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clacking-away · 5 years

Text

Aizawa Fluff warm-up piece

2650 words - cursing

The jingling of the keys sounded down the empty street as my shaky hands tried to get the proper key to fit into the slot of the lock. “God damn fucking piece of…” I trailed off questioning if I even really needed to lock the door, after all, who would want to steal from this rinky-dink little art shop, I could probably leave the door unlocked all night and nothing would be gone in the morning, right? “Fucking finally,” I muttered under my breath as the key slid into the door and I no longer had to question whether or not this job was worth the hassle of this door every night and how I might have explained to my boss that the reason that everything was stolen last night was because I was too lazy to be bothered to actually lock the door, and I figured it would be fine. Or maybe I wouldn’t have told her the truth, maybe I should have given myself a black eye and say I was jumped, meaning that the person stole my keys and we should get a new door with a better lock, one that actually accepted the key...ya know...so the person couldn’t come back and break in.

With the satisfying thud of the lock sliding into place I took my keys out of the lock, which of course had no problem coming out because why would it, and I turned to walk towards my car when I am faced with a mass next to me. “Oh, sorry…” I mutter again trying to slide past them, my eyes locked on the ground. However, I am stopped by an arm jutting out from the man. I quickly glance up at him to see what was going on when I noticed that I couldn’t see his face. Not that he didn’t have one, because of course he did, but in that he had covered it with a bandana.

“Hand over the bag and you won’t get hurt,” he said, a low growl in his voice. Was I actually getting mugged? What is this universe? I was joking I wasn’t really going to tell Jaclynn that I was jumped I swear! It was (mostly) a joke! “What are you deaf? Give me your bag!” I quickly look that man up and down. If only I knew his quirk, I have a shitty one, but if he also had a shitty one I might be able to take him. That quick glance up and down was apparently the wrong idea because he simply reached out for my bag after that. Instinctively I pull it away from him and that was the wrong idea. He promptly turns his hand into a hammer and swings it at me. Yeah, this guy is easily gonna beat me. I was able to duck, but in doing so I quickly lost my balance. I threw my arms behind me to catch me as I fell, and luckily I was fine, but my purse went flying. The man turned and saw it land on its side with a thud, but he didn’t move. “I’ll teach you a lesson first. You should learn to do what you are told!” He yelled as he stomped down on my ribcage with all his might knocking the wind out of me. I prepared myself to be struck again as he raised his hammer hand up, but what hit me was not what I anticipated.

The sound of skin hitting skin rang through my ears and I felt the familiar sting burn across my cheek. He had slapped me, but why? I open my eyes to look at him and see what had happened, but he looked just as confused as I was. Taking my chance I try to wiggle free from him but to no avail. “I don’t know what you’re trying but let’s try this again shall we?” He grunted raising his hand once more. It was no hammer this time, but simply a fist. I could see it rushing down towards me, I braced for impact. The half a second seemed to drag on forever, it’s amazing how time will drag on when you simply want something done and over with. I could swear I was waiting there for at least ten seconds, eyes and jaw clenched. Wait...it has been ten seconds. I slowly open one eye to peak around and see what is happening. Looking up the man was still above me but his arm was wrapped in something. A white bandage maybe? No, a scarf. I followed the fabric back to its origin and it was a tired looking man with his eyes open to a scary degree. Was he blinking? It doesn’t look like he’s blinking.

The tired man slowly walked closer, not making much noise, at least not that I could hear over the shuffling the man above me was making as he was trying to struggle free of the scarf. “Your quirk isn’t going to work.” The tired man kept walking closer, tightening the scarf as he did. Oh shit, I think that’s Eraser Head! As he came into closer into view so that I could see his features more clearly under the street light, a wave of realization flooded over me, I am being saved by a pro-hero.

In one swift motion, Eraser Head yanked the man off of me, tying him up deeper in his scarf. “You,” he turned to me, “call the police.” I simply nodded and grabbed out my phone, wincing as my ribs stung from the movement. I could tell he was watching me the entire time, but he didn’t say anything.

I lay in the bed of the hospital, I told them I would be fine, it was just one broken rib, but the hospital insisted that I spend the night, and it meant that I didn’t have to go to work so I wouldn’t really complain I guess. However, it did mean I had more time to think. My mind would wander around any and every subject it could, but I always seemed to go back to thinking about last night. About what the police asked me, what might have happened if Eraser Head hadn’t shown up when he did. If I’d ever see him again, after all, he seemed to almost vanish once the police were done talking to him. I wanted to thank him properly, I think I forgot to last night because of the messy state I was in.

“Okay, if I ever see him again I will have to make sure to thank him.” Catching myself saying this out loud I quickly glanced around to ensure that no one had heard me talking to myself before continuing my thought as just that, a thought. I can probably find out where he is online...not in a stalker way! Like, what he likes...cause he’s a pro hero...yeah...that’s what I meant. Why am I trying to clarify this to myself, no one else knows what I’m thinking? Reaching out for my laptop on the table next to me I get to work, trying to find out what I can to be able to thank the man who saved me.

As I go through the pro hero database I find out more about Eraser Head, not exactly what I wanted but it’s better than nothing I suppose. At least I found out that he teaches at UA, looks like he works with All Might. It would be creepy for me to just show up at a high school for no reason right? I mean I don’t even have a kid, nor do I know anyone who works there. “Ughhh it would be so much easier if I knew what he liked to do,” I groaned. Right as I was getting back to my snooping there was a light knock on my door. Probably the doctor again, I’m honestly fine, they don’t need to keep looking in on me. “Come in,” I call keeping my eyes on my laptop screen.

“Hello (y/n).” That voice wasn’t my doctors. It was familiar but not because of that. I look up and see what was on my screen reflected in real life.

“Eraser Head!” I sputtered, quickly closing my laptop, hoping that he couldn’t see the reflection of the screen in my glasses.

“Aizawa is fine. How are you? Did he hurt you badly?”

“O-oh um okay, Aizawa, yeah I’m fine. Just one broken rib. What are you doing here? I-I mean, it’s just you seem like a busy man and like you don’t really have time to be checking in on all the people you save.”

“Oh, well one of my students was admitted in here earlier today so I came to see him and I thought I would stop by to check in on you. Since I couldn’t stay for long after the police arrived last night.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you. I’m fine now, I think they are going to let me go in a couple of hours. But I'm glad you stopped by! I don’t think I thanked you last night in the blur of everything happening. So...ummm...thanks, ya know. For saving me,” I awkwardly chuckled at the last bit. He was dressed fairly differently now compared to yesterday. For one his scarf is gone and two his hair is pulled back into a ponytail. It really showed off how sharp of a jawline he has, especially with that stubble he kept either from fashion preference or laziness, probably the latter looking at him. His student probably constantly wear him out, I can only imagine being a teacher and all the hard work it takes.

“No need to thank me, I was walking home and saving people is part of my job.” He began leaning on the doorway, his shirt lightly riding up.

“Well, I am appreciative. I want to thank you properly, um...what if I were to buy you dinner sometime!” He got a slight smirk on his face at that suggestion. “Oh! N-not like as in a date, but I mean...um...I just...you saved my life, you know? I can’t just not repay you!” Fuck, shit, he probably thinks you have a crush on him now.

“It really wasn’t a big deal, I’m sure you would have done the same thing if you were in my shoes.” He stood straight up again, “look I appreciate your offer, but it was really nothing to make a big deal about.”

“Well, it was kinda a big deal to me, so...ummm...what if I just buy your meal at the hospital cafeteria? You said you had a student in here right? So you probably haven’t had lunch yet, let me pay for it.” I started to push things away so that I could get out of my bed.

“I guess I could go for a cup of coffee, Midoriya is going to be in here for a while longer..” he trailed off his thought and as he did I got to my feet and began to smooth down my clothes and put on my slippers.

“All right! I said, let's go get some terrible hospital coffee then,” I said walking towards him, still blocking the doorway.

As we made our way down the halls to the cafeteria, we were both quiet, but it wasn’t that uncomfortable type of quiet. No, it was more like the type of quiet you have with someone you’ve known for a long time. “So what were you doing before he approached you? People aren’t usually out at that time of night, at least not in that area of town,” Aizawa asked turning to me as we continued walking.

“Oh, haha, I was just locking up the store I work at for the night but the damn lock wasn’t working,” I was getting worked up again just thinking about that dumb door again. “It’s a little art store that myself and my boss run, she had to leave early so I was left to close up alone.”

“I see, so just wrong place wrong time I suppose,” He said turning forward again.

“Well, I think right time right place, if it hadn’t been then who knows if you would have been there to save me, ya know? I’m not completely helpless but that guy’s quirk was just too much for me.” I had to crane my neck up to look at him, he towered over me, not that it’s hard to do that at my height though.

“Hmm...I suppose if you look at it that way you’d be right.”

“The bigger question, however, is what you were doing there? There isn’t much in that area, is there?” There isn’t a lot online about him, he seems to mostly keep to himself, I wonder what his interests are and what he does when he’s not working?

“Oh I was just going home after walking a friend home, Hizashi drinks too much and so I needed to make sure he didn’t end up in a gutter.” There was that smirk of his again. It was actually pretty cute, the way it made the scar on his face crinkle.

He looked like he was going to continue that thought but a young high school girl walked up to him. “I’m sorry to interrupt Aizawa-sensei, but Midoriya woke up again. You asked me to let you know once he did.”

“Oh, yes, thank you Momo,” he turned to me, “I’m sorry (y/n), I have to go and...talk...to my student. Will you please excuse me?” I could feel my heart sink but I nodded nonetheless. He and the girl turned down an adjacent hall, taking a second to regain my composure I keep going to the cafeteria, even if Aizawa wasn’t going to join me I still wanted something to drink.

How could you be stupid enough to think that he actually wanted to spend time with you? Of course he was just being nice and accepting your gesture of kindness. It would have been rude of him not to. I, maybe a bit too aggressively, stir more sugar into my tea. Satisfied with the sweetness I lightly blow on the cup and go to take a sip. “Mother fucker!” I scream as it lightly burns my lip, looking around I quickly cover my mouth. Luckily it seems like there are only a few elderly people in here and they didn’t seem to hear me.

I start to make my way back, taking a longer route than how I came, I’ve spent so much time in that room I need some time out of there. After maybe another 15 minute or so detour I finally arrive back at my room. Reaching for the door I notice some movement down the hall. It was a girl looking around the corner, no, two girls. They were staring at me, maybe? What could they possibly want from me? I don’t recognize them from the store either. Cautiously I start to approach them, but as soon as they realize I see them they smile and leap back around the corner. Once I reach the end of the hall I look but the girls are nowhere to be seen.

Shrugging I return to my room and there on my bed was something, something out of place. Something that hadn’t been on my bed before. Walking over I pick up the small envelope. Slowly unfolding it I look at the somehow rushed and messy, yet perfectly legible handwriting and I have to look it over a couple times to make sure that it says what I think it does.

Rain check on coffee?

-Aizawa (999)888-7777

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wonderlandinrope · 7 years

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Not All Monsters Part 11

Masterlist

Sam X Reader

Summary: Adjusting to life with the Winchester while dealing with her own brand of PTSD Aris finds a unique way to keep her mind clear.

Warnings: Violence, talk of abuse,

Please leave a comment anything to let me know what you guys think.

Just as quickly as the Impala had pulled into the garage Aris was out the door, tossing her bag to Sam who hadn’t even managed to stand all the way. The bag hit his stomach causing him to let out an ‘umph’ sound. Dean got out of the car watching with some amusement as his brother chased Aris over to the bike that had once been Dorothy’s. Holding his keys he let them talk knowing that Sam would be in soon.

“We just got back!” Sam Waved one hand around gesturing to the bunker. “If you want alone time come in and rest, I won’t bug bother you. You haven’t slept in two days.”

Pushing down on the clutch the bike roared to life. It had become her choice of mobility when the chance arose something about the open air, accompanied by the way the way the bike moved with her body took all the troubles away. It felt great being back, on the beautiful machine.

Looking up into those galaxies called eyes, Aris smirked. “I’ll be back late. Don’t wait up.” Placing a peck on his cheek. Before he could protest further she took off.

Running his hand through his hair Sam couldn’t help but enjoy the view of Aris smiling a lightness to her that hadn’t been there since the first week she’d moved in. There was no more talk of the scar or her past with Darn. While she wouldn’t say where she had been disappearing to the past few weeks, it was good for her. That was the fact he couldn’t argue, so he didn’t. Aris could take care of herself. Besides she was back to the happy, bubbly, smart-ass that she was meant to be.

Waiting until she was completely gone from view before following his brother into the bunker. Dean was already sitting at the table pie in front of him two open beers, offering one to Sam. Cas was reading a book written in an enchant language, scribbling translations into a notebook.

“Off again,” Dean commented between bites.

“Yeah,” Sam called back. Dropping the bags in front of the washing machine a faint buzzing sound came from Aris duffle bag. Searching around he pulled out the phone she had forgot. George scrolled across the screen. Not wanting to be intrusive he ignored the call but brought the phone with him to the war room placing it on the table.

“She tells you where she’s going this time?” Dean asked handing his brother a beer,

Sam shook his head. “No. But hey it makes her happy so I’m not going to push the subject.”

“You aren’t at all curious to see what she has been up too. If I were you my mind would be running wild with possibilities.” Swinging his fork around he pointed it at Sam. “She could be out drinking, causing trouble. Who knows maybe she’s got a lesbian lover.”

“You are so immature you know that.” Sam laughed despite the comments.

“Oh, yeah I forget your hairs long enough for you to be the women too.” That one crossed the line a bit but Dean got the response he was looking for. Sam reached over taking a scrap of paper from Cas crumpling it up he chucked it at his brother.

Being mildly annoyed with the two interrupting his work, Cas looked up narrowing his eyes, directing his gaze at both. “I understand this is part of your normal bother bonding. However, it would be appreciated if you left me out of it.”

Both chuckling Sam watched again as the phone he had placed down on the table began to buzz again. Once more George came across the screen, it hadn’t occurred to him that Aris was keeping in touch with her old friends. If he called again Sam promised he would call the extra cell Aris should have kept on her.

“How about you Cas. She tell you where she disappeared to?” Dean just couldn’t drop the subject. Not just out of common curiosity but also because he had grown to see Aris as a little sister. Knowing that she was vulnerable on her own made it difficult to let her go off like she did.

Sam shook his head disapproving. “Would you drop it.”

“It’s not my fault that I worry. Hell out of the two of us you should be worried.” He countered. “So Cas she tell you her big secret.”

Cas put down his pen, knowing full well that he wasn’t going to get any more work done. “If she did tell me or I found out by other means I wouldn’t tell you. It would be a betrayal of her confidence.”

“See, It’s not a big deal.” Sam said taking a sip of his beer. “Wait what do you mean found out through other means?”

Dean laughed, a mouth full of pie, as Sam’s uncaring did a 180. Turning into a combination of concern and intrigue.

Entering the house it was dark all except a light that crept through a door at the end of a hall. Women could be heard chanting together in unison, it was a prayer. As Aris came through the door rushing in she hadn’t noticed that her clothes were still stained from the hunt. Blood splattered her shirt, from when she had taken a machete to the vampire. The prayer stopping as she walked in, eyes of five women of various ages and backgrounds fell on her.

It had been three weeks since she had joined the group. Thankfully up until that point none of the hunts had interfered making each meeting on time. She hadn’t told Sam or Dean about the meetings not wanting them to view her differently, simply say that she had to have time to herself. It seemed to be enough for them. However, Aris got the feeling that Cas knew based on his sudden need to defend her or give her a little extra support here and there. Either way it wasn’t something that they spoke, there was an understanding in his eyes that told her she didn’t have to worry about him spilling the beans to Sam.

“Is there something you’d like to share with the group Millie?” An older plump woman with short Grey hair, rosy cheeks, and shining blue eyes asked cautiously. Addressing Aris by the fake name she had given them.

“Sorry, I’m late… work.” Aris watched the eyes fell on her shirt. She looked down. “Oh! Ummm it's kool-aid.”

“This is a safe space you know you can talk if you want to.” A younger woman in her early 20s squeaked. She looked as her voice sounded, small, frail frame, her eyes taking up half her face.

“Really its ok.” Aris insisted, wrapping her leather jacket around her to cover the shirt.

Shrugging off the concern, the conversation turning to one of the women who went by the name Denise. In the past week, things had been getting worse for her at home, her husband coming home and instantly going into a tirade nearly every night, throwing breaking things, screaming at her, kicking the dog. But the fear of leaving overshadowed the need to escape. His unpredictability made it nearly impossible to know how much worse things may become.

It wasn't the type of group to pressure someone into doing something that they weren’t comfortable with but give support reminding each other that they weren’t crazy or that their instincts were usually right. In aris case it was a way to remind her that what she had gone through was real to validate they way she felt and reminder that when she had moments that caused a flashback or unintended reaction, such as pulling away from Sam when he touched her scar, it was just another way she had learned to survive. And that was ok.

“If you want I can help you move while he’s at work.” Aris offered to Denice, who reminded her almost too much of her old self.

She shook her head letting out an exhausted exhale, “No, I don’t think so. His brother is across the street. He would call. I can’t.”

It was a strange realization of how far she had come. To know that she was capable of leaving when others couldn’t. How now the idea of a brother watching over her, wasn’t an ominous force, but a caring person who had only her best interest at heart. She was lucky, it was no longer a real person that set out o hurt her only the one that lived in her memories.

Before more could be said a timer went off indicating that meeting was over. As always it seemed to end too soon, no one wanted to go back to the reality of living in fear, standing on eggshells. Saying a quick goodbye Aris walked out to find the motorcycle that she had borrowed from the garage. Before she mounts the bike, A soft warm hand rested on on her shoulder.

It was Zoe the elderly women that had been running the group. Her face held a depth of understanding as she took a drag of her freshly lit cigarette, “If you need somewhere to stay. You are always welcome here.”

“I’m fine really. Better than I have been in ages, to be honest.” Aris held on to the handle of the bike ready to get back home. The words were truer than she had ever considered.

Zoe looked up at her through a pair of glasses raising the eyebrows not completely believing her words. “I’m sure.” She tugged at Aris shirt plucking it then releasing it where the blood spatter was. “This ain’t my first rodeo kid.”

“Really, I’m fine. You should be talking to Denice, not me.” Aris looked around dismissively. “That girl was where I was a year ago. She needs to get out.”

Zoe nodded. “Can’t say I don’t agree. Alright, well have good night Millie.”

“You too Zoe.” Aris jumped on the bike, relaxing into the seat as she took off into the night.

Halfway back to the bunker, the bike begins to slow the light on it goes out leaving the darkness as her only company. Pulling off to the side Aris puts down the kickstand sitting back on her bike, she let the cool wind play with her hair lifting it, pulling it in different directions. The dim moonlight illuminated the barron street. It wouldn’t be long now til someone came along. She waited patiently for the comforting sound or the roar of an engine.

Climbing down she stood at the edge of the road looking as pathetic as she could muster. The first two cars that past didn’t even slow down, the third stopped but Aris waved the family on saying that there was someone on the way. Offering to wait whith her, Aris shook her head. Just up the road, she saw the big rig that she had been waiting for.

“Here they come now.” She let the anticipation creep into every cell of her body. Let the excitement fill her every pour. As the family drove off it wouldn’t be a matter of if the truck would stop but when.

She had been after him for a week now, each time missing just by a few minutes. Would he come back this time? Or would he stop the first time he passed her by. It didn’t take long to get the answer, the screeching of brakes was followed by the click of a door opening up. Up in the cabin was a greasy man with an unkempt beard and potbelly. He was larger than Aris had originally thought him to be but jumped in nonetheless.

“Lost Darlin?” His voice was grease as he was. His eyes moving up and down her body, pausing a moment at her low cut top. The light was too low to reveal the blood on her shirt. “I can give you a ride.” There was a double meaning to his words.

“Thanks, my bike died. Been stranded for hours, so glad you stopped.” The charm in her voice purposely egging him on she shut the door but didn’t put on the seatbelt.

Every few minutes his eyes flickered back to her staring down her chest then falling to thighs. Aris shifted in the seat trying to force away from the adrenaline but felt it building inside her. She waited to know soon enough she would get what she was looking for. The truck turned off a dead end road with no street lights.

Playing dumb Aris looked around. “Why are we stopping?”

“I heard something bump.” He opened the door. “Give me a hand would you?”

“Alright.” Climbing down the hair on the back of her neck began to stand, a knot in her stomach. She pushed it aside knowing fully that it was all too accurate. “What can I help you with?”

As she walked around the front she was literally hit with the reality of the situation. A fat fist to the gut knocked the wind out of her, reaching for the front of the truck to balance herself. The hot hood nearly burning her hand. Sucking in a sharp breath Aris regained herself just in time to dodge another blow. Ducking them sweeping her leg the mountain of a man crashed to the ground letting out a groan in pain. Pulling the dagger from her boot she moved on him ready to carve into his chest.

But the large man was faster than he would appear, scrambling to his feet he stood a hint of amusement and delight danced in his eyes. “It’s been awhile since I got to play. So let's play little lady.”

Moving more carefully this time Aris readied herself for a good fight. He had nearly seven inches on her, at least 120 lbs. But it wasn’t as if she hadn’t taken on bigger pray before. He swung at her then again, missing each time. The knife grazed his side cutting threw his shirt blood fell from his side. He screamed taking a moment to look at his wounds, the amusement had gone, leaving rage in its wake.

“Ya fuckin’ bitch! I was gonna leave you lookin pretty but hell I don’t mind turning you over instead.” This time when he charged he faked a swing kicking at her leg instead.

Stepping back she missed judged the loose gravel tripping backward, falling on her back. Hitting the ground she held tight to the knife but a boot came down on her hand, the pressure of it making her loosen her grip the knife went flying out of reach. The boot then moved to her throat, crushing her airway instinctively she clawed at the man’s leg. He only laughed reaching down pulling her up by her hair.

“Ain’t you somethin’ else.” The grotesque smell of cheap cigars and rotten teeth permeated the air around them.

“You don’t know the half of it.” Aris spat in his face. He closed his eyes for a moment just long enough for her to get the upper hand. Using the hand he held her by as leverage she pulled her leg back swinging as hard as she could, her foot making contact with his groan he fell to the ground gasping for air. “Steel toes feel good doesn’t it.”

She walked over picking up the knife that had been knocked down before. “See from what I understand you’ve done some bad shit. Hunting down girls, selling them to the highest bidder. Keeping a few for yourself, it were up to me we would do this nice and slow. I would make sure you felt every hit, every scratch, every violation you put those girls threw.”

“Fuckin’ whore.” it was the only word he could muster through the pain.

“I don’t have time for that, however. People waiting for me back home and all that. But don’t you have someone waiting for you too.” Aris raised the blade plunging it thru the man's heart.

The light faded from his eyes, leaving nothing but a hollow shell. She looked at the work she had made of him, enjoying every passing moment only returning to her sense as thunder cracked across the sky. A dampness in the air that clung to her skin ,a weight lifted off her chest. Digging through his pockets she found a wallet and a set of keys taking the cash she tossed the wallet on the body. Walking around the back the doors swung open hitting the side. Three timmid women cowered in the back. Aris didn’t bother to talk to them just left the doors swinging as she made the hike back to the bike.

It was the fight, the adrenaline that coursed through her veins, an addiction that she needed to feed. Better than any drug out there. While hunting with Sam and Dean helped fill the whole a little it wasn’t the same feeling as being completely alone with only herself to rely on. It was another secret that she kept from them one that Sam would never approve of. He worried about her too much as is. One day maybe she wouldn’t need the fear to feel normal, or the excitement it brought. But for now, it was what kept her sane.

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garrickgoyle · 7 years

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Title: the more i hear the less i know Word Count: 1653 (kill me i don’t even like garrick that much) Pairings: N/A unless u take into account garrick and miranda are, like, married Summary: *garrick done does get arrested* Notes: so here it is! i don’t have anyone to kill but i DO have a death eater to lock up (for the time-being at least since he’s back for round 2 in the nineties, presumably bc he’s one of those guys as is revealed). i wrote it between the hours of 4 and 8 am and it’s shit but it’s done and Uh hopefully a death eater being arrested will be a cool thing to brighten some characters’ days and make other death eaters scared LOL! anyway, the title is from the song “distractions” by groenland. Warnings: ok, so there are allusions to/vague descriptions of domestic/physical abuse, boys leering at girls, umm garrick continuously refers to an house-elf as an “it” even when the house-elf refers to herself as a she, ummm. y ea h. i think that’s it.

Garrick had never known a quiet night; there had always been some variation of noise wherever he was led. He had followed his father into the kitchens once as a boy to watch him order a house-elf to place its hand into an open flame, to keep it there and count to thirty. His father told the house-elf, in a saccharine tone, like he had been granting it a favor, that it was allowed to cry if it wanted to and that it had permission to scream. In the end, the house-elf didn’t cry and it didn’t scream, but Garrick could remember its broken sobs and whimpers. For the first fifteen seconds he watched its ugly, grey face wrinkle up in pain, and then he spent the remaining fifteen with his back turned, sneaking pastries off the table.

The lack of silence carried over into his school years, when he followed his housemates into the nooks and crannies of the castle. There was not a single empty classroom that they had not found, it felt like, that they didn’t fill with their conversation; they whispered about their plans, about what their fathers were doing. They made lewd comments about the half-blood girl in their Potions class, the one whose skirt always seemed a little too short for regulation. Garrick never did understand the muffled, exaggerated moans his friends made when they talked about getting a peek up a skirt on the staircase, but he felt something fizzle in the bottom of his stomach at the sound of them nevertheless.

He felt a similar fizzle the day he followed Gregor into Gringotts; what might have been a quiet evening in Diagon Alley exploding into chaos and ruin. Flashes of light illuminated his face and screams filled the air as they rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping over his feet with every other overeager step he took. It was meant to have been as quiet a kidnapping as possible but Garrick had never known anything without noise or a plan he couldn’t disassemble, sending its parts scattering; he could take orders and go where he was told, but action took a level of precision and reflexiveness that he had never quite mastered as he grew and his limbs stretched, flailing just as they had when he was thirteen.

But then there had been a roaring in his ears as he lifted his wand that night, a pounding, swirling, deafening tidal wave beating against his eardrums. And for a split second, in the time between the words left his lips and the woman fell to the ground with a thump, when it could have been silent if not for the rapidfire beat of his heart, he felt in control of every limb, nerve, and cell. He thought the woman’s face ugly and grey as it went slack and he felt rooted there, watching a trail of blood falling from her nose onto the pebbled street, but then in one nauseating swirl of motion, they were gone.

Garrick had never known a quiet night. His childhood summers were painted with shattered glass bottles, whiskey drenching the carpet in the parlor, in a house that had only recently became theirs. Up on the walls were pictures of ancestors with no blood relation to him, staring with an unwavering, penetrative gaze, as if they knew the Goyles cheated their way into wealth and into their family’s walls. He sometimes heard them whispering over the nonstop creaking of the house while he lay in his bed, though he could never think of what they would want to talk about so late at night and never in front of him. Their hushed conversations were often interrupted by the sounds of his mother crying, or his father’s shouting, by heavy footsteps stomping down the halls and slammed doors. Garrick was an only child and his father often hit him upside the head and reminded him that he was also a stupid one but his mother couldn’t give him any siblings to make up for it.

The parlor in which Miranda had now stood in had all new carpets and the portraits on the walls gazed at her with begrudging respect. She was holding a crying Gregory in her arms in a way that contradicted every passing complaint she made about feeling like a broodmare and when the nanny swept him out of her arms, it was even obvious to Garrick that she hated that that contradiction had the gall to exist in the first place. He thought for a moment about commenting on it, maybe requesting Gregory to be brought back into the room, when a sudden flurry of movement occurred; there was a loud crack! before a house-elf came stumbling through the door without announcement and Garrick instinctively tensed. Miranda looked incensed at the insolence and only managed to take two steps forward before the house-elf spoke.

“Mimney tried to tell them to leave, Master! She tried to tell them to go! But — But they wouldn’t listen!” It wheezed, then stumbled over the edge of the carpet and fell to its knees with a high-pitched wail. Garrick flinched; Miranda’s eyes hardened as they flitted toward him.

“Get to the fireplace, Garrick,” she ordered, moving toward him as if she would physically push him there if need be. For a brief, fleeting moment, Garrick felt something in him kick; if he had been any other man and if Miranda had been any other woman, he might have immediately identified it as a short bout of fondness. But they weren’t and never would be, so all he could focus on was the spike in his heart rate and the sweat that broke out across his brow.

“Wha—” was all the sound he had managed to make in return before the door flung open again, this time bringing two cloaked men inside, their Auror badges shining in the candlelight. The house-elf curled in on itself, half-dragging its body across the floor until it hit a hall, its wailing only growing louder as it rocked back and forth.

Garrick reached for his wand where he kept it in the inside pocket of his cloak but stopped short when he realized he wasn’t wearing it and before he could comprehend what his next step should be, Miranda’s own wand was flying across the room. She looked enraged at being immediately disarmed, close to spitting in the faces of the men as they came closer like they owned the space, looking more commanding in the house more than Garrick had ever managed to feel.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded, but their eyes glanced off his wife and landed back on Garrick. The one closest to him had curly hair and Garrick could quickly identify him as McKinnon, but his brain stuttered and skipped as he tried to recall a first name in his panic.

“Ye wanted for the murder of a muggle woman named Hope Lupin. We have several witnesses that have put ye at the scene and are ready t’identify ye in a lineup,” McKinnon announced, his wand in one hand while he held the other in a gesture arrogant in its sense of casualness, like Garrick wasn’t going to be a real threat — he wasn’t someone who’d have them on the tips of their toes. “Now, I advise ye can make this easy for ye ‘n ye wife here ‘n come with us without makin’ a mad dash, eh? Save us all some time.”

The last time Garrick tried to run from someone threatening him he was standing in that same parlor; his mother was crumpled on the floor much like the house-elf was, but she had been quiet. Garrick could hardly remember the last time he had even heard her voice. In his father’s hand was the spade for the fireplace as he stood as an enormous presence a few stride lengths from Garrick, much like Miranda was, but Miranda’s glare wasn’t pointed toward him nor was the curled lip in disgust. Miranda had squared off, aligning herself with him, because Miranda wasn’t anything like Garrick’s father but Garrick — Garrick was still the same thirteen year old who had took stumbling steps back, hastily trying to make a fruitless escape. Garrick hadn’t changed; he had killed that woman but he had also followed his orders, and yet he was still the same person he always was. He was still scared, small, and stupid.

In a split second, he made a dash for the fireplace, no real destination in mind beyond AnywhereButHereAnywhereButHereAnywhereButHere. He took less than a couple steps before he felt a strong shove at his back, the floor coming up to meet him. The last thing he heard was Miranda’s shout as his head hit the hearth, and then everything went black.

Garrick had never known a quiet night. He had never known one in the manor he grew up in, old in its age but new in their occupancy of it; he had never known it at Hogwarts, blindly carrying out commands barked at him by his housemates; and he didn’t know it then as he sat in a cold, wet cell in the middle of the ocean. He could hear the waves crash against the rocks, the pounding in his head, and the moaning, chanting, crying, screaming. They echoed in ways he had never thought possible; in an endless, winding loop, they wormed their way into his thoughts as he curled in on himself, pressed against the wall, the taste of blood flooding his mouth as he tried to recall Miranda’s words; the ones she hissed at him months ago as Gregor apparated them into the foyer, Garrick’s limbs shaking with pent up energy and his eyes darting wildly.

“An Imperius, Garrick,” she said, squeezing his bicep tightly. “That’s what you’ll say: it was an Imperius.”

#drabble

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wonderlandinrope · 7 years

Text

Not All Monster Part 11

Sam x Reader

Summary: While things began to look up for Aris and the Winchesters there were still many un answered quetions and even more pain still laying beneith the surface

Warning: Violance, laungage.

Authers note. So I am starting school again, and I have a lot more hoemwork than expacting so sorry for not getting these out in a timely manner. Please comment and let me know what you think.

Not All Monsters Materlist.

Just as quickly as the Impala had pulled into the garage Aris was out the door, tossing her bag to Sam who hadn’t even managed to stand all the way. The bag hit his stomach causing him to let out an ‘umph’ sound. Dean got out of the car watching with some amusement as his brother chased Aris over to the bike that had once been Dorothys. Holding his keys he let them talk knowing that Sam would be in soon.

“We just got back!” Sam Waved one hand around gesturing to the bunker. “If you want alone time come in and rest, I won’t bug bother you. You haven’t slept in two days.”

Looking up into those galaxies called eyes, Aris smirked. “I’ll be back late. Don’t wait up.” Placing a peck on his cheek. Before he could protest further she took off.

Waiting until she was completely gone from view before following his brother into the bunker. Dean was already sitting at the table pie in front of him two open beers, offering one to Sam. Cas was reading a book written in an ancient language, scribbling translations into a notebook.

“Off again,” Dean commented between bites.

“She tell you where she’s going this time?” Dean asked handing his brother a beer,

Sam shook his head. “No. But hey it makes her happy so I’m not going to push the subject.”

“You are so immature you know that.” Sam laughed despite the comments.

“How about you Cas. She tells you where she disappeared to?” Dean just couldn’t drop the subject. Not just out of common curiosity but also because he had grown to see Aris as a little sister. Knowing that she was vulnerable on her own made it difficult to let her go off like she did.

Sam shook his head disapproving. “Would you drop it.”

“It’s not my fault that I worry. Hell out of the two of us you should be worried.” He countered. “So Cas she tells you her big secret.”

“See, It’s not a big deal,” Sam said taking a sip of his beer. “Wait what do you mean found out through other means?”

Dean laughed, a mouth full of pie, as Sam’s uncaring did a 180. Turning into a combination of concern and intrigue.

It had been three weeks since she had joined the group. Thankfully up until that point none of the hunts had interfered making each meeting on time. She hadn’t told Sam or Dean about the meetings not wanting them to view her differently, simply say that she had to have time to herself. It seemed to be enough for them. However, Aris got the feeling that Cas knew based on his sudden need to defend her or give her a little extra support here and there. Either way, it wasn’t something that they spoke, there was an understanding in his eyes that told her she didn’t have to worry about him spilling the beans to Sam.

“Sorry, I’m late… work.” Aris watched the eyes fell on her shirt. She looked down. “Oh! Ummm it's kool-aid.”

“This is a safe space you know you can talk if you want to.” A younger woman in her early 20s squeaked. She looked as her voice sounded, small, frail frame, her eyes taking up half her face.

“Really it's ok.” Aris insisted, wrapping her leather jacket around her to cover the shirt.

“If you want I can help you move while he’s at work.” Aris offered to Denice, who reminded her almost too much of her old self.

She shook her head letting out an exhausted exhale, “No, I don’t think so. His brother is across the street. He would call. I can’t.”

“I’m fine really. Better than I have been in ages, to be honest.” Aris held on to the handle of the bike ready to get back home. The words were truer than she had ever considered.

“Really, I’m fine. You should be talking to Denice, not me.” Aris looked around dismissively. “That girl was where I was a year ago. She needs to get out.”

Zoe nodded. “Can’t say I don’t agree. Alright, well have good night Millie.”

“You too Zoe.” Aris jumped on the bike, relaxing into the seat as she took off into the night.

Climbing down she stood at the edge of the road looking as pathetic as she could muster. The first two cars that past didn’t even slow down, the third stopped but Aris waved the family on saying that there was someone on the way. Offering to wait for Aris shook her head. Just up the road, she saw the big rig that she had been waiting for.

“Thanks, my bike died. Been stranded for hours, so glad you stopped.” The charm in her voice purposely egging him on she shut the door but didn’t put on the seatbelt.

Every few minutes his eyes flickered back to her staring down her chest then falling to thighs. Aris shifted in the seat trying to force away from the adrenaline but felt it building inside her. She waited, soon enough she would get what she was looking for. The truck turned off a dead end road with no street lights.

Playing dumb Aris looked around. “Why are we stopping?”

“I heard something bump.” He opened the door. “Give me a hand would you?”

“Alright.” Climbing down the hair on the back of her neck began to stand, a knot in her stomach. She pushed it aside knowing fully that it was all too accurate. “What can I help you with?”

“Ya fuckin’ bitch! I was gonna leave you looking pretty but hell I don’t mind turning you over instead.” This time when he charged he faked a swing kicking at her leg instead.

Stepping back she missed judged the loose gravel tripping backward, falling on her back. Hitting the ground she held tight to the knife but a boot came down on her hand, the pressure of it making her loosen her grip the knife went flying out of reach. The boot then moved to her throat, crushing her airway instinctively she clawed at the man's leg. He only laughed reaching down pulling her up by her hair.

“Ain’t you somethin’ else.” The grotesque smell of cheap cigars and rotten teeth permeated the air around them.

She walked over picking up the knife that had been knocked down before. “See from what I understand you’ve done some bad shit. Hunting down girls, selling them to the highest bidder. Keeping a few for yourself, it was up to me we would do this nice and slow. I would make sure you felt every hit, every scratch, every violation you put those girls threw.”

“Fuckin’ whore.” it was the only word he could muster through the pain.

“I don’t have time for that, however. People waiting for me back home and all that. But don’t you have someone waiting for you too.” Aris raised the blade plunging it thru the man's heart.

The light faded from his eyes, leaving nothing but a hollow shell. She looked at the work she had made of him, enjoying every passing moment only returning to her sense as thunder cracked across the sky. A dampness in the air that clung to her skin ,a weight lifted off her chest. Digging through his pockets she found a wallet and a set of keys taking the cash she tossed the wallet on the body. Walking around the back the doors swung open hitting the side. Three timid women cowered in the back. Aris didn’t bother to talk to them just left the doors swinging as she made the hike back to the bike.

It was the fight, the adrenaline that coursed through her veins, an addiction that she needed to feed. Better than any drug out there. While hunting with Sam and Dean helped fill the whole a little it wasn’t the same feeling as being completely alone with only herself to rely on. It was another secret that she kept from the one that Sam would never approve of. He worried about her too much as is. One day maybe she wouldn’t need the fear to feel normal, or the excitement it brought. But for now, it was what kept her sane.

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