a knock at the door and went to answer, surprised to he his long missing sons before him. However that was the last sight he'd ever see, as Orion shot him dead on the spot and stepped over his father's corpse into the place he used to call home. He remembered the beatings there, the yelling, the sobbing, the feeling of loneliness and comfort only with his toddler brothers, all after his mother died. His father was always awful, it was just at full force when his mother was no longer there to protect him. Now his father was no longer there to harm him.

The trio called this place home for a few months, and during that time, Orion discovered the attic and it's containments. The journals of the original Witherstorm, his grandfather and his two brothers. The blueprints of the Witherstorm. The maps, and charts, and plans. He had it all now. And he agreed. After all his brothers and he had been through, it was his turn to strike back. And he worked for it. He worked for years. He tore himself open and put himself back together again over the old Witherstorm's plans. He ripped him arm to near shreds, and stapled every split back together, on his own. He taught himself sign, he taught his brothers sign, he taught them to fight, and to survive.

Years upon years of planning, patience, experience, building, pain, and rage built the new Witherstorm. And Orion has no intention of stopping his mission, his mark, his dent in society. His revenge.

#backstory #witherstorm #saau official #story #info #orion #ranger #trevor

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