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mandoalorian · 4 years

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Brown Eyes [Din Djarin x Reader]

!! SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 15, SEASON 2. !!

*Hi. The episode has been out for three hours. The devil works hard but I work harder. I hope you enjoy! xx*

Summary: Din has always wanted to confess his love to you— but with his devotion to the Creed and with the risk of losing you, he wonders if the revelation would really be worth it. Would you even consider being with him if he refused to remove his helmet? When Grogu is taken away from Din and in the fiendish hands of Moff Gideon, Din realises there isn't anything he won't do to get his son back.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: descriptions of anxiety, *SPOILERS FOR Season 2 Episode 15: The Believer of The Mandalorian*

Word count: 2.6k

Permanent taglist - let me know if you want to be added: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos

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gif credit: @siennablake

"Din," you froze up, backing away from the Imperial who was sitting at a table drinking caf. "I- I can't do it."

Din's head snapped to face you, masked by the Imperial Shocktrooper helmet he was doting. "Why not?" His voice was firm, but the tone of his question dripped with concern. You bawled your fingers into a fist as you squeezed your eyes tight shut, beginning to anxiously pace around in circles.

"That's Valen Hess," you muttered, trying your hardest to regulate your nervous breathing. "He- I used to serve under him. I- can't… go in there. Din, he'll recognise me." the thoughts in your head were jumbled. Din placed two hands steady on your shoulders.

"I'll go, hand me the dataspike." Din told you calmly. You felt like putty under his touch. Usually, his firm grip would calm you down and ease any of your troubles away— but not this time. You felt completely nauseated.

Grogu was at stake. When you met the Mandalorian, it took him some time to find the confidence in introducing you to the child. You were Ex-Imperial after all. But he warmed up to you, seeing the way you cared so deeply for the children on Sorgan. When he introduced you to the little green bean, who did not yet have a name, you were enamoured. That's when Din knew he was in love with you. Ever since that day, he'd only fallen in love with you more and more. His feelings became stronger with every waking second he spent with you.

Of course, he never acted on his feelings. He wished he had, he wished he could say something. He knew that if something happened to you and you didn't know how he truly felt, he'd regret it for the rest of his life. There had been countless times where you and him brushed paths on the Razor Crest. Plenty of times to say something, plenty of times to mutter the three words that had consumed his mind, body and soul. ‘I love you’. The words were like a broken record in the back of his mind. He looked at you through his visor, seeing your distress and his heart aching and he wanted— no, he had to do something.

His son had been kidnapped and suddenly, Din was an unstoppable force. Nothing could hold him back— not his friends, not the Creed, nothing. The regret ate him up like flies on a corpse. If there was one thing he learned from Grogu's disappearance, is that you never know what is coming around the corner. Din began to treat everyday with you like it was your last because there was no way of telling what the future was holding. And that only stirred him on, the desire of telling you how much you meant to him.

"You can't go," you removed your finger from your lips where you had been anxiously biting your nails. "The security system is biometric facial recognition. There must be another way." you tried to rack your brain for a solution, but Din's mind was already made up.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes in search for an answer. You steadied your breathing. "Din," you whispered. "What if we distract them? You go in there and speak to him so he's looking the other way and I'll use that moment to sneak past and access the terminal."

No answer. "Din?" you asked, cautiously opening your eyes. He was already gone. Your mouth began to open and close like a goldfish as you watched his approach the terminal. He paused, midway between two tables, shakily saluting Valen Hess. Din turned back to the terminal, held his head up high and carried on over to it.

Upon examining it, Din found it was no different to any other information point— whether it had been New Republic or Independent, Din was lucky enough to already know how to navigate the system. He clicked a few buttons on the keypad, bringing up the facial recognition scanner. He stood still, letting it roam down his face. He didn't have much faith, but it was worth a shot.

Din cursed under his breath as the scanner light lit up red, beeping ecstatically.

"Error. Error. Facial scanning incomplete. Ten seconds until system shutdown." An automated voice informed. Din felt a few gazes burn into his back, no doubt Valen Hess noticing the commotion. "Ten, nine, eight-"

You watched as the timer went down, your hand fingers curling around the blaster in your holster. You didn't know what Din was going to, but you knew if anything— he was a man with a plan.

And that was when he removed his helmet.

It hit you like a ton of bricks, it took the air from your lungs leaving you gasping in silence. You felt like a criminal, looking at him with your own eyes. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't tear the gaze from the back of his head.

Brown hair. Dark brown hair, slightly messy from the helmet. Although you were some distance away, you noticed the little waves and the way it curled at the nape of his neck. The cut of the Imperial armour revealed just a sliver of his skin. It was golden tan— surprising to you.

"Facial scanning complete." The dataspike ejected from the terminal, a small light lit up in green, validating that the information had been processed and Din was now the owner of Moff Gideon’s co-ordinates. Just as he was about to put his helmet back on, a voice interrupted him.

Your heart sank when you saw that Valen Hess had approached Din.

"Trooper, where are you stationed?"

"Transportation."

"What?"

"My designation is transport— co-pilot."

"No son, what's your TK number?"

Din felt his throat dry up as he looked the man in the eyes. Valen Hess stared at Din right back, looking into the eyes that nobody had gazed into since Din had been sworn to the Creed. Din swallowed the lump in his throat, only for it to return immediately.

"He's with me." you announced, walking over to Din and Hess. A wash of relief shuttled through Din's body upon hearing your voice, but that was completely blown away when he realised you had seen him. It was true, you had seen his face— but there was no time to act up. Din had sacrificed everything for Grogu and you weren't going to let this go wrong. "This is my trooper, sir."

"Who is he and what's his TK number?" Valen Hess repeated, clicking his tongue between his teeth.

"This is my commanding officer TK-0402, and I'm TK-0322. I'm afraid he doesn't speak much. Ever since his vessel lost pressure on Tanaab." You explained with confidence, sighing apologetically and placing a hand on your hip.

Din found the courage to look at you, making brief yet bewildered glances between you and Valen Hess. He had a thousand questions but he knew he could trust you, and so, he smiled wearily, nodding his head in agreement to your little story.

"What's his name?" Hess inquired.

You took a deep breath, and turned to face Din. He looked at you too, his face softening as your eyes met for the very first time. You felt your heart rate slow down as you took in his appearance. You were nervous, and tensions were high, but as you looked into the Mandalorian's sparkling eyes, you felt a familiar sense of belonging. You felt complete.

"Brown eyes." you whispered, feeling the tears pool up as you tried to choke back a sob. Din smiled at you, just a small smile, but enough to make the corners of his eyes crinkle. It gave you the reassurance to know that this was all worth it.

"Well, brown eyes," Valen Hess adjusted his belt. "You troopers were both on the transport that brought in the valium, correct? The only surviving shocktroopers, might I add." he grinned, raising an eyebrow.

"Y-yeah, that was us." You answered hesitantly.

"Please, come join me for drinks. We must celebrate." Hess said, approaching the table he was originally sat at and ushering you over with an exaggerated gesture.

You and Din exchanged a look before walking over to the table and sinking down into the chair. Hess poured out two cups of caf and slid them over. Din stayed silent for most of the conversation, briefly making utterances of affirmation and nodding his head to suggest that he was indeed listening.

Although, he wasn't listening really. His mind was racing and he couldn't concentrate on anything. Although it wasn't necessarily true, he felt like every head in the room was looking at him. Staring at him. Judging him breaking his oath. Was he a failure? Was he a disgrace to the Creed? Dishonourable? A monster?

"I could blather on 'to health' or 'to success', but… tell me TK-0322, where do you come from?"

"Alderaan." you said without hesitation. Din looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, wondering why exactly you had given Hess the details of your real planet.

"Ah, I see…" Hess frowned. "Well, to Alderaan!" he grinned, raising his glass in the air.

"No." you deadpanned and Hess shot you a confused look.

"No?"

"No." you repeated. "Alderaan was a peaceful planet destroyed by the Empire."

"And those on the Death Star, those who aided in the destruction of Alderaan became heroes of the Empire. I was there." he said with pride.

Din watched your face harden as your cheeks burned up with rage. "Heroes?" you croaked out. "For attacking and murdering innocents? Hundreds of thousands of people died on Alderaan. I lost my family."

"Losing the ones we love is simply part of life," Hess revealed with a sigh— and Din felt his heart shatter at his words. He stiffened up, his gaze fixating on the concrete wall as his surroundings began to faze out.

"At what cost?" you whispered. "You know, every day I think about it. I wished there was something I could do to stop it. But no, I was here, fighting for the Empire. While the Empire was out killing my people." You gritted out as tears pricked your eyes. You felt Dins hand manouver under the table and take place on your thigh, as his gloved fingers rubbed comforting circles into the thin material that covered your skin. His hand was large, fitting around your leg perfectly. He held you down, stopping your anxious shaking and you immediately calmed down. Din wasn't going to stop you, but he did want you to not let your feelings intrude on what was really happening right now. Valen Hess, however, looked mortified. You picked up the glass and forced a smile. Din copied your movement and you clinked your glass with his. "To family." you toast, and Din smiles. He smiles so wide a dimple appears in his cheek.

"To family." he confirms, thinking about his son and how close he was to getting him back.

You put the glass of caf back down on the table and quickdrew your blaster, shooting Valen Hess in the chest.

Din knew better than to question you. He took out his own pistol and helped you take down the remaining troopers and Imps in the room before you both raced out of the base.

Of course, you knew that there'd be commotion. You heard the TIE fighter engines as soon as you stepped foot outside. Din grabbed your hand, pulling you along as you both sprinted into the depths of the forest. Once deep enough, you looked up. It was dark, strings of light beaming through the gaps in the trees. But it was enough to illuminate Din. You had envisioned what Din looked like beneath his beskar helmet every single day, and now, you had your answer.

Din took one look at you. He pulled off his leather gloves, dropping them to the ground and placed his hand on your cheek. Subconsciously, you leaned into the warmth of his palm as his fingers tucked the strands of hair behind your ear. You closed your eyes, humming in delight as his bodily warmth transferred to you.

"Din, when we return to the ship you can put your helmet back on. I never saw you." you promised, your voice barely above a whisper and your eyes remaining closed.

"Cyare," Din mumbled, his heart yearning. The pad of his thumb traced your face, following the height of your cheek bones and the arch of your eyebrows and down your nose. "Open your eyes." he requested. Cautiously, you obeyed, your eyes fluttering open as you drunk in his appearance once more.

Brown stubble with a patch of grey graced the lower portion of his face. You reached out, this time your own hand cupping his cheek. Din didn't let go of you, and he let you touch him. Your finger nervously brushed over the coarse hairs and you let out a small giggle as you remembered him telling you from the Fresher room on the Razor Crest that he was going to shave. He had, and now you could see for yourself that it had started growing back.

"Do… do you like what you see?" Din asked nervously, his gaze only temporarily lifting from yours.

You nodded your head. "I do," you admitted. "You're… so handsome."

Din felt his cheeks heat up as you watched the small blush creep upon his face. You were enthralled, seeing him like this. Seeing his humanity— his emotions and expressions. You knew you loved Din, with or without the helmet— but this confirmed everything.

"May I?" Din asked, leaning into you slowly and closing his eyes. The curve of his nose bumped against yours as and the softness of his lips touched you so delicately.

You mumbled a small 'yes' and as your lips parted, Din kissed you. Soft, sweet, but passionate and with heart. You tangled your hands in his hair, tugging at it and encouraging Din to kiss you deeper and further. He done so, willingly, a groan of pleasure escaping his mouth and vibrating through your body.

He pulled away eventually, breathless and his eyes dark and glazed. "I-I…" he was speechless, looking at you with the utmost adoration. "I love you." He sighed in defeat, knowing now was a better time than any to admit his true feelings. He had to do it one day, and it just so happened to be in the depths of a forest as you hid from Imperials.

"I love you too." you exhaled shakily, thrusting forward into his arms and letting him hold you tight to his chest. He pressed a kiss into your hair.

"I love you so much." Din sobbed, his grip around you tightening like he was afraid that if he let go, you'd vanish just like Grogu did. "Please, never leave me. Please."

"I'm not going anywhere Din," you promised. "Now c’mon, let's go get Grogu."

PART TWO

#the mandalorian season 2 spoilers #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian season 2

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mrsnazariowrites · 3 years

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Almost Perfect (Part 2): Moving Forward

Perfect Match

Pairing: Damien x MC

Rating: PG; Word Count: ~1680

For more content, see my Masterlist! And if you'd like to be tagged, let me know.

Maya hadn’t heard from Eros since she’d sent the survey. It wasn't too unusual, considering she’d rejected their ‘candidate’ for her. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. She’d considered calling their office to see if they’d gotten her response, only to remember there was no phone number - not even on their business card that Nadia had given her. Damien’s comments about that seemed to keep ringing over and over again in her mind.

She shook herself mentally. Quit thinking so much, Maya. The date is over, you did your part. Eros is history. Just enjoy your brunch with Damien.

Maya stole a glance at the man in question sitting across from her. They’d just arrived a few minutes ago, placed their orders and made some small talk. Now they were sitting in silence, waiting for their food. Neither of them had brought up her date last night just yet. But every now and then, there was a look on Damien’s face as though he was trying to gauge something - at least she thought.

She was tempted to tease him about it, but thought better of it. For all she knew, he was just preoccupied with some case of his.

Maya felt her mind start to wander as she regarded her friend. Damien was leaning back casually in his seat, one leg crossed over the other, checking something on his phone. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. His tan leather jacket hung open revealing his plain white oxford shirt tucked into black slacks, black tie hanging loosely off his button down collar. Maya’s gaze trailed over his wavy brown hair lightly combed to the side, to his jaw where a light stubble was showing.

Unconsciously, her own chin leaned into her palm from where her elbow was propped up on the table. They'd known each other for four years now - first as his client, now as his best friend. She always enjoyed his company; his wit and sarcastic sense of humor were some things she liked the most about him. And now that she thought about it, he was actually pretty good-looking in a rugged sort of way...

“Earth to Maya!”

“What? What?” She jumped slightly in her seat, dropping the fork she’d been twirling in her hand for the past … how long? Wait when did I get a fork in my hand? It clattered across the table, nearly landing in Damien’s food. Apparently their orders had already arrived. How long had she been …?

“You’ve been staring into space for the last five minutes.”

“Five minutes,” she repeated. “And you just sat there watching the whole time I was zoned out?”

Damien shrugged. “Had to find some way to kill time until our order came. Your staring contest with that vase was riveting.”

“Oh shut up.” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, though she was relieved he hadn’t noticed that it wasn’t the flower vase - situated on the table between them - she’d been staring at.

“Anyway, I was going to ask,” He chuckled and slid her utensil back to her. “How was your perfect evening with your perfect guy? Was everything perfection?” Damien kept talking as he drizzled maple syrup all over his full-stack pancakes, his lips curving slightly at the corner into a smirk. “But I already know the answer.”

Maya averted her eyes from him for a second. “Well …”

“So what did it for you?” Damien teased. “The big doe eyes? The whispered sweet nothings? An aversion to Tide Pods?”

“Damien.”

“I assume you already filled out the Eros survey.” His stare was fixated on his food as he cut into it. “Do I even need to ask what you chose? It’s written all over your face.”

Maya opened her mouth to answer, then closed it. “Well what do you think I chose Mr. Detective?” She rested her hands on her chin, smiling playfully.

Damien’s eyes twitched as he studied her. He’d gotten so used to hiding how he felt about her, that hearing about her love life was nothing new to him. But today, Maya had been quiet ever since they’d come to the restaurant together.

Despite his own perspective on the matter, he genuinely wanted to know how things went. Maya being happy was more important than being right. Eventually, he hadn’t been able to take the silence anymore and had put the question forward, only to find her lost in thought - her chin resting on her palm while her face had the most dreamy expression he’d ever seen on her. That had been more than enough of an answer for him.

At least he’d thought so until Maya answered him with another question, sporting that cheeky smile of hers. However many times he thought he’d figured her out, there was always something she'd do that would throw him off.

Damien considered her for a few more moments, then shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway. Whatever it is, I just want you to be-”

“I said no.”

He looked up at her in shock. “What? Really?”

Maya raised an eyebrow, snickering. “Don’t sound so disappointed.”

“No I’m not-” He caught himself, clearing his throat. “Of course not Maya, I didn’t mean it like that. When I saw you daydreaming earlier, I just figured you were thinking about your date. What happened?”

“Nothing, it was a great date. I just didn’t feel anything else for him.” Then she sat back and crossed her arms, looking at him expectantly. "I guess this is the part where you say 'I told you so’.”

“What?”

“You know,” she puffed up her chest, deepened her voice and put out her best imitation of Damien. “'I told you this whole 'matchmaking service algorithm’ deal was a load of garbage.’”

“'That does sound like something I’d say, ” Damien had a cocky grin on his face. “But it looks like you beat me to it.” Then his expression softened. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Maya.”

She waved it off as she went back to finishing her meal. “It’s okay. Hayden and I talked it over and we’ve agreed to stay friends.”

“Does Nadia know?”

“Just texted her. She’s not gonna be happy it didn’t work out after she put all that work into my referral.”

“Well maybe you could’ve told her in person … if she and Steve weren’t late for brunch again.” Damien huffed in annoyance as he leaned back in his chair. “They could be fleeing from a fire, and they’d still be doing that slow 'couple walk’, holding hands inside of the same pocket or whatever.”

“Actually,” Maya swallowed a bite of her egg white omelet before continuing. “I thought how it goes is you put your hands in each other’s pockets.”

“Like it matters.”

She eyed him carefully. “You have very … strong feelings about couples,” she said quietly.

“I’m just saying. How much does Nadia really know about Steve, anyway?” He gestured to her as he elaborated. “What kind of guy wins a Pet Philanthropy Award, owns multiple timeshares, and knows how to bake crème brulée cream puffs from memory?”

“From memory? Wow. Maybe Steve’s one of those childhood geniuses with an eidetic memory who graduated college at 16.”

Damien paused in the middle of sipping his coffee to stare at her in confusion.

“Sheldon Cooper? Big Bang Theory?”

Recognition dawned on his face. “So he’s an ambitious overachiever who wants to be a robot. Got it.” He rolled his eyes. “My point is … Steve probably just looks good on paper.” His face grew serious. “What do you think? Con artist? Adulterer? Vegan?” At that last remark, Maya smacked him in the shoulder with her napkin and he dodged it, laughing.

"C'mon, they're not that bad!"

"Sure. That's why you're laughing."

“Whatever.” She shook her head, giggling. “But you’re right. We hardly know Steve. No harm in being careful.” She flashed a mischievous smile. “Maybe we can grill him more when they arrive.”

“Good call," he said, nodding in approval. "See, those are the PI instincts I’m looking for, Maya. I mean, this whole business with Eros … I can barely find anything about them online, even with my contacts. It’s like they’re completely off the radar.”

“They are a very exclusive matchmaking service.” Maya replied. Then she frowned. “But I see your point.” At his questioning look, she continued. “When I arrived at their office, Cecile - the head of marketing who did my consultation - actually knew that I took the subway to get there, which train and at which station I got off. I mean they have my address so I get them knowing where I came from, but the actual route I commuted? It felt …” Maya shrugged, unsure.

“Oddly specific,” Damien finished for her. His eyes were narrowed in suspicion.

“Maybe some previous clients used that route as well.” she hastily added. “Let’s not worry unless we have to.”

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t keep your guard up, Maya,” He said softly. He looked as though he was about to say something else, but seemed to decide against it. “Trust your instincts.”

“I … I don’t know.” She sighed. “Steve and Nadia seem pretty happy. So Eros probably did something right.”

“For her sake, I hope so,” Damien replied. “Luckily, they’re taking it slow. Timing is key, because-”

“Maya! Damien!” Nadia burst into the restaurant and made her way to their table with Steve in tow. Both of them were beaming. “We have news!”

Damien and Maya looked between them curiously.

Nadia and Steve exchanged glances. Steve wiggled his eyebrows, silently urging her on. Then, they turned to their friends, excited. “We’re going to move in together! Tomorrow!” They exclaimed in unison.

Damien nearly spit out his coffee. “What?!”

“And we’re throwing a housewarming party,” Nadia continued, ignoring the flabbergasted detective. “Which, of course, we’re inviting you both to!”

Maya was still looking between them with wide eyes as she tried to process what she’d just heard. “I … can’t wait!”

@darley1101 @sfb123 @petiteboheme @sirbeepsalot @queenbirbs @bebepac @choicesfanaf @kat-tia801 @park-nazario @kingliam2019 @missameliep @lizeboredom @allthatglitters2020 @moonlightgem7 @otherworldlypresents @xantheaugustine @rainbowsinthestorm @vibrantlyjaz @jessiembruno @flowerpowell @mrswalkerwritesagain @lizeboredom @kimmiedoo5 @princess-geek @maxattack-powell @burnsoslow @gardeningourmet

#perfect match #damien nazario #damien x mc #nadia park #steve tennyson #perfect match au #hayden young

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cherry-gemz · 4 years

Text

Healing Hands: Chapter One

Summary: You find yourself abroad in London as the Chief of Pediatrics. Everything has been running smoothly until you are faced with an undiagnosed case and the doctor assigned is anything but willing to face defeat. Will you be able treat the child's unknown disease in time, along while facing uncharted waters with love in the workplace?

Parings: Henry Cavill {Dr. Cavill} x Y/N {F!Reader}

Rating: Overall series 18+ only, Chapter is PG

Word count: 2200 +/-

Tags: @evansamericanass @meowpurrbooks @lilithpaijiee @pterodactylterrace

A/N: Trying something new at writing Henry fanfic. IDK if it’s any good, but either way wanted to start writing. LMK if you're interested, comments and tags welcomed! 💜

P.S. I am no means in any medical field or sorts, so if I get something incorrect on a term or process, bear with me xo.

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

You knew that it was a gamble moving to the UK for the Chief of Pediatrics position. But it was time for a change. You needed to leave Eugene, Oregon. Start fresh. There was too much pain there and you had to get away. So when your cousin, who was a nurse from Brighton informed you that there was a need at her hospital for the highly-visible role, you thought why the hell not? You'd score a free round-trip to England of anything and actually see some family you've never met if it didn't pan out.

Little did you know that you'd fall in love with London: the weather, the people, the imagery of it all. Oregon weather wasn't all too different, so you acclimated well. It had been a few months of you settling in: understanding more of the language barriers despite it still being English. Knackered, cuppa, trollied.

That is until you had a run in with the division chief of Pediatrics, Dr. Cavill. The staff adored the renowned and painstakingly handsome doctor. And while you could appreciate the view as well, you never were on the same page with his ideals. His defiant behavior of undermining your direction of the unit was becoming a thorn in your side.

But this time, this time you'd had enough. He mentioned to a patient's parents, while with the speciality case, the hospital could take on their son's situation as priority and receive around the clock care. You threw down the patient's file on your desk and pinched the bridge of your nose. It was a lost cause, you had looked into the patient ever since you started the role.

The child seemed perfectly healthy and lab tests may show no signs of illness. But the chronic pain and fatigue were unexplainable. You empathized, but the poor child has undergone so many tests that at this point it was about providing facts to the parents. And right now, there was no cause of alarm. You weren’t a Dr. House, this wasn’t television. You didn't have the staff to dive into any research or clinical studies. You had a hospital to run, employees to pay, other lives needed saving.

You picked up the phone to the case nurse on the pediatric floor.

"Hello? Yes, this is Dr. Y/LN. Can you please remind Dr. Cavill of our 5pm? He's late. Thank you."

Slowly hanging up on the phone, you turn back to the patient's file. The boy, Jon Foulger, was just shy of his ninth birthday. No positive results for Lupus or Guillain-Barré syndrome. But This case had been bothering you, poor Jon had been in the hospital for three months and still no progress on a diagnosis. While you were never known to give up on a patient, you knew giving false hope to the parents was detrimental not only to the family, but to the same of the hospital's integrity. You were in a high esteemed role now, you knew that you had to discuss further with Henry on his actions.

Twenty more minutes passed by and you checked your watch. Fuming, you stood up from your desk and headed down to the pediatric floor by the lift.

As you briskly walk down the hall corridors you can't wait to give Cavill a piece of your mind. You turn the corner and ram right into a brick wall, or so you thought. Your hands instinctively pick up and see placed on the doctor's firm chest. You immediately flush and lose composure.

You knew he was a good-looking man, but this up close and personal was a whole other level. His dark hair and curls were fluffy and good enough to touch. His piercing steel blue eyes looked at yours and made immediate contact. His bone structure made the Michaelangelo's David blush.

"My apologies, Dr. Y/LN. Didn't see you there," his voice was like butter.

You straightened out your white coat, "Ahem, yes. Well I seemed to have been lost in thought. My apologies as well."

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, almost an hour ago…" you shifted your weight to stand a bit taller. He towered over you with his muscular frame and height.

"Patient...Jon Foulger. We must discuss the repercussions of your current actions."

"Jon-Jon," he replied stoic.

"Excuse me?"

"He likes to be called Jon-Jon."

"Well yes, let's go to my office and discuss further, please Dr. Cavill."

"As you wish," he replied and pivoted his heel to the nearby lift.

The rise up to the 12th floor was a quiet one, awkward overall as you knew you had to give a coaching and hated the notion. You missed practicing medicine; while you enjoyed the administration of your position, the thrill of helping others and using your hands were erased with cases of employee performance reviews, reports, budgets.

He coughed into his fist and then held his strong hands in place in a clasp.

He finally broke the silence, "Enjoying London?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Have you had any time to take a holiday?"

"Um, no. Been too busy."

"It might do you some good," he replies as he looks to check his watch.

You huff, "Somewhere you need to be, Doctor?"

"No, just checking the time."

His arrogance irritated you and now you weren't feeling as badly to give him his coaching.

The lift opened as you arrived at the floor and he held out the door for you to exit first. You nod and walk to your office, your kitten heels clicked on the hospital's linoleum floor and the sound echoed through your ears.

As you both enter your office you stride quickly to your desk to assume dominance of the room.

Henry stood near the doorway, admiring your photos and certificates on the wall.

"I knew you were American, but Stanford Medical? Interesting, thought you were from Oregon. When will you be returning?" You can't read him if that was a compliment or sarcasm.

"Dr. Cavill, would you be so kind to shut the door," you state firmly and sit down, ignoring his comment about your return to the states.

His brow peaks and he nods, turning to close the door.

"Please, have a seat," you say.

"I'd rather stand, thank you," he replies and you know this is going to be a difficult conversation.

"Well this will only take a moment then. Your recent behavior with the Foulger family, while I commend you for your dedication, has been slight askew with the hospital's protocols."

"Is that so?" His voice dropped and his brow arched. "In what way, Dr. Y/LN?"

You cough as the drawl of his mouth turns upward and you can swear there's a smug smirk across his face.

"Well...for one...you've promised around the care of the child. Now simply put, we've exhausted all efforts for a diagnosis and until Jon...Jon-Jon…shows any new symptoms, we are at liberty to provide him comfort care for the remainder of the evening, but he will need to be discharged in the morning. We've exhausted him enough with MRIs, blood tests. I'm at a rock in a hard place, Dr. Cavill."

"The rock or the hard place where you give up on a child's well-being simply because you haven't thought to see him as a person? Rather as a number on your statistical analysis of how functioning this hospital is?"

His eyes pierce through you and make your knees grow weak. The nurse staff usually talks about him being a cuddly bear, always making the children laugh and smile. But this man before you, why he's no cuddly bear. He was a beast of a man. A grizzly in fact.

"Now see here, I will let you know that this case is very important to me. All the children are. But what you fail to see is that for whatever reason you've gravitated to this particular case, you're chasing something that doesn't exist."

His broad shoulders and strong neck tense at your words. He blinks methodically, as if he's scoping out his prey. No, don't let his charm and rugged good looks distract you. This is a man who is used to getting what he wants and you are a woman who knows perfectly what to do with that.

"And I believe you're blind, Doctor."

"Excuse me?" Your voice was shrill and short. "This is borderline insubordination. I'd be careful with your next words, Cavill."

"Pardon my frankness, Dr. Y/LN, but I've been here longer and know these patients in and out," his voice raised and you could see the hint of a vein showing on his thick neck. "Some of the children come from very poor and debilitating environments. We can't just cast them off once a diagnosis doesn't stick simply because we need the bed or we're done trying!"

"DR. CAVILL," you exclaim and let out an exasperated sigh. His demeanor changed and his upper lip curved slightly.

“Dr. Y/LN. With all due respect, I think you’re making the wrong judgement call here. Things are not adding up with Jon-Jon, if we just give it a few more days...I feel like we’re making progress and I’ve labored enough research into it-”

"Again, while I appreciate your passion...”

“Passion which you need to show for the patient-”

You raise your hand to silence him, “This is not up to you, Dr. Cavill. As Chief of Pediatrics, this is my call. We will discharge Jon tomorrow if he does not show any new symptoms. If you disobey any further protocols, I will have no other choice but resort to disciplinary action. Do I make myself clear, Doctor?"

You press your hands on your desk and lean inward, portraying your stance.

"Perfectly," he responded.

"And another thing, I -" you start, but he turns and abruptly walks out of your office, leaving your door open.

The nerve! Did he really just do that? Where does he think he's going? Didn't I just tell him I'd resort to disciplinary action?!

You rush out of your office and you see him striding through the hall. His strong posture, shoulders back eluded to years of boarding school perhaps or military. You noticed his fists were clenched and it gave you slight satisfaction that you chipped away ever so slightly at his ego.

It was going to take a lot more than that to send you packing, you thought.

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

The next day came and went. You had confirmed that Jon-Jon was discharged with the floor nurse and while you were relieved to have handled that quite professionally, you knew it did not bear well with the rest of the staff.

You were still getting your feet wet and learning more about your team. It was solid overall, many years of expertise collectively, but they treated you like the outsider you were. No requests to meet for lunch or drinks after work. No camaraderie birthday cards seeking your signature or date night advice. Just the normal days in and out, pulling many late nights in your office, up to the point of exhaustion. You'd collapse in your double bed after work, stare at the ceiling of the small room you rented from your cousin, Laura, and try to drown out all the bustle of seven people in the same 3 bedroom flat.

Just like any other day, You sat alone during lunch. But that never really was ever a bother being used to it now. You were excited about an audiobook you were meaning to dive into and right when you were about to use your airpods, that's when you noticed him enter the cafeteria.

His presteen, crisp white lab coat was tight around his build. You could tell he took fitness seriously and wondered what he was hiding underneath it all. You unknowingly licked your lips as you watched him search for a fruit out of the bowl off the commons counter. Curious to know what he fancied: was he into a sweet apple or something more tart like cherries.

He picked up a peach and squeezed it with his massive hand, making it look quite comical considering his size. His eyes met yours and you quickly looked away, trying to now draw any attention to yourself. You fumbled with your phone as you connected to the audiobook and heart his footsteps approached your empty table.

"Good afternoon," he said. His voice was deep, smooth, and inviting. Not at all like the day before in your office.

You play coy and don't bother to look up, fidgeting with your sandwich.

"Hello," you reply distantly. He made you nervous. Would he bring up yesterday's conversation? Will he continue to look that delectable each day?

He smirked and took a bite of the fuzzy peach. There was a slight crunch as he dug his pearly whites into the rounded fruit. The velvet and thin layer of skin eased off and entered his mouth; he chewed slightly and let the piece swirl around with his thick tongue.

You peered to look at him and his stare hadn't relented. He took another bite. This time the luscious juice slips out of the white-yellow fleshed fruit and down slightly on his chin. Oh, to be that piece of fruit and have him ravish you that way. How he’d expertly use his hands over you and taste you with those lips.

He can tell you're still distant, however he notices you're unable to tear your eyes away from him.

He walks over, closer to you now, and you can smell his cologne: a woody aromatic scent tied with a hint of suede. It's downright delicious and with the mix of the peach, your senses are in overdrive.

What is it with this man and his ability to excite and anger you all at once? You not only want to put him into his place, you want to do so right here on the cafeteria table and have your way with him.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" He smiles devilishly and places the half eaten fruit on the table next to your phone and walks away.

Your cringe and use all your might to not look back at him. He's going to make this very hard for you, very hard indeed.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fics #romance #london #Healing Hands #enemies to lovers #doctor romantic

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x-spooks · 4 years

Text

Serial Kisses. One: An Off Encounter.

Paired up with Kim Jong-In aka Exo's Kai.

Genre: Spicy Fluff

Rated: PG-13

The hollow scrape of your nameless black heels off SM's public sidewalk was the only thing keeping you focused. You took a deep breath through your nose and let it chill in your lungs for a second as your hand grabbed the SM logo door and pulled it open. You stepped into the main lobby with all the confidence of a someone who was actually supposed to be in this building. As your grandmother had always said, 'Fake it until you Make it.'

You forced your eyes to zone in on the Reception Desk. With strong, eased, steps you broke the distance between the door and the receptionist. Idol mode kicked in automictically, a pleasant smile pulled at the corners of your naturally pouty lips.

The receptionist greeted you kindly in what you assumed was English and began to ask you questions.

"I don't mean to interrupt you," your voice was in polite mode, "I don't speak English," you offered with only half an ounce of gilt. You were usually mistook for a foreigner, "I'm Korean." You presented.

The receptionist was instantly apologetic. You ignored the skeptical gleam in her blue lensed eyes. You learned early on even if you prove you were born and raise in Korea no one believed you.

"I'm Kang Dal-Rea," you smiled with confidence, "I have an appointment with Park Hyun-Woo."

In her embarrassment, she lowered her gaze and quickly started to tap at the keyboard before her. She was about to pick up a phone, when you felt a soft tap on your shoulder.

Your eyes moved from the receptionist to the individual. It was a man in his early thirties with a welcoming smile on his kind featured face, "Kang Dal-Rea?" His bow of acknowledgement was barely a nod. "I'm Park Hyun-Woo."

You turn to face him. You bow at the waist a slightly. The movement pulled a few loose strands of two toned hair from your low bun. The purple based black fading into white tipped hair framed the sides of your face, "I'm happy to meet you." your smile only slipped of a moment, "I am Kang Dal-Rea."

"We are very excited you agreed to meet with us," he offered as he gestured in the directions of the secured employee only entrance, "We know you've been busy after that amazing performance." He began to lead the way.

You followed while keeping your eyes fixed on the side of his face. You honest didn't want to see or be drawn into the riches of the building or the people with in.

"I personally want to thank you for giving us this time," He continued.

It occurred to you he was laying it of thick, "No, It was nice to be considered for the opportunity," you counter feeling slightly uncomfortable by the overly politeness. You were led to believe this was an audition to be a backup dancer.

He barely led you past the security barriers when his phone began to buzz. He flashed you a apologetic grin and took out his phone looking at the screen. "I'm sorry," he offered a small bow of his head, "I have to take this."

Your hands flash a quick 'no problem' motion as your eyes glanced back towards the main entrance. Maybe this wasn't going to be worth being nervous about, you thought while finally taking in your surroundings. The lobby was flashy.

"Oh," Mr. Park voiced a bit too loudly for a phone call, "I mean if you aren't in a rush."

Your eyes found their way back to Mr. Park who was approached by a cute women in her early twenties who seemed to be a little too into fashion. Your eyes narrow slightly as you recognized the petite trendy Idol as BlackPink's Jennie. Why would she be in the SM building? Maybe a collab?

You were brought from your thoughts by her voice, "I would be happy to take her to the meeting room for you." Her polite smile didn't reach her eyes. "Which meeting room?"

"Three." Mr Park answered with worry lacing his smooth voice. He then gave you a little wave, "I shouldn't be long. The contract is waiting for you though, so please look it over." He smiled while walking away and answering his call.

"I was surprised to see you here," Jennie's voice demanded your full attention. Her eyes were dragging down your frame. Her facial expression was sour as she took in your no brand high-waisted black pencil skirt and men's black long sleeved button down tucked in.

"My eyes are up here." You flashed her a sly smirk as your four inch heels made you tall enough to look down at her.

She blatantly ignored your words and started for the elevators, "Did your little group finally break up?" Her voice took on a mockingly sympathetic tone. "Too ba-

"No," you voiced with pride while you approached the elevator. You stamped the up button with your finger since Jennie made no attempt, "We're just waiting for our brothers to come back from enlistment." you admitted a bit more information than you normally would in an effort to stop her from talking.

"Hmm...What was the groups concept again?" Jennie seemed unbothered by your bluntness.

"We're mythical creatures swore to protect Dynasty." You answered.

"Oh. I see. And what are you supposed to be?" She gave you the side eye.

"Gumiho."

"Aren't you giving yourself a little too much credit?" Her gaze roamed up your frame again.

The ding of the elevator was the soul reason you kept your composure, "I would agree with you," You spoke honestly nodding slightly as you followed her on to the elevator. You positioned yourself behind her, "but I did get a few compliments from Top and G-dragon on Show Me the Money." You hoped that would shut her up since rumor has it she was G-Dragon's new girlfriend.

You watched her shoulders tense up. She pressed the number you needed, "They must've been being kind." she offered with a sharpness you couldn't ignore.

A satisficed expression took hold of your features. You were never the one who needed to have the last word to feel validated. Just getting her slightly annoyed was enough for you.

The rest of the elevator ride was quiet. The doors opened up on almost every floor, filling it up.

"Jennie," an acquaintance of hers entered the elevator. The conversation was hushed, but you tried your best to ease drop. "Are you here to see Kai? I heard he was looking for a new dance partner. Is that why you're here as his muse? Are you back together?"

"Shhh...People might hear you." Jennie sounded like she was smiling and wasn't being hushed about it. As if she wanted people to actually be intrigued enough to listen in. "Kai and I aren't together." she confirmed, but left everything else open ended.

You couldn't help roll your eyes.

Jennie got off at the next floor after saying her goodbyes. You politely had to squeeze out of the back and apologize for hitting your duffle bag off someone arms. You bowed to the whole elevator as the doors closed.

"It's down that hall," she scuffed, "It's clearly marked three."

You bow your head slightly, "Thank you for your guidance. Hope the day sees you off well." you overlook her silence and began down the hall not caring which direction she went in.

You found the door. You softly knocked on it then entered when you didn't hear anything. The large room was fitted with a table that ran it's length. The chair's looked modern, but comfortable. The lighting was a bit over kill, but you guessed if you had money to blow on light fixtures, you would too.

You walked around the table to the white envelope on it's surface. You pulled out the chair in front of it and the one next to it. You took off your duffle and set it in the empty chair then sat yourself in the one with paper work. You instinctively slid out of your heels stretching your ankles while your fingers undid the envelope. You slip out the paper work and started looking it over.

You were on the tenth piece of paper when you heard the door click open. You instantly straightened you spine and slipped your heels back on as you stood.

It was Mr. Park with another man in tow. "Oh please," Mr. Park tone was melting with his apologies, "forgive me. We had a little miscommunication. I'm completely at fault."

"No worries." You made sure to bow to the new man, "Sincerely, I was reading over the contract."

"Oh good," Mr. Park's cheerful voice came back in full force, "is there anything you have questions about?"

"How long is this offer open for?" It was quite a bit of money and you didn't want to sign without your fathers' lawyers looking it over.

"If you could have your amendments in by the end of the week so we can adjust accordantly. We would like to hire you for the performance. Is there anything you see that needs immediate attention?" Mr. Park's asked while seeming to get more nervous with each word that left his lips.

You glanced over his face, "Of course not." You tried to ease his worries, "I will hand this over to our lawyer today and if there is any issues I'll contact you."

"I was under the impression you were an independent group." The man beside Mr. Park spoke up. He seemed more of a manager with his laid back fit rather Mr. Park's suit. "Did that change?"

"No, it hasn't. I am an in an independent group." You confirmed. "But my father own an independent personal security company. He has his lawyers look over everything before he allows me to sign."

"A smart man." Mr. Park commented trying to ease the unexpected tension. "Has he been hired to guard anyone we would know?"

"I honestly don't get too evolved in his work." You answered as casually as possible.

Mr. Park nodded simply, "Oh, excuse my rudeness," He gestured to the man beside him, "This is Manager Jun." he paused and you bow your head again to the man, "If everything goes as smoothly as we hope. He will be your go to man."

"It's nice to meet you." You raise your gaze to meet his, "I'm Kang Dal-Rea." You glance back to Mr. Park, "Oh, I am confused on one thing."

"Yes?"

"Do I not have to audition for the spot?"

A gently chuckle left his lips, "Of course not K-

"You were personally requested by the talent." Manager Jun butts in. His gaze is narrowed on the side of Mr. Park's face.

If he felt it he didn't seem to care and so you tried to ignore it as well. You let those words sink into your skin. Someone asked for you and that was why Mr. Park was acting so sickly sweet.

Suddenly your chest felt light with pride. You almost excused the buzzing in your ears as excitement but Manager Jun's narrowed gaze fixed on you. It was your phone. You quickly ripped open your duffle and fished for you I-phone. You pulled it out. Wow was it already this late? An image of Hiro was on your screen. "Excuse me." You answered it. "Hiro, I'm still in the meeting."

"Still?" His deep voice was annoyed, "I'm out front."

"Why?"

"It's night time." He replied as if you were an idiot.

You nodded and looked back to the two man, "Is there anything else you would like to talk over?"

"Boyfriend?" Manager Jun asked bluntly.

Hiro heard and began to laugh, "She wishes."

You could just imagine the sinister smirk on his handsome features. He would look even more like a real life anime character with his freshly dyed pink hair, "Manager Jun," You look the man dead in his obsidian narrowed stare, "I'm not your concern yet," you reminded in a calm tone. "but no."

"I'm waiting." Hiro remarked then there was the click.

You tossed the phone back in the bag and zipped it back up. You slug it over your shoulder and started to gather your contract. "If that's all for today. It was a nice to meet both of you."

"Don't you want to meet the person you'll be dancing with?" Mr. Park asked. He received another death glare from Manager Jun.

"I'm sure they're busy." you commented as you stuffed the papers back into the envelope, "Please tell them I'm looking forward to working with them."

"I will," Mr. Park promised, "Mr Manager Jun, would you please escort Miss Kang back to the lobby?"

He nodded.

You rounded the table and Manager Jun snatched your duffle bag from you once you were in reach. You were about to protest, but the serious look on his face made you reframe.

You made it out of the building in fifteen minutes. Hiro had his back to you and seemed to be staring off into the city life.

#kim jongin #kai exo #kpop rp #kpop fanfic #kpop au #fanfiction

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theficplug · 5 years

Text

{My Boyfriend Does My Makeup with Trevante}

{The YouTube Series}

Warnings: none , fluff

Trevante finally had some time off after his latest film had wrapped and although you were both private about your relationship. You decided to give your boos (your viewers) something special for 307k.

"Welcome to or back to my channel my boos. I have a special guest today. Everybody say hello to my boo bear. Who agreed to do the My Boyfriend Does My Makeup Challenge with me. Say hey baby." You say to him as he flashes his pearly whites at the camera and you can already tell you're going to have to filter the thirst comments.

"Hey , I'm uh Trevante y'all probably have seen me in a few things. If I seem like that familiar face that you can't put a name to. That's why. Also looking forward to playing some characters that don't die halfways through." He says jokingly at the end before giving a shy awkward little nod to the camera.

You take his hand in yours and nuzzle closer into his side to get him to relax a little.

"What I think a lot of people don't know is that even though he's always in front of the camera. He's also kinda shy and doesn't like a lot of attention on him, but unfortunately for you baby is that BOI WE FINNA BE ON YOUR ASS IF YOU MESS IT UP." You say jokingly as you set out all of the makeup and a little cheat sheet to tell him where everything goes.

You watch him break into a smile and throw his hands up.

"Ye of little faith. That hurts bae." He says pretending to be hurt with his hand over his heart dramatically.

"I'm only joking. I believe in you. Gimme kiss?" you ask before he pokes his lips out for you to press a soft kiss to his lips.

"Alright , I'm ready. Today we're gonna use the Fenty foundation? We're just gonna take Miss Riri's stuff and rub it in, all over the face. You don't really need a sponge or brush or any of that. That's all to get you to spend more money." He says to the camera as if he knows what he's doing.

You try to hold in your laughter while looking at the camera and shaking your head.

"You're doing good Tre. I feel prettier already. What's the next step?" You ask him as you watch him work. His tongue slightly poking out as he's concentrated on getting your face to look "right".

Sometimes you just get caught up in how beautiful and kind he is. He always takes care of you and tries his hardest to be involved in anything you're interested in.

"I feel you eyeing me while I work and lemme just say it's highly distracting ma'am. I'm a professional." He says jokingly before giving you a quick kiss. You tug at his bottom lip before kissing him again.

"SHE GETTING DEMONETIZED Y'ALL. We gotta keep it pg." He says before working his way down the little cheat sheet you've left him.

"If you poke me in my eye. I'm swinging." You say to Trevante as he grips your chin gently while trying to apply eyeliner.

"Y'all see how she be treating me? Gon beat my ass in front of all of y'all like that. Lemme stop before that's all over Twitter. Shhh, stop fidgeting let me get it right. " He says and you can feel the felt tip going past where the little flick needed to stop.

"How do I look baby?" You ask as you batting your eyelashes at him and watch his face scrunch slightly at messing it up.

"Hollup it's whopped on that side. Give me a wipe from over there please. . . You said earlier that you wanted to ask me some questions." Tre says to you not bopping along to the soft music playing in the background.

"If you could not love me in this way anymore. Do you think you could love me in a different way? Because you know how when some people break-up. It's so traumatic for them that they can't bare being around the person that they were with because the love there is different." You ask the heavy hitting question that came from an insta sticker. This man was actually a giant teddy bear and pouting at your question.

"For the record I ain't going nowhere. This man put a ring on it." You say giggling and waiting for his response.

"I love you in all ways , always. You know that. But, I'm tryna think about what you're asking. You're saying if weren't together no more. Could I still love you? Absolutely, we were friends before even getting together. When we met in the makeup trailer. I knew that you were going to be important in my life. And that I was gonna love you in some way. But I am grateful that I get to love you this way. I get to love you romantically , emotionally, spiritually, and (cover your ears kids) physically. I'm in love with you." He says before giving the camera a wink and blowing a kiss at them.

Your jaw drops slightly at his response. You could not be more in love with this man if you tried. You thought to yourself before leaning in to kiss his nose and then all over his face and finally his lips.

"Damn, I mean I think I like you or whatever." You say to his as he smacks his teeth and shakes his head while laughing at your response.

"I'm in love with you too Nemour. I only had 3 questions picked out. So here's my second one. When is the wedding? Someone on Instagram asked." You say to him as he nods

"We have a date and it's in my fiancee's favorite season and that's about all I can tell you on that. But I'm sure when it's all said and done she'll put a cute little video package together for y'all." He says as he applies highlighter to your nose and you look at him before bursting into laughter.

"Of course. I promise my boos will be included into the wedding somehow, but Y'ALL lemme bring the camera in please look at how this man got my nose looking like a Christmas ornament. We're going on a lil date right after this. I'm finna be looking shhmmooking hot." You say sarcastically and he couldn't even stay pressed as he breaks out into laughter with you.

"Okay so you're on the last part of my routine which is lips. So before you start I'll ask one last question from Twitter. It says what was our first impression of each other." You smile at the question remembering exactly what he was wearing and everything.

"Well I met you while working on the set of Predator. I was like damn okay lil chocolate drop. Can I get your number? No, but really I thought you were beautiful and funny and just like full of light. There were some early morning call times where I was just grumpy as hell and had to wake up at like 4am and have to hang off fake plane for who knows how long. But there you were in the trailer already dancing around to this one throwback song and giving everybody positive morning affirmations.

Just getting shit done too. I was just standing there watching you in your element. Your lil fro bouncing side to side as you swayed around getting all of your supplies together. And I remembered you ordered everybody breakfast with like Uber Eats or something. Your energy had me hooked from the start. I think I'm more of a morning person now because of you." He says as he picks out the lipstick color.

"You never told me that! That's so sweet boo bear. I was just trying to make everybody feel better 'cause those were some long ass hours. Trying to add all the lil scars and makeup and everything so early in the morning was a lot. But I got to spend more time with you so I wasn't complaining. My first impression of you hmmm. I think I was shocked at how beautiful you are! Wait , wait lemme explain. I've seen you before on that one Tyler Perry show as Ramsey before you got killed off. And just like when I found out you were going to be in that film. I was nervous as hell. And when you walked into the trailer with your beanie almost over your eyes and your headphones on like you were too cool for school. I knew I had to play it cool. I just like sauntered over to you and offered you a breakfast plate. It worked though. Cause you was grooving to Brandy too. After that I realized how you have the driest humor, and yet you are the funniest person I know. I mean like dad joke central with him. He be slapping his knee and everything y'all. But he could've been a whole comedian." You say to the camera and he waits for you to finish before he starts applying the deep plum shade of lipstick.

"My humor may be dry but you still be doing the scatter run when I do the Norbit voice." He says laugh softly at you already about to start wheezing.

"Done?" You ask him as he sits back admiring his work.

"I don't think I did too bad. Look" he says handing you the mirror as you look closely

"My lashes barely hanging on and my eyeliner doing the Cha Cha Slide but other than that I think it looks good. You did a good job baby." You say giving him a kiss as he smirks into it. Already getting the big head.

"I'm coming for your brand baby. Multi-talented." He says to the camera.

"Alright and with that I'mma end this video before his head gets even more inflated. I seen some juicer questions earlier but y'all there ain't no tea. We sexy but our own type of sexy. I gotta show y'all the photos from Halloween when we dressed as Marcus Burnett and Mike Lowry from Bad Boys... We're that couple." You say chuckling softly.

"Alright my boos, y'all know what to do. Like , comment , and subscribe if you want. Turn on the notification bell so you can know when your faves fave post again. Who knows I might get him to do the No Hands Kissing Challenge for 400k. And an OnlyFans video for 1 million." You say half jokingly as it flies over his head for a moment before the lightbulb goes off.

"I don't know about all that maybe 5 milli. Alright y'all , be kinder to yourselves and stay blessed. Byyyeeeee" He says in your voice as he does your outro and you couldn't wait to just wrap your arms around him and love on him.

#Trevante Rhodes #Trevante Rhodes smut #Trevante Rhodes fic #Trevante Rhodes imagine

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yourlocalsmutwriter · 6 years

Text

Don't think before you ink - Zane Hijazi x reader

You were chilling on Zane's couch, arguing what to watch while channel surfing.

"For the last time babe, I don't want to watch Game of thrones with you."

"But you haven't caught up and the last season is in April."

"I think I'll manage to squeeze in a few episodes before that."

Before he could argue anymore his eyes glued to the screen. How far is tattoo far was on. As a guy saw a sexy portrait of his girlfriend tattooed on his leg forever, Zane had an idea.

"Let's do that."

"Do what?" you asked, hoping that he didn't have tattoos in mind. Luck wasn't on your side tonight as he replied.

"Get surprise tattoos. It'll be great content for the vlog, plus I know you've been wanting a tattoo for a while now."

"I want something nice that I choose. Knowing you I'd end up with dumbass on my forehead. "

"That's not true, it wouldn't fit. I'm joking. I'll get you something nice. Just think about it."

So you did. That's how you and Zane found yourselves in a tattoo shop with him vlogging. The tattoo artist wasn't too amused by this or the fact that a couple was doing surprise tattoos. Admittedly things could go south but you trusted Zane and the two of you were dating for almost a year now. The tattoo artist brought you back to this world by asking "So who's going first?". Albeit nervous you stepped up and sat into the tattoo chair. The artist placed the stencil on your leg - the placement was also chosen by Zane and began working. The pain wasn't that bad, so you began making jokes.

"Imagine if I look down and it's just a portrait of Stassie baby."

"The lyrics of boom in like a really tiny print."

"Like that bee movie shirt."

"Maybe I should make this my new merch. Guys tell me in the comments if you want boom shirts."

While you were talking to your boyfriend, you didn't notice that the artist stopped working for a bit in order to use another color. A bit after that he took a picture of his work, before wrapping your tattoo up. Zane got on the chair, while you handled the camera. His tattoo was small, so it was done quite quickly.

"Alright guys, we'll reveal the tattoos when we get home so that you can see our genuine reactions."

Driving back to Zane's you tried to not think about what was on your leg for forever. That proved unsuccessful, so you tapped your thigh with your fingers. Zane took your free hand in his and kissed it. That filled you with a sense of calmness - he was your boyfriend and he loved you, so there was no way he'd put a bad tattoo on you, right? Well, you'd find out soon enough.

Zane turned the camera on. Well, it was showtime. You dramatically looked between him and the tattoo, then removed the wrap. It was a tiara, the same one he had on his previous merch.

"Look I know it's cheesy, but to me, you're like royalty. And I wanted you to have a permanent reminder of that."

"Zane that's so precious. I love it. I love you."

You just hugged him, leaving kisses all over his face.

"Okay baby, keep it PG. We still have to reveal my tattoo."

"Yours was so nice. Now I'm not sure about mine."

"Mine is thoughtful and sweet and the one you got me is like" we're breaking up".

"It just says " I like Hidaya better" written in comic sans. "

"I know you're joking, but I'm getting nervous. I'm literally sweating. Okay, guys, this tattoo is not on my leg, so I can't hide it if it looks bad. "

"It won't. Just take it off, it's like a bandaid."

Zane kept his eyes closed for a moment and then looked at the tattoo. You didn't mess with him, on the contrary, you gave him a nice tattoo. Now the real question was of could understand the meaning behind it. He looked at it, thinking for a bit, then said.

"It's the number of the vlog we met in for the first time. "

"Yeah. Because meeting you that day was the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Even better than when David surprised you with your favorite celebrity?"

"Okay, second best."

#vlog squad #zane hijazi #vlog squad x reader #zane hijazi x reader #zane hijazi imagine

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hotandcoldaf · 5 years

Text

My Heart on Your Sleeve, Chapter 2

Rating: PG

Characters/Pairings: Shiro/Ulaz, Adam/Shiro

Summary: For most people, having a soulmate simplifies things. For Shiro, it makes things much, much more complicated. In this chapter, Shiro is introduced to the Blade of Marmora.

Notes: The way soulmarks work in this AU was inspired by this post.

EDIT: I forgot that HTML doesn’t work on tumblr; this has been corrected. MY BAD.

AO3 Link

<- Previous Chapter | Beginning | Next Chapter ->

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A warm, hearty scent greeted Shiro as he entered the apartment he shared with Adam. He knew that smell. That was the stew Adam always made when he was mad about something. He'd explained it once, the specifics of how it helped calm him down, but Shiro hadn't really gotten it. Cooking was always so stressful for him that it was hard to understand what made it relaxing for Adam. But somehow it was, and it was rare that Adam stayed mad once he'd made his stew. Which was good, because Adam had definitely been very angry with him when they last spoke earlier that day.

With a smile, Shiro made his way into the kitchen, and sure enough, there was Adam, stirring a large pot, with his uniform jacket off and his sleeves pushed up. Shiro used to love seeing Adam's soulmark, seeing the symbols on his arm and being able to immediately place how they related to him and his accomplishments, such a contrast to the inscrutable mysteries that made up his own markings. His diagnosis had changed that. Noticing new additions to Adam's soulmark had always been exciting before then, but finding a ring of what looked like necrotic tissue around Adam's arm that night had been almost as devastating as the diagnosis itself.

Shiro didn't know how Adam could stand to even look at it, even if he knew it was only cosmetic and not actually hurting him in any way. Personally, he hated the sight of it. It and everything it represented. Sudden, life-changing events were often represented in soulmarks by rings like that, cutting off everything that came before from everything that came after, and the ring on Adam's arm was a particularly ugly reminder that his life was over.

Shiro's smile faltered at the sight of it, but he approached Adam anyway, slipping his arms around his waist and placing his chin on Adam's shoulder.

"It smells great," he said.

Adam shrugged him off and Shiro pulled away.

"You're still mad?" he asked. If the stew hadn't worked, then this was worse than he'd realized.

"Yes, I'm still mad," Adam answered with a huff, keeping his gaze fixed on the pot instead of Shiro.

Shiro huffed back. "Why can't you understand how important this is to me?"

"I understand just fine. You're the one who doesn't get it." Adam used his spoon to push some vegetables down into the broth with what Shiro was sure was far more force than necessary. "Not that I expect you to, at this point. You're going to go no matter what I say. Your soulmark is proof of that."

Shiro wasn't sure how to respond to that at first. Was that what this was all about? It was true that the Kerberos mission would be his last, best chance to find his soulmate, and Shiro would be lying if he said that fact hadn't occurred to him, but that wasn't why he was so determined to stay on the mission despite his diagnosis, and he'd thought Adam understood that. Apparently, though, he needed to be reminded.

"Adam. Look at me."

With a sigh, Adam set his spoon down and finally turned to face Shiro. He had such a dour look on his face, Shiro hated it. Adam always used to smile so much and so brightly, but those smiles had gotten rarer and rarer since Shiro's diagnosis. Shiro missed them. He placed his hands firmly on Adam's shoulders and hoped his face made it clear how sincerely he meant what he was about to say.

"When I get back from Kerberos, marry me." Adam's eyes went wide with shock, but Shiro pressed on. "I was going to wait until after the mission to ask, but you need to hear this now. I'm not doing this to find my soulmate. It doesn't matter who I meet out there, I swear, I'm not going to throw away what we have for him."

Adam's shocked expression twisted into something affronted and furious, a face Shiro had never seen him make before, and he felt his stomach drop before Adam even spoke.

"Is that what you think this is about? You think I don't trust you?" He shoved Shiro's hands off of his shoulders and took a step backward.

"You brought it up first!" Shiro insisted, stepping forward to close the gap.

"Because it proves you're going to leave," Adam said, his voice low and strained. "If you weren't going to meet your soulmate out there, he wouldn't be your soulmate. That doesn't mean I'm worried about you falling in love with him."

"Then what's the problem?"

"The problem is you're going to leave, Takashi! You're going to leave and you're not going to come back and I'm not going to wait for you." Adam took another step backwards and turned away from Shiro. "I can't do it."

Seeing Adam turn his back on him made Shiro's chest ache, and he put his hand on Adam's shoulder, gently pulling to try and direct him back towards him. "Adam, it's going to be okay. I'll come back to you. I promise."

Adam didn't budge, and after a moment, he let out a long sigh. "I wish I could believe you."

"Adam--" Shiro started, but Adam interrupted him by pushing his hand off his shoulder.

"Just--go away, okay? I want to be alone for a while. I'll come tell you when dinner's ready."

Defeated, Shiro backed out of the kitchen in silence, and when he turned around, suddenly the apartment was dark, illuminated only faintly by distant purple lights. He quickly turned back towards the kitchen, but it was gone, and Adam was nowhere to be seen.

"Adam!" he called out, desperate for an answer.

"Shiro," answered a calm and even voice right behind him, but it wasn't Adam's.

Shiro awoke with a start and quickly pushed himself up into a seated position, nearly colliding with the alien crouched over him along the way. Ulaz. Right. His soulmate. After all these years, finally, in the flesh. Shiro couldn't say what, exactly, he'd been expecting, but it didn't feel like this was it. This tall, pale alien, all sharp angles and long limbs, with his blank yellow eyes and short fur, he was.... He wasn't unattractive, Shiro supposed, but he couldn't help but feel vaguely disappointed. He'd been expecting some kind of spark, he guessed, some sort of immediate attraction, something comparable to how he felt about Adam, but as grateful as he felt towards Ulaz for freeing him, as excited as he was to finally have some answers about his soulmark, it didn't feel anything like love, and it didn't do anything to stop that vague unfulfilled feeling that had always haunted him.

What he definitely hadn't been expecting was having to explain how soulmates worked to his soulmate. The possibility that it wouldn't be mutual, sure, he knew very well that that could happen, but for his soulmate to not have any soulmark, not even any concept of one, that just seemed absurd, like some kind of cosmic joke at his expense. A deserved one, after everything he'd put Adam through, he supposed. It looked like Adam had been right and he wouldn't be going back to Earth, after all. He could only hope Adam would understand if he knew the reason why.

"How long was I out?" he asked Ulaz.

"Not very long. I would have woken you sooner if I had noticed."

"Are we almost there?"

Ulaz nodded and stood up before moving towards the front of the ship. "We have arrived."

Shiro followed closely in his wake, and when he got close enough to make out the image on the viewscreen, his breath caught in his throat. Pictured there was a massive blue star, flanked by a pair of twin black holes. They pulled on the star in opposing directions, creating a swirling vortex of blue light. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before, a sight beyond his wildest imagination.

"It's beautiful," he whispered in awe. Ulaz glanced at him, and then glanced at the screen as he sat in the pilot's seat.

"I suppose it is," he said absently as he began to type on the keypad. Shiro leaned over his shoulder to take a closer look, but he couldn't make any sense of the alien text, so his interest soon shifted back to the star ahead. He was the first and only human to ever see anything like this in person, it occurred to him, and a thought that would once have brought him great joy now made his chest feel tight. Sam and Matt should be seeing this, too. He didn't know where they were right now. Ulaz had told him that he hadn't seen them. He didn't even know if they were still alive. He hoped they were, as hard as he possibly could, but he had no way of knowing. It was a terrible feeling.

"We are in luck," Ulaz announced. "The way will be open in a few doboshes."

Shiro wasn't sure what a dobosh was, but that wasn't the part of the announcement that most caught his attention. "We're going in there? That's a blue supergiant. It doesn't get much hotter than that. Can this ship stand up to that kind of heat?"

"It should," Ulaz answered.

"Should?"

"That is why we have to wait. It is only safe to approach the base between solar flares."

It was a hell of a security system, he had to admit. "Okay. How long is a dobosh?"

"50 ticks."

"Aaaaand how long is a tick?"

With a few key presses, Ulaz brought up a new window in the view screen. Even though Shiro couldn't read the alien numbers, it was clearly a countdown of some sort. "This is how long we have left until the way opens," Ulaz explained. He pointed at the numbers on the far right. "These are ticks."

Shiro intently watched the steadily changing numbers. It looked like a tick was slightly longer than a second, and, from the pattern of when the numbers changed, it looked like Galra also counted in base-10, which was a relief. He studied the countdown carefully, trying to commit the shape of the digits to memory. 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0. 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0.

"It's time," Ulaz said when the countdown completed, and he pushed the ship forward. Shiro didn't dare speak a word on the trip in, but despite his concerns, their ship endured the heat and they reached their destination without issue. The base was built into an asteroid tucked in close to the star, and Ulaz guided their ship carefully into a hangar that closed swiftly behind them. Shiro followed him out of the ship and took in the view of the base before he climbed down. It seemed architecturally similar to the Galra ships he'd been on before, what little he'd seen of them, but the lighting here was a cooler, bluer shade than the harsh, redder purple that lit the Galra ships.

More interesting than the architecture, though, was the people. At least, Shiro assumed they were people and not like the robots he'd encountered on the Galra ship. They didn't have any obvious joints like the robots, but they were all wearing eerie faceless masks and none of them spoke or moved as he and Ulaz left the ship. Ulaz didn't pay them much mind as he strode confidently through the hangar, and Shiro made sure to stay close on his heels. The last thing he wanted was to get lost alone in an unfamiliar place, and Ulaz clearly knew exactly where he was going. He took them through winding hallways and down an elevator, where they reached an austere, open room. In the air above them hovered a holographic symbol that matched the one on Ulaz's blade, and at the end of the room was a raised dais.

There were two people in the room already. One, standing off to the side, was easily twice as large as any other alien Shiro had seen yet. The other, standing at military ease on the dais, was probably the Blade of Marmora's leader, given his position and the sash that decorated his uniform. Shiro wondered if he should bow or salute or something, but Ulaz made no such movements, so he didn't. He kind of wished he was wearing something more presentable than the tattered slave uniform he'd been forced into, though.

"Kolivan," Ulaz said in greeting.

"Ulaz," the leader replied. "You abandoned your mission and brought a stranger to our headquarters. Explain yourself."

"I had no choice. My cover was irreparably compromised. This is Shiro. His species has a unique trait that causes them to manifest markings that describe a specific person. In his case, they describe me."

"Show me," Kolivan ordered.

"Excuse me?" Shiro blurted out. Ulaz turned to stare at him, and Shiro quickly realized he would have to actually explain his offense. "Soulmarks are usually kept secret. I can't show it to just anyone. It's considered a violation of your privacy." It wasn't unheard of for couples to agree to stop covering their soulmarks once they'd found each order, but that option had never been on the table for Shiro. If he'd been mutual with Adam, maybe, but that wasn't the case, so he'd never really considered it. He'd never had the luxury.

"I am far less concerned about Kolivan seeing it than I am about all the people who have seen it already," Ulaz said flatly.

It was a fair point, honestly. If Ulaz trusted these people, then he didn't really have a reason to refuse to show his soulmark. Even if it did go against his most heavily ingrained habits. "Fine," Shiro grumbled, and reached for his sleeve, but Ulaz interrupted him.

"The back will be a more effective demonstration," he said. Right. The sword. Of course. Well, at least that freed Shiro from the burden of fighting off the impulse to avoid eye contact. He pulled off the ratty shirt he'd be given, if it could even be called that, and turned around so Ulaz could handle however it was that the undersuit fastened.

The time that passed while the Blades looked at his soulmark felt like an eternity to Shiro, as he stared at the wall and willed himself not to shiver under the combined force of having his skin exposed to the cold air and the eerie feeling of unseen gazes on his back. In truth, it couldn't have been more than a few seconds before the suit was closed again and Shiro was free to turn around again and pull his shirt back on.

"His other markings provide enough information to connect him to me even from just the information the Empire possesses. I was already under suspicion when I took Shiro and fled," Ulaz explained. Shiro couldn't see any of Kolivan's face through his mask, but he didn't have to to know the Blade's leader wasn't happy about the situation.

"You have compromised the security of our base by bringing him here," the massive Blade in the corner growled, and Shiro nearly jumped out of his skin. Despite the Galra's considerable size, he'd almost forgotten he was there.

"It would have been no safer to leave him with the Empire," Ulaz retorted.

"Be that as it may, you should not have brought him here," Kolivan said. "He needs to go back where he came from."

"I'm not going home," Shiro interjected without hesitation. All three of the Galra in the room turned to look at him, but he refused to back down. "My crew is still in captivity. I can't go back without them. Even if they weren't, I can't turn my back on the rest of the Empire's victims. Let me help you. I'll do whatever you need me to do."

"Unfortunately for you, we do not need you for anything," Kolivan answered.

"We need him to stay out of the Empire's grasp," Ulaz said. "The most effective way to ensure that is to keep him here where we can monitor him."

The massive Galra suddenly spoke up again. "The most effective way would be to kill him."

"We will not be doing that," Kolivan answered before Shiro could even fully register what was just suggested, though that still only did so much to quell the unease he felt once it sunk in. It wasn't the sort of comment that inspired feelings of safety, to say the least. Kolivan continued without much pause, "Antok, find a room for him to stay in for now. I have more to discuss with Ulaz."

"Hold on, you can't cut me out of this conversation," Shiro protested.

"It does not concern you," Kolivan said, and before Shiro could protest further, the massive Blade--Antok, apparently--grabbed him by the arm and hauled him off. Shiro couldn't say he was thrilled to be placed in the care of someone who had only just suggested murdering him, but he didn't really have a choice but to trust that Antok would follow his leader's orders. At least he let go of his arm once they were in the elevator. Shiro rubbed his shoulder and eyed the Galra up. He didn't feel good about his chances if Antok decided it'd be best to kill him after all. It made him wish he hadn't left that gun on the ship, but he seriously doubted that Antok would make a detour for it if he asked.

Antok didn't seem likely to make any sort of detour at all. After leaving the elevator, he went straight to a terminal, and once he was done with it, he continued walking down the hallway, all without so much as a word or glance in Shiro's direction. He walked quickly, and Shiro had to hustle just to keep pace with him. Which was still preferable to being dragged or carried, but Shiro was getting pretty tired of being even metaphorically dragged around without much explanation. Eventually, Antok stopped at a door and opened it.

"Here," he announced, as he stepped away from the doorway. Cautiously, Shiro entered the room.

The door shut behind him.

Immediately, he spun around and hit the button to reopen it. It slid back open, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Poking his head out into the hallway confirmed that Antok was walking back in the direction they'd come from, and Shiro decided to let him go. He'd paid close attention to the path they were taking on the way here, and he was confident that he could find his way back to where they'd spoken to Kolivan or the hangar on his own. For now, he wanted to take stock of his new quarters.

It was a small room, scarcely large enough for the single bed it contained. At first, Shiro was a little surprised that such a utilitarian room had such a large bed in it, until he realized that while two humans could comfortably fit on it, two Galra definitely wouldn't. A Galra and a human might both fit, but Shiro quickly pushed that thought from his mind. That wasn't going to happen.

There was a closet, as well, but it was empty. Which was a shame, because Shiro could have really used a change of clothes, but he supposed that even if there were any clothes, they probably wouldn't fit him. He didn't see anything else to check, so he sat down on the edge of the bed and began stretching his hand. The Galra had taken his electro-stimulator bracelet when they captured him, and his medicine was still back in the ship on Kerberos. These stretches couldn't do much to offset the progression of his disease, but right now, they were all he had. He needed to hide his disease from the Blade as long as possible. They were already so resistant to the idea of him being useful to them, if they found out he was sick, too.... He couldn't afford that. He couldn't let them keep him out of the fight. He had to prove himself.

He couldn't do that staying here. No one had told him to stay put, so he decided to go do something productive instead. A base like this was sure to have a shooting range he could practice at, he just needed to go recover his gun and then find someone he could ask for directions. He didn't cross paths with anyone on the way to the elevator, but on the way up, the elevator stopped, and Ulaz boarded it. He seemed as surprised to see Shiro as Shiro was to see him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, and when Shiro explained, he nodded. "I will show you the way."

"Thank you," Shiro said. "How was your talk with Kolivan?"

Ulaz considered this question for a moment before answering. "It was interesting. I have much to think about."

Shiro wasn't sure if that was good or bad. Maybe it was neither? But before he could ask, the elevator arrived at the hangar, and Ulaz exited it without hesitation. Once Shiro recovered his gun from the ship, they returned to the elevator and got off on a different floor than the one that held Shiro's new quarters. Ulaz kept a brisk pace, leaving Shiro to work to keep up once again, and he made no attempts at starting a conversation. It made Shiro wonder a bit, if he was being actively shunned or if Galra on the whole simply weren't much for conversation. Either way, it was tiring, and Shiro wanted to talk, especially with Ulaz. There was so much he wanted to ask Ulaz, but he couldn't, not yet, not without freaking him out. But he could at least get him used to the idea of conversations with him.

"How long have you been working for the Blade of Marmora?" he asked.

Ulaz looked back at him with what might have been confusion? His expression was hard to read. But he did give Shiro an answer. "From the beginning. I am one of the Blade's founding members."

"How long have you been operating?"

"We have been working against Zarkon's rule for 7,000 years."

Ulaz had told him that he was around 11,000 years old, so that meant he'd been working for the Blade for most of his life. He'd known from the size of the sword on his soulmark that it represented something of great importance--it took up more space than most people's entire soulmarks, after all--but this new context managed to make it seem undersized. 7,000 years. He couldn't even imagine. That was longer than the whole of known human history, he was pretty sure. It definitely meant that Ulaz had been fighting this war since before Shiro's ancestors had even set foot on Japan's shores, much less on America's. Shiro was confident in his choice to join the cause, but he was suddenly keenly aware of all the context he was missing.

"Can you tell me more about the Empire's history and the rebellion?"

"It is a long story. I would not finish before we reached the shooting range."

Ulaz said more after that, but it didn't fully register with Shiro, who was suddenly distracted by the distinct feeling of his hand cramping up and the loud clatter of his gun hitting the floor. Oh no. Not an attack. Not right now. Not in front of Ulaz. He quickly bent down to scoop the gun back up with his left hand and hoped it was quick enough to avoid suspicion. At best, he knew this would make him seem clumsy, but clumsy was better than sick. Clumsy made him flawed, not a liability. He could deal with clumsy.

"Sorry," he said as he straightened back up. He hoped desperately that any pain that made it through to his face despite his efforts to suppress it would be mistaken for distress over his clumsiness, because Ulaz had stopped to look back at him. "I think I'd benefit more from the history lesson than the shooting range right now. I already know how to fire a gun." And he wouldn't be able to fire a gun until this cleared up, but, of course, he wasn't about to mention that part.

Ulaz was frowning at him, but that alone didn't tell Shiro whether or not he bought it. "Come with me," he instructed as he walked past Shiro, back the way they'd came, and Shiro decided to take the lack of questions as a good sign. At least, until Ulaz led him into what was clearly a sick bay. That--that didn't necessarily mean anything. Ulaz was a doctor, he knew that, so it made sense that he'd pick a sick bay as a comfortable place for an extended conversation. At least, until Ulaz pulled a handheld device from a cabinet and scanned Shiro with it, before Shiro even had a chance to protest.

He could run for it. He knew how to get back to the hangar from here, and he knew how to fly the ship they'd arrived in. But he dismissed those thoughts almost as soon as he had them. Even if he could get all the way to the hangar without Ulaz or anyone else catching him--unlikely--he didn't know if the way out of the base was safe right now. He was stuck.

"What was that?" he asked, trying to keep his nervousness out of his voice.

"A medical scanner," Ulaz answered, keeping his gaze fixed on the device's display. He clearly didn't like what he saw, as his usual frown grew deeper. "This is worse than I'd thought."

"Please don't tell Kolivan," Shiro immediately blurted out. "I can still be useful, I swear. I need to--"

"You need treatment," Ulaz interrupted. "Do you understand what will happen if you don't receive any?"

"Of course I do," Shiro answered. Without any treatment, he'd be dead in just a few years. But he'd rather spend those few years fighting as hard as he could than have an eternity without his freedom. "There's more at stake here than just my life. Kolivan already wants to get rid of me. I can't give him another reason."

"This is not something you could hide for long, and Kolivan would never trust you again once he learned. It is best to tell him now. I do not have everything I need for your treatment here, and we will need his permission to acquire the necessary supplies."

"What if he says no?"

"He won't. There is no denying that allowing this disease to progress unchecked will simply make you a greater liability, even if he doesn't yet see that you can be useful."

Oh.

It had been subtle, but it hadn't escaped Shiro's notice that Ulaz just admitted he believed Shiro could be useful, even knowing about his disease. Shiro couldn't help but feel a slight warmth spread over him at the realization. If nothing else, he had Ulaz in his corner. If nothing else, he had his soulmate's support. That alone made the whole situation feel that much more surmountable. That was enough.

---

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#voltron #shiro #ulaz #adam #uliro #adashi #soulmate au #trendy haircuts in space #trendy glasses on earth #itp af scrawls #af stands for always fuckingshitposting

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xxkellsvixen19xx · 5 years

Text

Forget Me Not Jim Mason x Reader 50 First Dates AU Pt 10 *Final Part*

@michael-langdon-appreciation

AFTER THE CHAOS of the birth scene, quiet finally descended. Everywhere except in Jon's brain. Well, his heart-that too was going a million miles an hour, and the reason was right there in his hands.

The doctor had left after giving them a wink and placing his finger against his lips. Medina had left.

Y/N had stepped into the shower, and the nurse had pushed him back into the chair beside the bed. Without so much as a "here you go” she’d placed the baby in his arms. Then she'd left the room, giving Jim no opportunity to do anything but sit there and stare at the tiny person he held cradled in his hands.

Honest truth? He was fucking scared to death. By a bundle of humanity the size of a bread loaf. The baby boy wiggled, and Jim pulled him closer, soft flannel pressing the side of his arm as he cradled the bundle. "Oh, man. This is…”

The kid's face was all scrunched up-no way to tell family resemblance to anyone when he looked like that. Jim glanced around the room to double-check he was alone then carefully laid the baby in his lap and loosened off the blanket.

It might be stupid, but he had to see. He wasn't looking for a distinguishing mark or anything, but... Jim wanted to count toes. And fingers. And look again at how perfectly human, and yet perfectly tiny the baby was.

Baby James complained loudly about being poked and prodded. His arms flared out, fists waving in the air, and Jim did his best to rewrap him. The trick eluded him, and things were a bit of a mess, but James settled down, his bright purple eyes seeming to stare straight through Jim.

"So. You're here."

Another thing that might be stupid, but it felt right to talk to the kid. Tell him...

"You know, your mom is pretty incredible. You have no idea what she just went through for you. Frankly, you probably don't want to know, but right off the bat, you picked a good one, kid. She's loved you with everything in her since she knew you were coming, and she wants nothing but the best for you."

The words stuck in his throat for a minute as that really, truly registered. How much Y/N loved James. The fact she'd said she loved Jim as well?

It wasn't as if there was a limit to love. Only so much to be doled out a little at a time before you had to hold back and save some for another day.

The baby lying in his lap was proof that love wasn't about what you could do, or where you’d come from. Love was a gift, and damn if emotion wasn’t welling up in a way that made Jim gasp at the sharpness of it cutting away the bloody edges inside.

Did it really matter if James was the result of his genes and Y/N's mixing? Or did it matter more that Jon would be called daddy? That he could be a father James looked up to-he'd teach his son to do all the fun things in life, and to deal with all the responsibilities, but most of all he could teach his son how to love unconditionally.

If it turned out Rick had started this life, and the courts decreed he had to be involved, Jim would find a way to make sure even that was somehow a positive experience. He'd protect James, like he would protect Y/N going forward. Not with fists and violence, but in a way that would make a difference in the end.

God, somehow, he would find away.

"So, here’s the deal. I'm your daddy. Well, I need to do some convincing to get your mom to marry me before it will be official, but whatever else happens, or however long that takes, you and me? We're the real deal. We're going to be having a lot of talks over the years. About doing chores you hate, and girls you like. And maybe we'll talk about cars or computers or whatever else comes along. But I'm going to be there for you. For you and your momma. And it doesn’t matter to me one bit if you’re someone else’s son, because you're mine, and I'm so damn thankful for you."

He had to wipe away a tear. "Not at all what I expected, but it's exactly what I needed-you coming into my life. And maybe we'll fight at times, or you'll get grounded-hell, I kind of expect you will if you're anything like me-but no matter what, I'm your daddy. And that’s never going to change."

He'd been so intent on the pain that was leaving him in a rush he hadn’t noticed the shower had turned off.

The first thing that registered was the soft touch of hands slipping over his shoulders as Y/N draped herself up against his back. She touched her cheek to his, moisture connecting-his tears or hers? She snuck a hand around his torso and laid her fingers over his where he gently held James. "I love you, Jim. we'll find a way."

"We’ll make memories, good ones, and we'll find a way," he agreed.

He opened his arms and pulled them in close. Opened his heart and did the same. This wasn’t about his past, it was about his future. A grown-up, straight-up heart-and-brain decision to be there for the two people who mattered the most.

His lover.

And his son.

Five days later

THE TEST RESULTS came sealed in an envelope. One page, with all kinds of numbers and details at the bottom, but all Jim could see through his tears was the beginning.

The results of the paternity test are consistent with the alleged father Jim Mason being the biological father of the child James Mason Jr. The probability of paternity is greater than 99.9%.

Y/N took another box off the shelf, peeking inside briefly before abandoning it with the others. In the background, she heard the sounds of water splashing, and a momentary protest rang out as James squawked. Jim's answer came immediately, soft and reassuring as he soothed the baby.

It was one of the wonderful parts of being a family. Jim had taken over the nighttime bath routine, leaving her a few moments to accomplish something without the little one around.

Tonight she'd grown serious enough to venture into the storage room. She'd created a one-of-a-kind scrapbook to record James's milestones-crafted together from a hardcover book Medina had gifted her and some of her new artistic talent. The details were caught up, but now she wanted to compare it to what was recorded in her own baby book.

Only where was it?

She pulled the lid off yet another box, surprised to find the decorative book that used to sit beside her computer.

She'd used it for taking notes and jotting down recipes, and as she flipped through the pages realized she had stashed a backup of all her passwords.

Driven by curiosity, she tucked the book under her arm and headed down the hall, pausing in the door of the bathroom to watch her guys. Jim carefully washed James's hair chatting all the time about engines and torque, and other things that made her smile. The baby did nothing more than gurgle in response, but Jim didn't seem to care.

He must've sensed she was there, and he glanced over his shoulder momentarily, his smile ratcheting up a notch as he looked her over.

"Well, whatever you're doing I look forward to joining you later." He leered at her, his hands carefully guarding James as their son wiggled his limbs happily.

Y/N stuck out her tongue and twirled away, the short shorts and tight tank top she was wearing to beat the August heat clinging to her body with a slick of sweat.

She sat at the computer and went to her long-since-abandoned email account. Stared at the password sign-in and wondered if it was even worthwhile. She loved Jim, trusted him. That wasn’t even a question anymore. The only reason to look would be to satisfy her curiosity.

She really should go wash up the dinner dishes instead. Or clean up the mess she'd made with the new set of paints Jim had bought her to explore another artsy area that had caught her interest.

Curiosity won.

She checked the information in the flowery notebook, inserted the proper password, then hit enter. The entire screen bloomed with unread emails. She rolled her eyes and scrolled back through months’ worth of spam. It wasn't until she reached the previous October that there were some real emails for her, most of them containing information she had received after her accident. Information that had been duplicated and sent to her new account.

She knew the date she was looking for. By this time it wasn't a case of need to see it, but it was strangely comforting all the same that the email Jim had told her he had sent was there. She clicked it open and smiled, her heart filling with even more love as she read it through.

There was no room for sadness. No room for regrets that her accident had taken some of this from her. No room for anger at the lies Rick had told, first in insisting they'd gotten back together and then his manipulation toward the end.

As the sounds of her laughing husband and a contented baby carried into the main room, Y/N had nothing inside but happiness. Filled to the top with love for two people, one of whom hadn’t even existed this time last year.

She paused to print out the note, though. Not to show to Jim, but to slip into the other memory book she’d started. The one where she’d pinned the picture he had taken immediately after their first official kiss. The book she'd taped the ticket stubs from their first movie. Pasted the PG sketch she'd done of him-the dirty one she had tucked elsewhere to keep it from anyone else's eyes.

The printout was a new memory of the truth and commitment he’d offered her, even before she'd known how much she was going to need him.

Jim stepped back into the living room, James in his arms. "Someone is ready for a cuddle." He lowered their baby into her embrace then stepped back only far enough to drape his arm around her shoulders as he leaned against her, their bodies close and intimate.

Scrubbed and clean, eyes drooping with sleep, James stared up at them both, little mouth opening wide with a yawn.

"He's so gorgeous." Y/N slipped a finger over his tiny lips, and he puckered, looking for something more.

"Of course he is. He's our kid." Jim reached over and tucked his finger into James’s tiny fist. Baby fingers barely reached around, but the kid hung on tight.

The soft touch of lips against her temple as Jim kissed her was the final blessing on the moment. Y/N tucked herself and James tighter into the embrace then looked up into the sincere gaze of her lover. The father of her child, in not just blood but all the more important ways.

"I love you, Jim Mason. Heart and soul."

His grin widened. "I love you too, and you'd better never forget it."

She laughed as he turned her to face the backyard where he'd planted so many flowers. The brilliant blue flower petals had faded, but the message remained.

As his arms circled both of them, Y/N leaned back and soaked in the wonder that was her life. The one full of memories with even more to be made in the future.

#jim mason #tribes of palos verdes #fan fiction #au #forget me not

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 3 years

Text

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Revelation

Rated PG-13 For mentions of abuse, trigger topics such as suicidal thoughts, torture, language, and kidnaping.

Masterlist

~I am not the only traveler

And then I can tell myself

I had all and then most of you

When the night was full of terrors

There aren't very many things worse than watching one's little brother die. I think the only thing worse than that is enduring it twice. I had already had to watch Jasper be slaughtered like a pig in front of me. Wasn't that torture enough for a lifetime? Was having to salt and burn my own brother the universe's twisted idea of a joke? This wasn't funny!

What kind of cruel world was I living in? Why did my last words to my precious little brother have to be empty promises? How was that okay? Jasper would spend the rest of eternity waiting for me to show up, tell him my stories, and tuck him into bed, but I never would. Because if I lived, I would be stuck down here on this awful planet, reliving the same day over and over and over again. And if the Winchester's decided to kill me when they found out what I was, then I wouldn't be going to heaven. I already knew where I would go. It wasn't anywhere good.

Well, if my life was a joke then I hoped at least somebody was getting a kick out of it.

I knew I wasn't.

From the top of the stairs, I heard Sam, Dean, and Cas open the sliding glass door and shuffle outside. Jack firmly insisted on staying here. He probably thought he should stay in case I ' needed him ' for comfort or something.

'Well, joke's on you, puppy, cause I don't need anyone.' I thought, bitterly. I traveled down the dark hallway to my room, the one with the plain white door all the way down on the end. The door opened with a soft click and squeaky hinges and I kicked it shut behind me.

My room was exactly how I had left it. Not a single thing was out of place. Of course, it was about as far away from immaculate as anything can get. There were pieces of paper strewn all over the desk, plenty of wadded-up sketches in the trash can and even more outside the trash, pencils were left in strange places, and mix-matched fairy-lights draped over way too many things. Miscellaneous articles of clothing were draped over a chair, clustered around the laundry basket, crumpled on the bed, and a few were even hanging from the doorframe of the closet. The bed wasn't made, the blankets and sheets hopelessly tangled together and there was an atrocious number of glow-in-the-dark stars glued to the roof. Oh, and let us not forget the rainbow-colored streamers hanging from the ceiling fan, so really everything was just an absolute mess.

But it was a comforting mess and that's how that girl who used to be me had lived. She had been a scatterbrained, messy-haired, and bright-eyed sort of girl, she'd had so much potential. That girl could have great. Her mess comforted me too. Maybe she wasn't as dead as I'd thought.

"Well, I'm just about done with this whole damn popsicle-stand of existence. You?" Isaac asked, sounding more dead than he looked.

"Done," I agreed. "So, so done."

I flopped down on my already messy bed, staring up at the tacky stars on the ceiling while I tried to come to terms with the fact that I'd never see my little brother again. I couldn't feel the prickling of tears forming in my eyes. I guess I'd run all out of tears to cry. Lucky me. I felt like throwing up.

"Should we go down fighting or give up and roll over? What say you?" Isaac collapsed at the foot of my bed.

"What's the point in fighting?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Dunno." He shrugged. "Frequent flyer miles?"

"So... Nothing?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Maybe I would just attack the Winchesters once I tore Felix to sheds. Maybe they wouldn't kill me fast. Maybe they'd make me suffer. Then maybe I could cry like I was supposed to.

I had hardly been debating those thoughts for a minute when I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. Oh, joy. Five minutes of peace was all I'd asked for and apparently I couldn't even get that. Screw my life.

The door flew open with an overly dramatic bang but I didn't flinch. Jack stood in the doorway, eyes alight like molten gold. I turned my head lazily to face him, aware of my void expression but ultimately indifferent to it. I couldn't even bring myself to act like the fake version of myself I had made to fool the Winchesters. I felt oddly numb like nothing mattered. Because honestly, what did? Not even getting my revenge on Felix would change anything. Things wouldn't get better, my life would still suck to an astronomical degree, and this whole stupid world would just keep turning like it always did. Getting revenge was just self-indulgence, really. So what if Jack saw the real me for a couple of hours?

With luck, I'd be dead by morning.

With luck, he'd be the one to kill me.

I deserved it.

"Welcome to the year Nineteen-Thirty, puppy. What do you want?" I addressed him. My tone was clipped, calloused, and cold, but I didn't care.

Jack's eyes were glowing and the air was charged with his power; it made my hair stand on end and my ears hurt like when a plane takes off. Yet, oddly enough, if there and been one in my hand, I would have been swirling chocolate milk in a wine glass for all I'd cared.

Jack didn't answer me. His mouth opened and closed and opened and closed. There was something in his eyes, something akin to desperation. He knew what he wanted to say but the words died in his throat.

"You deaf, honey-bug?" I lifted an eyebrow and took an actual glance at his expression. He didn't look angry. He looked...

Terrified.

And shocked.

And torn.

And betrayed.

I did this. It was me. I had hurt him.

His hands clutched an object tightly between them with enough force to turn his knuckles white. It was a picture frame. I caught a glimpse of the picture within; it had been taken two weeks to the day I'd died. I looked back up to his eyes.

Ah, yes. There it was. The recognition. What a clever, clever boy.

He'd finally put all the pieces together.

'Well, good for him.'

"Uh, oh spaghetti-oh's; looks like the Nephil knows," Isaac droned from the foot of my bed.

"What are you?" Jack asked, his voice trembling. He blinked back tears, biting down on his lower lip to keep it from trembling.

I blinked, feeling sick. I didn't want to lose him, I realized. As much as the bitterness inside me tempted me to bite into him and taste his sweet blood or tell him the truth and watch him squirm just for a distraction from the pain, I couldn't. Because then I'd lose him. I didn't want to lose him. I'd already lost Jazzy today for the second time, I couldn't lose Jack too.

Isaac turned to me, his expression as empty as mine. "Ya gonna tell him?"

"I am Miss. Nidsbit," I answered, flatly. It was supposed to sound friendly like I was teasing, but it only came off as evasive. Jack glared at me. It was already happening; I was already losing him. I guess I deserved that much.

"Don't joke," He said.

"I thought it was hilarious," Isaac chimed.

"In that case, I'm bottled-depression." I flashed my teeth in a way that held no joy whatsoever. "Pint-sized for your convenience," I added, trying for a familiar joke about my height. It sounded empty.

"That was better," My brother snickered, leaning back and closing his eyes. He was probably just going to keep making sarcastic jabs in an attempt to vent his anger, so I ignored him.

"I asked you a question," Jack growled in a way that somehow managed to be threatening despite the whole baby-face puppy-eyed thing he had going on. It was actually kinda hot... Wait, what? When had that happened?

"And I answered you." I sat up. Why did I sound so bitter? Why couldn't I change it? My eyes flicked down to Jack's throat without my permission. His skin looked so soft and I realized I was suddenly famished. My throat burned and desire reared its ugly head inside me. Isaac's voice snapped my attention back to reality.

"Oh dear, Marty. You made the Nephil sniffle."

Jack clenched his teeth and hissed, seemingly bothered by the fact that I wasn't afraid of him. He wouldn't hurt me, right? No, he would. He would hurt me if he knew. If he knew what I wanted to do to him. I wanted him to hold me as he had a few days ago but I wanted to sink my teeth into him at the same time. I deserved to die.

"What are you?" He repeated, taking a step forward. He would hurt me. Good.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied, my voice inflectionless. Wandering towards my dresser I started fiddling with some meaningless piece of junk. Anything for a distraction from his soft throat and thrumming pulse. Jack's glowing eyes followed me.

"Y-you're lying," He said. He was trying to sound strong, but there was something broken in his tone.

"Ya think?" I deadpanned. Jack swallowed thickly; his hand shot out to grab my wrist, eyes fading back to their soft blue.

"This isn't funny, Marty. Stop." His eyes pleaded with me. I eyed his hand.

"Or what?" I challenged. What would he do to me? He looked me in the eyes, frowning and moving closer to me. He needed to step away. I caught my gaze drifting to his neck again but I couldn't stop.

"I really don't want to hurt you," He said.

'Then don't make me tell you.' I thought. His eyes searched my face for any glimpse of his friend, but that girl had never been real, not really anyway. I had made her up.

I wished I could go back in time. Back to the night we met. We could do it all over again and maybe, if I had another chance, he wouldn't figure it out. Maybe it would've been better if I'd never come with Jack in the first place. I wished we could go back to the night we met. Then I could have said no. If I hadn't come with him, I never would have hurt Jack like this. If he had never touched me then I would never have had to feel this pain. If I could just go back.

"And you won't," I said, taking a chance.

Jack huffed, his expression pained.

"This is freakin' five-star entertainment," Isaac mused, resting his chin on his fist, observing Jack and me.

"Please, Marty," Jack begged in a whisper. His sweet-smelling breath was warm as it washed over my face. His eyes flicked down to my lips but only for a split second. No, no. Anything but that. "Just tell me the truth."

'You already know it.'

"I have," I lied. Everything kept coming out wrong! I sounded emotionless like I didn't care but I did! Jack's soft expression melted into one of betrayal.

"So, you're just going to lie?" He asked. "Right to my face?"

I didn't have control over what slipped from my lips next.

"Says the Devil's kid."

"Ooh! One point to the Marty!" Isaac laughed.

Jack stared at me like he was heartbroken. Then his eyes narrowed into a glare, lighting with gold as he released my wrist and moved his hand to seize my throat. He whirled us around and slammed me into a wall with more force than I'm sure than he intended to use. Not that I couldn't take it. Without so much as a flinch, I tilted my head as much as I could with Jack cutting off my air supply.

"Tell me what you are!" He shouted. There was desperation there.

"That's quite the grip ya got there, puppy," I taunted, rasping. He loosened his grip but only slightly, holding the picture of my family up for me to see, the corner was dated January 8th, 2014.

"You said they died five years ago. This picture- it was taken five years ago! You said you were nine then! But y-you - you weren't!" Jack's eyes were wide, almost crazed as he glanced from the girl in the picture and back to me. He knew the truth; he just didn't want to believe it. His voice softened. "You haven't aged a day. Five years and you haven't aged a day."

My voice was soft and it wasn't just from the lack of air. "I aged about a month, actually."

Jack let go of my throat like I was burning him, shaking his head as he backed away like a frightened animal. As well he should. He was the prey here and I did want to kill him. But I wanted him to hold me again even more. "Y-you're one of them..." He whispered.

'Don't leave me. I'm sorry, just don't leave me!' I thought desperately, but that wasn't what came out. I felt trapped in my own skin, the monster inside me taking over, fed by my own bitterness.

"I'd say something along the lines of 'say it out loud' but I'm pretty sure that would have copywrite issues," I said, shrugging and moving back to sit on my bed. Jack watched me carefully.

"Felix - h-he turned you. He made you just like him - a vampire... You're a monster!" He spat the word like it was snake-venom.

And it hurt. It hurt so freaking bad. It was like I had lodged a knife in my own chest years ago and now Jack was twisting it.

'I know I am.' I wanted to say.

"Well that's a harsh way of putting it. But I've been called worse." I brushed it off like I didn't care like it wasn't that deep like I wasn't bleeding to tell him how sorry I was. I lowered my head in shame.

"I-I have to tell Sam and Dean," Jack said, shifting onto the balls of his feet, edging towards the door. He was going to make a run for it. Suddenly, I was in control of my body again.

I couldn't let him. I needed more time. I needed to beat Felix first and then they could all find out. I had to fix this. I could still fix this.

I had made Jack forget once.

I could do it again.

I would take us back in time. Before he knew. Make everything right. Take us back to the night we met.

He had to forget.

"I can't let you do that," I spoke softly, my gaze still focused on my feet.

"Are you going to try to kill me?" He asked accusingly.

"No." I shook my head. No, I could never kill him. I was too selfish for that. He deserved someone so much better than me. But I loved him.

"Then what are you going to do?" Jack shifted closer to the exit.

"Isaac," I glanced at my brother out of the corner of my eye. Jack stiffened, his eyes snapping to where mine went. "Get the door."

"On it!" Isaac said, overly eager. Jack bolted but he was too slow. My brother flicked his wrist and the door swung closed with a click. Jack swallowed thickly and glanced back to me, fear filling his features. I knew what he was going to try next.

'This is necessary. One day I'll be sorry.'

"His wings," I said to Isaac, my voice breaking. Isaac grinned widely and reached out, making a pinching motion. Jack froze in a panic, then he clenched his eyes shut groaning as Isaac twisted his hands just a bit.

"Can I rip 'em off?" He asked, basking in the Nephilim's pain.

"Isaac, no!"

"Oh, come on," He twisted his hands even more and Jack cried out, his innocent face twisting in agony. "Just a little?"

"Stop! Just-" I sighed. "Please, don't hurt him, Isaac. Just keep him still, please."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine!" He let go and Jack fell to the ground, panting and shaking. He did his best to get to his feet but Isaac flung him into a wall, pinning him there. "Go ahead and Obliviate the simp."

I stood and stepped towards Jack, slowly and carefully, trying not to scare him any more than I had. I could tell he was trying desperately to move but Isaac was too strong.

"What are you going to do?" Jack demanded, trying to hide the fear in his voice. "Are you going to drink my blood?!"

I froze.

Because I could. Then, I could make him forget.

I glanced at his throat. My fangs ached to come out - to bite. I could imagine what it might feel like to bury my teeth in that soft, delicious-smelling skin. I could imagine what he might taste like. He'd be sweet like candy. I could be gentle! Maybe if he could somehow understand how badly I needed him then he'd let me. And he heals fast so he'd be okay.

But he wouldn't understand. And I wanted him to hold me again.

I just wanted Jack to hold me again.

"No," I said. I plucked the picture frame from his hands, gazing at the smiles of my family for a moment. I looked up, trying to smile despite the ache of grief and guilt in my chest. "I'm going to need you to forget this."

"I wish I could," Jack said, glaring at the floor. He couldn't even look at me. He couldn't even look.

I nodded. "You will."

"W-what?"

I sighed and moved over to the window. The crisp breeze blew in from the sea as I threw it open, the curtains billowing like vicious barking dogs on a leash. It was a long way down to the black rocks where the land met the ocean. I dropped the picture and watched it tumble until it smashed into the rocks, shattering that perfect picture frame, shattering my picture-perfect family into a million pieces.

"I can make you forget," I told him, over my shoulder. "Take us back to the night we met." The power inside me trilled with excitement; it wanted Jack, it craved him. Or maybe that was just the monster I was, begging to be unleashed. I turned away from the window, closing it as I did.

"What do you mean?" He asked cautiously. He was scared. He was so scared.

"I'm going to talk to you, and then you're going to forget, and everything will be back to the way it was." I would fix this. His arms would be around me as soon as I fixed this and everything would be okay. I hung my head and let the power inside me launch forward and wrap itself like chains around my Nephilim. I could feel his light, his grace, fighting back but it had nothing substantial to fight. My power wasn't physical, I just imagined it being so.

"No! W-wait!" Jack watched me with dread, beginning to feel the effects of what I was doing to him. I was locking his memories away, locking him up in his own head. But I had to. Because he wouldn't understand and I needed him.

"I have to do this," I whispered, digging my mental claws in deeper.

"Stop," He gasped, beginning to tremble with effort, "Whatever you're doing, just stop!"

"I can't stop, Jack. I'm sorry, but I just need a little more time," I said, gently. "Four moves and I win."

"Four moves..." He mumbled to himself, his brows furrowing, "Four moves? I-I've heard that before. Where have I heard that before?" Then he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut again.

"Please, just forget. I need you to forget."

'I need you to hold me again.'

"Get out of my head!" Jack's voice rose with panic. He flinched away from me as much as he could but Isaac kept him pinned and helpless.

"I'm gonna make everything okay again. I promise." I fought harder against him, willing my power to work faster. Jack moaned and I glanced up to see his face contorted with pain.

"Please!" He begged me, grimacing, "Please, stop! Marty, please. It hurts." I tried harder, and a choked sob escaped his throat. "Marty, please! It hurts! It hurts! You have to stop! Please!"

"I wish you hadn't found out, Jack, and one day I'll be sorry about this."

"Wait. Wait, no!"

I pushed my power harder than I ever had before.

A horrifying scream of pure agony ripped from Jack's throat. But the walls of this house were built to withstand hurricanes. I was the only one who could hear him. With one last burst of effort, I overpowered the walls of his grace and my power flooded his mind, wiping away any memories of what I was. His scream faltered into groans and those softened into whimpers and Jack's body went limp.

Isaac let go and the Nephilim collapsed but I caught him before his head hit the floor. Carding my fingers through his hair, I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Picking him up, I carried him to my bed and laid him there. He weighed more than I did, obviously, but he didn't feel very heavy to me. I laid down beside him, hugging him around the middle and pressing my face into his chest.

Then I finally cried.

"I hope you can forgive me before I'm sorry. Because I'm a liar and don't think I'll ever really regret this."

***

"You hear something?" Sam asked, perking up. Castiel sat dutifully on a large black bolder, watching the house. The angel flicked his eyes to Sam and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head before focusing back on the house.

"Hm? Uh, no." Dean hardly spared a glance. He was too busy drawing inappropriate words in the sand with his foot. Sam frowned.

"Weird." He shook his head, swallowing thickly as he paced back and forth across the moonlit sand.

"Martina threw a picture frame from her window and it shattered against the rocks approximately sixty-two feet south-east of where you are standing," Castiel informed him, "Perhaps that's what you heard."

Sam shook his head again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No, no. It, uh, it wasn't that. I just- I-I coulda' sworn I heard someone..." He trailed off. 'Scream,' He wanted to say. The sound had been like a phantom pain; intense yet insubstantial.

'Just like the visions...' Sam thought. But no. That wasn't possible. He hadn't had a vision or any manifestation of psychic abilities for going on twelve years! He was probably just imagining things. Sam pushed the thought away as soon as it had come. It was impossible... Right?

Yet still, his eyes wandered to the window on the upstairs floor of the dark house; the only window with a slim shaft of light peaking through the curtains. Because what if...

No .

No. Everything was fine, Jack would have alerted them if there was any danger - or at least - the brothers and their angel would've been able to see if Jack thought there was any danger. Judging by the lack of explosions, Sam could assume that everything was fine.

There was no trap here after all. Although, if he thought about it, that may have been the trap in itself. That monster called Felix had lured Marty back here to relive the most painful day of her life. There had been no vamps waiting to do her any physical harm, but Felix didn't need them to. He just wanted that poor, sweet, little girl to hurt.

And, boy was she hurting.

Sam knew how it felt to lose a brother. He knew how it felt to watch his brother die twice. Hell! Sam had watched Dean die more than one hundred times on the one hundred worst Tuesdays of his life. It had made him feel empty inside - hollow. Like somebody had scraped out everything inside of him, the good and the bad, and had left an utter nothingness in its place. And in the face of all that nothing, fear had gripped Sam's heart like a vice. Fear of that emptiness - of all the unspeakable things it made him willing to do. Sam had been willing - eager even - to do whatever it took if it meant filling that awful hole inside of him.

That was what scared him. It was that ruthlessness. It was that titanium will he'd always shied away from. It was when he'd looked into a mirror and seen John Winchester staring back at him. Deep down, that was what both Sam and Dean had always feared the most. Becoming their father. Becoming the shell of a man that had raised them.

Sam could see the beginnings of a similar shell-forming in Martina. He had seen it when they'd rescued her from that shed the week before. Her shell wasn't made of hate like John's had been - not completely at least. Marty's shell had come from grief and fear. She was just trying to hide; both from Felix and from the shell of a person that she was becoming. Jack had told Sam about Marty's memory gaps - about how she couldn't remember what had happened in the shed after she had left. Sam knew that traumatized people tend to blot things out, it was common. But things like the shed and her return to her childhood home could only serve to send Marty further into her shell.

And the last thing the world needed was another John Winchester.

"These kids were livin' a dream, aye Sammy?"

Sam frowned as Dean's mumbled words knocked him from his train of thought. "H-how do you mean?"

"I mean, look! They had everything!" He said, gesturing from the white sand of the beach to the black rocks to the brine woods. His tone and expression grew sober. "Just like a little fairy-tale. And, I mean, three psychics? Those kids - they had a lotta' potential. So smart and talented and now..." Dean trailed off with a frown.

"Yeah..." Sam quietly agreed. Dean turned to his brother with a pensive expression.

"Got me thinkin', maybe-" He sighed. It was hard for him to say and he didn't want to say it. Even though Dean knew that Marty was capable of more than she seemed and that she could affect his emotions, he didn't really care.

Well, he did care . Dean hated people screwing with his head or his feelings, period. But somehow Marty was different. He didn't really care to admit it, but Dean had always wanted a daughter. A sweet soul he could love and care for but definitely, with a badass side, he could bestow his knowledge upon. Claire was a close as he had gotten but she had already grown up and she didn't want his help. To Claire, Dean was only a painful reminder of all she'd lost.

And, of course, there was Emma.

But Dean didn't like to think about her.

Thinking about Emma was too painful.

But Marty was still young, and she didn't see Dean the way Clair did. Marty looked at Dean with hope in her eyes and he desperately wanted to keep it that way.

Jack had used to look at him that way. Jack didn't look at him like that anymore.

Because Dean had messed up with Jack. He could admit that now. He'd messed up and he'd messed up bad. Things had gotten better between them; little by little over time. But Jack hadn't even been five days old when Dean had promised to take his life. After that, Jack had only watched Dean with fear. Not hope. Just sheer friggin' terror on his face whenever the elder Winchester walked into the room. And though things had gotten better, they'd always have that promise between them.

That promise from the night when if Dean had only been a better person he could have made things better and not worse like he always did. (Because he was always making things worse. Always too selfish. Always screwing things up. Always getting people hurt. It was always him, always his fault.) Dean could've snatched that knife from Jack's hands and told him it was going to be alright even if it didn't seem like it would be. And Dean could've given the kid the kind of hug he should've been given the day he was born; a father's hug, just like Castiel would have given him if he'd been alive to do it. Because that was Cas's son. That was Cas's kid! Oh, God... Cas... How could Dean have let his best friend down so horribly? Cas, who had given everything up for him and his brother. Cas had saved them time and time again at his own expense. Cas, who would bleed every drop of blood he had with a smile on his face, all in the name of the Winchesters. How could Dean have betrayed him like that? It wasn't enough for Dean to just let the angel die! (It was Dean's fault, of course. It always was. How couldn't it be? He could have prevented it. If he'd just been a little faster or a little smarter.) No, he had to go and tear that innocent kid to pieces just cause he was sad. (So, selfish. How could he be so selfish? Why was he always so selfish?) Cas had trusted Dean with his son and Dean had repaid him with the promise to take Jack's life. No wonder Jack still could hardly bear to look Dean in the eyes. How could he? Dean wasn't meant to be a father to anyone. He was too frickin' selfish for that.

But this time, things would be different. This time around, Dean would be different - he would be better. For once in his life, he would be selfless and he'd do the right thing even if it possibly meant giving up his only chance to raise a little girl. Because, despite being tainted by darkness and tears, there was still so much good inside Martina Linville. She had so much potential, with the right chances, she could grow up to be great. But she would need those right chances and she wouldn't get them if she stayed with the Winchester's broken little family. All they brought to people was tears and death.

Dean didn't want that for her. She deserved better. Just like Dean himself and his brother had deserved better. She deserved to live a life free from all this pain - a good life, a happy life. Dean wanted that for her. Dean just wanted to help. That was all he'd ever wanted. The last thing Marty needed was more darkness in her life. She didn't need them in her life.

She didn't need him in her life.

So, Dean would be selfless and he would let her go and he would give her the chance to shine like the stars she loved so much. It was probably the most fatherly thing he could do for her. 'Cause Dean just wasn't cut out to be a Dad.

But, oh, did he wish he could be one. Even though he knew that Marty's empathic abilities were probably what was making him feel so strongly about her, Dean couldn't help but go along with it. It wasn't like she was stuffing thoughts in his head; his feelings may have been bolstered but Dean's mind was his own. Dean had always wanted a daughter, Marty hadn't made that up that wish, she'd just reminded him of it. He felt awful about how he had treated Jack and craved a chance at redemption for his mistakes; Dean had made those choices, all Marty had done was exist to give him a chance. Sure, she was rioting his emotions. But what did that matter? Because Dean wanted this and damn it! This felt real!

But he couldn't have it.

Because Dean, and his brother, and their angel, and - yes - even Jack -- it was all some sick, screwed up, god damn beautiful tragedy -- But they were the last thing Martina Linville needed.

So, Dean would be selfless.

"Thinkin' about what?" Sam's question shook Dean from his reverie and back to what he'd been meaning to say.

"Maybe we should put her into the system after all this," He said, thoughtfully, though there was regret in his tone also. Sam blinked twice, shaking his head.

"W-what? The system? You mean the foster system?" He asked, incredulously.

"Yeah? Something wrong with that?" Dean responded. Sam gaped at him.

"Is something wrong with that? Dean, everything is wrong with that!" He exclaimed. Dean opened his mouth to argue but Sam didn't let him. "We made Marty a promise! Just this morning you said she was part of the family. Was all that just talk?"

"No, but-"

"Then what the Hell was it, Dean? Because you can't just go back on something like that! We said we'd take care of her," Sam huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at his older brother.

"And that's exactly what we'd be doing," Dean argued, "Giving her a place that's safe."

"Who would take her in? She's fourteen and she's got more trauma than some war veterans, I don't-"

"Exactly!" Dean cut him off. "The kid's got issues! She needs help, the professional kind."

"Since when do you promote therapy? Sam scoffed.

"When it doesn't involve me," Dean grumbled. Sam shook his head, getting back to the point.

"Throwing her on a bunch of strangers with no clue what she's been through, and who couldn't possibly understand her even if they knew, isn't going to help her! She'd get tossed around or thrown into some group therapy home till she's eighteen and then they'd dump her back on the streets where we found her! How is that taking care of her?"

"It's getting her out of this life, Sam," Dean said firmly. Sam glared.

"You mean getting her out of your life," The younger brother spat lowly.

"What did you just say?" Dean asked dangerously.

"You heard me."

"You have somethin' ya wanna say to my face, Sammy?" Dean growled.

"Dean," Castiel said his name like a warning, his hand gripping Dean's shoulder, holding him back.

"Yeah, I do." Sam's nostrils flared and his mouth was pressed into a thin line. "I'm not gonna stand by and watch you do this again."

"Do what again?" Dean questioned, Cas' hand on his shoulder reminding him to keep calm.

"This thing you do. Anytime a kid comes along, you do this. You act all annoyed, then right as you start liking having 'em around something happens and you realize the responsibility and it freaks you out so you back off and you push 'em away."

"I don't do that," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah? 'Cause you did it with Kevin, you did it with Claire, you did it with Jack, and now you're doing it again right now with Marty. The second things get real, you get scared and you run away." Sam kept eye contact with Dean, challenging him to look away. Dean clenched his teeth, his pride preventing him from losing the contest of wills.

"Quit fooling yourself, Sam. Look at me!" Dean's voice broke just a little. But he cleared his throat, quick to cover his mistake. "Er, at us, I mean. We can't raise a kid!" He protested.

"We raised Jack," Sam countered.

"Because there were literally no better alternatives!" Dean seethed. Sam opened his mouth but Dean wasn't done. Hyperaware of Castiel's presence just behind him, guilt ate at his heart. But Dean had never been very good at apologies. "And I even screwed that up! I'm not Dad material, Sam. I'm just not!"

His outburst of emotion made Sam blink, rendering him momentarily speechless. He could have spoken his next words gently but pride made them come out like acid.

"I don't think that's what Ben thought," He hissed. Sam knew it was a low-blow bringing up Ben. That wound was still sore.

"Yeah?" Dean laughed but there was no humor in it. "WELL LOOK HOW THAT TURNED OUT!" He yelled. Sam tensed but didn't back off.

"Something isn't real because it lasts, Dean," Sam said, speaking just a little bit gentler now. "For however short a time, Ben had a dad that loved and cared about him. For however short a time, you made him happy. You say you're not dad material, but that's not what I saw. If that's what you're so worried about, then don't be. 'Cause you made an pretty awesome dad, Dean, even if Ben doesn't remember."

Dean sighed in defeat. "We have nothing to give her, Sam."

"We have trust and understanding, a-and that's more than some random foster home could give her."

Dean shook his head. "It doesn't have to be random."

"What do mean?"

"Jody," He suggested, "I mean, she's already got Claire and Alex. What's one more?"

Sam sighed through his nose, shaking his head. "Yeah, she's got Claire and Alex-" He paused giving his older brother a pointed look. "- And Patience and Kaia. What's one more? That's only five emotionally unstable teenage girls to take care of, on top of a full time job as a sheriff, and hunting to worry about too."

"I agree with Sam," Castiel spoke up, "We cannot simply dump yet another troubled youth onto the already burdened shoulders of Sheriff Mills." Sam gestured to the angel as if accentuate his point.

"But at least she'd be safe," Dean argued, pursing his lips into a thin line.

"From monsters, sure," Sam agreed, nodding. Dean could sense a ' but ' coming. "But not from herself."

"Jody could help Marty just as much as we could - probably more!" He said. Dean could hear Sam grind his teeth in frustration, but Cas held up a hand to speak.

"I don't think that's true, Dean."

"Why not?" Dean asked the angel.

"'Why not?' Haven't you been listening?" Sam exclaimed. Cas shot the younger Winchester a look and he fell silent.

"I am sure Sheriff Mills is a competent and kind woman; however, Martina does not know or trust her. Sending her to live there would only be marginally better than shipping her off to a stranger," The angel stated, evenly.

"What's that gotta do with what Sam said?" Dean asked. Cas gave him a long-suffering look but continued in perfect patience.

"As weary as I am of Martina's true motives and intentions, I think it is plenty clear the choice she faces after the termination of her family's killer. That is, if she has not made her decision already."

Dean's face scrunched with confusion. "What choice is that?"

"The choice of continuing to live free from the threat of Felix Monroe, or..." The angel trailed off, frowning. His tone made Dean feel like there was a knot in his chest.

"Or what?" He pressed, cautiously. Cas sighed.

"Or to end her life and return to her family," Cas finished, soberly.

Dean was stunned. He hadn't thought- He had never realized.

"Wait, whoa. Are you telling me Marty wants to commit suicide?" His eyes were wide with fear and alarm. She was too young for that. Too young to want to kill herself. No. She couldn't. Dean wouldn't let that happen. "Where's this coming from?" He demanded. Sam glared at him.

"She told her little brother she'd be with him soon. Combine that with the scars on her wrists, and it's really not that hard to figure out," He said, coolly.

Scars? Dean understood now. That was why she was always wearing long sleeves, even in the sweltering heat of Florida. Sam took advantage of his older brother's silence.

"Think about it, Dean," He pushed, "Sending her away from first people she's allowed herself to get attached to in five years? You think that will help?"

The thought made Dean reconsider but Sam had more to say.

"A-and think of Jack! You've seen how much he cares about her. I've seen him smile more in these last two and a half weeks than he did in the five months since we got him back from Apocalypse World. What do you think would happen if he found Marty laying in a pool of her own blood? What do you think that would do to him?"

"It would kill him." Dean sighed, nodding in agreement and Sam cracked a smile.

"I mean, we both know he loves her, Dean. And I-I don't mean like a sister," The younger brother said, fondly. Dean chuckled and the tension in the air cleared.

"Yeah, there's definitely a thing there." He shook his head, grinning. "I mean, it's totally weird but it's a thing." Sam nodded and shrugged.

"Well, I dated a demon. I don't think I can judge."

"You can say that again!" Dean laughed.

The sudden chime of a phone ringing cut through the cool nighttime air like a knife and Dean reached to answer. The smile dropped from his face as soon as he caught a glance at the screen.

"Who is it?" Castiel asked.

"Blocked," Dean answered, apprehension filling his voice, "Three guesses as to who." He mumbled, sliding a finger across the screen to pick up the call and putting it on speaker.

"This is Dean Winchester," He announced as the line connected.

There was no voice on the other side of the call.

"Hello?" He tried again.

Again nothing.

Dean could hear someone breathing but they didn't speak. The breaths sounded ragged and uneven like the person was out of breath. There was background noise as well, a deep rumbling that seemed to increase in volume as time wore on. Without warning, the sound of a deep bellowing horn blared from the phone's speaker. It was the sort of horn that typically accompanies a low rumbling noise. It was the sort of horn that accompanies a really, really big train. The sound of the horn grew louder but soon began to fade as the train passed by whoever had been holding the phone. Something told him this wasn't a simple case of a butt-dial. The situation unnerved for some reason he couldn't name. It was like a scene from a movie.

"Tell me who you are or I'm hanging up," Dean said, his voice demanding.

"I-I would'nt d-do that if I were y-you!" A desperate, ragged voice called from the phone. Dean had gotten it wrong. The person on the phone wasn't Felix. The person on the phone was a little girl and she wasn't out of breath. She was terrified.

"Why not?" He asked, cautiously.

"B-because little Pamala o-only get's this one c-call." The voice on the other end sounded oddly robotic despite the words being broken into syllables by the girl's sobs.

"What do you mean?" He wondered.

"She-she's lu-ucky you picked u-up. If you hadn't I'd have t-old my friends to e-eat swe-eet Pammy here! Sh-she's seven, just so you know!" The little girl choked out.

"Felix," Dean growled, "You're using the little girl to talk for you?"

"Pamala is a c-cute little pup-pet. But she's a-annoy-ing. If she d-doesn't stop s-stutter-ing, I'll tell one of my f-friends to t-ake a bite!" The little girl whimpered and took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice for the sake of her life. " So, what shall I make Panama say next?"

Dean gritted his teeth together. To his right, Sam looked like he was going to be sick. But this wasn't just sick, this was downright vile . On his left, Cas looked about ready to rip that monster apart with his bare hands.

"Why don't you talk to me with your own voice, Nessie? Ya scared?" Dean taunted.

"No. That would ruin the fun of the game." The girl spoke slowly, trying her best to stay calm.

"What game?" Castiel demanded, sounding a step away from livid.

"You hunters and your angel have thirty minutes to come and rescue poor, little Pamala. When time is up, I'll tell my friends to- to r-rip her in- into itty-bitty pieces!" The girl let out a panicked sob after finishing the monster's words.

"How are we supposed to do that?" Dean demanded, fuming. "She could be anywhere!"

"No, not anywhere, Dean. She's sitting all wrapped up in the attic of the Florida East Coast Railway Station at Fort Pierce. I might be there with her too, gives you a chance to catch me just to make things interesting. But you better hurry, I hear t-traffic can be a biatch."

"You're gonna pay for this, you son of a bitch!" Dean growled.

"Watch the language, Dean Winchester. There are children present. You don't wanna spoil little Pamala's innocence, do you?"

Dean was so enraged, he couldn't even speak. Luckily, Sam was thinking the same as he was.

"We're gonna kill you," Sam promised.

"Perhaps. But not before I show y-you the truth."

The truth? What truth?

"This call will end in...

Five...

Four..."

"Stay strong, sweetheart!" Dean called to the little girl on the other side of the phone. "We're gonna come help you!"

"Three...

Two...

One...

...

Please save me...

...

I don't wanna die..."

Then the line clicked and the call was over.

Dean clenched his jaw and put the phone away.

"Let's go gank that sick bastard."

~I am not the only traveler

And then I can tell myself

I had all and then most of you

When the night was full of terrors

Lyrics from: The Night We Met by Lord Huron

I had all and then most of you

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 3 years

Text

Chapter Ten: To Home and Friendship

(Images are not mine)

Rated: PG

~With every small disaster I'll let the waters still Take me away to some place real

'Cause they say home is where your heart is set in stone Is where you go when you're alone Is where you go to rest your bones It's not just where you lay your head It's not just where you make your bed As long as we're together, does it matter where we go?~

Home.

That wasn't a word I was used to. Not anymore.

"I stand by what I said earlier, Jack. You make an excellent pillo― Oh holy crap."

I gasped as Jack lead me inside the literal bunker that these guys apparently lived in. I wondered if I would ever get used to it, because their bunker was enormous.

We entered through a non-descript entrance, that nobody would have noticed, onto a platform that was less of a balcony and more of a catwalk which I guessed was the second floor, though I couldn't tell exactly because it was a bunker and it probably had more levels than I could see. The wrought iron railing of the balcony was formed into a design of circles atop rectangles. The catwalk ended with a set of steel stairs that curved with the wall.

My feet clanged on the metal as I descended the stairwell. At the bottom of those stairs on my right was a doorway that led somewhere else and on my left was what I guessed was the entryway. There was a big glowy-table-thing with a map on it in the center of the space, surrounded by several chairs. There was this big, greenish panel thingy attached to one of the tan tiled walls that looked like some sort of old timey computer equipment. Through a big gray archway, I could see into another room that looked like a library with a huge telescope at the end of it. On the far left of the room there was another hallway going off somewhere else. Dean stepped off the staircase and spread his arms out.

"Welcome to the Batcave!" He said, grinning. "I see you're impressed." Only then did I realize my mouth was hanging open. I closed it and shook my head.

"This place is colossal," I said in awe.

"Yeah, it's a little pretentious but you get used to it." Sam shrugged, passing me. Jack just stood over my shoulder, watching my reaction.

"True, but if you want protection, this is about the safest place in the world. It's got warding against every evil thing out there. Vampires, werewolves, demons, ghosts, you name it," Dean boasted. Just then, Isaac appeared on the catwalk, as far from us as he could.

"Ha! Then how did I get in here genius!" He jeered. It took every last drop of will power I had not to facepalm right then and there. It was warm in here and the hunters would certainly notice a sudden temperature drop. Was Isaac trying to get us discovered? (I'd say killed but he's already dead.)

"Yep, nothing gets in here unless we let it. Or, you know, bring it in accidentally." Sam shared a look with Cas and his older brother.

"Scooby-dooby-doo!" Dean laughed, shaking his head. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the story behind that or not. Meanwhile Isaac wore a sheepish expression.

"Oh, guess that’s how I got in then." Words cannot express how much I wanted to kick my brother at that moment. After he was finished laughing, Dean looked to Jack.

"Kid, you take Mcfly here, find her a room, get her all settled, then give her the grand tour. I'm gonna hit the sack." Dean turned on his heel with a wave and whistled his way out of the room. Castiel mumbled something about research and crossed through the arch into the library.

"We're gonna find the monster that took your family away, Marty. But until then, think of us as your new one." I looked up at Sam and was reminded again of how huge the guy was. His head was in a totally different weather system than mine and I wondered if it was harder to breathe all the way up there.

"Thanks Sam." I took three steps higher on the stairs and made grabby hands at him. "Come here."

Sam raised an eyebrow at me but obeyed anyway. I took a tiny jump and wrapped my arms around his neck. He stumbled back a bit in surprise but quickly recovered and wrapped his arms around me with a chuckle.

"Shut up, Gigantor. I gotta hug ya’ somehow!" I rebuked, defending my height... Or rather, the lack thereof. I guess his laughter was justified though. My feet were dangling at least a foot from the floor. I let go of him and dropped back to the ground, it felt like falling off Mount Everest. Sam just shook his brown mane, smiling down at me.

"If there's anything you need, like help reaching the top shelf, just ask." I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, whatever Sasquatch. So, what are you gonna do?" I asked. Sam shrugged, running a hand through his hair.

"Put my stuff away. Then I'm gonna go reorganize the pantry, make sure you can reach the cereal," He smirked, and followed Dean's path through the other door-way.

"Way to rub it in, Sam!" I called after him. I heard him chuckle as he rounded the corner out of my sight. Then I rounded on Jack, who had been waiting patiently. "Well, Jack, if you wanna make fun of my height, now's the time to do it. Lead on!" I opened my arms, preparing for insults.

"It is rare that I get to feel tall, but I'm not going to make fun of you," He said, turning on his heel to lead me through the door-way behind us.

"Good. Cause' I might have slapped you if ya had." Jack looked back at me questioningly, but I just shrugged.

I followed him through twisting and turning hallways that I knew I wouldn't be memorizing anytime soon. We kept walking for what seemed like forever. Honestly, I was ninety-eight percent convinced that we might pass a sign that said: 'Now Entering Nebraska.' It didn't help that all the halls looked exactly the same.

"Back at the motel, the night we met, Dean said you had this thing," Jack remarked, turning to face me and walking backward.

"What thing?" I asked.

"I think he called it ‘A Napoleon Complex' or something like that," Jack said, innocently. I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing.

"And do you know what that is?"

"No. I haven't looked it up yet. Do you know?" I snorted.

"Oh, yeah. I know," I said. Already thinking of a comeback for the next time I saw Dean.

"What is it?" Jack was simply curious. I smirked at him.

"Do you know who Napoleon was?" I asked him, I was pretty sure of the answer.

"No." Just as I thought. The Winchesters needed to teach their half-angel some history. As for now though, I could give him the watered-down version.

"Napoleon was a French dude, not to be confused with the ice-cream. He was five foot six and when people called him short, he blew them up." I told him. Jack nodded seriously.

"I see, so he was insecure about his height and used violence to compensate for it. Then, the complex was named after him." I had to give it to him, the kid was smart.

"Yep. Never mind the fact that he took over almost all of Europe, he will always be famous for being a human chihuahua." I had to at least teach Jack something remotely accurate. Jack frowned and his eyebrows pulled together as if remembering something unpleasant. I guessed he had come into contact with a chihuahua before, it didn't look like he was fond of them.

"So, Dean thinks you're insecure about your height," Said Jack, returning us to the original topic.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Are you?" I shrugged.

"Not really. I'm just obnoxious." Jack laughed, coming to a stop in front of a black door that looked just the same as the rest that lined the hall except for the plaque with the number 22 etched into it.

"This is my room," He said. "And that's Sam's." He pointed to the door on the left of his which had a 21 on it. "You can pick any of these other rooms." His eyes flicked to the door next to his on the right, room 24. I briefly wondered what had happened to 23. When I met his eyes, he looked at his feet, as if his shoes were much more interesting than me.

"Does anyone live in here?" I tapped the door with 24 on it.

"No, it's empty but you don't have to take that one if you don't want to." Jack glued his eyes to the polished cement floor and ran his hand through his hair, a tick I was sure he picked up from Sam.

"Why wouldn't I want to?" I asked, narrowing my eyes and putting my hands on my hips. I watched as a pink tint started to creep up Jack's neck.

"I don't want you to think that you have to stay in that one just because I want you too," He muttered.

"You want me to stay next to you?" I pointed out. Jack's expression went blank, his eyes wide as quarters.

"Um, I-I-I don't- I didn't mean--" Jack stumbled over his words. His gaze drilled straight into the floor, his hands were fidgeting, and his right foot twisted its toe against the concrete. His body language pointed at nervousness. Why was he this nervous? Was it me? He hadn't been this way before, what was different now? I decided to ease his nerves with a little humor. I stuck my hand into his line of sight and waved.

"Yoo, hoo! I'm up here, Jack." He flicked his eyes up to my face but kept his head down. "Well, not up per-say but you know what I mean," I joked. His smile was still pointed at the concrete. I guessed we'd just have to work on that.

"S-sorry." His laugh was a breathy one. I sighed, planting my hands on my hips.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Jack. It's nice to have someone who wants me around, I haven't had that in a long time." I smiled in what I hoped was a friendly way. Jack rocked back and forth on his heels and his mouth did that crooked smile of his. He even flicked his eyes up at me.

"Well, uh, what are friends for?" He sounded like he was reciting something he heard in a movie.

I wondered whether Jack was trying to flirt with me or not. A tiny part of me hoped that he was and another part of me kicked myself for hoping for that. How could I think that way? Jack was two, he was probably too young to understand feelings like that, if he even had them. He probably didn't have them. He was probably just doing his best to make a friend, by going off what he had seen. I mean, the movies are pretty against a boy and a girl simply being friends. Besides if he knew what I was, he wouldn't be standing here talking to me. He'd be trying to kill me. Isaac was right. Any friendship I made here, would never be real. It never could be.

"Right," I said softly. Now I was the one looking down at my feet. But I wasn't doing it out of nerves. I was doing it out of shame. Glancing up at him through my lashes, Jack's smile faltered for only a moment. He grasped the doorknob and turned it and as the door swung inward, Jack flipped a switch and the white florescent lights buzzed to life.

The room was simply decorated, and by that I mean it wasn't decorated at all. The walls, ceiling, and floor were grey and a built-in shelf stuck out from the far wall. In the center of the space sat a full-size bed with a plain white duvet, white sheets, and down pillows. There was a dresser pushed up against one wall, a desk pressed against the other, and a tiny night stand next to the bed, all of which were fashioned out of wood the shade of walnut.

"Um, it's not much, but we can get you some stuff to make it yours," Jack smirked down at me and I ducked past him into the room.

Other than those objects, the room was bare, but I found myself overwhelmed. My chest tightened and my eyes stung, it was so little, but it was more than I'd had in five years. I shrugged my backpack off my shoulders and placed my violin case on the bed. Keeping my back turned, my face hidden from Jack, I blinked rapidly to dispel my tears.

"It's wonderful, Jack. I-I love it." I took a deep breath and pasted a smirk on my face. When I had control of my emotions, I swung back to face him. "Now, how bout' that grand tour?" Jack's brows pushed together.

"Don't you want to put your things away, first?" He asked, tilting his head.

"Nah, I can do that anytime. This place is pretty awesome, I wanna see it all!" I grinned at him, pressing all the excitement I could muster into my voice. Jack grinned back.

"Well, um, what would you like to see first?"

"No idea! What's your favorite room?" Jack's eyes flicked to the side as he thought about his answer for a moment.

"The kitchen," He decided. His seriousness made me chuckle.

"I like the way you think. You lead, I'll follow!" This time, instead of smiling at the concrete, Jack smiled at my shoes! We were making good progress. Now if I could get him to smile at my face, then we would really be getting somewhere.

Jack swung around on his heel and walked about four paces before opening a door on the other side of the hall. This one was labeled with 23. 'So that's where it went.' I thought, as Jack pushed the door open and walked through. Inside was the kitchen. It wasn't the kind you have at home. No, this was one of those industrial sort of kitchens, all polished steel and florescent lighting. (The buzzing of those light bulbs was extremely annoying, but I would just have to get used to it.)

There were pots and pans everywhere. Any sort of cook where you could imagine was in there, hanging on racks, dangling from hooks, sitting on shelves, or habitually left on the stove. What looked like easily one hundred white plates were stacked neatly on the shelves of the giant stainless-steel island that dominated the space. Two ovens, stood side-by-side in a little nook, one of which had a griddle attached to the top. Hovering over the two ovens were large vents of gleaming steel.

To the right of the cooking station was the preparation area and a sink as big as your average tub. I'm not kidding. The thing was gargantuan. Above that monstrosity of a kitchen sink sat an array of porcelain cups, and a tissue box, on a shelf. To the right of that, there sat a large stainless steel shelving unit that was home to various cooking supplies and four white drawers in the middle.

On the far wall, was a brown bulletin board decorated with various notes, covered in scribbles and sketches, tacked to it. Beneath the bulletin was a table crafted from some dark colored wood, that was either oak or mahogany, and was attached to the wall. Affixed to the table were eight stool-like seats constructed from the same dark material as the table itself. Directly to the right side of the door, was a coat rack and six small lockers stacked vertically. The right wall was an archway and set of stairs that lead off into a hallway branching to the right and a different set of stairs to the left.

As I peered around to the left side of the door and past another steel shelf, I laid eyes upon what could only be the freezer/refrigerator combo. It was this enormous floor-to-ceiling white panel with five varying sized doors built into it. The far most door on the right was taller than me so I assumed that was the refrigerator and the other four doors were freezers. Why one would need four freezers, I had no idea, but I found myself liking the concept. Now that I had finished taking in the grossly oversized kitchen, I whirled to Jack and grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at me. I stared him dead in the eyes.

"This. Place. Is. Awesome." I pointed at the refrigerator. "Five bucks says I could fit in there!" Jack's gaze followed my finger and he nodded.

"I think you could," He said. I took another glance around the space. I couldn't help it. The laugh bubbled up from my stomach, filled my chest, and bloomed in my throat. It had been a long, long, long, time since I had laughed like that.

"I went from having nothing, to living in this place! This is amazing!" I flung my arms around Jack. It was quite the feat on my part to refrain from crushing his ribs. I was so excited I could hardly contain it. I was bouncing up and down on my toes like a little girl! Though I guess, in the eyes of Jack and the others, that’s sort of what I was.

"I'm glad you like it!" Jack said, grinning.

"I don't like it, Jack. I love it!" I exclaimed. My stomach growled like an angry bear, just being in here was making me hungry. "Hey, as long as we're here, got anything good to eat? I'm starving!" That last bit was nothing new, I was always starving these days, always craving. But I was never craving food. Jack's throat suddenly looked extremely tasty. Thankfully, his voice broke me away from that train of thought.

"I like ice-cream," He said, brightly.

"Jack?”

"Hm?"

"We are gonna be awesome friends."

No, home wasn't a word I was used to. Not anymore. But I realized with a start, that for the first time in five years, I had one. A real one.

It looked like I was gonna have to get used to it.

Jack knelt down and opened the door on the bottom left of the freezer/refrigerator combo that I then dubbed 'The Wall of Cold Stuff'. He reached in, grabbed a tub of ice cream, then stood and kicked the door shut.

"The bowls are down there and the spoons are in the top left drawer," He said, pointing to the shelf in the back. I made my way over and grabbed two of each. We both sat at the table, across from each other, and Jack served up the ice cream. I then got the chance to glance at the ice cream's label. It was chocolate-chip-cookie-dough.

"This is my favorite flavor. What's yours?" I asked him, shoveling ice cream into my mouth and moaning as the sugary goodness coated my tongue. Jack must have found that funny because he ducked his head and laughed.

"I don't know. This one is pretty good, but I love the mint and brownie ones as well," He told me. I had noticed that Jack always took great care to think about his answers before he gave them. He took and asked every question seriously. I got the feeling that Jack was the sort of person who's curiosity was never satisfied.

"I can vibe with that," I agreed. Jack's brows furrowed, he placed his spoon down on the table, folded his hands in his lap and leaned forward.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what that means. Could you explain it?" He asked. I liked the way he behaved when he was curious about something, Jack just dropped everything to learn and focused entirely on whatever it was he was trying to understand. Right now, that thing was me. I found that I didn't mind his undivided attention.

"Oh, um, it means that you agree with something somebody said. Its like saying 'you're right' or 'I agree with you' or 'that's cool'," I explained. Jack nodded.

"I think I understand." I gave him a thumbs up and scooped another spoonful of ice-cream into my mouth, closing my eyes and savoring the flavor with a deep sigh.

"You know, it's been five years since I last had ice cream," I said. Jack froze his ice cream eating with his spoon still stuck in his mouth, his expression morphing into one of horror and pity.

"That's awful!" He said, he'd removed the spoon, but his mouth was still full of the dessert, "No one should have to go without ice cream for that long!"

"My friend, you are absolutely right," I replied, pointing my spoon at him. "Here's to ice cream and sugar highs!" I tapped my bowl with the spoon and Jack copied me, albeit somewhat confused as to what I was doing. Speaking of sugar highs, I could already feel one building up already. It had been way too long since I'd had this much sugar.

"Marty?" Jack wanted my attention.

"Hm?"

"I had a dream about you last night," He said, changing the subject. I stared up at him, pulling my spoon out of my mouth.

"Should I be worried?"

"No."

"What was I doing in this dream of yours?" I asked, straining to keep the nervousness that was building in my chest out of my voice. Jack frowned, picking at his ice cream.

"You said-- You told me you were dangerous and I shouldn't trust you, that you're hiding something."

I bit my lip, my eyes widening with shock. I struggled to keep calm and natural, my reactions could give me away. Just as I'd settled my expression, Jack looked up. "I can trust you, right?" I smiled as genuinely as I could, which was difficult to do with his gaze piercing into my soul like it was.

"Of course, you can! I may be clever but I'm not exactly diabolical," I said, giving my best laugh. Jack smiled and nodded, though I got the notion that he was reassuring himself more than anything. If he was going to say something else, he never got the chance because at that moment, Sam strolled into the room.

He stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of us at the table. Our heads snapped up at the same time and we froze. Jack had his spoonful halfway to his mouth and mine was already there. The three of us just stared at each other for a moment but Sam was the first to react.

"Come on guys, really?! It's six A.M.!" He exclaimed. I shrugged, removing the spoon from my mouth and pointing it at him.

"AM, PM. What's the difference? Live a little!" With that comment alone, Sam figured he wouldn't be getting anywhere with me, so he turned to Jack.

"Jack, come on, be an example." Jack glanced at his spoonful of dessert and shoved in in his mouth, quickly.

"Technically," He pointed out, directing his spoon at me, "She's older than me!"

"Hey!" I protested.

"What?"

"This was your idea!"

Jack shrugged. "I know, but you agreed. I was just stating a fact," he said. Sam sighed, shaking his head. The two of us turned our attention back to him.

"Jack, throw it away and put the container back in the freezer. If you want ice cream, you can have it at dinner. Not at six in the morning," He scolded. Jack swallowed his mouthful of ice cream.

"But Sam, look at how happy she is! Marty hasn't had ice cream for five years!" He tried. I nodded vigorously to emphasize the point.

"It's true, Sam. You only live once!" I said, shoving another bite of ice cream in my mouth. Sam's eyes flicked back and forth between us.

"Fine. Just this once," He sighed.

"Thanks Sam!" Jack and I grinned.

"Yeah, whatever." Sam rolled his eyes and left the kitchen, but I could hear the hint of a smile in his voice. When he was gone, Jack sighed with relief.

"I take it you do this a lot," I said to him. He looked at the ice cream with a guilty expression.

"I wouldn't say a lot."

"But often enough for him not to be surprised?"

"Yeah." Jack grinned sheepishly.

"Does he always catch you?" I asked him.

"Every time, yes."

We finished our ice cream and put our dishes in the sink. Then, Jack proceeded to show me the rest of the bunker. Sometimes I would ask about what was in few of the rooms and he would reply with an 'I don't know' or a few times a rather disturbing 'You don't want to know'. To say that his cryptic warning had no effect on me would be a lie. He spoke the words in a light hearted way that just made me more worried. So, I tried to push any speculations as to the contents of those rooms from my mind but kept step slightly closer to Jack from then on.

He showed me a garage full of a bunch of old-timey cars that I found myself figuratively drooling over, a room full of antique electronic equipment he told me not to touch, an impressive gym with an adjacent shower room, an infirmary, a shooting range that looked like a lot of fun, something they called the 'War Room' which was where the glowy table was, the extensive library, and an alcove with an gigantic telescope that Jack claimed nobody could figure out how to use. According to him, the glowy table in the war room could supposedly track monsters, but the Winchesters weren't sure how to use it. Much to my relief.

Jack also showed me a room where I immediately knew I would be spending most of my time. Jack rather confusedly referred to it as 'The Dean Cave'. I later noticed the paper sign tacked on the back of the door that was labeled with said name. Inside there was a flat screen TV, two recliners, a bar that I'd never use, a foosball table which I would definitely use, a record-playing jukebox that I hoped had some decent tunes, and a shelf full of books. The whole room was lit by these cool red and blue lights that looked to be made out of beer kegs. This was a place I could get used to.

"Jack, I think I found my second favorite room," I said, trailing my fingers along the rim of the foosball table.

"You'll have to ask Dean if you can use the T.V. he and Sam are still trying to figure it out." Jack sat cross-legged on one of the ugly plaid recliners.

"Remind me to help em' with that. I'm tech-y," I replied, walking over to observe the jukebox. I didn't know most of the titles displayed on the devices list of records, but my eyes landed on one that I'd know even if it was written in Chinese. "Oh my gosh! Jack, how do I use this thing?!" I squealed, excitedly. Jack hopped up to help me.

"You turn this knob to select which one you want, then you press this button to start it," He explained. I followed his instructions and watched the machine grab the record and put it on that spinning thing before it dropped the needle. I grinned ear to ear as sweet music filled the air.

~Wouldn't it be nice if we were older? Then we wouldn't have to wait so long And wouldn't it be nice to live together In the kind of world where we belong?~

"What's this one called?" Jack asked over the notes.

"Wouldn't it be nice, by The Beach Boys! It's one of my favorites!" I was surprised that it was here considering Dean's bias when it came to music.

~You know it's gonna make it that much better When we can say goodnight and stay together~

"I dare you to sing along, Jack-Jack." I grinned and nudged his shoulder.

"No thank you," He said, shaking his head with a pleasant smile.

~Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up In the morning when the day is new? And after having spent the day together Hold each other close the whole night through~

"Awww! Why not?"

"I don't know the words." He shrugged.

~Happy times together we've been spending I wish that every kiss was never ending Oh, wouldn't it be nice?~

"Fine!" I sighed in over dramatic disappointment, flopping onto one of the recliners. "But that excuse is only gonna work once!"

Jack chuckled, leaning his arms on the back of the recliner to look down at me. "I guess I better come up with more excuses then!"

~Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray It might come true Baby, then there wouldn't be a single thing we couldn't do Oh, we could be married (oh, we could be married) And then we'd be happy (and then we'd be happy) Oh, wouldn't it be nice?~

"You can't evade me forever," I declared, kicking my feet back and forth to the beat of the song.

"True," Jack agreed, nodding. "But I can try."

"And try you will, young Skywalker," I said.

"I like Star Wars!" Jack noted, suddenly seeming to shift from being older than me to younger by about five years. It was an odd thing to watch.

"Who doesn't?"

~Goodnight, my baby Sleep tight, my baby Goodnight, my baby Sleep tight, my baby~

The music faded away but I maintained eye contact with Jack in a spontaneous staring contest. Why? Because, naturally the first one to break was a weakling and I was not going to take that title on my first day with these people.

"Is this a staring contest?" Jack asked, tilting his head a bit. He didn't blink.

"Indeed. We maintained eye contact for longer than twenty-eight seconds, so it's obligatory," You replied, still refusing to blink.

"I did not know that those were the rules," Jack said, sounding somewhat confused.

"Well, they're not. That's just how my family always played." You were quick to clear your throat and rid your tone of any sadness that slipped past your defenses.

"Oh, I see."

"I take it you two are having fun."

"Agh!" I shot up from my reclined position in shock and whipped to the doorway where I took in the sight of Castiel standing just outside the door frame, the ghost of a smile visible on his otherwise expressionless face. How long had he been watching? Embarrassment warmed my cheeks and I hoped we hadn't looked like idiots.

"Hey Cas! I don't know about Jack, but I'm having the time of my life!" I said. Then I turned to Jack. "Whattdya' say, buddy? Am I torturing you?"

"I've been tortured before, this isn't anything close to what that was like! Don't worry, Marty. You're a lot of fun." He stated, matter-of-factly. My eyes went wide and I tilted my head at him. I mean, what was I even supposed to say to something like that? "Oh, and you I won the staring contest." I found myself nodding slowly.

"Well, good for you. And that's got to be the weirdest complement I think I've ever gotten, but I'll take it." Jack grinned at me in his lopsided way and I turned my attention back to the other angel in the room. "Any particular reason for this visit or were ya just passing?"

"Sam asked me to check up on you two," Cas answered.

"Alright. Well, I was just about to ask Jack to help me find my way back to my room."

Cas simply nodded and walked off.

"So, why do you like that song so much?" Jack inquired as we strode back through the endless identical hallways.

"It was in one of my mom's favorite movies so she was always singing it. I love the tune as well and sometimes, when I'm sad, the words make me feel better," I answered. Jack frowned.

"I don't understand song lyrics. They never make sense to me."

"Would you like me to explain it to you?"

"Yes." Jack nodded and once again gave me all his attention.

"So, that song is about two young people who feel like they're living their lives stuck in place. There's so much they want to do but everybody says they're just to young to do it. They feel like they've outgrown the stage of life that they're in and they just want to move on. By being stuck where they are, they're afraid they'll miss their opportunity for happiness. So they dream about a day when they'll finally be free to do whatever they want, even if they that day may never come around." My thoughtful tone surprised me.

I hadn't meant to put so much of my own emotion into my explanation of the lyrics. If I kept on like this, the hunters would figure me out in no time. But there was just something about Jack, about the way he listened to my every word, that made me want to tell him everything about everything. I was weak around him. He made me let my guard down. I'd have to learn how to keep it up if I wanted to survive.

"Do you feel stuck sometimes?" Jack asked. His tone was sincere but his expression gave me no clues a s to what he was hoping to learn from his question. I nodded.

"I used to feel like I was living a loop, like every day was the same. It sucked." I rolled my eyes and shoved him playfully. "But then four weirdos in an Impala showed up and my life is finally moving again!"

~With every small disaster I'll let the waters still Take me away to someplace real

Cause' they say home is where your heart is set in stone Its where you go when you're alone Its where you go to rest your bones Its not just where you lay your head Its not just where you make your bed As long as we're together does it matter where we go?~

Lyrics from: Home by Jasmine Thompson

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