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red-radish14 · 3 years

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How To Get Away With Murder

Authors Note:

No real-life acts were committed to persuading me to write this story, it is all fictional and written off the top of my head, no mental or physical attributes were caused to have premeditated planning on this, this felt like a very interesting story to write, there is graphic detail in this story if sensitive please do not read.

If you or someone you know is/are thinking about committing an act of violence upon you or others please call 911 and get help immediately!! They will be able to find the right resources and betterments for you!!

Thanks and reviews are always appreciated!! :)

Word Count: 2.2k

Average Life for an average girl:

December 31st, 1979

7:01pm

Hi, I'm Blaire, Blaire Helms, thinking that no one is going to read any of this I have made a resolution to start journaling my life. Even if no one ever saw this, it would be nice to look back and read what I had in mind for the years to come. Let me start out with who I am. I'm a 17-year-old girl from Topeka Kansas, I live with my mother and twin brothers in an apartment downtown. My brothers, Jack and Elliot, are star players on the high school football team. And well, my mother, she is a waiter at the cafe on the main street. We don't have much here at home, and having to scrounge for money to buy a $15 journal had been a struggle for the past few weeks. Me on the other hand, I'm 5'6" with long brown hair and big green eyes. School before winter break was tough, I get bullied a lot, and making friends is a bit of a challenge for me. My brothers don't make it any easier for me either, they sometimes even send random classmates to come to bully me in the smoking pit. Yeah yeah, I know, before you get all Nabby about me smoking I know that it's bad for you, but, I'm 17 how bad could it get. Being a junior in high school isn't all that rough though. I'm an average C student with average teen life. To end on a good note, I finally had enough money saved for the dance on the 13th. Well, it is a welcome back dance for all the kids who passed 1st semester. I just hope no trouble endured like last year, having my head dumped into the punch bowl was not pleasant. Expect more from me in the future. Until then.

-Blaire Helm

7:56pm

Smoking Pit Disaster:

January 7th, 1980

5:23pm

Today was hell, when I woke up my brother Elliot had clogged the toilet and flooded the whole bathroom, and just left it there, I was always the last one to leave the house and there was no time to clean it up. I had to get ready at school, about 15 minutes later and once I had left the restroom it was straight to the smoking pit to skip 1st period. There were always a few girls down there and they weren't very talkative, they always just sat and smoked for the whole hour, no breaks in between. As I was smoking you literally won't believe who came down to bother me, Mason Palmer. Mason was the hottest guy in school, he was also the biggest jerk of the school. He was famously popular among anyone in the city and always had a few remarks in his sleeve. after a few minutes of smoking and getting paper balls profusely thrown at me, Mason had jumped down into the pit and proceeded to taunt me. After the taunting, he had kicked my side causing me to drop my cigarette onto my leg. He then left laughing at his buddies. About 30 minutes after the beating I had left to go to 2nd period. Walking through the hallway trying to cover the burn hole in my jeans, I ran into Mason. He had grabbed my backpack and threw it at one of his buddies that had taken off with the bag. He then pushed me down and walked away, leaving me with no supplies, and I had returned to the smoking pit for the remainder of the day. Hopefully, this week would get better before the dance on the 13th. If it doesn't, I'll just have to stay home. But, until next time.

6:17pm

- Blaire Helm

Sam's Club Shopping Spree:

January 11th, 1980

9:12pm

Today I had to go shopping for bulk food supplies at Sam's Club. It was the cheapest place where we could go to buy a lot of items for less money. It was only the 2nd time I had to go shopping there and I was bored out of my mind. As I was shopping today I picked up the usual items we needed. Macaroni, ramen, chips and lots more. In the back of my mind somewhere I needed to get some cleaning supplies, I don't know why but I bought some anyway. a 4 pack of bleach bottles, 16-pack sponges, 2 3-gallon mop buckets, 8 pack of paper towels, and some sterile gloves. I felt like I needed to clean the whole house. After I was done shopping I decided to stop by Walgreens to pick up some pain killers for my back, it's been so horrible lately, they'll knock me out in a second if I'm not careful. Once I got home, I left the cleaning supplies in my car until I needed them and brought the other groceries inside. Being usual teenage boys my brothers decided to help none and pretend to be each other for a day, I guess it's a normal thing identical twins decide to do. Oh, and about Mason, he hasn't shown up to school for the past 2 days because he's been too busy suit shopping for the dance. This isn't prom, I guess he's wanting to fuck some chick in the back while everyone else is sipping on watered-down punch. Well, I'll let you guys know how the dance goes, all I'm wearing is a hand-me-down loose tee with some black jeans. Wish me luck.

10:02pm

- Blaire Helm

Till Death Do Us Part:

January 13th, 1980

5:43 am

Guys, I'm in the middle of fucking nowhere right now. Why is this happening, this can't be happening? It started with the stupid fucking dance. I walked into the gym, grabbed my punch, and boom Mason was right there, he had poured his punch all over me and pushed me causing me to slip and fall hitting my head. I had gotten up asking him what he wanted from me. Suddenly he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the side of the bleachers. He had pinned me against the wall and told me I had to do whatever he wanted me to do. I had agreed and asked him if I could run out to my car to get dried, he agreed and after some time I was back into the gym. Mason had gotten a new cup of punch and came over to dance. I had played around and danced along with him. Mason left to go pee after some dancing and asked me to hold his cup. While Mason was gone, I had grabbed some of those painkillers from the car and slipped some into his drink. Mason had returned and started drinking his punch, fast, like he was dying of dehydration. He started falling asleep so, I asked him if he wanted to go to the storage closet to have some fun. He had followed me in there, pinned me down, and I stabbed him. I had must've stabbed him 100 times, blood was everywhere. I panicked, I had shut off the lights and locked the door. It must've been hours but no one looked for us, once the last person left the school I knew what I needed to do with Mason. I had dragged his body out to my car and laid him in the backseat on top of my wet clothes, all of his blood had drained out onto the floor of the gym. I had grabbed the cleaning supplies I bought from Costco earlier and cleaned. it must've taken me an hour. I had grabbed all the trash and stuffed it into the back of my car. The closet was as clean as it was before the murder. And now I'm out here in the middle of fucking Kansas, 125 miles from where I live. Now, what do I fucking do?

7:24 am

- Blaire Helm

Pitched Out:

January 14th, 1980

3:36 pm

I had decided I needed to do something with this body or it was going to rot in my car minute by minute. I had stopped at a gas station to pick up 30 lbs of raw meat and some new clothes without being questioned and afterward, I had gone a bit off-roading miles away from the road and found a place to park and deal with it. My mother loved to Garden and so happens the day before she had left most of her gardening stuff in the car, so I got to digging. I had created dirt stairs and dug 12ft down. I had stripped Mason down to his skin and set his clothes aside. I had placed him into the hole. I covered him up with about 6 ft of dirt, and placed the raw rotting meat above, covering it with the remaining dirt, patted it out, and made it look natural. I had found some school papers from my car and tumbleweeds laying around to create a fire. I stripped down to my skin and proceeded to throw everything I had used to kill Mason into the fire, letting it burn. After the fire was done burning I picked up the ashes and brought them with me back to a small pond a few miles down the road. I had thrown the ashes into the pond, watching them disintegrate, and jumped in the pond myself to wash up all the blood. While I was in the pond I had realized what I've done. While drying off I burst into tears and begged God for forgiveness. Afterward, I had set myself on home, sitting here now at a gas station, only 25 miles away from my house.

4:17 pm

- Blaire Helm

The Party:

January 17th, 1980

8:57 pm

A watch party had started for Mason and I had joined along with them in search for him. I knew what I did, and I knew nobody was going to ever find him. I know that because it's a fact. The rotting meat will attract the dogs, the police dig it up and realize it's just some animal remains, and continue searching. There are no fingerprints or clothes to find because they are burnt. The ashes are dissolved into nothingness. And it's in the middle of Kansas in a desert, anyone could've done it. The school gym is cleaned like brand new, it's all planned. After the search party, I had stopped by Mason's house to see how his parents were doing. His mother and father could not stop crying. Soon I was "crying" and told them I needed to leave to get home to do some homework. I had gotten home and lost my mind, I was upset that I did such a thing. I had started laughing when realizing that I had gotten away, a murder undetected, a master plan successfully accomplished. But for how long.

9:10 pm

- Blaire Helm

Dumped Down:

April 18th, 1980

1:02 pm

It's been 3 months since I've killed Mason, the parties are over, and everyone is moving on like he was still out there missing. I knew what had happened, I've visited where I had buried him a few times since that night, It upsets me. A lot is going through my head lately. One of these days or years they are going to find him and I will be fucked, I can't live knowing I had killed a man. So sitting here in my bedroom I've come up with a plan, We are going to paint the walls, to have a fresh new start. I will load up the paintbrush and get to painting. The room is going to have small specks of red, it suits me best. But I've got to admit that I lived my life up to its fullest. Lighting up a cigarette and placed the paintbrush in the palm of my hand. I'm gonna set it down and I'll let you know how the room turns out tomorrow. I had left a note on the counter for my mother and my brothers, it's basically telling them to not come in until the paint dries, well I'll write later, Goodbye.

3:46 pm

- Blaire Helm

Roses:

Blaire Helm

Sex: F

DOB: 08/23/1963 (17)

Hgt: 5'6"

Eyes: Green

Cause of death: Suicide

DOD: 04/18/1980

We had responded to a report of a teenage suicide yesterday night, a distraught mother had dialed 911 crying about her daughter being dead. When police arrived at the scene it was in fact Blaire Helms in her small apartment bedroom. She was lying on her left side with a gunshot wound to her right side of her face, the shotgun laying behind her back and the walls dusted in blood. No one knows why Blaire had committed suicide, people usually called her sweet and caring. No suicide note was found and police are still investigating the scene of the crime.

Drug reports:

Cotinine: 45mg

Alcohol: 1.4oz

Adderall: 75mg

Tylenol: 1200mg

Subject transferred to autopsy room for opening, nothing found within the patient, the mother will soon arrive to finish the paperwork.

- M.D Green

Another Author's Note:

I really hope you guys enjoyed this story, I spent only a few hours on it so it's not professionally done, again pls call 911 if you or someone you think might consider suicide or committing a crime. Thanks again, take care

- L.L

#tw suicice #depressing post #murder #story time #like wtf

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deans-baby-momma · 5 years

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Past Haunts-Part 5

A/N: Sorry this week’s update is late but I’m trying to get myself ready for my first day of work tomorrow and yet trying not to think about it too much because then my nerves get the best of me and I get sick to my stomach. But without further ado, here is Part V of Past Haunts.

When a hunt brings the Winchesters back to their old stomping grounds of Truman High, they both discover something that astounds and shocks them. How will this discovery affect their family dynamic??

*Truman High School (earlier)*

Sam leaves the gym to go fulfill his duty as janitor. Upon entering the emptying classroom, he sees one of the students crumple to the floor. Sam jumps into action, catching the boy before he can hit the floor.

"Wha-what happened?" the kid asks.

Sam notices a black goo slowly oozing from his ear. He knows enough to know that it is ectoplasm and that the kid had been possessed by a ghost. He helps the boy up and gets him to the nurse's station and then returns to the scene of the crime to look for more evidence of what is going on and clean the mess.

As Sam is mopping the blood off the floor, the intercom buzzes to life and the principal's voice fills the air. "All students and faculty report to the gymnasium for an impromptu assembly. I repeat, all students and faculty to the gymnasium for an assembly."

While Dean gets his students wrangled and seated on the bleachers for the assembly, the other classes and teachers begin filing in. Once the guidance counselor initiates the meeting, Dean steps away and exits the gym. He knows this will be the only chance he will have to check the history of former students to try and figure out what is going on in the school. Two violent assaults in just one week, something has to be haunting the grounds. He picks the lock of the principal's office and goes into the records room to begin his search. Five drawers of files later, he hits the jackpot. "Yahtzee," he exclaims as he pulls the pages from the folder. He also pulls the paper from another folder, a cheerleader named Monica, who has fortunately already turned 18. He hopes maybe after the case is finished, he can still have a little fun. Cheerleaders are usually limber and bendy, right?

Meeting Dean in the hallway afterwards, Sam asks, "How's the nonviolence assembly going?"

"Apparently, shoving a kid's arm into a Cuisinart is not a 'healthy display of anger'. What is going on?"

"The kid had ectoplasm leaking out his ear," Sam explains. "Which only comes from a seriously pissed-off spirit. It's got to be ghost possession."

"That's pretty rare, isn't it?" Dean says, slightly confused.

"Yeah, but it happens. I mean, they get angry enough, they can take control of a person's body."

"All right," Dean says with a head nod. "So, we got a ghost in the building?"

"Yeah, but where? I mean, there's no EMF. Maybe we could find out who it is, at least," Sam says, baffled. "You know, check and see if somebody died bloody around here or something."

"Way ahead of you. I had to break into the principal's office to get this," Dean says as he pulls a paper out the pocket of his track pants. "Oh, and FYI, three of the cheerleaders are legal. Guess which ones."

"No."

Dean unfolds paper. "So, there was only one death on campus. It was a suicide back in '98. Some kid named Barry Cook." When Sam slows his stride, Dean stops and looks back to his brother. "What?"

Sam sighs. "I knew him. How did he die?"

"He slit his wrists in the first-floor girls' bathroom."

"That's where --" Sam begins.

"--the chick got swirleyed to death, exactly," Dean finishes "So, what? This ghost is possessing nerds?"

"And using them to go after bullies, yeah."

"Well, does that sound like Barry’s M.O.?"

Sam sighs again as he thinks back to his own time here. "Barry had a hard time."

The door suddenly opens and a person, a woman, in a waitress uniform walks in, looking toward them. Dean stops in his tracks as all air leaves his lungs. 'It can't be, can it?' he thinks to himself. The one person who had inhabited most of his waking thoughts and all of his dreams after they had left Truman High. Rebecca! The one he left behind. The first girl he had ever felt anything for. He tilts his head when he sees that she hid behind the lockers. Moving slightly faster he stops and turns, his eyes going wide.

"Becka?"

I startle when he says my name. My eyes meet his and I suck in a breath. 'It can't be. Not him, not now. No, Dean Winchester cannot be in the same building as my daughter!' But I would recognize those green eyes, those dimples and that hair anywhere. I see them everyday in Whitney.

"Dean? Dean Winchester?" I ask, silently praying I am wrong.

Unfortunately, my prayers go unanswered as the man in front of me smiles widely, causing those dimples to pop even more.

"Yeah," Dean smiles brightly. "Becka, how have you been?"

*Sam’s POV*

Sam looks between the two, shocked at the complete look of joy and delight on his brother's face. It then dawns on him who this woman is. He looks toward her to see the anguish and dismay in her eyes; the exact opposite of his brother.

"Okay," Sam says, breaking the silence. "I'll go look into this-" he continues as he pulls the paper from Dean's hand, "-while you two….catch up."

*End Sam's POV*

Sam walks through the door that I had just came through as his brother and I continue our staredown. Until Dean breaks it by looking down, almost like he is bashful or nervous. Yea, right. Dean Winchester, cocky son of a bitch who acted as if he ruled the school back in the day, shy and bashful. No way! But the small shift causes two things for me.

Anger and yearning. Anger, because of how things happened; yearning because let’s face it, I never got over him.

When I don’t say anything he finally looks up at me through his lashes and smiles a timid smile.

@vickiq9761

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@keymology

@hoboal87

@squirrelnotsam

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#Past Haunts #supernatural #spn fanfic #Supernatural fanfic #dean x reader #after school special #spn 4x13 #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #angst #fluff

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mymusehatesme · 5 years

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Red, Red Riding Hood

Words: 1384

Part: 4 of 6 - In which you have a conversation with Dean-Mon and Sam’uel.

Part one, two, three, five, six.

Summary: Two gods protect the villages within a 100-mile radius - but an annual sacrifice is required to extend the protection into the next year. This year, you are the sacrifice. But you have a different plan in mind. [Gender neutral reader.]

Warnings: Blood, violence, blades, being chased around the woods, and references to past self-harm.

A/N: I am new to the whole writing/posting fanfiction thing, so I’m learning! If something is missing or is weird, please let me know - thank you in advance for your patience!

Masterlist

You woke up on a wooden surface. Strange words were being muttered in a low voice. Dean-Mon, you thought venomously.

Turning your head in the direction of the voice, you opened your eyes. Dean-Mon was kneeling next to Sam’uel on a cot beneath the window. Sam’uel was pale and he was covered in a pile of blankets.

“Why aren’t I dead?” you asked gently. Not that you weren’t grateful to be alive, but… still. You should be dead. If the roles were reversed, you would have killed him as he lay bleeding out in the snow.

“Because we made a deal,” he said calmly, removing the cloth from Sam’uel’s forehead, “And we don’t break deals.” He looked at you over his shoulder before returning to mop his brother’s sweat off his chest. “How’s your arm?”

At the mention of your arm, you looked down at it and sat up, pure disbelief blocking any rational thought. It was back! Your arm was once again attached to your body! You rolled up your sleeve and ignored the scars that scored the inside of your forearm. There was a band of… something (Words? A tattoo of words?) wrapped around the skin where the limb had been reattached.

“It’s a spell,” Sam’uel wheezed. Dean-Mon shushed him, but he continued, “It’ll stay… on your skin, it’s on your bones-” He was seized with a hacking cough and Dean-Mon did his best to comfort him. When he stilled, Sam’uel caught your gaze and he added, “It’s our magic. And everyone who sees that mark will know- that we healed you.”

You nodded and lowered your eyes back to your arm. “Thank you,” you murmured.

“Sorry, what was that? Couldn’t hear you over the fact that you deliberately poisoned my brother by shoving a handful of holly berries down his throat and sacrificing your arm to do it,” Dean-Mon said. His tone was a mixture of hatred, respect, and… something else that you couldn’t name. His voice softened and he asked, “How’d you know about the holly berries, anyway?”

Shrugging, you hopped off the table and approached the two, “My mother always told me stories,” you explained, dipping a cloth in cool water and wringing it out, “about her childhood. When she was a little girl, she was friends with a young demigod, see…” Sam’uel’s eyes cracked open as you gently pressed the damp cloth to his forehead, “and she accidentally hurt him one winter.” He sighed softly and his eyes fluttered closed as you continued washing his face. “The holly burned the demigod’s skin. My mother was trying to keep them safe from faeries, but she didn’t know he was a demigod, so… that’s when she realized.”

Dean-Mon observed you for a bit before deciding you weren’t going to hurt his brother while his back was turned. Standing up, he went to his potions bench and set to making a healing draught. “What happened after?”

You shrugged again. “Mother never saw him again after that. For a few years, the crops were bad, that cattle were sick, and many villagers died suddenly. My mother never stopped blaming herself.”

“Hm,” Dean-Mon shrugged, snapping a root in half, “Well, that’s a thing.”

The conversation lulled and you kept patting the cloth over Sam’uel’s feverish skin. Dean-Mon stirred, chopped, crushed, and mixed at his station. The coins on his boots were making you mad with curiosity, as were the coins in Sam’uel’s hair. You were terrified of what would happen if you asked. But you asked anyway, in a small voice, “What gods do you pray to?”

Dean-Mon froze. Sam’uel stopped breathing and slowly opened his eyes to look up at you.

Oh no. That was the wrong question. What was the etiquette for asking gods things? Hastily trying to patch the ruined comradery between the three of you, you stammered, “Or, or are those our prayers to… to you?”

Sam’uel started shaking and Dean-Mon slowly returned to his work. You glanced at Dean-Mon, whose back was still turned to you, and when you looked back to Sam’uel, you saw his teeth and understood his shaking was silent laughter. “Do you know,” he began in a low tone, “how gods are made?”

You blinked. “I… thought they were just… always there? You know, birthed from a lightning storm or… carved from the bones of a giant?”

“Those are the Eldest Gods.” Dean-Mon was the one who spoke. His voice startled you. “The Eldest Gods were the ones we prayed to for safety.” He turned to you and braced his hands against the wooden table for support. His eyes were sad and heavy.

“We weren’t always gods,” Sam’uel explained, gently taking your wrist and lowering it to your lap, “We were human, once. A long time ago.”

Your jaw went slack as Sam’uel sat up and Dean-Mon handed him a mug with a swirling, green-gray mixture inside. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. Sam’uel downed the potion with a slight grimace.

“How- how long ago?” The question was meant to come out of your mouth much firmer than it left, but it was already asked.

Dean-Mon shrugged and Sam’uel replied, “One hundred, eighty-three years.”

“Sam and I, we were lost up here in a blizzard,” Dean-Mon explained, “We prayed for safety and to return to our home, but the gods gave us a different answer.” He paused before continuing, “We died. Buried in the snow. When we came back, we knew we were different, but we wouldn’t understand just how different until the full moon.”

Sam’uel laughed once, sharply. “I had no idea what was happening. I thought I was dying all over again,” he glanced at you and then crossed the floor to a cabinet on the other side of the room, “It hurts, the transformation; it hurts every time.” Opening the wooden panels and sifting through the items within, he continued, “We tried to leave, too. We tried to go home, but once we made it a mile past the tree line, we just stopped. As if there was an invisible barrier there, physically and mentally, barring us from our journey home.” He picked up a small leather bag and brought it back to the cot, undoing the knot and upending the bag into his other hand. Six large coins tumbled and clinked in his palm. Handing them out to you, he added, “These appeared on our doorstep on the fifth year here. It was summer and we stopped an invasion.”

You remembered that story. A snarling wolf the size of a barn tearing through the ranks of armored soldiers and a man made of black smoke moving from village to village in the blink of an eye, dispatching raiders with terrifying ease.

You had no idea. You surmised that the elders hadn’t even a clue as to the story. Once-human gods forever trapped on a mountain they died on, charged with protecting the villages around it and taking an annual tribute.

“The only time we could leave the mountain was when we were defending our charges,” Dean-Mon said as you took the coins.

The first four were golden, stamped with the likeness of the eldest gods on one side, and on the other was their title: Michael, Defender and General; Lucifer, Light-Bringer and Muse of Music, Raphael, Judge and Lieutenant; and Gabriel, Messenger and Trickster. The other two were copper: Dean Winchester, Protector of Home and Family; and Sam Winchester, Hunter of the Wicked and Defender of the Righteous.

Why Sam’uel had the longest title, you had no idea. “Why are the coins copper instead of silver?”

“Silver burns me,” Sam’uel explained, a slightly embarrassed tone in his voice, “That’s why Dean took your knife – it can kill me.”

Ah. You looked out the window, remembering how Dean-Mon promised you a day and a night to rest before fighting him. It was sunset, which meant this coming night might be your last.

You helped Dean-Mon make more potions for Sam’uel to heal, and helped them both make meals and clean up afterwards. At about midnight, Dean-Mon put Sam’uel to bed and gestured to the room you laid in the last time. “You’d best get some rest,” he offered quietly, “Sun’ll be up in eight hours.”

You nodded and bid him goodnight.

< part 3 part 5 >

@paintrider13-blog

#supernatural #spn fic #fairy tale au #red riding hood au #reader insert #dean winchester #demon!dean #woodcutter!dean #sam winchester #soulless!sam #wolf!sam #fic: red red riding hood #fic series: welcome to the fairy tale #mymusehatesme

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mercy-thompson-fanfiction · 7 years

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Flock

“Da,” Charles wasn’t known for emotional displays, but this was easily the scariest moment of his life (and he had seen and been responsible for some terrible things). “It’s—“ He stopped speaking. The Marrok didn’t need to know anything else. He didn’t need to know why his son had avoided bringing up the topic of his wife and mate for the past month at the least. He didn’t need to know why his son couldn’t say her name even now.

Anna had chosen to carry a pregnancy to term, though she needed some help since she couldn’t do it on her own, and it had taken a toll on her. Charles had already lost his mother, though a slightly different scenario, and Bran knew he feared he would lose his mate or one of the children.

“Is Samuel here?” Bran led the way back to Charles’. The most dominant wolf in North America knew his son wouldn’t leave Anna alone unless his older brother was there to take care of her. Even still, it was surprising.

“He suggested I find you.” Meaning Samuel had suggested Charles stay out of earshot of Anna for as long as he could manage.

“Let’s go.” Truth be told, Bran worried for his son if he lost Anna just as he worried for Anna if she lost the babies. “Charles.”

“Da’,” His son’s voice would have made anyone wince, but Bran knew he didn’t need pity right now. “What if—“

“Anna,” Bran chose to emphasize the name intentionally, “Will be ok.” He believed it enough for it to be true.

Charles couldn’t protect her from this. His brother had encouraged him to try and be in the room if he could handle the smell, but the bigger issue for the younger was the noises. Anna was hooked up to machines that were incessantly beeping and she was trying to stay quiet for his sake but he knew she was in pain.

“Charles,” Anna soothed and he wondered how she could be so calm. His father was outside ready to stop him if need be and she was laying on a bed in a mess of pain and sweat but she was soothing him anyways.

He stroked her hair, trying to put his mind anywhere else.

This shouldn’t have gotten so far. He had let her stubbornly talk him into this. She had wanted to keep her children, she’d possibly miscarried before. Charles had made her promise if they tried this once she would put it to rest from there.

He had tried to help her himself but wasn’t sure how. Instead, Ariana had called in an owed favor on his and Anna’s behalf. The Morrígan was famed for her association with death, but she had a deep connection with life as well. Samuel had only had experience with her sister, Nemane, before.

A Queen of earth, life and death, war, and cycles, she was able to all but absolutely cancel the moon’s call to Anna. His mate’s wolf would certainly awaken at the full moon, but she never changed once in all her pregnancy.

“I don’t need to save my strength.” She knew him too well. “Charles, I’m fine. It’s just childbirth. It’s always difficult.”

He gritted his teeth and didn’t say anything, opting towards flexing his fingers against her pillow.  She had lost weight and her wolf, her normally very controlled and temperate wolf, was on edge. Charles wasn’t so incredibly worried about losing her to her physical state, though none of them knew what would happen to her in childbirth, he was worried to losing her mentally.

He was scared he’d have to kill her.

“Anna, this is going to be a little long.” Samuel warned, but Charles knew it was aimed more at him. “You’re a first time mother and there’s two of them. You’re almost dilated.”

No one in the room knew how much Samuel wished he had a better assistant than just his brother. Ariana was staying away, still nervous with the idea of a very distressed Charles in the room. Mercy had been given fair warning that she may be needed but there was no way of knowing how long it would take her to get here with flight times. Bran had sent for her immediately at finding out Anna’s amniotic sac had broken (after a very long gestation for someone with twins, about 260 days if Samuel counted right) almost ten hours ago.

He trusted Mercy for one reason, she was not going to eat someone if she was stressed and the smell of fear and blood was thick in the air. He needed someone to tend to the first baby and listen to directions in case he has to deliver the second by C-section.

“Congrats, mom.” And just like that, she was there. “What do you need?” Samuel appreciated that his father had bothered to give Mercy the scrubs he’d left outside.

“She’s going through a quicker labour than I expected.” Samuel explained, motioning to a sink and gloves. Mercy headed towards them none too quickly. “What took you so long?”

“Air traffic, couldn’t take off. Some flights were rerouted for a storm and we got the brunt of it.”

Charles tried to focus on the woman he regarded as a younger sister performing such a mundane task as washing her hands but he found he was struggling.

“Ultrasound?” Mercy asked of the machine to Samuel’s left.

“Twins can be born in breech. We just have to make sure the one that’s right way down is born first.” And that her contractions are strong enough, but he didn’t want to mention that and worry Charles more.

That fear was diminished seemingly only a little while later when Anna managed to keep all but a whimper from her lips.

Charles looked wildly at Samuel who gave a small smile.

“Yeah, that’s the worst part.” Mercy told the other woman and Anna let out a shaky laugh. “It’s no fun, but you get two bundles of trouble at the end.”

“Not everyone here is a coyote, Mercy.” Samuel reminded, trying to help her keep the air light.

“No but babies are trouble.” She stated. “Are we in business or not, I think Anna wants them out.”

Charles snorted, unamused, but nature took its course anyways.

“The baby’s not crying—“ Anna startled and Charles kept her laying down with just one hand on her shoulder. This was his biggest fear.

Samuel hadn’t thought to tell Mercy how to take all the vitals, assuming he’d have time to do that after delivering the second baby. The little girl in his hands was breathing and seemingly healthy, but it was true. She was uncharacteristically quiet and she hadn’t been given to Anna yet.

“She must think Sam is her mother.” Mercy took her all of two steps in an attempt to allow the doctor to focus on the next baby before the one in her arms started crying. “Ah, there we go. This one will be quiet it seems, brooding, she probably just took after her dad.”

She followed the directions Samuel had already given her and wrapped the baby up afterwards to give her to Anna and Charles. Sam was relieved that the second baby was the smaller because she was able to be delivered, even in breech. Where the first baby had a mop of dark hair on her head already, this one was bald. Where the first one had been silent for a worrisome amount of time, the second was screaming immediately. When the older girl heard her younger sister she whimpered.

“Yes, yes, I’m hurrying.” Mercy joked. “You’ll have your sister in a second.”

“Do you know what you want to name them or do you want a little while?” Samuel was making sure Anna was ok before he did anything else. She still had the placenta to deal with as well.

“Raven,” She looked down at the little girl in her arms. “And Sora.”

“Sora isn’t Salish.” Mercy and Charles said together and Mercy wrinkled her nose.

“Not that I should know, but I guess learning from Charles taught me more than I thought it did.” And Charles snorted, watching her carefully with his younger daughter. “I have a daughter who is only a little older. I won’t drop her.” She promised. “Does Bran know you’re naming a kid after him?”

“It’s better than Branwen.” Samuel muttered.

The second baby was placed on Anna’s chest. She rested for a little while everyone worked around her. The babies were taken back and properly doctored. Thankfully, having been carried surprisingly close to term for a single-birth pregnancy, the twins were in the clear. Laid next to each other, Raven immediately held onto Sora and Samuel chuckled.

Charles looked up from his sleeping mate for only a moment to regard him and his daughters again.

“You don’t smell it?” Samuel asked and Charles took a moment. Mercy busied herself with cleaning since obviously no one else was worried about the bio waste. “She’s a wolf, Charles, the older one. Raven.”

“No…” He frowned and hesitantly walked over. The scent of blood was still thick but the scent of cleanser was acrid enough to make his head ache. He had to focus to pick it out, but it was there. His eyes widened a little.

“Third born-wolf to date.” Mercy noted aloud for everyone. “And seemingly very protective of her sister.”

“Twins are close.” Samuel agreed.

“She’ll lose her one day.” Charles was short and Sam gave Mercy a look that told her she needed to leave. Instead of fighting, she nodded, and calmly left to clean herself. “Samuel.”

“We don’t know what the future brings.” Samuel reminded. “Let’s get your mate comfortable. She’s going to want to change as soon as she’s strong enough.”

#twice the trouble #charles and anna #I've never given birth to any children let alone twins #too much research #charles x anna #fanfic #fanfiction #why is mercy even there #we need a midwife #bad feeling about this

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