#saw someone else complain about hunter having little screen time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

There was a Girl...

Pairing | Jace Wayland x reader

Summary | When Clary becomes a shadowhunter, she notices how cold and ruthless Jace is. Every one seems to relate to his pain, not resonating at quite the same level. They’re all mourning nevertheless.

Warnings | Mentions of death, brief smut (handjob), angst, heartbreak, unrequited feelings (for Clary)

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Opening your eyes, you awoke to Jace's chest, his blonde hair falling over his face. You preferred how it looked when it was a little bit scruffy instead of slicked back, and you reached for one of the hanging strands. They were like seams of gold, reflecting from the light that hid within him.

Most people had the wrong perspective on the young man, they only saw a well skilled shadow hunter. But they ignored the smart and witty, yet simultaneously charming person that he was underneath all of his runes. His parabatai Alec was familiar with the set of abilities that his brother figure had, and all that he would accomplish. People thought, because of Jace’s distorted, and confusing past, that he was just another warrior to serve whatever institute that he was sent to.

But in fact, he was not. His duty would always be, to put his family and friends first. He liked to put you on the top of the list, but you always felt the need to scrap that idea, claiming that you could not be his priority from start to finish. It was as though you knew what you future held for you, and how indeed, he could not manage to protect every person that he cared about. The prospect was a great responsibility, far too much for one shadow hunter, even if they be among the best of their kind.

To put such a weight on your own shoulders was defiantly cruel, it would always end in failure, no matter what was done to prevent said downfall. There was never a possibility of saving everyone, that was insanity. The monsters had to kill, in order for you all to remain outside of Idris, and continue on with your heaven sent duty.

“Jace?” You could tell he was awake from how he smiled at the sound of your voice. “Come on.” It was an attempt to encourage him, but you were quick to realise that it wasn’t working. He didn’t like mornings all that much, for good reason too, after all you were shadowhunters.

“Jace.” Your voice became louder and clearer, up to the point where it no longer sounded like your own. He looked away from the screen, to see the new girl watching him. She had an expectant glaze to her green eyes, which were much different from the shield that was covering his own. His pools were surrounded by a shadow of grief, pulling down the entirety of his face to the point where it looked as though he no longer wanted to live.

And that wasn’t entirely incorrect, he struggled at life, often never finding a moment of happiness, and if he did, then he would paint a smile upon his face and wear it to satisfy everyone else around. He had tried to cope with the loss that burdened his heart so gravely, yet nothing made it feel okay. You’d want him to move on, whether it be to lose his vengeful esteem concerning your passing, or find someone else to confide in late at night, to stay up with talking as his head rested upon the pillow, that he needed to wash, so it didn’t smell like you.

Or even, if not to share a bed with this new person, your overall plan as you sat with the angels above would be to find some kind of peace. But that appeared to be the last thing that he wanted as he digitally scoured the city of New York for monsters to uncover, and kill. If he couldn’t protect you, the love of his life, then he would settle for doing so with humans, after all, that had been the way that you had gone. The job had been your passion, yet simultaneously your downfall, and he’d be fine if one of these days he failed to tackle a beast, and it got to him first.

“Clary.” He greeted her, wanting to remove a dangerous monster from the streets by decapitating it. In memory, he would use your favourite blade, spilling blood upon its glowing stake to keep your legacy continuing, although, it did not do much but serve to release Jace’s frustrations. It was a day in which he wanted to speak to nobody, have nobody following him, nor asking him mundane questions about what it meant to be a shadowhunter. Hell, he didn’t even know! To him, the lifestyle was nothing more than accommodated anguish, though, he had been told not to promote it using those words, otherwise, there wouldn’t exactly be many people lining up to join the adverse fight.

And one of the people that he had in mind concerning excitement over a dire and ‘exciting’ lifestyle was Clary. She was naive, and whilst she didn’t know everything, today wasn’t particularly the day in which he wished to explain it to her. It, being predominantly anything. Whilst he had managed to be nice to her during the first few days, it was out of courtesy, considering Alec had an instant distaste towards the wide eyed redhead; he wasn’t sure why, but he supposed that Clary could see a detail of himself that was hidden from the others.

However, even through Jace’s welcoming exterior, was in pain. The feeling tormented him, denying him a break from the patronising pressure, leaving him to hold blame to nobody but himself. The hurt was cemented into his eyes, reflecting as he watched all other tragedies with a stone cold expressions, them hardly affecting him, because he had and was experiencing the worst routine of torture that was possible to him. He had watched you die, and nothing could take those horrific memories from him, no matter how much he wanted them gone.

That was the last time that he saw you. When you passed in his arms, a large wound in your abdomen pouring out with blood, drowning his desperate hands as he tried his utmost to put pressure on the life threatening injury. He wanted to save you but he didn’t know how, his training had always claimed that killing the monsters was more important than saving the life of a shadowhunter from an unknown bloodline. There had been nothing to prepare him for that day in the field, he was a fighter, and taught to be so, not a healer; he wasn’t a medic, he was just a warrior. “What do you want?” Blatantly fell from his round lips as he cast an eye towards the newbie, unimpressed by her timing, or her presence at all.

Clearly, she hadn’t received the memo to leave him be, especially today out of all the rest. Alec, having the personalised intel as to why Jace was emitting a solitary rut understood why he wished to be alone, and respected the space, granting him as much time to himself as he wanted. And whilst Alec was your friend also, he could feel the deep longing that was stabbing his parabatai in the chest, and it killed him too. Your death had been so unexpected, and now without you, there was a void within the institute. And the archer felt as though Clary was trying to fill it, and he saw that as nothing more than disrespect, though she was probably ignorant to the history that wandered the halls.

Her face revelled back at his tone, but nevertheless she continued on with her prying. “I was wondering if I could join you on the hunt, I’m getting better, Izzy even said so.” Jace refrained from rolling his eyes, and contained the feeling that was trying to burst out of his chest. It was anger, directed at everyone that was still alive, including himself. There was no fairness in it, to say that he was sad was an understatement, he was eternally devastated, the death of you had broken him, crumbled him into a figure that he no longer recognised.

“No, you can’t Clary.” He dismissed her, walking away, and going to grab his seraph so that he could hunt this sucker down, and bring upon the same kind of pain to its family as its kind had down to him. God, did you look badass as you swung it, and the thought alone had tears resonating in his unmatched eyes, thinking of how it was the last relic that remained of you.

Walking casually into the armoury, Jace had his hands prized in the depths of his pockets, as his expert and quick fleeting eyes focalised on you, and the weapon within your hold. Your body leant in harmony with the blade, the sound of it woosh-img in the air satisfying to all that could hear; that being only you and the Wayland boy.

“Can i not train in peace?” You groaned, lowering the blade whence you realised that you were being watched. The eyes trailed up your side where your shirt had ridden up, raking over the rune that you had drew upon your skin only this morning. A light laugh fell from Jace’s lips as he stalked forward, taking your seraph out of your hand, and going to lob it upon the ground, but the stern look in your eyes stopped him. Instead, against his nature, he placed it down as though it were made of glass, and rose to stand before you once more.

“Not when you look that good.” The blonde retorted with a sly smirk, sliding his hands up the sides of your hips, finding absolute solace in the feel of your skin. He could be against you forever, and he would not complain, so long as it did last for such a time. “Makes me want to do things to you y/n y/l/n. Terrible things. What would the heads think?” He asked, in reference to those that were in charge of the institute.

Stifling down remarked laughter at his sensually intended words, you raised your forefinger to the space above his brows, and poked him with enough pressure, so that he would pay attention to the notion. “That you’re not thinking with your own.” You went to cross your arms, but instead, Jace grabbed them, moving down to cast his hand over your own.

“Oh, I’m not.” The shadowhunter confirmed, placing your hand upon the crotch of his sweats, applying enough force behind his grip so that you could feel him twitching. “I am indeed having thoughts from elsewhere, would you like to see my sweet?” Licking your lips, you nodded, watching as he peeled the layer away, wrapping your hand around his base, and giving him a few jerks, feeling his pulse race through his cock.

“Tell me more about what you’re thinking my love.” You bit your bottom lip, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, only to reverberate a groan from the blonde male. He panted as your pace quickened, and he was almost certain that he was going to spray his jizz all over the floor if you did not uphold your sexual administrations. His head leant back, as pleasured sounds broke through the clenching of his teeth.

And then, it all stopped as a voice, dressed in absolute disgust, written over with unmotivated shock, interrupted your little exchange. “Really guys, this is a gym, not your damned bedroom. The two of you really are disgusting!” It was Alec, and he cringed at the fact that he had seen his best friend’s cock being stroked in your grasp. Yeah, he wasn’t going to be training today, or at least, not in the asserted place for it.

“Clary.” Izzy called her name, wearing a short lived smile. Whence she studied the expression of the redhead, she was quick to pay attention to the disappointment upon her face. There was confusion laddered in her skin, masking it with creased that made her look worried all at the same time. “What happened?” The Lightwood woman asked concerned, bracing a hand upon said girl’s shoulder.

“Jace snapped at me.” The newcomer informed her, frowning at the prospect, and then after all that, he had stormed off, as though she didn’t even matter. She felt well and truly rejected, like a newspaper that had been tossed in the street, and ending up in a horrible puddle. “I thought he might have liked me, but his attitude says otherwise.”

Izzy twitched her nose; she knew what day it was. There was no way to break it to Clary easy that Jace had no amorous emotions towards her, and so instead of being blunt with the new resident at the institute, she decided to tell the woman a story. “There was a girl...” she began, knowing that after all was explained, that Clary would understand.

1K notes · View notes

chasseurdeloup-retired · 4 years

Text

Hook and Seek || Damien and Kaden

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Perfect Pint PARTIES: @damienxsheppard and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: A hunter and a werewolf walk into a bar. CONTENT WARNINGS: Drinking and violence

Another night, another bar. Kaden couldn’t stomach the Silver Bullet, not tonight, not after what he did on the beach the other day. He wasn’t ready to face Devin or anyone else in that place. But he needed some way to fill up his time, a way to fill in the holes that were tearing into him. So he settled for the Perfect Pint. A match was on. There was beer. For a moment or two he could pretend to be normal. And that was something, right? He knocked back his drink and must have leaned too far over when doing so, knocking into the guy next to him and spilling his drink. “Shit,” he said to the man next to him, apologizing. “Didn’t think I was that close. You good?” He winced when he saw the drink had gone everywhere across the bar. Putain de merde. He waved the bartender over as he tried to help clean up his fucking mess. “Another of whatever he was having. On me. Tab for Kaden.”

The town still had more to offer Damien than he expected, he’d only had a chance to wander the main roads since his move but there seemed to be more beyond that only the brave tested at night. The Perfect Pint emitted a welcoming atmosphere and he was happy to swing in, check it out, and get a decent drink. The drinks were much cheaper than those on the menu in the city and he knew already he’d grow to appreciate that. Damien had been savoring some local brew when he felt a man lean too far back and knock his glass over. He hadn’t really been unsettled by it, in the city you had to be willing to lose a drink or two on a busy night in the club. Damien plucked the empty glass off the bar and placed it back upright, a little surprised to see the bartender switch it for a full one, “you didn’t have to do that,” he began and turned his attention to the stranger, “rough night?”

Kaden breathed a sigh of relief. It was a fifty fifty after spilling a drink at a bar if you were going to get decked or not, especially in a sports bar on game night. Not that he couldn’t take the hit, he just wasn’t in the mood. “Don’t mention it,” he said, waving it off before downing the rest of his own drink. Kaden huffed out a laugh. “More like rough week.” He shook his head and thought a little longer. “Or well, more like rough month. Putain de merde, you know what, it’s been a rough fucking year to be honest.” He waved the bartender over to get another drink of his own. Wait a second. He furrowed his brow as he felt the familiar chill creep down his spine. Not now. Not right fucking now. Of course there was a fucking werewolf in the fucking bar. There were werewolves everywhere, weren’t there? He just couldn’t care at the moment. Maybe later. “Didn’t catch your name. And what about you? Spilled drink the worst that’s happened to you today or what?”

A single eyebrow raised as Damien watched the stranger throw back the remainder of his drink, he’s familiar with the sentiment, drowning your worries at the bottom of a glass. Something of a weary smile appeared on Damien’s lips, one born from understanding as the man confessed it had been more than just a rough night. “Maybe I should be the one buying you a drink,” he began and as the bartender came back Damien motioned for him to keep the drinks going. He struggled to understand the man’s words as he swore, he knew he’d heard such a phrase before, so many different people flocked to New York from around the world. The alcohol in his system had made it difficult to figure out and Damien abandoned the search before he even got started. A bitter bark of a laugh leaves his chest when the stranger asks about the status of his day, “I wish a spilled drink was the worst I had to complain about. Name’s Damien. What’s been making your year so shitty?”

“Maybe,” Kaden said with a shrug before downing the last of his drink. He was pleased to see how quickly it was replaced. Another sip. It didn’t make the chill go away. The werewolf was here. And he couldn’t ignore it, as much as he wanted to. He rolled his shoulders back, hoping to roll off the feeling like water. Nothing. Putain. He was just going to try to drink some more, see if it dulled the feeling. Or at least made him feel better about it. This conversation sure wasn’t helping. Kaden considered his answer. There wasn’t much he could say or explain, not really. He wasn’t about to say that he was a werewolf hunter who wasn’t sure that he should kill werewolves. Or that his banshee girlfriend was ritualistically torturing herself in the woods. Or that his mother’s spirit was banished forever earlier this year. And that he’d lost more friends than he could count. None of that seemed like the right answer. But there was one, simple, easy answer. One that wrapped it all up in a fucking bow. “This town,” he said before taking another drink. “This fucking town. It’s-- Shit, how long have you been here?” He thought about drinking more of his beer. No, he would wait a beat. Just one. “Nice to meet you, Damien. Bet you’re glad you picked this spot to sit down, huh? So what’s your complaint, then? Share the wealth.”

Damien rested in his chair taking swigs of his beer as he waited for Kaden to answer his question, behind him the game kicked up on the screen and a man beside him pounded his fist on the bar in frustration. He had never been one for sports but the aggression didn’t go unnoticed. One dangerous aspect Damien had been ignorant of as a new werewolf were the threats to the supernatural. He had no idea hunters even existed. As far as he was concerned, violence could come from an array of sources, he’d only recently been unfortunate enough to find it in a set of jaws. The reply isn’t one he expected and it wasn’t the first time Damien had heard the same sentiment. “I haven’t been here long, think I moved in a few weeks ago now,” he shrugged as if the time he’d spent here was irrelevant, “but I’ve heard that before. From other residents I mean. Seems this place is a difficult town to live in.” Damien took another sip from his beer, not all that interested in pacing himself. He looked down at his drink when Kaden returned the question, truthfully, he missed his family. He missed his home. That was too much honesty to share over a drink. He sucked in a breath and began, “well I work in construction, usually the demolition part of it. We had some new guy on a project today and he’s working on a wall with a nail gun, had his headphones in and got distracted. Fucking idiot, put a nail right through his hand.” Damien threw his hands up in mild frustration, “made a bloody mess. Don’t think I’ve seen a fella cry so much in a long time.”

“Not surprised,” Kaden said, tapping his fingers against the glass, leaving fingerprints in the cold condensation. “The death rate in the place is off the charts. It’s a wonder anyone moves here. I say, as someone who moved here about a year and a half ago.” Funny that the reason he came here wasn’t at all the reason he was staying. Hunting was confusing. And it wasn’t the draw to this place for him anymore. “It’s… I mean, if you make it here, the connections are… I don’t know, there’s definitely no place like White Crest, I’ll tell you that much.” He traced a circle around the bottom of the glass absentmindedly before taking another drink. He perked up at Damien’s response, raising a brow.“Construction, huh? I was going to tell you to leave town but you’ll never be out of a job here.” Might die before you could take too many, sure, but a construction worker was always needed in White Crest. Monsters and magic destroyed the place about every other day. It was a wonder half the places stayed open long enough to break even. “Shit, nail right through the hand? That’s brutal. I’m Animal Control so I’ve seen my fair share of injuries, but mine are usually at the other end of teeth or claws, you know.”

It was odd how death seemed to loom over White Crest yet people continued to come despite the obvious danger, not that Damien had seen any major red flags driving it. It wasn’t as though the sign for White Crest warned people the population number was tentative. Really, the residents were the ones to offer him a word of caution, not that Damien had been much for taking it. The authorities in this town had their work cut out for them which worked in his favor, he could raise hell every now and then and hardly earn their attention. “Yeah well, maybe I’ll stick around for awhile,” Damien began, taking another drink of his beer. If he had been honest, Damien knew he just might join the body count for this town. The only thing he felt like focusing on when he wasn’t at the bar was finding the people who tore his life apart and repaying them in kind. The memory of his family pressed forward and Damien downed the rest of his drink to drown it. The bartender was quick to replace the bottle. He shifted in his seat and returned to the subject at hand, “you’re not wrong there. We’ve got so many contracts being drawn up we’ll be working well into next year.” Damien shook his head, “it was pretty brutal. Kid flailed his hand around so much I had to take a shower before I came here. Animal control huh? I’ve heard the moose in this town get pretty wild. Or do you usually deal with like, stray dogs?”

“I take it you’re one to take risks. Or just adventurous in that case.” Or maybe there was something else. Some deeper, more supernatural reason that this Damien guy was here. Kaden didn’t really care at the moment and polished off his glass for the time being. For once he didn’t want to be on alert. Or think about what his duty was or where he should be and how fucking far he’d slipped. Fuck that. He just wanted a drink and to watch a damn football match and pretend that he could be normal. “Doesn’t surprise me. Good for you. On the contracts, not the blood. That, uh, that sounds bad. Maybe less of that.” Kaden looked for his drink to try and take an opportunity to shut himself up and found nothing so he awkwardly nodded and looked for the bartender instead. Putain. He was glad to change the subject. “Both,” he said casually, laughing a little to himself as he took another sip. The moose. It was funny, he saw far less actual damn moose in this town than he ever reported on. “There’s a lot of unusual animals in this place so it’s never boring, that’s for fucking sure. Some days it’s a relief when all it is is a stray dog or a cat stuck in a damn tree.” He was always curious if he really did enough to cover up some of what happened here, if normal people were aware of half of what went down on a day to day basis. “What about you? Have you seen anything weird he--” Kaden stopped mid sentence and his eyes narrowed. He’d reached down to grab his keys to fiddle with them, give his hands something to do. Only they weren’t there. He started to pat down his pockets. No, not there. Or there either. He looked around and down and didn’t see them anywhere. That was odd. “Hey, sorry, you don’t see a set of keys around anywhere do you?”

“I guess,” Damein replied, “it’s not like I’ve got anywhere else to go.” Which was a brutal truth, he couldn’t exactly return home anymore, might as well unpack in White Crest. That truth definitely slipped out because of the beer, he didn’t usually like to talk so much about himself. Damien hoped his honesty wouldn’t provoke interest on the subject, he focused on Kaden and his occupation as the new topic of discussion. “You see more strange creatures than a moose?” The possibility caused Damien’s brows to furrow and contemplate what animal could be considered strange in this town. Selfishly, he wanted to know if there were wolves in this town, so far he had met three, but they were not the creatures he was looking for. “I’m from the city so we didn’t have anything but squirrels and stray cats. They didn’t bother you much if you threw them some scraps.” Damien took another drink from his beer, he could feel his head become light from the alcohol’s influence, when he turned the details of the room became harder to keep track of. He didn’t care, it’s not like he had a reason to stay sober tonight. Damien is relieved that Kaden’s doesn’t finish his question, or at the very least, is interrupted by something more pressing. He had seen some usual things in White Crest but he had always been so quick to dismiss it or make excuses for it, he never really paid attention to what it could be. It was easier to blame the shadows than recognize he’d seen something unnatural. Damien let his gaze drop to the floor in search of any metallic shine that could be a set of keys, then he searched the length of the bar for anything lost among the glasses, “sorry man, I don’t see any.”

“Well, you can say that again.” Fuck, Kaden knew that song and dance. Had it fucking memorized. It’s not like he had anywhere better to go, either. Of course some sick part of him was starting to like it here. He was pretty sure he hated that more than the alternative. “I’m guessing family is a complicated fucking word to you too, then?” There weren’t many people out there with nowhere to go and ample family. Not in his experience. “Oh yeah, a lot more strange creatures than moose. And there’s a decent moose population here. Some of them scream, by the way.” He was shocked the lie endured through the drunken haze. Maybe he should drink a little more to at least have an excuse if he failed to maintain the illusion. “Be careful of some of the squirrels here. Some of them eat a lot more than scraps.” Granted, those weren't squirrels. They were agropelters. Seemed easier not to go into the details. But hopefully the guy didn't lose his finger anytime soon.

Kaden’s brows furrowed even more, deepening the creases in his forehead. Still no keys. There was only one thing to do. Get off the stool and get on his hands and knees to check for his keys. “They’re not here, either,” he announced with a sigh before trying to pull himself back up. A strange giggle from somewhere just behind him made him knock his head on the bar on the way up. “Putain de merde!” he shouted, rubbing what was about to be a damn bump on his crown. Fuck. He crawled the rest of the way up and just in front of him there they were. His keys. Floating. Floating? And then with a flash, a fae appeared around them. “Wait a--” That was a fae. A fucking clurichaun. “There! You see that?” he shouted, placing his hand on Damien’s arm to get the other man’s attention. As soon as he placed his hand on the other man’s shoulder, a rush of chills shot down his spine. Aw, fuck. He was a werewolf. Kaden was damn near sure of it. Even while inebriated, there was no mistaking it. Shit. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do about that. Or if he even cared. Did he care? Putain, he probably cared. But first, the fae and his keys. Kaden stood and realized that was a mistake when he wobbled a little. “Might, uh, need some help. But they-- they went,” he jutted his hand out to point where the fae had last been, “that a way.”

The mere mention of the word family made Damien feel like he was going to throw up every last drop of alcohol he had consumed this evening. In an attempt to avoid and ignore the question he took up the bottle in his hand for another drink. It was difficult not to think of his little makeshift family in moments like this, he had hardly spent a day without seeing someone in his gang and they ended most of their nights in a bar. He watched as Kaden slipped from his spot to search for his keys. Damien attempted to help but spared little effort, he doesn’t move from his chair, sure that if he does the full influence of the alcohol will remind him of the poor decision he’s made. Instead his gaze drifted over the tables in the surrounding area, he even flagged the bartender to ask if anything had been turned in before he heard the loud thud of Kaden’s head meeting the bar. He nearly laughed at that but settled for a small grin instead.

Damien was about to take another sip of his beer when Kaden’s hand abruptly grabbed him, he thought little of the interaction until his attention found the man’s keys. “Oh fuck man, I’m drunk,” he groaned, pressing his hand to his forehead like he’d caught a fever that made him halicinate. “Wait, you…” Kaden saw it too, he had pointed it out, which meant it wasn’t an illusion? Instinctively, Damiens hands had reached out to grab Kaden as his frame staggered, helping to keep him upright before downing the rest of his beer and joining him. He felt it then too, and held onto Kaden’s shoulder momentarily for support till the room stopped spinning. “I don’t know what that thing was, maybe it was an ugly ass rat or something. Let’s go find out.”

Kaden almost shivered as the werewolf leaned on him for support. Not that he was complaining too much, he absolutely needed help staying upright and honestly appreciated the help, but all the same, his hunter senses made it feel like there was an ice cube sliding down his back. Right. He was too drunk to give a shit. Drunk and getting help from a werewolf. His parents would be so proud. “Of course I,” Kaden paused to hiccup, “saw it. It was right there.” Putain, did the werewolf not know about the supernatural? That would be his luck. “I think it was fae. Something or other. Come on.” He dragged the other man with him towards the back of the pub where he was sure he saw the creature scurry off to. A small chuckle and clanging of the keys came from his left. Kaden thought that he snapped towards the sound and cautiously proceeded but in reality he wobbled and caught himself on the edge of one of the booths. “Hey get out of the way of the game, connard,” a man in the booth shouted. The keys clanged again and the small creature shimmered into existence again just behind that man’s shoulder.

“No. You gotta move. Thanks,” Kaden slurred out as he grabbed the man from out of the booth. This was not well received. As evidence by the shouting, swearing, and the fists thrown Kaden’s way. “Hey! I just want my keys!” he shouted back as he held his hand up to his jaw right where he got decked. He didn’t want to punch back. That was fine. Kaden just grabbed him by the collar and back of his shirt and threw the guy out of the way before climbing into the booth, shakily standing on the seat, looking around for any sign of the creature. The man’s friends sitting across from this were stunned at first but the anger was clearly rising in them as well. This was about to be a scene. But all Kaden cared about here his damn keys. “You see that little shit anywhere?” he asked Damien.

A fae. Damien was too drunk to conceal his emotions, an amused grin crept onto his lips, the kind that came easy with disbelief. “Right yeah, a fae,” his words oozed forward, dripping in humor, “you’re as drunk as I am man.” Damien patted Kaden’s chest as the pair staggered forward, a friendly gesture that conveyed something like, it’s okay if you think you saw a fae, or, we’ll laugh about that one later bud. What little Damien did know of the supernatural remained secluded around his own species, and even then he hadn’t figured all of that out. Much of the time he’d spent sober was dedicated to finding out who had torn his life apart, not what had become of him since he was bitten.

Following his drinking buddy to the booth, Damien remained sure the other had simply misplaced his keys somewhere in the bar, or that someone had picked them up by mistake. His attention was too focused on the look of the group to notice the appearance of the fae, the wolf’s gaze only shifted when Kaden pulled a man from his seat. Asking Damien to be in a bar where a fight was about to occur was like lighting a match next to some gasoline and expecting the fire to simmer out. As the customer landed a hit on Kaden something in Damien’s posture shifted significantly. It was like he’d been half-asleep during this interaction and just woken up, his eyes settled dangerously on the man who’d punched his companion and his fingers curled into a fist. For a moment, Kaden could rifle through the booth undisturbed as the group assessed Damien’s potential as a threat, but only for a moment as he stepped forward and realized with great disappointment he was too drunk to fight. If he engaged them now, he’d be damned to lose.

A sharp glimmer dragged his attention to one of the patron’s glass, in it he caught the shine of a set of keys drowned in beer. “I found the rat,” Damien called far too loudly to Kaden, without hesitation he let his fingers dive into the glass to retrieve the keys. This act was received as well as Kaden’s instruction and one of the men quickly grabbed him by his shirt to land a hit on him, only unlike Kaden, Damien replied in kind by delivering a drunk, blind punch of his own.

“Putain! You found them!” Kaden exclaimed as he climbed out of the booth, using the other customer’s head to stabilize him on the way down. The man swatted at him and tried to grab his wrists but Kaden elbowed him away before reaching out to get his keyes. “Thanks, man, you’re a real--” Another hit game to the side of his face again before he could finish his sentence. And it seemed like Damien was throwing punches as well. Alright. That’s what was happening now? Kaden could fight some fuckers in a bar, sure, why not. He had never been great at hand to hand, he preferred a knife any day, but he was still a goddamn hunter.

Kaden wobbled as he turned to reel on the guy who had grabbed him and threw a sloppy punch at him. It missed. Fucking hell. He settled for stomping on his foot. Something started tugging from behind him and Kaden realized one of the friends had jumped in. “Hey, not the hair!” he shouted as he clutched at his roots, trying to swat the guy away. Putain de merde. He didn’t expect grown men in a bar fight to pull a move usually seen from primary school girls. He planned on making this a fair fight, but now the fire blazed through him, that old familiar adrenaline of the hunt fueling him forward. He grabbed the man by the collar and slammed the guy into the booth, pressing his face into the table. This was probably the part where he should let go of this dick and walk the hell away. But he had to admit it was a little fun. Of course his grip was shaky and he had a strange feeling gurgling in his stomach.

Damien’s fingers tightened around the ring of keys till the edges of them dug into his palm, after all their searching he would not so easily give them up, even with someone pounding their fist into his chest. Pain was not often a useful deterrent for the wolf, he’d practically grown up with it by his side so when it erupted from the force of the man’s fist he knew to greet it like an old friend. The hit Damien landed on the man fell low on his jaw and while his head snapped in one direction from the force of it, the blows Damien delivered sober were much more severe. He might be drunk but that didn't make him weak. He was about to release the keys to Kaden when the brawl escalated and he had to manage another patron on his own.

A wild smile cut into Damien’s lips at the chaos that erupted, it did not live long as the man he’d been tangled with crashed his knuckles into his cheek. The room blurred and bended for a moment as he staggered, instinctively he reached out to a nearby table to stabilize himself, the keys in his hand skidding forward. “Dammit,” the curse was spit from his lips along with a splatter of blood. Damien’s collar was torn in one direction as he was confronted with the patron once more, while the man wound up a hit Damien aimed for his gut, his blow landed and the man bent over before he fell back into the booth. Moments later he found another rearing up to attack his drinking pal and Damien grabbed an empty bottle from the table and smashed it over his head. The action of it threw off his own balance which caused the wolf to wobble and fall down himself. It was there that Damien saw the fae with Kaden’s keys in its possession once more, sneaking underneath the battle to find the next location to deposit the item. Damien lurched forward, snaring the creature in his grasp, applauding himself with a cheerful bark of laughter for his accuracy.

“I caught it!” he shouted, struggling to get off the floor and grabbing the booth helplessly, “I caught the little fucker!” Damien could not get up, the room swayed too much for him to regain any sense of balance and his own body felt too heavy to lift. Struggling, he grappled onto the booth and hoisted himself up and then grabbed Kaden’s wrist to smack the fae from his hand into the other’s palm. It was only then, after the little creature cried in protest that Damien could finally see it was not a rat at all.

Kaden swallowed back the bile rising in his stomach just before the man he had pinned down kicked out at him. Good call. This whole endeavor? Probably a shit call, though. Too late now. Kaden stumbled back and found his foot caught on something, a leg maybe? What the fuck he tripped on didn’t matter, all that did matter was he was falling backwards and slammed his back into a pillar dividing the room. The bump on the back of his head should have hurt more, surely, but he hardly noticed it in his inebriation. That and the breath knocked from his lungs was a much more pressing issue. So was the drunkard charging at him with a plate in hand. Putain. Kaden ducked and twisted away, only to find his feet tangled even more with the legs sprawled across the floor. The hunter caught himself on the edge of another booth, thankfully empty. And lucky for him, it looked like the idiot with the plate slammed himself into the wall and wasn’t getting back up anytime soon.

A hit came out of nowhere from the side. Why the fuck was he dealing with all of these assholes on his own? Where the fuck did the werewolf get to? Kaden still felt his presence. His had shot up to nurse the sting of pain across the side of his face when he looked down. The legs on the floor. They were Damien’s. Another arm came flying towards Kaden before he could figure out what the fuck was going on down there. Reaching out to swat it away was like navigating underwater, the whole world was spinning and reeling. Kaden’s nails dug into some piece of skin, it was likely a forearm or wrist, couldn’t tell, but he twisted it as hard as he could either way. The scream that rang out through the bar dropped a pit of guilt into his stomach. Or maybe that was the bile. Hard to say.

There wasn’t a chance for Kaden to question if he’d gone too far while fighting a human, something was slammed into his palm. His forehead creased as he tried to look down and concentrate on what the fuck he was holding. He blinked several times before the pieces fit together. “Putain! A fucking clurrr--” Kaden paused to let out a small belch. “Clurichaun. Shit.” He reached down and pried the keys from the fae’s hands even as it protested. He held up the monster and looked at it. It was shaking, frightened, but it still stuck its tongue out at the hunter. He knew he should kill the fucker. He was a hunter. It’s what he did. But he couldn’t will himself to pull out a knife. Or squeeze a little tighter around the creature’s neck. The fuck was wrong with him? “You want it?” Kaden asked the other man instead.

Even now as Damien tried to narrow his focus on the creature he’d delivered to Kaden he couldn’t believe it wasn’t a rat. The room swayed as he tried to concentrate and make the fae out, or maybe he was swaying, it didn’t seem to matter much. The features of the small monster appeared and then blurred, he watched as tiny arms protested the keys being pried from them. “A what?” Damien’s voice was louder than it needed to be, damn near a shout, but he didn’t have the mindset to adjust his volume.

Accepting the creature back, the wolf brought it clasped in hand closer for review. The Clurichaun protested Damien’s hold, miniscule nails dug into his fingers and once the creature even bit him. It really wasn’t a rat. “Fucking hell,” Damien muttered, and Kaden was offering for him to keep it? He wasn’t even sure what it was let alone how to care for it. Disbelief was written plainly into his features as he almost reluctantly uncurled his fingers for the monster to escape. Still, Damien didn’t know what to make of it, even after seeing it with his own eyes it was hard to believe.

The damage obtained in the fight had finally set in, though the alcohol had helped to reduce it to a dull ache. Damien didn’t know that after a few days the bruises would heal, the supernatural healing he had inherited through the bite still unfamiliar to him. Throwing an arm over Kaden’s shoulder, the wolf leaned into him as amusement bent his lips into a grin, “is this what most of your nights look like? I’m going to have to get your number, give you a ring next time I head out.” Damien began to walk forward, well, stumble really, half-expecting Kaden to make up for it as he dragged him along. “Is there a...um…” the thought had skittered away from him and Dmaien snapped his fingers as if the action would help him recall it. “Taxi! Is there some taxi system around here?”

It took Kaden a moment to realize the monster was getting further and further away. Did he let it go? Did Damien? It didn’t matter after he felt the wolf’s arm wrap around his shoulder and the chills shooting down his spine. Strange, in the drunken haze it didn’t make him want to flinch away. He almost dared to call it normal. Putain, that wasn’t it. It just wasn’t as offensive as the bile threatening its way back up. He steadied himself under the other man’s arm, or tried to. In reality, it was a graceless balancing act. He blinked and considered the question while he tried to focus on making the room stop spinning. “Sort of, yeah,” he finally answered. Recently they hadn’t been quite this lively, sure, but he definitely ran into monsters and fae more often than he ever cared to. And if he thought on it, he had to admit that some sick part of him missed the adrenaline rush from hunting with is previous frequency. Bar fights were a rational substitute, right? Right.

World still spinning. Right. It didn’t help that Kaden was trying to wave at Damien to stop whatever it was he was doing while doubling over in laughter. He wasn’t even sure what he was laughing at. Something about the word taxi. “I don’t know,” he spat through laughter, trying to catch himself before he actually fell over. “Let...let’s ask the bartender. He… he knows things.” If nothing else, he’d know how to send them both packing.

#writing #wickedswriting #chatzy #damien #damienxsheppard #hook and seek

12 notes · View notes

fandom-necromancer · 4 years

Text

The Storm on the horizon Part3

Whoop whoop, now to the last (?) part!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 [Part1] [Part2]

‘The man hates me, Connor.’ The older RK had a hard time standing in front of Nines and trying to persuade him to accompany them. ‘He hated me too’, he tried again. ‘And I have basically your face, so he will manage.’ ‘Connor, I’m literally the unit that tried to kill him!’ ‘You are not! You have been, now you are deviant, and I highly doubt you are trying to kill anyone right now.’ Nines sighed and stared at the wall, keeping his thoughts to that inside. ‘Listen, Connor, all that matters to me is that he is save again. So, don’t waste time here and go already.’ ‘Okay, idiot, then I’m going to defeat you with your own weapons!’, the RK800 announced. ‘You found out who the car belongs to, when it had been stolen. You discovered who stole it. You managed to find that person and their location. You found out they recently relocated to a different one. You got us the blueprints, the access to surveillance cams and reason enough so we can enter the perimeter without the need for a warrant. You calculated where they most likely keep Gavin and how they would disperse their guards. You know everything about this having spent night and day at this desk. Now, don’t you think with all this information you would be far better suited to get him out of there? Safe?’

Nines glared at Connor. ‘Yes, brilliant idea. I will go rescue him, so he screams the moment he sees me and tries to get away from me at all costs in a building full of Cyberlife agents. I couldn’t think of a better plan.’ ‘Then at least come with us to guide us. You can keep an eye on my location and account for any changes to your calculations.’ Nines sighed. Unfortunately, he had no arguments against that. ‘Fine.’

‘A guard in your area is taking a smoke break right now’, Nines told Connor through their connection. He was sitting in a van next to multiple screens that were connected to CCTV. ‘You should have it easier traversing the corridor now, what do you see?’ ‘Two persons standing at the entrance. I can’t use it’, was Connor’s answer. Nines nodded. ‘Is there a door on your right?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Take that one, down the stairs. There should be a logistics tunnel from the receiving department that takes you to the main hall.’ ‘Alright. Do you see what I see?’ Nines switched to their internal connection and let the surveillance cameras be for a moment. ‘Yes. What is it?’ ‘I would say some sort of alarm. They prepared for someone using the tunnels.’ Nines took control of Connor’s visuals and zoomed in. ‘It doesn’t look that new. If they recently relocated here, there shouldn’t be that much dust. I’ll check if the building still has access to the network.’ ‘Be quick with it’, Connor complained, nervously waiting next to the door. The two guards in the corridor seemed to remain there, but the one on smoke break could actually turn out to be a problem if he came back.

He waited for quite some time, until he heard a door slam. ‘Nines, people are coming.’ ‘I know, we are connected.’ ‘I know, you have to hurry!’ ‘I know! Open the door, it’s safe.’ ‘You sure?’ ‘They are coming, open the goddamn door!’ Connor followed the order and was quickly closing the door behind him, as Nines urged him to freeze: ‘Wait! They are talking.’ Connor stopped and listened.

‘What a heartless bastard. Isn’t he his brother or something?’ ‘Think so, else the boss wouldn’t keep him alive.’ ‘And he still doesn’t agree? I’d think the life of my brother was more important than keeping dirty company secrets safe. Isn’t that what all these rich assholes do anyways?’ ‘Hey, don’t ask me. Only thing I know is we have to beat up that cop some more soon.’

‘They are talking about Reed!’, Nines triumphed. ‘That means he’s still alive.’ ‘Yeah, let’s hurry so it stays that way’, Connor mumbled. ‘Down the stairs and then?’ Nines continued to lead Connor through the building. Connor traversed the tunnels and came up the other end of the building undetected. From there Nines directed him further up some stairs until they reached a series of old labs. The building had been one of the earliest Cyberlife development buildings, back when the company hadn’t been able to build glamourous towers and shiny stores at every corner. The equipment looked accordingly. The assembly platforms didn’t look as sleek and more archaic. Nines shouldn’t have felt anything looking at them, but through his connection with the other RK, he realised they both were on about the same level of creeped out. Still Connor looked in every lab, until detecting activity in the next room. He quickly hid in the adjacent lab and listened for any word ebbing in.

‘You will convince Kamski to delete all evidence of my involvement!’ It was not difficult at all to listen in on the screamed sentence. ‘Phck off.’ The sound of something wet hitting the ground became audible. Then a muffled hiss: ‘You can beat me up all you want, you can only loose.’ ‘I could kill you.’ ‘You weren’t successful when you had your robot-marionette doing the dirty work for you. If you kill me now you only get more years added to your sentence. Do you really want that?’ ‘Do you think anyone cares about you dying?’ ‘Yeah. You would have the most powerful man of Detroit against you. And the police will be pissed. Not because of me, but you killed a cop, that’s really not the way to go.’

By now Nines had analysed the voice that was talking to Gavin and the file coming up in his HUD made him freeze in anger momentarily. ‘Connor?’ ‘Yes?’ ‘I am sorry to have been that difficult to convince accompanying you. Please, go in there and give this man the beating he deserves, or I will come myself.’ ‘What?’ ‘He is alone and the one that hired these mercenaries, some are old Cyberlife security. They won’t do a thing when you got their leader.’ ‘And why should I beat him up? That’s out of question.’ ‘Then just get him and Reed out of there.’

Connor nodded and exited the lab, drawing his gun and jumping into the next. ‘DPD, freeze, hands up and three steps back from the man!’ He took in the shocked man standing there in neat clothing, a bit dusty from where he had knelt next to Gavin, who was lying on his stomach on the ground. He seemed to momentarily think about running for it, but Connor blocked the only entrance and they were on the second floor, so jumping out of the window wasn’t the best idea. Defeated, the man lifted his hands and let himself be handcuffed. Then, Connor turned to Gavin, who was trying to stand up on his own. His face was swollen and bloody, but there was a crooked grin, too. ‘See? Told you, police would be pissed.’ ‘Can you walk?’, Connor asked carefully helping him up. ‘Yeah, think so. How did you find me?’ ‘I’ll explain later’, Connor grimaced and took the handcuffed man by the arm, pulling him with him.

Nines continued to direct them through the wings, while SWAT stormed the building now that the hostage was secure and soon after, Connor arrived at their base, leading Gavin to a waiting ambulance first, planning on taking care of the man responsible for all this later. Little did he know, Nines had changed his mind on staying the hidden person behind the operation and suddenly appeared next to them, pushing the man against the side of the ambulance. Gavin flinched seeing Nines and stayed tense seeing the android press his arm against the man’s throat. The paramedic looked at Connor in shock, but he held up a hand to keep them from intervening. He would have a far better chance at that should it be necessary.

From what Gavin could see of the man’s face, he looked equally terrified seeing the android as he himself had been faced with his nearly-murderer in Fowler’s office. ‘No! Please! Help!’ Nines narrowed his eyes and immediately the man went dead silent. ‘I would shut up if I were you.’ ‘Nines, what-‘ But the RK900 lifted his index finger up at Connor to keep him from talking. ‘You know who I am?’ The man nodded terrified. ‘Then you know what you did to me, don’t you?’ Gavin saw how his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, staring at Nines wide-eyed. ‘If I had known it was you in this building, oh trust me, I would have personally come to get you, regardless of this human’s feelings. And I might have forgotten I am a cop when seeing you…’ ‘Nines!’, Connor interrupted. ‘That’s enough. If he pisses himself, I won’t be the one to drive him to the precinct! Now step back or I have to tell Fowler about what you just did.’

Nines bared his teeth, but nodded and stepped back, glaring at the man until Connor took him away. Then the android sighed, rubbed his face and sat down next to the ambulance. That was when Gavin’s curiosity won over his fear and he dared to ask: ‘What was that about?’ Nines looked up, seemingly having forgotten the human. ‘Oh. Sorry. I’ll leave you alone.’ ‘No! No, I mean… Tell me why you intimidated the phck out of him first.’ ‘He is the one responsible for my… reprogramming. I was supposed to be a soldier unit or maybe a specialised line for FBI or SWAT. He decided I would become a killer instead. A hunter to take out deviants and kill… Well, those like you that knew too much.’ ‘Oh.’ ‘Yeah. It does things to you being deviated and begin your life with blood on your hands you can never wash off.’ Gavin swallowed hard, hastily handing the paramedic that had decided to get back to her job his arm. ‘I… How did the police find me?’ ‘I found you. I got the license plate.’ ‘The car was stolen’, Gavin commented. ‘And? I retraced it until I found this place.’ ‘That must have taken… days. Minimum.’ ‘I did not leave the precinct until today. I owed you.’

‘You- wait. You didn’t leave… The phck?’ ‘I don’t need sleep, Detective.’ ‘Yeah, okay, but I’m just some-‘ ‘-random human?’, Nines finished his sentence. ‘Maybe. But I swore myself when I deviated and realised what crimes I committed as a machine to never allow the death of a human ever again if I can help it. Especially in your case.’ Gavin watched the paramedic bandaging a cut along his left arm for a while not sure what to respond to that.

‘I’m sorry.’ ‘For what?’ ‘For my reaction when we met in the Captain’s office.’ Nines sighed. ‘You were afraid. It was your trauma speaking.’ ‘Maybe, but it wasn’t fair. You suffered too. And you are not that machine anymore, if I understood you correctly.’ ‘I don’t blame you. Fear is perhaps the most intense emotion.’ ‘Yeah, but I do. Hell, I was afraid of Connor too, because he looks similar to you. I learned to accept him. Least I can do is try with you.’ ‘Really?’ Nines looked up to where he sat on a stretcher. ‘You really don’t have to push yourself like that, I already asked for a transfer.’ Gavin looked up to the sky and stretched his neck muscles. With a deep sigh he hopped from the stretcher, much to the protest of the paramedic. He ignored her and stepped towards Nines, who remained seated on the ground. ‘Hell, who knows when that might be… All I see is they still don’t trust androids. Could be a while until you got a new position somewhere else. Until then…’ He stretched out his bruised hand to Nines, who tentatively took it. ‘Partners?’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #Connor dbh #RK800 #I love this story?#I have a few more scenes in my head for this but that could only be inserted in a bigger story #I guess I'll add it to the list #idea for big story number 73 here I come

25 notes · View notes

falseroar · 4 years

Text

Dog Days Part 20: Making Plans

((Chase discovers a way to keep Y/N busy and their mind off of Abe while Marvin tries to prepare for his meeting with the hunter.

Links to the series masterlist and to Part 19: Good Branding.))

You weren’t sure what time it was when you woke up, only that your stomach was grumbling enough to make you get out of bed and sit up for a few minutes until your head cleared. The light coming through the window blinds suggested middle or late afternoon, but when you stepped out of your room the house felt quiet. There were muffled voices coming from Marvin’s room down the hall, but you didn’t see anyone else until you walked into the kitchen and found Chase looking in one of the cabinets.

He jumped at the sound of someone walking in, relaxing a little when he saw it was only you but still looking a little guilty when he said, “Hey. Guess you’re hungry too, huh?”

“…Yeah,” you said, deciding not to ask even though you knew that was the same cabinet you saw Jackie pulling bottles out of just the other night. “A little.”

“We weren’t sure if we should wake you for lunch or not,” Chase explained. “We’ve got stuff to make sandwiches, and there’s probably some leftovers in the fridge.”

“A sandwich sounds good,” you said, and cracked a smile. “It’ll be nice to finally eat something with my hands and not off the floor for once.”

“…Oh.” Realization dawned on Chase’s face and he said, “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t even think—”

“No, no,” you said quickly, already regretting your words. “I didn’t mean…There wasn’t much of a choice, was there? Not when I couldn’t make myself change back.”

You hesitated and then added, “Thank you, for letting me stay here. Especially when I was…like that.”

Chase paused in the act of pulling a loaf of bread out and looked at you, sounding genuinely surprised when he said, “Of course. You’re welcome to stay here no matter what shape you’re in, Y/N. I said that, didn’t I? Wouldn’t be much of a home, otherwise. Now what kind of sandwich do you want? We’ve got jelly, peanut butter, almond butter, cheese if you want to try grilled…”

Chase continued listing off choices, but you barely listened as you stared at him, biting your lip hard to try not to cry. By the time he was done, you had managed to get a hold of yourself enough to pick one, and a few minutes later the two of you were seated at the table, Chase trying to explain to you why he bought catnip with all of the dog stuff in the hopes of seeing if it would have an effect on Marvin.

“But he just wears the cat mask,” you said, trying not to laugh. “It doesn’t mean he’s actually part cat.”

“You haven’t seen the way he eats salmon,” Chase said. “And don’t get me started on string—Oh, hang on.”

Chase pulled his buzzing phone out of his pocket, his expression changing immediately when he saw the name on the screen.

“Hey, Staci,” he said, his eyes flickering toward you and looking relieved when you nodded and stood up to give him some space. Only for that relief to turn to panic when he said, “Lion? Oh, yeah, I managed to catch them yesterday before they got too far. Sorry if I worried you or the—They want to what?”

You heard Staci repeat that the kids wanted to see Lion, the kids’ voices clamoring on the other side of the device, and made a quick gesture to Chase before leaving that you didn’t think he completely understood as he continued talking on the phone.

“Well, I don’t know if we can do that, um, like I said, Lion is a foster and I think they’ve found—uh, their forever home and—”

“Hold on, honey,” Staci said on the other end, and Chase felt a bittersweet sting when he realized she wasn’t talking to him. “I don’t know if we can do video, let me ask Daddy, okay?”

“Uh…”

“Sorry, they want to see Lion again. And you. Maybe you can explain to them how fostering works?” There was a strain in Staci’s voice, her patience wearing a little thin, and Chase wondered how many times the kids had asked her to make this call.

“Yeah, I can do video,” Chase said, bracing himself for the coming disappointment as he held his phone back and pressed the button that made first Staci, then his kids appear as she handed the phone over. “Hey, kiddos. How are you doing?”

“Good,” they chimed together, before his son leaned in so close that his face filled the screen as he asked, “Lion?”

“Yeah, Lion is…” Chase trailed off, unable to hide his surprise when you walked back into the kitchen. It had taken you longer than you thought to get the collar back on, and to brace yourself to change back, but it felt worth it when Chase smiled and sank down onto the floor to sit beside you so that you both were in the camera as the kids shouted, and then tried to talk over each other as they told you both about how they went for hot chocolate after the park yesterday, and about what they did in school today, Chase’s son proudly showing a crayon drawing after his daughter spent several minutes talking about her good grades in math and how her teacher didn’t think “hunormous” was a real word but “really, really big” just wasn’t the same.

Eventually, Staci suggested that maybe they should wrap things up, leading the girl to ask, “Can we go to the park and play with Lion again? We can walk them this time, so they won’t run off.”

“Well, Lion’s new owner will be wanting to spend time with them,” Chase started, glancing at you when you pressed a paw on his knee. “…But maybe they’ll be willing to let me take them to the park again. We’ll pick a day when you’re both out of school, how’s that sound?”

They sounded happy enough with that idea, and Staci managed a smile when she took the phone back and said, “Thanks, Chase. I’ll text you a few dates later, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Chase said, unable to think of anything else to say before she hung up. After a moment of staring at the blank screen, he looked at you and said, “Thank you so much. You didn’t have to do that.”

You shook your head and gave him a look that he eventually figured out, turning his head as he felt you change back beside him until you leaned against him with a heavy sigh.

“Let’s…let’s wait a while before we have that play date,” you said, sounding so much more tired that Chase looked at you with alarm. You smiled to reassure him as you said, “I’m fine. I just…don’t remember it being that hard, changing back.”

Chase wrapped an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you in a hug before he said, “Thank you for…not telling the others about the park, and ‘Lion.’ I know Jackie worries about me.”

“Yeah, he does. Cause he likes you or something,” you said, getting another smile out of Chase even if it was a little sadder this time. “Having other people to worry about you, ‘s not such a bad thing.”

Chase heard your voice slur, your breathing slow as though you were close to falling asleep again right there on the floor, leaning against him. Changing into the wolf and back again really had done a number on you, and thinking that is what caused the question to slip out.

“Was it this hard to change back last night?”

You took so long to answer that he started to apologize, but then you said, “Harder. I was…scared. Scared if I did, scared if I didn’t. You know?”

“…Yeah, I can imagine.”

“The paper,” you said, sounding a little more awake as the thought suddenly hit you. “There was a paper, a note, I put it in my pocket…”

You reached for your pocket before remembering that you were wearing a pair of sweatpants from the pile of clothes that they had put together for you and not the same clothes from last night, and Chase had to steady you when you tried to stand up.

“Easy, I can go and get it for you,” Chase said, getting up with you and directing you into the living room where you sank down onto the couch with a sigh. “Pants pocket, right?”

They were easy enough to find, although Chase paused when he found something else besides the folded-up flyer they were talking about.

It was an envelope, addressed to the District Attorney, with two cards inside. The Death tarot card, and one with a short message typed on it.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall.

Watch as I betray them all.

They’d mentioned the cards, of course, how theirs had outed them as a werewolf, how Mark had ended up with it as part of his insane scheme. They hadn’t mentioned this one, or that they still had any of the cards. Maybe they had forgotten, or just didn’t want to remember the far too accurate taunt they had been left with for all these years.

“Chase?”

Chase looked up to see Marvin and Jackie in the hallway, both curious to find him in here.

“Y/N asked me to look for something,” he said weakly. “And I found…”

Marvin took the cards and studied them, his expression again growing heavy and vaguely threatening in a way that made Chase worry about how this coffee meeting with the hunter was supposed to go tomorrow, even with Jackie on standby.

Chase looked down at the note you were so interested in, the one supposedly written to or from this Wilford guy, and flipped it over to read the front of the flyer that you couldn’t make out last night.

“Well, there’s some good news,” Chase said, and when Jackie and Marvin looked, he held up the flyer for the local TV station. “I think I have an idea on how to keep Y/N busy tomorrow, and maybe find out a little more about this guy the hunter was so interested in last night at the same time. How does Jameson and me taking Y/N on a little tour sound?”

---

“Hm.” Dr. Schneeplestein sat back in his chair and said, “Vell, it does seem your eyesight is a touch of the fuzzy. Perhaps it vill get better, but glasses are not so bad. Zhey can be very stylish.”

He tilted his own glasses down to look at you over the top of the frames with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“But you say you cannot see color at all?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s all black and white and grays.”

“And you did not have zhis issue before zhe mirror?”

“No, not even when I turned into the wolf,” you said.

“Yes, I cannot say I have heard of many weres complaining of color-blindness,” Henrik admitted. “Alzhough I imagine it might be difficult to notice red-green problems on full moons, vhen you have different zhings on zhe mind. I can see no damage in your pupils, but, ah—have your eyes always been silver?”

You shook your head again. You had discovered that the bathroom didn’t have a mirror in it, Marvin saying something about them being a scrying risk but that there was still one in the bathroom off of Chase’s room. You hadn’t felt the need to go and look in it though, so you had to take the doctor’s word on the silver eyes thing.

“It shouldn’t matter, of course, but zhis whole deal is…very strange,” the doctor said with a sigh. “I am sorry I cannot offer any advice. Perhaps one day ve could consult vith Dr. Iplier again.”

“Do you think he would know something about it?” you asked and the doctor shrugged.

“He is good at providing second ideas. Perhaps he knows of a remedy I might not have considered ve could try. And a trip to zhe hospital feels like it could be a safe outing to help you get used to human legs again. Safer zhan zhis studio,” Henrik said, giving a disgusted look at the flyer lying on the bench beside you, the one that had sparked a lot of questions and led to you sitting in the doctor’s room while he performed yet another checkup.

Supposedly, the graphic on the front of the paper which to your eyes looked like a dark gray city skyline against a pale circle, surrounded by black, had letters on it somewhere. Letters which were typed in just the right shade to blend in with the buildings or the sky, you still weren’t sure which. Something about a studio and tour hours, which is why Chase thought the note on the back to or from ‘W’ was related to the place.

“May I?” Henrik asked, holding up his stethoscope and inviting you to take several deep breaths while he listened.

“Why wouldn’t it be safe?” you asked, as he moved to your back.

“I do not trust zhese entertainment people, actors and zhe like, Jameson and Chase excepted,” Henrik said, only to pause. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just a…cough,” you said. “Voice is still a little weak, you know.”

“It does sound much better zhan earlier,” Henrik pointed out. “Deep breath, please. And again.”

You followed his lead, trying to force yourself to let it go. Jameson had explained to you, what a TV studio was, or the general idea of it. You already knew about flicks, you had worked catering for one of his movies after all, and the theaters back in your day had the short cartoons and serials and newsreels. The idea of recording all that and sending it to screens like the one in the living room wasn’t completely foreign, although the idea of having an entire building for it was a little strange. Chase nearly broke down in tears when Jameson explained to him how they used to put up and break down sets in days, and how he sold off all of their backgrounds and props by the lot for other studios to use. You still weren’t entirely sure why he thought those would be worth a lot of money today or who would be paying for that kind of stuff.

“And zhis studio has a bit of a…reputation in my field,” Henrik said. “A lot of injuries from on set, zhey say, and zhere are rumors…vell, it is best not to spread such zhings.”

“Jameson’s film had a lot of injuries on set too,” you pointed out. Granted, that probably had a lot to do with the evil otherworldly entity hanging around, but still. “Some of those stunts can be dangerous.”

“Vhich is vhy ve have more standards zhese days, and professional stuntpersons,” Henrik said. “And vhat kind of stunts do you need to be doing on a gameshow, I ask? People zhese days expect too much action and drama and violence in every little zhing, even in zhe cartoons.”

You started to respond and decided against commenting on that, even though you suspected your memories of cartoons back in your day were a little more accurate than whatever the doctor’s nostalgia had him remembering.

“We’re just going there to try and find this Wilford guy,” you said instead. “I promise I won’t let Chase volunteer for any stunts.”

Henrik sighed. “Do not make promises you cannot keep, Y/N. Just a few days ago, he is trying to get on zhe roof and still vill not tell me vhy.”

To get more air time, and while you didn’t know what that meant, you definitely knew better than to tell the doctor. Only reason he found out at all was because Chase scraped up his arm on the way down, before Jackie managed to catch him, and they didn’t have enough time to come up with a story between them before Henrik smelled the blood.

Which is why they were currently going over the story for tomorrow in Marvin’s room, in case you started asking questions or changed your mind about going to the studio. Well, that, and trying to convince Marvin that he didn’t need to load up on spells and an entire magical arsenal for a meeting over coffee.

“Isn’t the whole point of this just to get to know the hunter?” Jameson asked, picking up a dagger that was lying on top of his outfit for tomorrow and giving Marvin a pointed look. “A little hard to do if he feels like he’s about to be attacked.”

“Be careful with that, it’s a dimensional dagger,” Marvin said, taking it and checking to make sure the strap keeping it in its sheath was still in place. “It’s only if he needs to take a little...time out somewhere else, that’s all.”

“Mm, I’m going to go with a ‘no’ on that one, same as the other stuff,” Chase said. “And you’re not going to wear that mask, are you?”

Marvin scowled. “Why wouldn’t I? This is an antique, passed down among generations of spellcasters, it both amplifies and controls its wearer’s abilities, with protective magic embedded into every fiber, and it is absolutely essential for any of my big workings.”

“And you think you’ll be needing it to drink coffee?” Jameson asked. “Just wear those nifty sunglasses, you use those all the time when you go out for normal stuff.”

“They’re not the same,” Marvin complained, very aware of the whine in his voice. “Besides, he already knows I’m a magic user, I might as well look the part.”

“Because nothing says magic like a kitty cat mask,” Jackie said, Chase snorting when he tried to hold in his laugh. “Marvin, Jameson’s right. We want the hunter to feel safe opening up and talking to you so we can learn something about the guy, and I don’t think he’s going to do that if it looks like you’re ready to pick a fight. I’ll be there to back you up if something goes wrong, but you do know the goal here is for it to not come to that, right?”

Marvin groaned and said, “Fine, I’ll leave the mask. And the dagger. But I’m taking the playing cards. I might need something to break the ice, after all.”

The response to that news was less than enthusiastic, but as Chase signed when Marvin’s back was turned, “At least he can’t get into too much trouble with just card tricks, right?”

Jameson, who had far more experience with Marvin’s attempts at stage magic, just gave him a look and signed back, “Maybe we should have let him take the dagger instead.”

---

In Henrik’s room, the doctor finished examining the scar on your chest and, as you pulled your shirt back down, asked, “Is zhere any pain in zhe area?”

“Sometimes there’s pressure, like a weight,” you answered. “But it doesn’t actually hurt. I’m more tired than anything, and I think that’s more from changing back.”

The doctor nodded. “Zhat vill hopefully pass by morning, but let me know if it does not. Still, no pain vhen you breathe, or move in certain vays?”

You shook your head only to hesitate before answering, “Sometimes…sometimes it hurts, after a nightmare. When I dream about…what happened.”

Henrik pulled off his glasses and fiddled with them for a moment before he looked at you, as though to have something to do with his hands while he tried to find the right words. “Y/N…in your case, trauma is normal. Nightmares, strong memories, anxieties, zhey are all unfortunately common after a bad shock or, or near-death experience.”

You chuckled, even though it wasn’t funny. “Not sure you can get more ‘near’ death than actually, you know, dying.”

“Exactly. I am not a therapist, but if you are ever wanting someone to talk to, if you ever just need a friend, I am here. So are zhe others, of course.” Henrik fidgeted with his glasses some more before he added, “I…have had my own difficulties, vith trauma. Vith zhe bad thoughts, and zhe nightmares, and feeling like you are back again. Zhe experience is nothing like yours, of course, but I know what it can…do to zhe mind, if you don’t have help. Any time, day or night, one of us vill be here. Even if you do not talk, and just do not wish to be alone.”

“…I know.” You knew from so many nights, when the others opened their rooms to you so that you wouldn’t have to sleep alone, when they talked to the wolf when you were blind, just so you could be sure they were still there. “Thank you, Dr. Schneeplestein.”

“Please, I think I am now off zhe clock for another few hours or so,” Dr. Schneeplestein said, smiling and offering a hand to help you stand. “Call me Henrik.”

You returned the smile, but as you stood your gaze went around the doctor’s room again, once again noticing the lack of an actual bed or windows. Despite the pictures on the wall (all of which featured skeletons, although you didn’t know many anatomy drawings that had the subjects playing cards or dancing), and the fake flowers on one corner of his desk in between the stacks of medical texts, the room had a very cell-like feel to it.

“Henrik. The offer goes both ways, if you ever want someone to talk to or…just not to be alone,” you said, feeling embarrassed to have said anything before you even finished, especially when the doctor looked surprised at the suggestion.

Then he smiled softly and said, “Thank you. I’ll keep it in mind, Hündchen.”

“You know I know that word means dog or puppy or something, right?”

“I do not know vhat you mean, Y/N. Say, while zhe others are busy, vhy don’t we have a little treat zhe wolf could not? How does chocolate ice cream sound?”

“…I didn’t say I didn’t like the nickname,” you said, pushing the doctor a little when he couldn’t hold back his laugh. “Can you have ice cream?”

“I’m undead, Hündchen, not in zhe grave. Tell me, vhat is zhe point of our afterlives if ve cannot have a little treat every now and zhen?”

((End of Part 20. Thanks for reading! This one was more setup for the next few parts, but soon there will be a bit more “stuff” happening.

Link to Part 21: Coffee with a Dash of Honesty.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox ))

#markiplier #jacksepticeye #fanfiction #werewolf au #monster hunter au #wkm district attorney #chase brody #henrik schneeplestein #marvin the magnificent #jameson jackson #jackieboy man #i'm sure nothing will go wrong tomorrow #and the coffee date will be fantastic #as long as Marvin doesn't need to use those cards

15 notes · View notes

bethagain · 4 years

Text

I saw a post the other day lamenting that Din probably hasn’t felt the sun on his skin in years, and it reminded me that I never did share a tumblr version of this fic.

So, here's part III of my series On From Here. In which Din moves some rocks, eats some cake, and sits in a sunbeam.

Honest Work

The inn has a mechanical lift. It’s a small square box that lowers on a pulley. A thin cable rises from its roof and disappears into darkness above. Din looks at it skeptically and then takes the stairs. They’re narrow and dark, the treads shallow.

“Leave the key!” the innkeeper calls after him, as he strides across the dimly lit lobby toward the exit.

Making an enemy of his host here is not a good idea.

He pauses to lay the key on the counter. The dull brass shank of it clinks against its worn metal fob. There’s nothing in the room to steal, anyway.

The town center consists of a handful of low-slung buildings, all with the same tile roofs. Din pauses at the window of a repair shop. Everything inside looks old, mechanical, un-streamlined. They’d probably know exactly how to fix up the Razor Crest, with its pre-Imperial control system and antique wiring. If there were still a Razor Crest to fix.

Next is a general store, with bolts of fabric, tools, and fresh produce all for sale together. There’s a four-legged riding beast tied outside, a simple saddle on its back. A woman is choosing meemfruit from a bin near the door. She turns to watch him walk by.

There doesn’t seem to be a proper drinking establishment. At the end of the row is a small cafe, with a handful of tables and a bar at the back. Several of the tables are occupied. Some people on their own, some groups of adults, a couple of families. Most have plates of food in front of them. A shelf above the bar holds an assortment of liquor bottles.

This place will have to do.

He orders a glass of whiskey, for the sake of manners, and settles in at the bar to wait. The armor serves as its own advertisement.

"You're not going to find what you’re looking for here."

He turns toward the voice. The words are from a grizzled man seated at a corner table.

Din doesn’t bother answering, just squares his shoulders back toward the bar again. Every place has someone who’s hiding. And someone else who wants them found.

The man has come over to the bar, now, and is sliding onto the stool beside him.

Great.

"This is not that kind of town."

"Every town is that kind of town."

"Not here." The man signals to the waiter, who pours something from a spigot and sets it down. Tiny bubbles break its surface, making a faint sound of static. He takes a drink. "We didn't hold with the Empire. We don't hold with the New Republic. We live and let live, around here."

"Fine." Maybe if Din agrees, this man will go away.

"You try to bring somebody in, the whole town's going to stop you."

"Look," says Din, "I have no quarrel with anyone here. I'm just looking to earn a few credits."

The helmet’s interface lets him know that someone’s taken the barstool on his other side. The screen fills the gaps in his peripheral vision. It’s a woman, long hair in a braid, sleeveless top and arms of solid muscle.

“Not here,” she says.

The other tables are emptying, more townspeople coming to form a semicircle behind him. Even the children are glaring at him.

Damn.

“All right.” He knows better than to move his hands without a warning. “Let me pay for my drink, and I’ll be on my way.” He reaches slowly for the pouch at his waist, keeping his hand well clear of his blaster. “What do I owe you?”

The bartender names a figure. Din doubles it, setting down the small stack of credits before rising to leave.

The bartender tries to give the extra back. “That’s too much.”

“You keep it,” Din says. “Payment for the trouble.”

“Hold on.” It’s the man on the barstool beside him again. “You really just looking for work?”

Din waits, standing there by the bar. The townspeople stay there in their circle, but hands are starting to drift away from holsters. The weapons here seem to be mostly slugthrowers. Mechanical things, not blasters with their circuitry and electrics. Interesting.

“Any kind of work?” the man asks.

There are limits, even for someone like Din. “Honest work.”

The man grins at him, white teeth flashing through his unruly beard. “You look strong enough,” he says. “If it’s not beneath you, in your fancy armor there. I need somebody to move some rocks."

The job is not at all what Din had in mind, but it does, indeed, sound like honest work. And he’s not in a place to be picky.

He’s sitting next to the bearded man on a plank across the front of a high-wheeled wooden cart. The cart is pulled by two solid-looking beasts, four-legged and shaggy. Their pace is sedate and steady, the cart rolling easily over grassland. They’re headed toward a row of trees in a valley, between rolling hills.

The trees mark a stream, the man says, and on that stream is an old stone dam that diverts the water. “We’re opening up new farmland. Need to get that water back in its proper course. Get it down to the right place on the land. My regular crew could do it, but it’s heavy work. They’re not itching to volunteer.”

“Why not use an antigrav lifter?” Why pay a man for a whole day’s work, when a simple machine would cut that down to a couple of hours.

“We’re not big believers in tech around here. Parts have to be imported. Electric’s complicated to repair. We don’t care to be dependent on anyone, any more than we have to.”

That explains the shop in town, then, with its antique machinery in the window. And the hotel lift, and the drying jets that don’t work anymore.

“That’s why the slugthrowers?"

“You noticed. That’s right.” The man chuckles. “Keeps things calmer, too. If you have to forge a new bullet every time you use one, you’re a little less likely to draw.”

The cart trundles along. The sky overhead is a clear blue, the sun warm. Din nudges up the cooling system in his armor.

They go along a little way among the trees, until they’re beside a narrow stream of clear water. It emerges from a low pile of stones at the edge of a pond.

From his seat on the cart, the man points to a smaller valley that runs off to the right. “The pond drains over that way, now. Pull the dam out, and it’ll run the way it should again.”

Din takes in the clear stream, the small oval pond, the branching valley. “Who’s using that water now?”

“The folks over yonder were a little too friendly with the Empire,” the man says. “Town asked them to leave.”

“Did they leave?”

“I thought you bounty hunters had a rule about asking questions.”

“This isn’t a Guild job,” Din says.

“Suppose not." The man turns to reach toward the back of the cart, and Din tenses. But he’s just picking up a wooden box by its leather handle. He hands it to Din. "Here's lunch. We're not fancy but our crew eats well. Water in the stream's safe to drink. And don’t worry, there’s no one left to come bother you.”

He waits while Din climbs down from the cart. “You could walk out when you’re done, but it's a long way after a day's work. I'll be back to get you at sundown."

Din watches the cart make its sedate way back through the trees, the shaggy beasts pulling at their traces, the man humming off-key as he goes.

He finds a flat rock to put the lunch box on. It contains a dented metal cup, a stack of wrapped sandwiches, some pieces of a fruit he doesn’t recognize, and a generous slice of cake that smells of ginger and dark sugar.

He closes the box back up again and goes over to inspect the dam.

This certainly isn’t his usual kind of work. But a ship needs fuel and a man needs food, and pushing on to the next port with just the credits he has on hand feels reckless. Unwise. Plus, being in debt to Boba Fett is like a deep itch under his skin. It’s not comfortable. He wants it gone.

Din is no engineer, but piloting a ship means he’s used to thinking in three dimensions. He considers the shape of the dam, the way the rocks are stacked atop one another, the chinks where the water flows through. The thing looks like it was hand-built, the stones large enough not to move with the water but small enough to be picked up. The original stream cut a gully into the soil, but it’s shallow, the dam itself only a bit over knee-high.

The forest floor here is carpeted with broad, leathery leaves. Wide-trunked trees are spaced far apart, with little undergrowth between them. Their canopies cast shade across the ground. Here and there, a few sunbeams find their way through.

If he starts at the far side, removing the rocks in vertical columns, the stream should come slowly back to life. His gloves will protect his hands from the roughness of the stone. His boots are already sticking in the mud at the edge of the water. They’re water-resistant, good for a while in a rainstorm, but they’re going to be soaked through by the time he’s done.

At first, muscles complain at being asked to move in ways they’re not used to. This steady pattern of bend, lift, bend is very different from the sudden, sharp quickness of a fight. His daily workouts are rigorous but they’re precise, prescribed patterns. Each of these stones has a different shape, a different weight. Keeping his feet out of the water, keeping his balance on the slight slope makes each one its own physics problem, its own little challenge.

Soon enough, though, he’s settled into the rhythm of it. He remembers to use his legs when lifting, to save strain on his back. He kicks up the cooling system again, as sweat begins to gather under the armor.

The armor’s physiological monitors are simple, but they register heartbeat, breathing, temperature. Normally, he ignores the ping that says it might be time to take a break, to drink some water and catch his breath. Because normally, when that ping goes off, taking a break would either be desperately stupid--in the middle of a firefight?--or stupidly desperate, like during the hours walking the Tatooine desert back to Mos Eisley, carrying the wreckage of a speeder bike, no water at all on board.

This time, he gets the dented cup from the wooden box and carries it over to the stream. It’s already flowing faster, but his work has kicked up sediment. Din goes back to the box, grabs one of the wrapped sandwiches, and sets out to find the pond’s other outlet.

It’s not far. The other stream burbles over a few rocks at the edge of the pond, then curves through another shallow gully and off down a gentle slope and away. One of the great trees rises nearby, a couple of its wide roots undercut by the water.

He’s starting to feel chilled as the cooling system interacts with sweat-dampened clothing, so he switches the cooling circuits off. The helmet’s interface tells him the air outside is still warm.

Din considers, sandwich in one hand, cup in the other. There is a sunbeam crossing over the tree roots, making the water sparkle.

The forest around him is quiet.

Decision made, he dips the cup in the stream, then chooses a spot to sit on one of the wide tree roots, back against the trunk. He balances the cup on the leaf-covered ground, sets the sandwich down beside it. Then he lifts the helmet from his head, setting it in his lap as he rests his head on the tree’s rough bark, eyes closed against the brightness of the sun.

When did he last feel sunlight on his skin? It’s been a while. Before he picked up the child, surely. It hasn’t been safe to let his guard down. How long before that, though? He thinks back, but it’s a blur of work, the halls of the Nevarro covert, the streets of strange towns.

Din knows better than to stay in the sun for long. Skin that’s always covered has no defense against UV rays. After a few minutes he shifts to the shade, sitting crosslegged on the forest floor. The water from the stream is sweet, with a slight mineral taste underneath. The sandwich isn’t bad either, fresh bread dotted with different kinds of grain, slices of some kind of tender meat and crisp green leaves with just a hint of bitter.

He makes his way back around the pond to continue the work. Wiggle each stone free. Lift, carry. He’s building a sort of stone cairn, setting each one down neatly, just because it feels good to see the thing take shape.

His gloves are soaked by now, as he has to reach into the water to get at the lowest rows of stones. The water can’t be good for the circuits in the vambraces so he sheds those, too, setting them down on the flat rock beside the wooden lunch box, where his helmet already sits.

He could keep the cooling system running, but it’s not designed for this kind of exertion. The constant movement will keep the power cell charged, but he’s sweating in spite of it, and the chill from the beskar is a distraction instead of a comfort.

He’s already vulnerable without the helmet and the vambraces. He lays out cuirass, pauldrons, hip and thigh plates on that flat stone. His hand pauses on the blaster, but if it’s waterlogged it’s not going to work at all.

He looks down at the thick fabric of the flightsuit, already wet at wrists and ankles. He's got another layer underneath it. May as well leave that too.

He makes a detour through another sunbeam on the way back to the dam.

Without the armor to filter the outside world, he’s aware of the warmth of the sun on his back. Of the change in temperature between sun and shadow.

Without the helmet’s interface, he marks time by how the patches of sun creep slowly across the forest floor.

When a rush of water takes him by surprise, soaking him from elbow to wrist and chest to hip, he sheds his shirt, laying it out on the stone cairn to dry.

The air is still warm. The water that splashes his wrists is cool. He pauses again for food, then sets back to work. At one point he cups his hands in the running stream and drinks, then runs wet hands through his sweat-soaked hair.

Clearing the last few stones means sinking his hands into mud to wrest them free. When he’s carried them over and set them atop the neat pile, he looks down and finds he’s covered in mud from chest to waistband.

His employer said he’d be back at sunset. Din looks up, judging the height of the sun in the sky. Late afternoon, he guesses, edging into evening. It’s unpleasant fitting the helmet back on over wet hair, his face still damp with sweat, but he does it. The chrono built into the interface tells him there’s a good two hours until sundown.

He turns a slow circle, heat and motion sensors overlaying his vision, sound turned up high. There’s birdsong high above him, but otherwise the forest is still.

He fetches his shirt, piles the armor and flightsuit into his arms and carries it all to the edge of the pond. Then, thinking what the hell, he shucks boots, socks, and leggings and wades on in.

Din doesn’t know how to swim. It’s not a skill he normally needs in his work. It’s not a skill he particularly needs now, either. But the mud is pleasantly soft against his feet, the water soothing to tired muscles. He ducks his head under, scrubs at the dirt on his chest, rinses away sweat.

For the second time today, he uses his shirt to dry off. The approach of evening is bringing a slight chill to the air, so he pulls his other clothes back on, fastening the flightsuit over his bare chest this time before setting the pieces of his armor in place.

Back at the flat stone he considers another sandwich, decides on the cake instead, and then sits there a while, licking sugar from his fingers and watching the stream at its full strength now as it sparkles its way down the valley.

True to his word, the man is back with the wagon just as the sunbeams finish fading. He takes note of the neat cairn, and of the unfettered stream. “I wasn’t sure you’d really do it,” he says. “Guy like you. Work like this.”

Din just looks at him, impassive behind the helmet. He’s pretty much done with dignity these days, but this man doesn’t need to know it.

“Well,” the man says. “We’re clearing more land tomorrow. If you want another day’s work.”

“I’ll take my pay for this one.”

“Of course.” He counts out the amount they agreed on and drops it into Din’s hand. “I mean it. We can always use a strong set of hands.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Where are you staying?”

Din names the inn.

The man nods. “I’ll drop you there?”

“That would be fine.”

The first stars are out by the time Din steps down from the wagon, credits in his pocket and the last two sandwiches in his hand. He picks up the key from the innkeeper, climbs the narrow stairs, locks the door of the room behind him. He hangs his wet shirt in the shower room, lays out his wet gloves and socks to dry, strips off the armor and sets it carefully on the floor. His skin smells faintly of mud and minerals, but he can’t be bothered to shower. He sits by the window to eat, watching more stars emerge from the clear, dark sky.

The money in his pocket won’t buy much. It’s a little more fuel, another day or two of getting by.

He’ll leave in the morning. Probably.

He still has no idea where to go.

#the mandalorian #fanfic #din djarin #my fic

5 notes · View notes

sakuwriteshere · 4 years

Text

One-shot: Re-Enchanted

Summary: After a hunt that didn’t end as good as she wanted, Y/N spends a movie night with her friend, Gabriel. The Archangel has an idea to cheer her up and maybe push Dean and Y/N to realize their feelings. But nothing goes as it was supposed to be.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Other characters: Sam WInchester, Gabriel

Words count: 8656 words

Warnings: Reader feeling down, FLUFF, cursed words (one or two I think?), did I say FLUFF?, mutual pining, FLUUUFFF

Beta-reader: @ireblogcauseiappreciateyou Thank you so much 💖You’re the best!

A/N: Originally written for @alleiradayne‘s 2020 Supernatural Summer Shut-in Challenge but I thought it didn’t really fit the genre and the prompt so I didn’t use it as an entry. However, I really liked the story and I wanted to write something about the movie Enchanted so I thought it could be great to post it anyway.

You don’t need to have watched the movie Enchanted, but it’s highly recommended! There’s a lot of references. Also it’s very cheesy and I apologize for it ^^”

Enjoy and feel free to reblog and/or comment ;)

Main Masterlist

___________________________

Re-Enchanted

After several months of running all over the country, jumping from one case to another, you could finally spend a lazy night in the bunker. No demons, no monsters, no witches to hunt. Just you, a big bowl of popcorn, and a TV. You loved Dean for choosing such a huge screen.

“Hi there, Sugar!” Gabriel jumped into the couch, right next to you, bumping you slightly in the process, making you grunt at the sudden weight against you. The archangel simply ignores you as he plunges his hand into the popcorn, stuffing his mouth with the sweets.

“Long time no see, Gabe. How have you been?” You asked as you shift more comfortably into the couch.

“Same old, same old,” Gabriel waved his hand before he let his arm fall over your shoulders, pulling your body into his. You moved again, your head resting against his shoulder, leaning on Gabriel a bit more as you tucked your legs underneath you.

You let out a content sight, feeling carefree for the first time since a long time. Gabriel was one of your best friends, he spent his time with you whenever he could, which was a lot if you were honest, and you wouldn’t complain about it. The archangel was someone very funny and nice, and it was a pleasure to be near him. You loved his humor and his little pranks, especially when you weren’t on the receiving end.

The both of you fell silent as your attention fell back onto the movie. Once in a while, Dean would let you use his Dean cave and you had to admit the man outdid himself with the room. Everything you would need to spend the perfect movie night was here. Well, almost everything.

You loved Gabriel to death, really. But there was someone else you were closer to, and you smiled fondly when you thought about what he would say about your movie choices.

“Oh man, come on! You’re watching that chick-flick? Again?” Dean asked as he entered the room. Not you nor Gabriel moved, your eyes still focused on the screen.

“Patrick Dempsey.” Gabriel and you said at the same time, like it was the only natural explanation.

You didn’t see Dean rolling his eyes at your comment, as you were too focused on the screen. You watched Gisele landing in the middle of Manhattan while you put some caramelized popcorn in your mouth, the sweet treat melting on your tongue.

This movie was your guilty pleasure and you weren’t shy of showing it. Yes, you were a hunter. Yes, you were a badass. Yes, you knew the horrible truth, monsters existed in this world, killing innocent people and turning their insignificant and boring lives into nightmares. That was exactly why you needed your chick-flick moments. You were a hunter but you were also a human being before everything. Since you were a kid, you loved fairy tales and happy endings. You knew you would never have a happy ending with this life but it didn’t hurt to still hope and dream about it.

Dean’s groans broke your concentration and you spared him an angry glance, sticking out your tongue at him before you turned back into your movie.

“You’re one to speak, Dean-o,” Gabriel smirked at Dean. “We all know you have a soft spot for handsome doctors.”

Dean scoffed at Gabriel’s words, shifting from one foot to the other, crossing and uncrossing his arms, not really knowing what to do with his body.

“This guy is not, Dr. Sexy!” Dean stressed the words, pointing at the screen when Patrick Dempsey appeared on the screen. “They are totally different characters,” Dean added firmly. His favorite TV show has nothing in common with the other supposed medical drama show Patrick Dempsey was in.

“Hush you two. It’s the interesting part,” You say to the two men, adjusting your head on Gabriel’s shoulder.

You saw Dean’s body coming into your peripheral vision, as the man was looking for something. You ignored his presence as you concentrated on your movie, you let out a happy sigh as Gabriel started to thread his fingers in your hair. This was a perfect night: best movie, best candies, bestie at your side. You were totally oblivious of what was going on around you.

***

Gabriel wasn’t really watching the movie, he knew it by heart, for having watched it so many times. No, something more funny and interesting was going on in the room. He glanced secretly at Dean who suddenly stopped in his quest of whatever he was looking for when he heard your sigh.

The hunter looked at you and Gabriel, not so discreetly, his jaw clenching when he saw the intimate gestures the archangel was giving you. It was totally friendly but Dean didn’t know that.

An amused smile stretched Gabriel’s lips and he quickly hid it behind your head as he kissed it, his thumb brushing your cheekbone. It wasn’t rare for Gabriel to be so touchy with you, the archangel loved cuddles and it didn’t take him too long to know you craved it too. It was totally platonic, the both of you knew it.

But Dean didn’t.

And Gabriel was enjoying every second of this sweet torture. He loved how Dean’s fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, how his eyes darkened as his gaze zoomed on the spot where Gabriel’s lips rested on your head, how his body was slightly trembling with jealousy or how tight his lips were sealed to prevent himself from saying something.

“Need something?” Gabriel asked casually.

Dean jumped slightly at his question, unaware that he was staring at the both of you. He licked his lips and searched around him, grabbing the nearest thing: a pair of earphones. He waved the thing, as a way to tell Gabriel he had found what he was looking for, then left the room in a hurry.

A cheshire cat’s smile appeared on Gabriel’s lips while you remained totally oblivious, you were too deeply focused on your movie to notice anything.

Interesting.

***

You woke up feeling dizzy and your head hurting as if a herd of elephants had stepped on it the whole night. Carefully you opened your eyes, squeezing them shut quickly as the bright light assaulted you. You blinked a few times before you opened them once and for good. The first thing that hit you was that you didn’t recognize where you were. The last thing you remembered was spending the night with Gabriel. You don’t even remember falling asleep.

“Are you alright?” You heard a strange, chipmunk voice asking you.

That’s when your fuzzy brain registered something you haven’t noticed yet. As you looked around the room, searching for the owner of the voice, you felt that something was wrong. The place and the furniture around you didn’t look like what you were used to. Everything was so colorful and...cartoonish?

“Someone dreamed of her prince, right?” The chipmunk voice giggled and that’s when your eyes fell on the little squirrel standing at your feet.

Your eyes widened, your mouth slack opened as you saw the tiny creature climbing along your legs, finally sitting on your lap, big, brown eyes staring at you.

You jumped from the bed you were sitting on and ran towards the nearest mirror, not believing your own eyes. Your cartoonish reflection looking back at you.

“What the hell?!” You asked your own reflection, your fingers pressed against your face.

***

It took you a bit of time to comprehend what was going on. Apparently you were right in the middle of your favorite movie and for whatever reason, you were the main character, Gisele. Except that the cartoonish characters around you knew your real name, and this little detail didn’t seem to bother them. You stood in the middle of the room, totally speechless as you watched the many (too many) cartoonish forest animals dancing and singing around you. If they wanted you to sing along, it would be over your dead body!

Despite your refusal to play along, the movie kept on going and soon, too soon, the deers and birds looked at something behind you, stuttering and suddenly afraid. Uh-oh...

Being chased by a giant troll isn’t something funny. Within your career as a hunter you’ve seen a lot of weird things, but this had to top everything else.

“Get the hell out of here!” You yelled at the monster who was crawling on the same tree branch you were currently using as a safe space.

And just like in the movie that you knew by heart, the weight of the little chipmunk sent the troll far, far away and leaving you alone holding onto the frail branch as if your life depended on it. There was no way, the tiny creature could save you, you knew what was going to happen next. You closed your eyes and reluctantly let go of the branch, feeling your body falling quickly and heavily. You screamed through the fall because let’s be honest it was scary and the branches that hit you in your fall weren’t leaving a nice feeling to your body. Finally, you landed on something soft and warm, and felt a pair of strong arms wrapping around you.

“Oh my gosh…” You sighed, feeling relieved to still be alive, being an immortal cartoon character had its perks. You lifted your eyes slowly, ready to see Prince Edward from Andalasia for the very first time, and more particularly the one who played the character.

“Sam?” You said, totally bewildered as you were expecting James Marsden instead.

But Sam Winchester, your friend and hunting partner, was the one wearing the burgundy outfit instead. He was a cartoon as well but you could recognize his face easily.

“Yes, it’s me! And you are?” Sam asked you, a strange look written all over his face as if it was the first time he saw you.

“Y/N. Come on this isn’t funny. I don’t know what’s going on but we need to do something.” You said, as you tried to climb down from the horse you fell onto but Sam held you tight, keeping you in place.

“Oooh Y/N! You’re right. We shall be married in the morning!” As if his sudden (and not romantic at all) wedding proposal wasn’t surprising you enough, you fell speechless when you heard him starting to sing.

“You were made…” Sam sang, expecting you to finish the song.

“I’m not singing.” You said plainly, pushing against his chest to free yourself.

Everything froze around you, as if the time had stopped. You looked around and quickly your eyes fell onto the only thing that was still moving.

“Gabriel.” You should have known it was because of him. Who else would have enough power to create all of this?

“Come on, Sugar. Sing along!” The archangel said with energy, coming closer to you and holding out his hand to help you get down from the horse.

“What does all of this mean?” You asked, feeling furious and you weren’t going to let his funny cartoonish look disturb you.

“Consider it as a well-needed break.” Gabriel started to explain. “Don’t be mad. I know you’re feeling down lately-”

“Of course I’m feeling down, we lost an innocent on our last hunt.” You reminded him, you had explained everything the night before. “The guy is dead because of me.”

It was Gabriel’s turn to stop you. “That is not your fault. Those things happen.”

You rolled your eyes at that and crossed your arms upon your chest, showing Gabriel your back. You were going to give him the silent treatment, and you were not in the mood to play in his stupid pranks.

“It’s just a dream, I swear. I wanted to do something nice for you, that’s all.”

“Really?” You turned around, hearing the defeat in his tone. Your arms fell at your sides as you relaxed a bit.

“Well,” You didn’t need to look at him to know there was a mischievous smile curling his lips. Gabriel’s arms wrapped around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Just play along, enjoy it while you can and once you wanna get out of it, all you have to do is to realize what you truly want,” he told you, not even an ounce of wickedness in his voice. He was genuinely worried about you and wanted only your well-being.

“What I truly want?” You parrotted as you broke the embrace, feeling something fishy behind those words.

The Archangel wiggled his eyebrows before disappearing. You called his name several times but he was already gone and you could only count on yourself to get out of here.

“Great…” Was the last thing you had time to say before everything turned black.

And the story started all over again.

And again and again.

After the fifth time, you realized that if you wanted to reach the end of the movie, or this dream or whatever it was, you had to play along just like what Gabe said. Well, you better start doing it, the faster you would reach the end, the faster you would wake up. After all, it was just a dream, nothing could go wrong right? And the fact that Patrick Dempsey was waiting for you was another good reason to keep moving.

***

“So, get this,” Sam entered the library, throwing a newspaper into Dean’s lap.

“Come on man! We’ve just got back, can’t we have a little break?” Dean groaned but picked up the newspaper anyway.

“It’s not that far and there’s already three vics. Looks like a simple salt and burn, it would only take us one day, two at tops.”

Dean kept on reading the article, nodding absentmindedly at his little brother’s words. Sam was right, the three vics were from the same family and each of them died in the same house within weird circumstances. And after the last hunt, Dean knew an easy win was what you needed to cheer you up. With one look, Dean knew that was also the main reason for Sam to go.

Dean slapped his thighs as he stood up. “Alright! Get ready, we’re leaving in ten.”

Sam nodded and headed for his room to get ready, though Dean stopped him in his tracks when he asked him to go and tell you they were leaving.

“She’s still in her room?” Sam asked, a bit surprised when he checked the time. It was already one in the afternoon and now that he thought about it, he hasn't seen you since the night before. There was only one reason for you to stay inside your room for so long. You were more depressed than what Sam thought.

The soft and gentle knock on your door didn’t get any response from you, so Sam knocked again, a bit more firmly. When he still got no answer from you, Sam brought his face closer to the door.

“Y/N? Uh...we found a case. A simple salt and burn case so don’t pack too heavy, ok? We’re leaving in ten,” Sam told you from his side of the door. He turned around, already thinking about what he needed to pack but after a second he glanced at your door again. You still haven’t answered him.

Sam knocked again. “Y/N? You’re awake?” His hand was already turning the doorknob. The door opened a crack, leaving enough room for Sam to take a look inside.

“Y/N?” Sam opened the door completely and entered your room. He came closer to your bed when he spotted you still soundly asleep.

Gently he shook your shoulder, hopeful that the movement would be enough to stir you awake.

“Come on, this is not funny.” Sam tried to chuckle but something deep down his stomach told him you weren’t faking it. “Dean!”

It didn’t take long for Dean to come in. The urgency in his brother’s voice was enough of a warning and when he realized that Sam was in your room, Dean feared the worst. They had tried everything to wake you up but failed miserably. Your chest was moving up and down which meant you were asleep, and more importantly still alive. There was no trace of pain on your face, on the contrary, a small smile adorned your peaceful face.

“What’s going on?” Dean walked back and forth in front of your bed while Sam kept staring at you, thinking deeply.

“Do you think it’s a curse?” Sam offered but both brothers were quick to ditch the possibility, it’s been a few months since your last encounter with a witch.

“I don’t know. A demon maybe?” Dean tried but he didn’t know what could have put you in this state. The bunker was the safest place in the world, nothing could enter and hurt them here.

“Why does it always have to be something evil with you two?” Gabriel asked from the corner of the room, his sudden appearance making both Winchesters jump.

“Gabe! You have to do something. You have to help her.” Dean was quick to reach the Archangel, not bothering about the fact that he just appeared for no reason.

“Oh I’m already helping her, don’t worry,” Gabriel pushed Dean slightly on the side so he could come closer and sit at your feet. A fond smile on his lips as he watched you sleep peacefully.

The Winchesters remained silent, staring at Gabriel expectantly, waiting for more information from him. The archangel rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, how could those two idiots be still alive, after so many years was beyond him. They were so slow sometimes.

“I’m the one who put her under the sleeping spell.” Sometimes it was better to say it straight if you wanted to get to the main point quickly.

“What?” The Winchester brothers said in sync.

“She’s having the time of her life! Well...she’s going to if she relaxes and lets go.” Gabriel announced, proud of himself. Though his own satisfaction disappeared quickly when Dean grabbed him by the collar and pushed him strongly against the nearest wall.

“Wake. Her. Up.” Dean seethed lowly, he was ready to beat the hell out of Gabriel if he needed to. Super powerful archangel or not.

“Now, now,” Gabriel easily freed himself from Dean’s tight grip. “That’s not my job.”

“And whose job is it?” Sam asked, he was calmer than his older brother but he needed just one more tiny push before feeling the need to kill Gabriel himself.

“Prince Not So Charming over here,” Gabriel replied, his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at Dean.

“What?” Dean’s eyes widened. He didn’t have time to react when Gabriel stopped in front of him, pressing two fingers to his forehead.

“One rule: play along and be honest,” he whispered before Dean fell unconscious.

That's how she knows that you love her

That's how you show her you love her (That's how you know)

He didn’t know what was going on anymore. One second he was inside your room, ready to give Gabriel the death sentence, and the other he was sitting in a white carriage in the middle of who knows where.

You've got to show her you need her

Don't treat her like a mind reader (That's how you know)

Dean didn’t know what was the craziest. The fact that he was sitting in a carriage, wearing a monkey suit, or that he was watching you singing and dancing with people, too many people. And you were wearing a dress too! As far as he could, he didn’t remember seeing you in a dress. He had to admit that it suited you. You should wear it more often even though it wouldn’t be practical during a hunt.

That's how she knows that you love her

That's how you know that you love her

It's not enough to take the one you love for granted (He's your love)

The crowd cheered happily once the song was over. It took a few seconds for Dean to understand what was going on. He's heard this song so many times, the monstrous melody was engraved into his brain forever.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You were giggling and clapping enthusiastically as you sat down, sitting in front of Dean. You still were a bit surprised to see Dean instead of Patrick Dempsey. You knew Gabriel was having fun with the three of you, and you had to admit that seeing Sam wearing tights was particularly funny but you still were wondering why Gabriel thought having Dean here as well would be funny. Strangely, you didn’t complain about it. Sure Dean wasn’t Patrick Dempsey but he was still Dean Winchester and you would be lying to yourself if you said that Dean wasn’t easy on the eyes. It was difficult to play at first, having the face of your friend in front of you but you quickly realized that he wasn’t truly Dean, just a dreamy representation, just like Sam.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him when you noticed something different in his eyes. There was a kind of glint in them that wasn’t there before.

“Where the hell are we?” Dean exclaimed grumpily. “And since when are you singing?”

You blinked several times, surprised by his outburst. “Dean? Is that really you?”

“Son of a bitch!” He yelped, shoving away the two doves over his head.

Well, things just get more complicated.

***

“Really, Gabriel?” Sam gave the archangel his best bitchy face, the latter only shrugged, not seeing where the problem was.

Sam grunted as he tried to lift Dean’s unconscious body from the ground. When he cast the spell, Gabriel didn’t see the need to prevent Dean from the heavy fall, it was even a little funny if he was honest. Once Dean was securely thrown over his shoulder, Sam glared at the angel.

“You mind telling me what this is about?”

“She needed a break, ok? She was feeling really, really down yesterday night.” Gabriel started to explain, a mix between seriousness and worry written all over his face.

“We know.” Sam agreed, his anger slowly replaced by sadness. “We were working on it.”

Gabriel scoffed at that. “Right! Another hunt, huh? It worked so well before.”

“Because you think your way is better?” Sam shifted from one foot to another, his brother was kind of heavy.

Gabriel shrugged. He didn’t know if his little plan would work but it was worth the shot. Truth to be told, you and Dean were really stubborn, and if you didn’t play his little game like how Gabriel expected, who knew what would happen.

***

Dean was standing in the middle of a living room, wearing only a bathrobe. He did as you told him and followed your lead. You’ve spent half of the day together, acting like the characters of your movie, and he would lie if he said that he didn’t enjoy the time he had spent with you at the restaurant but he had enough of all this shit already. He didn’t know why he ended up here and he couldn’t care less, what mattered the most was to get you and him out of here, as soon as possible.

“You have to wake up, Y/N.” He told you sharply, keeping his voice low so he didn’t wake up the little girl sleeping in the next room.

“Don’t you think I’m trying?” You hissed, using a cushion to hide your bare legs. You were only wearing a shirt, and you wouldn’t feel as embarrassed as you were feeling now if it was Patrick Dempsey instead of Dean. “Gabe told me to play along and that’s what I’m doing.”

“He told me that too,” Dean remembered the last words from Gabriel before he was sent into this nightmare.

“Every time I refuse to follow the movie, it starts all over again. I think if I reach the end of it, I’ll wake up but as for you, I have no idea why you’re here. I mean, you were here but it wasn’t really you before, if you know what I mean?”

“I don’t know the movie. How am I supposed to stop this?” Dean groaned then started to pace in the middle of the room. To be honest, he knew the movie, the big lines anyway. Whenever he watched it with you, Dean was more focused on you than the movie. He loved the fact that it brought a smile to your face every time. Of course, he wasn’t going to admit this out loud.

You sighed and scratched the back of your head. “Just follow my lead.” You stood up and stood in front of him, trying to ignore the fact that Dean Winchester was naked under that bathrobe. “Let’s start a fight.”

“I’m sorry?” Dean blinked several times, totally lost with your plan.

“Come on, yell at me or something.” You encouraged him, waving your hands in the air.

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” Dean scoffed and took a step aside.

“Really?” You defied, knowing you were heading exactly where you wanted.

“No.”

“No?” Perfect. You were back on track! “Is that the only word that you know? No?”

“What? No!”

“Yeah? No! Over and over again. Every word out of your mouth is ‘no’! It makes me so...angry!” You forced a laugh with the last word, you weren’t in the mood at all, but the show must go on as they say.

“Are you alright?” Dean asked, worried about your sanity. He knew what Gabriel’s tricks could do to a human mind.

You punched him in the chest lightly before calming down. “I’m...I’m wonderful.”

Dean’s face told you he wasn’t buying it.

You were far from wonderful, you perfectly knew what was going to happen next, and it was going to be awkward. Why did it have to be Dean in front of you? Playing your part just became ten times worse. You swallowed hard as you brought your fingers near Dean’s bare chest. Dean froze when he felt your fingers against his skin, just over his heart. It took all his willpower to control the beating as calmly as possible. You glanced at his lips then his eyes, oblivious of Dean doing exactly the same thing. Slowly you brought your face closer, Dean doing the same. You shouldn’t feel so scared, you knew what was going to happen, everything was fake. So why were you so thrilled suddenly? Did Dean know he had to walk away?

Apparently yes, because the next second Dean cleared his throat and walked away. This was a real torture to him, he needed to get out of here before he would do something you would regret. You didn’t have to pretend you were feeling disappointed with him leaving you alone, and you really were confused about what just happened and what you were starting to feel.

***

Once he had laid down Dean on his bed, Sam came back into your room where Gabriel was still watching over you. He was expecting this to be over already, what was taking them so long?

“This is your worst idea, ever, Gabe,” Sam said grumpily as he sat next to the archangel, a hand rubbing his face.

“I know they’re kind of slow but-” Gabriel agreed, knowing his plan wasn’t perfect but he had little time to think about it.

“Slow? That’s an understatement.” Sam scoffed, shaking his head. “My brother thinks it’s one-sided or that he doesn’t deserve her or some crap, while Y/N is too scared to admit she’s head over heels in love with Dean.”

“You knew?” Gabriel was surprised. He had just realized there might be something between them, the night before. How come Sam knew before him?

“You spend as much time with those two idiots as I do and you’ll know,” Sam smirked, before he became serious again, wanting to know more about Gabriel’s next move. “So what are you going to do to fix this mess if none of them admit their feelings?”

Gabriel’s lack of an answer wasn’t reassuring. He hadn’t thought about that.

***

As if being stuck in this movie wasn’t enough already, Dean had to be wearing this stupid royal outfit. The material was scratching his skin and he wasn’t thinking about the pair of tights. This was humiliating, really. Gabriel was so dead once they were back. If they ever came back.

All his negative thoughts flew away when Dean spotted you at the top of the giant stairs. You were once again wearing a dress. If there was one thing that he enjoyed with this mess, it was the dresses, they looked really good on you. Though, right now you were stunning. The dress was really simple contrary to the royal dresses the folks around him were wearing but you were the most beautiful woman in the room to Dean’s eyes. Honestly, he didn’t need you to wear a dress to find you beautiful and attractive. You gave him the most beautiful and biggest smile as your eyes made contact with his. Even though he didn’t know the movie as best as you, Dean recognized that part of the movie. It was your favorite part, you told him that every time you’ve reached that particular scene. The way your face would brighten saying this, how carefree and innocent you looked when you admitted it, Dean loved every fucking second of it and that’s why he accepted to watch the movie with you every time you asked him to.

As he was fondly thinking about those precious moments he had shared with you back in the bunker, his eyes followed your form elegantly walking down the stairs. This scene was becoming his favorite too, but only because you both were in it. You stopped just a few inches from him, and Dean was still lost in his thoughts, his lips slightly parted and totally speechless.

Someone cleared his throat and broke the magical spell between you two. That was when Dean noticed Sam next to you.

“Nice tights, Sammy,” Dean mumbled, trying to focus on something else than you.

“Thank you, peasant.” Sam thanked him, genuinely.

“Still not the real Sam.” You whispered to Dean.

“Right.” Dean nodded, still thinking about his first encounter with this weird Sam, and more particularly the moment he heard him sing. He will make fun of his little brother for the rest of his life.

A voice resonated into the huge ballroom. “Well folks, it’s that time of the night. I would like to ask each gentleman to invite a lady he did not accompany this evening to dance the King and Queen’s Waltz.”

Sam invited the woman who was Dean’s partner, the latter more than happy he did. Dean had tried the whole evening to get rid of her, refusing to dance with her or whatever crap the movie expected him to do. It was during that time when Dean realized that Y/N was the only one who had to follow the movie. The rule was only meant for you apparently. She accepted and walked with Sam in the middle of the room, getting ready to dance and leaving you and Dean alone and very awkward. He knew what was going to happen next and he was so not ready for this.

“Y/N,” Dean stuttered, licking his dry lips before giving you an apologetic look. “I don’t dance.”

You came closer, holding his hand in yours. “Please. Humor me,” you whispered, your eyes roaming over his. Dean obliged because there was no way he was going to say no to you when you looked at him like that.

The soft music started as you walked, hand in hand towards the middle of the room. Feeling insecure and totally out of your comforting zone you stood face to face. Dean exhaled softly before grabbing your right hand in his and resting his other one on your hip while yours found the perfect place over his left shoulder. Slowly the both of you started to sway from left to right, the moves awkward but soon you let yourselves go and started to properly waltz. Sure, it didn’t look as professional as it was in the movie, but to you, it was still perfect. Slowly you got closer, Dean brought his lips near your ear, hot breath tickling your skin.

When you heard Dean’s soft but offkey voice singing the lyrics, exactly like in the movie, you felt your heart skipping a beat and realized what all of this was about. You finally understood what Gabriel wanted you to know. All those strange feelings you’ve had since you’ve met him, it was more than friendship. If you were honest with yourself, you secretly knew what it was but you were too scared to admit it, even to yourself. Ignorance is bliss, particularly in your lifestyle. You smiled as Dean pulled you closer to him, feeling his warmth against your skin and you let yourself enjoy the moment, a soft smile on your face as you rested your head against his shoulder.

Too soon, someone broke the moment. Nancy, Dean’s date, interrupted you and asked for Dean’s attention, while Sam did the same with you. Regrettably, you let Dean go and accepted Sam’s awaiting hand. The two of you shared one last longing look before you started to climb up the stairs. Once you were at the top, Sam went to get your wrap after he made sure you were fine. You were far from being fine contrary to what you had assured him. You weren’t even pretending to play along anymore, you were truly devastated because you knew that it was only a dream, and once everything would be over, it would only remain a dream. There was no way Dean Winchester would be in love with you. The lyrics of the song fitted perfectly ‘So close and still so far.’

You jumped when an old lady appeared behind your back. It was the old witch, the one who wanted to kill you and you tried your best to not roll your eyes as you let her speak and pretend that she has been looking for you. If only you had your gun with some witch killing bullet with you but you could only cringe as you felt her wrinkled hands covering your bare shoulders as she forced you to look at Dean.

“To never be with the one you love.” She said, and you were hit by the truth behind those words.

Then she offered a red apple. “Just one bite, my love, and all of this will go away.” If only it was true.

You glanced one more time at Dean who was looking at you as well. Judging by his face you could tell he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. That was when a strange, and very stupid thought crossed your mind. Maybe you could stay like this? Maybe if you refused to finish the movie over and over again it would only restart to the beginning, and never end?

“But you must hurry. The magic will not work unless you take a bite before the clock strikes 12.” The witch warned you, pushing the apple into your hands. You didn’t need to think twice and took a tiny bite, falling unconscious the next second.

“No!” Dean screamed, witnessing the whole scene. How could he forget that part? He had made fun of it with you, saying it was too cliché. He started to run towards you as the witch took you away, kicking into the stupid apple as he climbed up two steps at a time. Fortunately, Sam was quicker than him and stopped the witch to leave with you.

Someone brought a small couch for you and Sam laid you down gently before taking his sword out from its sheath and pointing it right against the witch’s throat.

“Y/N.” Dean knelt next to you, fearing the worst when he saw how pale your face was. He had seen enough dead people to know how death looked like. And right now, he was living one of his deepest fears.

The witch started to explain what happened but Dean didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t have time for this stupid drama.

“Shut up!” Dean shouted, leaving everyone speechless. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, he would do anything to bring you back.

“Kiss her,” Dean asked Sam in a whisper. He knew what needed to be done.

“What?”

“A true love’s kiss, all of this is about this stupid crap so now kiss her and bring her back to me!” Dean yelled, he didn’t care if it followed the movie or not, he just wanted to bring you back. That was all that mattered.

“Yes of course!” Sam exclaimed, before pushing Dean on the side and kneeling in front of you. “I knew that,” Sam added, matter of factly. He clearly forgot about that.

Sam pressed his lips against yours, there was nothing romantic in the gesture. A simple brush of his lips against yours, as if there was no feeling at all. He parted and waited for you to open your eyes but nothing happened. So Sam tried again, pressing his lips a bit more forceful, again and again.

“Why isn’t it working?” Dean whispered, feeling more desperate as the seconds ticked by. Speaking of seconds, the clock chimed, announcing midnight. The witch laughed evilly, giving Dean a weary feeling.

“When the clock strikes 12, she will be dead.” The witch informed Sam and Dean, she was glad that her plan worked perfectly.

“Somebody as a gun?” He asked no one in particular. If the kiss didn’t work, maybe killing the witch would break the spell?

“Unless…” Sam started to say, thinking deeply before turning his gaze towards Dean.

“No, no, no. It couldn’t be me.” Dean shook his head, he knew you weren’t feeling anything for him. You were just friends. It was one-sided. It wouldn’t work and you were running out of time, he needed to find something else.

“Kiss her, Dean! It’s ok.” Nancy cut him short, urging him to do it.

Dean shifted from one foot to another, not liking the sudden attention on him. The clock chimed again and Dean finally moved. He knelt once again and brushed the hair that fell in front of your eyes. Gently his hand cupped the back of your neck and brought your face closer to his.

“Please, please, please.” Dean murmured as he lowered his own face.

The clock struck 12 as he pressed his lips against your cold ones, in a chaste kiss. Reluctantly he broke the kiss and looked at you, praying for your eyes to open but as he was fearing nothing happened and you remained still. You weren’t feeling the same, he knew it.

The crowd fell silent and the air around was filled with sadness as they lowered their heads.

A soft gasp left your lips as you slowly regained consciousness, your eyes falling over Dean’s teary ones. You gave him a soft smile as your hand cupped his cheek.

“I thought that I had lost you.” Dean breathed, tightening his hold around your waist.

You shook your head no before you pressed your forehead against his.

“Come on, let’s finish this movie, and let’s go back.” Dean smiled at you as he helped you to stand up.

Gently you pushed him away, giving him an apologetic smile. “I’m not coming back, Dean.”

“What?” Dean chuckled, thinking you were joking but his smile fell when he saw how serious you looked.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to live knowing this is not true. Gabriel gave me this gift and I intend to keep it. Now that I know how it feels like, I can’t let it go, Dean.” You tried to explain.

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked, totally lost. Why did you change your mind? Why now, after all of this? This was not supposed to go that way.

“Everything is so perfect, too perfect to be true. I don’t even think you’re really you.” You walked around the couch, stopping a few feet from the witch.

“I’m real, alright,” Dean argued, his eyes following your every move.

“Yeah, right.” You chuckled and picked up the sword on the floor. “Dean Winchester, the badass hunter who doesn’t like chick-flick moments dancing and singing? Come on…”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Dean held out his hands, silently begging you to stop what you were going to do. “Look at me, please. It’s me, I swear.”

“I’m tired of this. I don’t want to feel bad because I screwed up a case. I have enough of this burden and if I’m being honest, I can’t go back and just be friends. This, here, is better. It’s all I ever wanted without knowing it.” You said more to yourself than him. You were totally lost in your thoughts. “If I don’t end this movie, it will start again and again. It’s not perfect but it’s still better than nothing.”

“Y/N, don’t!” Dean warned but it was in vain and he could only watch you helplessly as you killed the witch. She wasn’t supposed to die like that, even Dean knew it. Everything froze around you and you gave one last glance at Dean before everything became black.

***

Dean woke up with a start. It took a few seconds for his brain to register that he was back into the bunker. Without wasting another second, Dean rushed out of his room and headed for yours. Sam and Gabriel jumped from surprise when Dean barged into the room.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, relieved that his brother was safe but Dean didn’t care, his attention focused on your still sleeping form.

“Wait. If you’re awake, why isn’t she?” Sam asked, suspecting there was a problem.

Dean licked his lips as he took a step closer to your bed. “She...she doesn’t want to.”

“What? Why?” Gabriel and Sam exclaimed at the same time.

“I don’t know, ok?” Dean yelled at them, they were too loud and he needed to think, he needed to find a way to bring you back. “Send me in there again. I’ll make her change her mind.”

Gabriel remained silent and simply stared at him. He couldn’t send him back once again. There were no more ingredients for the spell. It was only meant for two.

“Send me back, Gabriel! Now!” Dean roared, pushing the archangel hard against the wall.

“I can’t!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sam put himself between the both of them, stopping the fight before it became really serious. “What happened, there? What did you do?”

Dean tried to compose himself, giving Gabriel one last murder look. “We were in this movie, her favorite one.”

“Enchanted?” Sam asked for more precision, knowing perfectly your guilty pleasure. You weren’t shy about it.

“Yeah. We played the roles, just like Gabriel wanted. We thought that if we reached the end of the movie we would be back. Everything worked perfectly until I kissed her and…”

“You two kissed?” Sam and Gabriel asked, once again in sync. A huge smile on their faces, it did work as they expected in the end.

“Not really the main event right now!” Dean tried to keep the guys focused. “Then she said she wanted to stay and living it over and over again was better than nothing. I don’t know what she meant.” Dean added before he sat next to you, his head between his hands. He didn’t know what else he could do.

Gabriel weighed the pros and cons, all of this went too far. Without wasting another second he walked towards your bed and pressed two fingers against your forehead. You didn’t really understand what Gabriel meant but keeping you in this state for too long isn't safe anymore. He needed to wake you up. He would find another way to make you realize anyway.

However nothing happened, you were still sleeping. Watching you carefully, Gabriel noticed that your eyelids weren’t moving anymore, meaning you weren’t even dreaming.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, noticing how Gabriel’s body tensed up.

“I erased the dream but she still won’t wake up. I don’t know what’s going on. It’s not supposed to go this way.” Gabriel explained, worried filling his voice.

“So what now? She’s not even in the dream? Where is she?” Dean asked, fearing the worst.

“Like a coma, or something? I don’t know!” The archangel yelled, he was not used to this kind of problem.

“Alright,” Sam tried to put the pieces back in order. “Gabriel, is it a spell or your own magic?”

“A bit of both, I guess? But mainly a spell.” Gabriel answered.

“So there must be a cure, right?” Sam said, already leaving the room and heading for the library.

Gabriel and Dean were right behind him. The three men started to research through the many books in the library.

“Where did you find that spell?” Sam asked, they needed as much information as possible if they wanted to find the cure.

“I’ve spent a wonderful night with that witch, name was Zahia. Geez, she was wicked!” Gabriel smiled mischievously as he remembered that particular night. Quickly he cleared his throat and became serious all over again when he noticed the brothers weren’t interested in those details.

“Great, call her and tell her to bring her ass here,” Dean ordered.

“It was one hundred years ago! In Casablanca. I don’t know if she’s even alive.”

“Then start reading,” Sam mumbled, throwing Gabriel the nearest book before opening the one in front of him.

***

It has been two days and they were still clueless. Gabriel did try to find Zahia but as he suspected she was nowhere to be found. For the first time Gabriel, the Archangel was feeling desperate. Because of him, one of his best human friends (the only one) was sleeping peacefully, waiting for her death and he couldn’t not do anything to help her.

“Did you try to kiss her?” Gabriel asked Dean who closed his book, quite noisily.

“What? You believe in true love’s kiss?” Dean scoffed, having enough of it.

Sam, who came with more coffee, stopped dead in his tracks and turned around, pointing the coffee pot at his brother. “You know what? It might be worth a shot.”

“Are you crazy? There’s no way it will be that easy!” Dean argued, jumping to his feet.

“There’s always a part of truth in the legends, Dean,” Sam said calmly. “It won’t hurt to try.”

Dean shook his head, and exited the library, fuming. This was the dumbest idea they came with. After everything they went through, they should know that all that crap didn’t work. There was no such thing as ‘love is the most powerful thing in the world’ or ‘a true love’s kiss’. No, their lives were full of curses, hurt, and death. Period.

Unknowingly Dean walked into the bunker until he reached your room and was now pacing in front of your closed door. Dean remained silent for a moment, thinking hard about it. He didn’t really believe in it but Sam was right, he had nothing to lose if he tried. Dean ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily before opening your door.

Silently he walked inside and sat on the edge of your bed, taking a few minutes to look at you. You were becoming paler as the days passed, Gabriel tried his best to keep your health in good condition but the curse seemed to block most of his powers. It was just a matter of hours before you would be gone for good.

He caressed your cheek with the back of his fingers while he held one of your hands with his free one. Dean took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“I know our lives are far from perfect. To be honest they are crappy and I understand that you don’t want to live it anymore. Staying in your little dream was more appealing, believe me, I know how you felt. But look at what happened now, you still went down the bad path and didn’t get what you really wanted. It’s not fair.”

His voice was only a whisper, as if he was scared of waking you up when it was only what he truly wanted. He was such a mess! You were dying, without even knowing it and Dean couldn’t do anything to save you.

“I should have told you earlier, I know that. And I won’t make the same mistake, so I’m gonna tell you how I really feel about you, I hope you can hear me.”

Dean moved a bit, taking a more comfortable position.

“I’m so mad at you right now. I don’t hate you, because I can’t hate you, let’s be honest. But I’m mad, Y/N. You choose the easy way, you stopped fighting, this is not you. You’re the cool chick who fights tooth and nail and who never gives up.”

He had to stop for a short second, sniffing as he fought against the tears. His grip around your hand tightened before he kept on going.

“And that’s why I love you. You’re always reminding me there’s hope. You’re my hope, Y/N. I can’t promise you the moon or the happy endings but I can promise you that I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you. I’ve already made this promise a few years ago, I just never told anyone.”

Dean stopped stroking your cheek, cupping the back of your head instead, the exact same move that he had done earlier in your dream.

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you,” Dean whispered, bringing your face closer to his before he pressed his lips against yours in another chaste kiss. Praying with all his heart that the magic would strike again.

Slowly Dean parted, his hands refusing to let go as he held his breath. He couldn’t believe it when he felt your body twitching, your eyes fluttering open slowly.

“Hey…” You smiled sleepily. “What did I miss?”

Dean smiled back at you, breathing once again as you were finally awake.

“The most heartbreaking declaration of love I’ve ever heard. A bit too cheesy but who cares?” Gabriel’s voice came from the other side of the closed door, quickly followed by a thumping noise and a cry of pain.

Dean was already planning five ways to kill him and make him suffer but your voice broke his concentration.

“Oh, I don’t know. I kind of like it.” You smirked when his eyes fell on you, a blush covering your cheeks.

“You heard it? All of it?” Dean asked, he wanted to be sure.

You nodded and your smile fell. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I thought it wouldn’t be possible for you to...you know?” You trailed off, looking at the wall instead of him.

“Oh, I know,” Dean said, his hand cupping your cheek and forcing you to look at him. “But let me show you how wrong you were instead, hum?” He whispered, bringing his face closer and kissing you again.

This one was more passionate, all of his feelings poured into the kiss. Everything he wanted to tell you but couldn’t. This kiss wasn’t chaste as the few ones you shared, in your dream or in reality. This one was needy and a little something more than what you could expect for a fairy tale movie.

FIN

Pour Toujours tags: @drakelover78, @akshi8278

#supernatural fanfiction #dean winchesterxreader #dean winchester x you #female!reader #reader insert #sam winchester #gabriel #enchanted #fluff #one-shot #spn fanfic

47 notes · View notes

jessikahathaway · 4 years

Text

Owner Part V

Holy shit this is still a series? You bet your sweet ass it is. I told you guys that I would be continuing Owner and I did promise some of you that it would be soon. That was a long time ago so now it’s back! Please enjoy.

I DON’T OWN THE PHOTO. IF YOU ARE THE ORIGINAL OWNER OF THE PHOTO PLEASE LET ME KNOW SO I CAN REMOVE IT IF NECESSARY.

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook X Reader

Genre: Romance, Hybrid!AU, Slight Action (Based loosely off the J-Drama Kimi Wa Petto)

Warnings: Threats made over the phone, other than that not much. If I missed anything please let me know!

Word Count: 2,619 (sorry it’s short)

Watch yourself? What the fuck did that mean? Who was ballsy enough to threaten you with that kind of talk? Just as you were about to call the number in haste, your phone was taken from your grasp. You whirled around to see Jungkook looking at the device, growing worryingly pale by the second.

“Jungkook, what is it? What’s wrong?” you asked, coming up behind him to touch his back. He flinched at the contact, something that made your stomach drop to the floor.

“How can they be following me...? I lost them... How could they have found me, again...”

Jungkook was staring at your screen with such pain and agony it made you want to cry again. You slowly reached out and took the phone from his hands, wrapping your palms in his.

“You need to tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me everything,” you said, looking him in the eyes. Jungkook worried his bottom lip and looked at you with fear and exhaustion.

“Okay, but can we make ramen for dinner?”

—

You both sat at the table, ramen sitting untouched in front of you both.

“Jungkook, who’s phone number is that?” you asked first.

“I don’t know exactly who, but the message they sent is clear. They’re coming to get me, and I made trouble for you...”

You shook your head. “No, Jungkook. You didn’t make trouble for me, if anything, you’re helping me out with trouble... Not making it for me. So, who are the people that sent the message?”

“Hybrid Hunters... Ever since I escaped from the hostels, adoption centers, wherever they managed to trap me that time, these hunters would find me and bring me back. They’d torture me for weeks before they said they’d found me... The wounds would be explained away and yet another price tag would be put on my head. Y/N, they are brutal, and only want money. If anyone puts a wrench in between them and their money, they wind up dead... I’m the big prize they want, and you’re the wrench. I can’t allow you to get hurt.”

“Who said anything about allowance?” you spoke up. “Jungkook, believe me when I say I can handle myself. I’m not worried about a stupid text message. I’m more concerned about you right now. Today I thought you were deathly sick, and now you’re stressing yourself out. This kind of pressure can send you right back to where you were this morning.”

Jungkook shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “Y/N, you don’t understand. These people can and will kill to get whatever they want. If what they want is me... then let them have me,” he whispered.

You scoffed. “No way in hell is anyone putting their hands on you if I have anything to say about it,” you announced. Jungkook huffed and poked at his ramen, looking at the noodles as if they held all the answers he needed.

“Y/N, I like being here with you,” he whispered, looking at the table with sadness in his features.

“Jungkook, I like you being here too... You make my life much more interesting to say the least,” you soothed, trying to avoid the inevitable.

“Because I like it so much, I’m going to have to leave,” he said quietly. Your throat closed up.

Leave? Was he being serious.

“Jungkook, don’t be rash. You’re stressed and exhausted. Eat a little bit and then we’ll talk more about this tomorrow-”

“Y/N they killed my family. So many people that I’ve surrounded myself with have died. I can’t let you share that fate,” he breathed, water sinking into his tone.

“Then you shouldn’t have agreed to be my boyfriend,” you whispered, taking his hand gingerly. “You still have a promise to keep. Like hell I’m letting you go back on it,” you stated firmly. Jungkook sighed and finally took a bite of his cold ramen.

“I really can’t-”

“Sleep with me,” you blurted out. Jungkook’s chopsticks fell onto the table as he coughed on his ramen. You clambered up and smacked him on the back to help with his choking. To which he swatted you away, claiming you were hitting him too hard.

After he calmed down a bit and you were seated, Jungkook looked at you with astonishment. “You want me to sleep with you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You said you get lonely at night and I was thinking what if mom came in early in the morning and saw you sleeping in the guest bedroom and how weird that would be for a couple-”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N you gave me a damn heart attack,” he said, holding his chest.

“What? What did I do?” you asked.

“I thought you meant sleep with you like the getting naked and doing the do,” he said, rubbing his forehead.

“What? Ew, no,” you said, scrunching your nose up.

“Excuse me? Ew? Have you not seen how deathly attractive I am?”

“I’m waiting for the side effect to kick in, and so far I’m disappointed,” you narked. Jungkook gave an appalled look before slurping more ramen into his mouth.

“I’d like to sleep with you though,” he said softly, chewing his food with vigor. You gave a little smirk and sipped your tea.

“I bet you would.”

“Oh shut up!”

—

As you showered you heard Jungkook ruffling in your bedsheets. The guy couldn’t be still if his life depended on it.

You stepped out onto your bath mat, drying your feet and then wrapping a towel around yourself. You dried yourself off and gathered your clothes. Slipping on your pajama top and shorts you threw your old clothes in the hamper and headed out to your bedroom.

Jungkook was laying on top of your sheets, looking out the window with a neutral expression.

He looked handsome like this, hair ruffled as he sprawled out in the bed. You smiled before climbing in next to him. Jungkook immediately brought you close to his body. Warmth suffused through you like lava, making a blush rise to your cheeks. Jungkook seemed not to notice as he buried himself in your hair.

“Mmm, you smell good,” he said, sniffling and moving deeper into your hair.

“Get away from me you dog,” Jungkook made a sound of displeasure.

“Excuse me, that’s rude,” he said, lifting his head from yours and giving a sour look.

“But it’s half true,” you sang, laying down and turning your back to the man.

“You’re such a boob,” he complained, pulling at the covers before lying down again.

“Shut up and go to bed,” you said, snuggling into your pillow gently. He must’ve gotten the message because soon there was silence, and Jungkook quit fidgeting.

Thinking back to the message and everything Jungkook had told you made you want to run to the police. But if they knew you had an unregistered hybrid in your home the two of you would be in trouble. Jungkook more so than you. No doubt they’d take him back and put him up for sale again. Just the thought of losing Jungkook made your heart skip a beat.

Everything he’d done for you goes up in smoke if the two of you got caught.

That meant that you’d have to deal with that threatening message on your own.

Maybe you could go get Jungkook registered to be your own hybrid... But if he belonged to someone else prior he’d be sent back to them. No doubt getting hurt in the process.

It seemed as though everything you thought about backfired on you.

What were you going to do?

Jungkook shifted in his sleep and your eyes went to him immediately. His soft hair illuminated by the moonlight. His skin alight in the pale glow as well. You smiled and reached out, brushing his hair off his face and brushing against his ear in the process. A little whine escaped from him as you did so, causing you to jump back from the touch.

“Mmm... Y/N,” he mumbled, turning over and capturing you in his embrace. You yelped at the sudden move from him, but he was asleep... Him burrowing into your hair only proved your point.

Letting it slide you wrapped your arms around his neck, cradling his head close to your body.

“I won’t let anything happen to you Jungkook. Ever.”

—

The next morning you woke up hot. Like, hotter than the sun hot.

You looked down to see Jungkook’s body molded to yours. And he was boiling.

Worried, you felt his forehead and shock ran through you at how hot he really was. Turning him over on his back you saw his flushed appearance. Pale, wet skin greeted you as you got closer to him.

“Jungkook? Jungkook are you alright?” You asked, shaking him slightly.

A groan erupted from the man, making you jolt slightly.

“Y/N,” he moaned out, reaching for you again.

“Jungkook I’m right here,” you said, taking his hand.

Soon, you were flush against his boiling skin, his grip firm as he held onto you.

“Hey!” You yelped, pushing against his chest.

“Y/N,” he groaned out again, making you worry even more.

“Jungkook let go,” you said, easing his hands off of you.

“Y/N, hurts,” he whimpered, holding onto his stomach.

“What hurts Jungkook? Where?”

Suddenly, Jungkook’s eyes were wide open as he took in his surroundings.

“Y/N?” He asked, looking at you with confusion.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you said, eyebrows furrowed with stress.

“W-What am I. Oh, that’s right, we slept together didn’t we?”

Hearing Jungkook say it so casually made your cheeks flush in embarrassment. “Yeah, we did. But I barely slept thanks to your wiggling. And your incessant groping, honestly even in your sleep you can’t keep your hands to yourself,” you joked.

Although, Jungkook seemed a little more concerned than you thought.

“I what? I shouldn’t... I-I need to take a shower,” he said quickly, jumping up and out of bed before you could get two words out otherwise.

“Jungkook hang on-“

SLAM

The door shut and you were left alone in the room.

The sound of the water turning on made you sigh in resignation. There was something going on with him, and he wouldn’t tell you what it was. If he’s sick and he needs to see someone, damn the consequences his life is more important than a little facade.

You went out to the kitchen to make breakfast, deciding that scrambled eggs and toast would have to do until you went grocery shopping again.

Cooking gave you something to think about other than the fact that Jungkook was acting strangely. And about that damned text message.

All you had to focus on was the eggs cooking in front of you.

The smell of them...

Burning...

Burning?!

“Oh shit fuck!”

You quickly turned the stove off and fanned at the eggs, hoping that maybe in some world they’d be alright to eat. Apparently that world was not this one because they were toast. Done for.

“Aw man,” you whined, looking down at the last three eggs in your hand. You knew you’d give them to Jungkook and only have toast yourself for breakfast.

Whatever, the man ate like a black hole anyways. Might as well cook enough for him to eat well. Plus, he wasn’t acting like his usual self anyways, maybe he’s not been eating enough.

Your decision made you started cooking again, making sure to keep your eyes on the eggs and not letting them burn this time. After a while you had the eggs completed and the toast all set and ready to go on the table.

It had been about thirty minutes and Jungkook still wasn’t out of the shower yet. Perhaps he was just taking a longer shower than usual. Really sudsing it up or something, you don’t know.

But just as you were about to go and check your phone rang.

Looking down at the number it was disguised as unknown.

Hesitating only briefly you picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Ah, Miss Y/N, how pleasant to hear your voice,” a cool tone came over the phone.

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“I think you already know who it is my dear,” the voice said, chilling you to the bone.

“What do you want?” You asked, fear turning into anger.

“Oh, my dear Miss Y/N, you know exactly what we want. And we are going to get him whether you play nice or not. Now, here’s what I’m offering to you,” he said, completely calm.

“Whatever it is you can shove it, I’m not giving Jungkook to you,” you snarled, not understanding the possessive nature coming out of you.

“Oh ho ho, Miss Y/N, let’s not be rash. See, we have our eyes set on a certain someone should you not agree to cooperate,” he announced.

“Please I barely have anyone left, don’t,” you plead.

“Miss Y/N, we aren’t heathens. We won’t do anything unless absolutely necessary. Unless you leave us no choice,” he warned.

“Please, let me keep him. I-I’ll pay you,” you winced, knowing that you couldn’t afford him.

“I know it must be hard, you see that particular hybrid can be very charming. But believe me Miss Y/N, he’s nothing but trouble,” the voice stated.

“Jungkook is everything but trouble I assure you, please I-I...” you trailed off. What could you possibly offer them other than money. Money you didn’t have. Sure you were well off, but Jungkook was no doubt worth millions. Just looking at him alone, you knew that to be true.

“We’re giving you two weeks, Miss Y/N, two weeks before you decide,” he said, the dial tone hitting your ears soon after.

You felt sick.

These people were hunting Jungkook and you were now caught up in the mix. But, this is Jungkook you’re talking about. Goofy, love able Jungkook. The one who was helping you...

Surely he couldn’t be in any trouble...

Well, more than he’s told you anyways.

But a thud from the bathroom snapped you out of your thoughts.

Dropping everything you ran to the bathroom, knocking on the door quickly.

“Jungkook! Jungkook are you alright in there? Say something!”

“Y/N,” a broken voice called from the other side of the door.

“Jungkook? What’s wrong?!” You asked, panic starting to rise in your chest.

“Please, help,” he whimpered.

Before you could even think of the decency of the situation, you barged in to find Jungkook, curled up in the bottom of the shower. Holding his stomach as if he’d been injured.

“Jungkook,” you whispered, coming closer and turning the water off.

“Y/N,” he panted, shivering when you got close.

“Jungkook, you need to tell me what’s going on. I want to help you but I can’t if I’m left in the dark about everything,” you said, brushing his hair away from his face, much like you’d done in the night.

“I-It’s heat, I’m going into heat,” he said, panting softly against your hand.

“What?” You asked, looking at him as if he had two heads.

“H-Heat, I-I’m... I need...” he whispered so softly you could barely hear him.

“Jungkook you’re not making any sense, what is a heat? Like when animals go into heat? That kind of a thing?”

“Y-Yes,” he croaked, “so much as happened I didn’t think it was possible anymore but. I-I’ve been with you for so long I-I can’t help it,” he whimpered.

“Oh Jungkook, how do I? What do I do?”

“Please, have sex with me...”

#Jeon Jungkook #Jungkook #BTS #BTS fanfiction #Jungkook X Reader #Jessika Hathaway Owner #Jessika Hathaway #Owner #BTS Hybrid Fanfiction #Future smut #Jungkook fanfiction #Jungkook smut #Smut

106 notes · View notes

huntertales · 4 years

Text

Part One: Slippery Little Snake. (Dog Dean Afternoon S09E05)

Episode Summary: While investigating two bizarre murders, Y/N and the boys realize there is an eyewitness to both gruesome deaths--a German Shepard. Anxious to find out what monsters they are dealing with, the three look up a spell that can help communicate with the dog. When Dean decides to be the one to perform the spell, he quickly realizes it comes with side effects no one saw coming. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 4,356.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Best cure of all.”

You grimaced at the sight of Dean’s infamous hangover cure he swore was the key to getting over the consequences of drinking from the previous night before. You and the boys had given Kevin a chance to cut loose and enjoy himself away from his responsibilities in hopes it might help make the kid feel more refreshed. Only it seemed the opposite reaction happened. Kevin complained of a headache that wouldn’t go away and feeling nauseous to the point he feared he might throw up. You didn’t think he would have taken it so hard, and he was such a lightweight. Luckily through the complaints of an upset stomach and how the room spinned he managed to keep down the food you offered him.

Dean suggested an infamous Winchester speciality that might be able to kick this hangover in its ass, his own words. You watched in disturbance as Kevin drank two glasses of the stuff. The sight made you flashback to your younger pre-hunting days where you were a lightweight compared to the way a Winchester could handle their alcohol. Dean always could drink you under the table, not that you tried to keep up with him when you drank with him. The next morning you suffered the consequences almost exactly like Kevin had. Dean swore the drink he created helped. You swallowed it down and a few minutes later you threw up everything you had drank from the night before, and anything else that hadn’t digested yet. You admitted the stuff made you feel better. But you wouldn’t touch that stuff ever again.

You told Kevin to keep resting up and sleep off the hangover for a little while longer. When you were sure the kid was going to be fine on his own, you and Dean made your way to the war room where Sam had been occupying for a little while. He sat at the table with his laptop open and doing a little bit of research, hopefully accomplishing something better than the fiasco you had endured just a few minutes ago.

“Wow.” Dean’s approaching voice made his brother turn his attention away from the screen for a moment to see the both of you appeared to be beside yourselves in what you just went through. Sam gave you a confused expression, wondering what the problem was. “Kevin. Just poured some buffalo milk down his gob twice.”

“Buffalo milk?” Sam repeated what his brother just said, not exactly sure if he wanted to know where the man managed to get his hands on the suff. You sat on the edge of the table as Dean placed his hands on the back of an empty rolling chair next to his brother and leaned his body forward.

“Yeah, Dean’s infamous hangover cure-all. It’s apparently got everything in it. Except buffalo milk. God, the smell of it alone brought me back to my early twenties.” You mumbled, your nose scrunching up at the past memories you wished stayed buried. “Hopefully it’ll help Kevin from puking anymore of his guts out.”

“How is that kid still recovering from Branson?” Sam had seen his fair share of lightweights in his time, but there might have been nobody who couldn’t tolerate alcohol the way Kevin showed he wasn’t able to. You shrugged your shoulders from the lack of answers. The poor kid was a lost cause. You figured he would have taken the first chance he got to crawl into a bottle in some kind of attempt to bury the trauma that came from the chaos that ensued.

“What can I say? He’s an amateur.” Dean said. You scoffed as your reaction, feeling that was an understatement from the way you left the poor kid. “The slippery nipple shots at the Dolly Parton Dixie Stampede nearly killed the guy.”

“All right. Well, I got something that’s gonna get us back on the road.” Sam offered a change of subject to something he thought his brother might be interested in hearing. The older man took a seat next to him as you leaned over to take a quick peek at the screen, wondering what kind of case it was.

“Great.” You said. “I’ve been itching to stretch my legs and get out there again.”

Dean turned his head to your direction when you voiced your happiness of tagging along. The man was hesitant about letting you back out there after the favor Ezekial had done for him, and the warning of the consequences of furthering his stay. “You sure you’re ready for that?”

You furrowed your brow from his question, “Why would I not be ready for that?”

“Aren’t you kind of running on empty?” Dean asked in concern.

“Yeah, but the last three nights straight, I had eight hours of shut-eye. And for a hunter, that’s like twenty.” You tried to talk the man into letting you do your damn job without restrictions. You looked over at Sam to see the young man was hesitant himself about giving you the chance to tag along on a hunt. You rolled your eyes from the way they were acting. “Trust me, guys. I feel good.”

“Well, that’s great and all, but you’re still recovering from the trials. I think you ought to pace yourself, you know? And the sooner you heal…” Dean reminded you of a little fact he thought slipped your mind. You crossed your arms over your chest at the flimsy excuse he thought was going to work on you. When he trailed off and fell silent for a moment, you raised your brow in curiosity as to what he was going to say next. “Sam and I just want you back to your old self.”

“I am, guys. I know my body better than anyone else. Not to mention the fact that Kevin’s back on the heaven spell. Crowley’s locked up. We should be out there doing what we do best.” You said. The boys thought otherwise from their unspoken actions that said more than they were willing to admit. You rolled your eyes in annoyance as Dean leaned back in his seat and kicked up one of his legs to the table. The man tried to get a word into the argument, but you stopped him before he could. “Sammy, what’s this case you got for us?”

“Uh, a taxidermist named Max Alexander mysteriously crushed to death. Nearly every joint in his body dislocated, every bone broken.” Sam read off the gory details that caught his attention in the first place. “Poor guy is a human pretzel.”

“Tell me, Dean, what’s got that kind of strength?” You asked him, curious to see what his response was going to be since he had so much to say just a minute ago.

“A demonic luchador?” Dean made little effort into trying to make an education assumption to what might be the cause behind the out of ordinary death.

“Shop’s a couple hours away in Enid, Oklahoma.” Sam said. “We should at least check it out.”

“Unless the boss man thinks there’s some reason we shouldn’t.” You directed your gaze back over to the older Winchester to hear what he had to say. A smile crept to the edges of your lips from the way he fell silent. The response to his defeat. You slid off the table and back to your feet to get started on the packing that was ahead of you. Before you did, you wanted to make one thing clear. “Don’t forget the fact that I kicked your ass just the other day. And I’ll gladly do it again.”

You went on your way from stating the small fact you thought was enough proof to get you back on hunting without them worrying about your health. Dean let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand down his face from your ever growing stubborn behavior. “I swear, I don’t even know why I even bother with her.”

+ + +

You and the boys arrived in Oklahoma a few hours later, the first stop on your list was checking out the crime scene that was still crawling with cops. The first suspicious thing you noticed before even walking into the building was the threat painted on the front entrance of Max Alexander’s taxidermy business. “Die Scum” was written in all capital letters. Whoever painted the threat wanted to get their message across loud as possible. And someone made sure to keep to the painted words. You wondered if it was done by the same person. A few monsters liked to taunt their victims before going in for the thrill of the kill.

Sam noticed something in the letter M that was worth pointing out. You noticed it was an upside down triangle with what appeared to be a paw print. He snapped a quick picture with his phone for future research and headed inside with the rest of you. Taxidermy was something you didn’t give much of a second thought about. However when you stepped into Max’s business, you found yourself surrounded by endless animals of all sorts, all dead and stuffed for display. Animals’ heads mounted to the wall, birds frozen in mid flight, wild cats bearing their sharp fangs appearing as if they were ready to attack. There was some sort of strange craft to stuffing a dead animal and making it look realistic.

“Well, the creep factor just skyrocketed.” Dean mumbled, eyeing the dozens of dead animals surrounding him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” A sheriff stopped the three of you, not sure who you were.

“How are you? I’m Special Agent Chaplin.” You introduced yourself to him, flashing your fake FBI badge to the man. “These are my partners Agent Michaels and DeVille.”

“The body’s already been to the morgue. Just wrapping it up with Dave Stephens. He’s the one who discovered the boy.” The sheriff explained. You looked over to see an older man leaning against the register, still distraught from the events he thought would have never happened in a million years. “Such a shame. I used to go hunting with Max. He was a real good egg.”

“Sorry for your loss.” Dean gave his condolences to the officer. “You mind showing my partner around? Agent Chaplin and I have a couple of questions for Mr. Stephens.”

The sheriff nodded his head and gestured for Sam to follow him into the next room where the murder took place. You and Dean approached the older man, figuring he might know a thing or two that might be helpful in discovering if this case might be worth your while.

“Dave Stephens?” You asked. You and Dean flashed your badges once again at the man, “My partner and I have got a couple of questions for you if that’s all right.”

“I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.” Dave responded without an ounce of hesitation. “Max was a real pal.”

“Hunting buddy?” You wondered. You smiled ever so slightly when you saw his expression immediately change into surprise from how you were able to answer correctly in one guess. You had a feeling it was a common hobby among the locals from the sight of this place. “So, about what time did you discover the body?”

“About nine A.M.—my usual pickup time.” Dave answered. “I come in every Wednesday and Sundays to collect the entrails.”

You furrowed your brow from the terminology. “The entrails?”

“The animal organs. After Max would dig them out and work his magic.” Dave said. “He was a real artist, you know?”

You discovered what kind of magic Max was able to do with the creatures he was given. You found your attention lingering away from the conversation for a moment when you spotted Sam exploring the man's collection. You quickly bit your bottom lip to keep a smile from spreading across your lips at the little creature he was holding that appeared to be dressed as a character from Game of Thrones. Sam amused himself from the expression that crossed his face. Dean found it nothing more than bizarre as to why a grown man would waste his time putting so much effort into such a thing.

“Strange thing is, though,” The both of you quickly turned your full attention back to Dave to hear what else he had to say, pretending as if you were distracted by something childish. “bins were empty this morning.”

“Why is that strange?” Dean asked.

“Well, because it’s a Sunday. Weekend hunts are pretty much a given in this neck of the woods, so they’re usually chock-full of guts.” Dave explained as to why it was out of the ordinary for him.

“Any chance Max could have cleaned them out himself?” You wondered.

“No. It’s a biohazard. You can’t just throw the stuff out.” Dave said. You were learning all sorts of things about animal organs today, more than you ever wanted in your entire life. “You gotta burn it.”

“Huh. The more you know.” You gave him a polite smile from his explanation you could have gone without. You looked over to the sheriff when he approached the three of you again. “Is there anything else missing from the shop?”

“No.” The sheriff said. “The register was full, and the safe was intact. And all of Max’s trophies were still on the walls.”

“And was there anybody else here when you showed up?” Dean asked.

“No one. No, other than the Colonel.” Dave chuckled and looked over his shoulder to Max’s pet. You felt a smile stretch across your lips at the sight of a German Shepard.

Sam finished up his search around the crime scene and headed back over to you and his brother. You smiled at the sheriff and Dave, excusing yourself and walking over to another part of the shop where there was nobody else around to have a private conversation of your own to discuss what you found. You had a feeling this was going to be a worthwhile case after all. Everything was adding up with unusual circumstances.

“Okay, so,” You stood with your back to the crime scene, catching up with the younger man about everything you were able to learn in the short time. “We’ve got a thief who’s jonesing for animal parts, we’ve got a pagan symbol, and we’ve got a human pretzel.”

“Yeah, it all sounds very witch-y, but I wasn’t able to find a hex bag.” Sam said, putting a hole in his own theory to what might be to blame for the taxidermist’s death.

“All right, well, let’s keep digging. But not here.” Dean suggested. He didn’t move right away. You noticed his eyes wandered up to a part of the shop that kept his attention. You followed his gaze to see the man was staring at a stuffed owl hanging up on a high shelf, its yellow eyes fixated on the huner in a way that made him uncomfortable. “I don’t like the way that one’s looking at me.”

You stifled a laugh from his paranoid behavior and softly nudged him in the arm to get moving. The three of you still needed to get settled into a motel and started on research to figure out what was the cause of Max Alexander’s death. You took one more curious glance at the owl before heading out the front door.

+ + +

“Okay, that symbol in the graffiti, it’s…not wiccan. It’s copywritten.” Sam worked right away on trying to figure out what the strange symbol you had seen back at the crime scene. The search took little effort into finding its source. You walked over to the man, dropping the shirt you pulled out from your bag you pulled out to change into and out of your fed clothes. He held out his laptop for Dean to take so the both of you could take a look at the homepage for yourselves. “Local animal rights group, Enid’s answer to PETA.”

“S.N.A.R.T.?” Dean read off the animal rights’ group and its terrible name they thought was a good idea. It stood for Showing No Animal Rough Treatment. You didn’t know if you should laugh or at least give them credit for trying to be original. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“Well, it makes sense that an animals-rights group would have an axe to grind with a taxidermist.” Sam said.

“Why?” Dean asked, not seeing the connection between the two. “The animals’ already dead.”

“Yeah, but hunters are what keep them in business.” You added on. “Now the question is, are those bleeding hearts actually witches or just hippies?”

Dean glanced up from the laptop screen and to you, proposing a question. “What’s the difference?”

+ + +

The difference between the two that one was capable of murder. You took doubt in the fact that a group of animal rights activists would go far as committing murder. But when you added the element of witchcraft that’s when the lines between right and wrong started to grow blurry. You and the boys decided to speak to a couple of the members after tracking them down to a vegan bakery called Gentle Earth. Business was booming with customers enjoying a plant-based meal inside and passing by a couple of women walking out with a cup of all organic and overly expensive coffee, ethically sourced you guessed.

“Always knew I’d find the source of all evil at a vegan bakery.” Dean muttered. The man felt out of his element from the people he was surrounded by.

Sam sniffed the air, finding an odor he couldn’t place his finger on. “What’s that smell?”

“Patchouli. Yeah, mixed with depression from meat deprivation.” Dean said. You rolled your eyes from the way he was acting in such an immature fashion. His strong beliefs were radical as those who thought eating animal products were cruel and unusual. The man drew your attention to the front counter when he spotted the owners waiting on a few customers. He was quick to point out a fashion accessory that was a bit odd from the setting that didn’t require them. “Hey. You know who wears sunglasses inside? Blind people. And douchebags.”

You let out a quiet sigh and shook your head from the way he was acting, heading up to the counter to have a discussion with the owners. “Olivia and Dylan Camrose?” You asked the couple. Olivia nodded and smiled. “You two are members of S.N.A.R.T, correct?”

“Founders and co-presidents, actually.” Olivia corrected you about the role they played in the activist group. She playfully bumped shoulders with her husband, both of them sharing matching smiles from the hard work they loved doing. Olivia reached out and grabbed a brochure that was kept near a display of their desserts, presuming all of you were curious for being part of a good cause. “Can we interest you in some literature?”

You politely shook your head. “Or a flaxseed scone?” Dylan asked. You looked down at the pastry that appeared to be tasty at first glance, until you heard the lack of ingredients that made it vegan. “It’s wheat-free, gluten-free, sugar-free, and surprisingly moist.”

“Let me stop you right there.” Dean was quick to end this conversation before he could get roped any further into this hippie lifestyle he wanted nothing to do with. He pulled out his badge to flash it at the couple and got to the reason why you were here in the first place. “We’re here to investigate the death of Max Alexander, a local taxidermist.”

Olivia placed the brochure to the counter, her body growing stiff at the unexpected news. “He’s…dead?”

“You knew him?” You asked.

“Ish. Um…” She glanced over to her husband before finishing her response. “small town.”

“Well, he was murdered last night, and a S.N.A.R.T. logo was found at the crime scene.” Sam informed the couple. All though their eyes were covered with a pair of dark shades, the man could see the couples’ body language change in a way that made him suspicious. “You two wouldn’t have to know anything about that, would you?”

The couple thought it would be best for everyone to move this conversation somewhere else. All of you moved to an empty table in the middle of the bakery to hear their side of the story and fill in the gaps of that night.

“His business is funded by hunters. And you know how hunters are.” Dylan immediately lost you from the point he was trying to make. He was more than happy to elaborate on his view of them. “They’re selfish dicks who define themselves by what they kill.”

You had to admit you were a little offended by their presumption, despite the type of hunters who they were talking about was the complete opposite of what you did. “And as animal advocates, we couldn’t stand for that.” Olivia added on.

“So, you killed him?” Sam questioned the couple.

“Of course not.” Olivia said. She was awfully quick to shoot down the accusation that was simply false. “S.N.A.R.T. doesn’t tolerate violence.”

“Huh. This is coming from a couple who spray-paints death threats.” Dean said, bringing up the red flag that seemed out of character for someone who advocated for the complete opposite for animals lives.

“It was a scare tactic.”Dylan defended himself. “We just wanted to spook him.”

“Turns out we were the ones who got spooked.” Olivia admitted. You wondered exactly what she meant by that, causing her to elaborate even further on her story. She passed a glance over at her husband, who nodded his head, feeling it was the right thing to do in order to set the record straight. “Well, last night, when we were tagging the joint, we heard this noise.”

“A hissing noise.” Dylan added.

“It freaked us out, so we ran into the alley.” Olivia continued on.

“But someone attacked us.”

“Sprayed us in the eyes with mace.”

“And it's not like we could go to the cops.”

“So, now we look like total douchebags because we have to wear our sunglasses inside.” Olivia gave the reason why the couple was forced to wear the dark shades indoors, making them feel exactly like what Dean had said earlier. You didn’t even bother looking over at the older man to see his smug smile at his judgement that turned out to be right.

The couple took off their sunglasses to show the damage that had been done to them from the surprise pepper spray attack. You winced at the scarring around their eyes that sure didn’t look like it was caused by something like pepper spray. It almost appeared to be acid burns from the extent of the physical damages. Dean subtly wagged his index finger, signaling for them to put the shades back on after finding the burns a little too uncomfortable to keep staring at.

+ + +

You did a little research of your own after you made it back to the motel and changed out of your fed clothes for some jeans and a shirt. Something about the burn like wounds the couple had gotten didn’t seem to add up. And you were right about your suspicions.

“Necrosis?” Dean read off the medical term you discovered, wondering what it meant.

“Premature death of tissues—that’s why their eyes were all messed up.” You said. “And it’s not caused by mace.”

“All right.” Dean twisted off the cap to his beer and tossed it to the sink. He leaned over your shoulder and placed a hand on the table to steady himself in doing so. He read off the medical information about black eyes from the page you pulled up. "What causes it?"

“Right here.” You placed a finger on the screen and began to read off something from the paragraph that might explain the reason behind the couples’ painful looking burns. “‘Blunt force, radiation, venom.’”

“As in ‘snake’?” Dean guessed from the sounds of it.

“The taxidermist was constricted. Olivia and Dylan heard hissing, and they were sprayed in the eyes. By venom. Sounds snake-y to me. I say if it does turn out to be that, we should skin it and turn it into a fabulous pair of boots.” You suggested. Dean chuckled at your joke, taking a seat from across from you at the table. “Bet S.N.A.R.T would love that.”

“Okay, so…what are we talking here,” Dean said, deciding to get serious for a moment to try and figure out what you might be hunting. “Some sort of freaky-ass snake monster?”

“Maybe.” You mumbled. You fell silent for a moment trying to figure out how all of this added up to make proper sense with what knowledge you had about the reptilians. “The weird thing is snakes either envenomate or constrict. No snake does both.”

“Correction,” Dean said. “freaky-ass mega-snake monster.”

You quietly chuckled to yourself before throwing out your best guess as to what it might be. “It could be a vetala.”

“Yeah, but they’re not afraid to sink their fangs in. Taxidermist was bite free. It doesn’t really fit the profile.” Dean reminded you about the small detail. You nodded your head. A sigh fell from your lips at the lack of leads you had at the moment. Dean came to your rescue of adding another pair of hands to the night of research ahead for you and Sam. “Call Kevin. Have him look some stuff up.”

You shut your laptop and reached for your phone when you decided to do just that. It wouldn’t hurt to have an extra set of hands on the case while you figured out what you were hunting. You just hoped the poor kid still wasn’t feeling hungover. The internet only had so much information at your fingertips, the Men of Letters’ library would hopefully have the answers you were looking for. You needed to find out and quick, before another life could be taken.

[Next Part]

Rewrite Taglist:

@deansquirreljerkwinchester // @everything-i-tried-was-taken // @starswirlblitz // @supernaturalismydrug // @we-are-band-sexuals // @angiewinchestercas // @kaylinfayezink // @owhatshername1 // @kgbrenner // @cleo-is-my-doggy // @eeyore1988 // @dakota-dream // @lilylovelyxo // @timetravelingginger // @holahellohialoha // @quicksilver123456 // @natashacamillas //@lexi-anastasia //@kaylinfayezink // @deanwnchstr @albot-eh // @rashinyx2002 // @shellybeans // @icantfindacreativeurl // @becs-bunker // @oreosatmidnight // @bands-and-shietz // @fabulousmustachesonapolarbear // @clarewinchester // @releasethekracko // @alex-zeppelin // @mega-mrs-dean-winchester // @theskytraveler // @notmoose94 //@assassinofmasyaf // @caswinchester2000 // @savannah-m-99 // @sunlight-dean // @strayrosesbloom // @that-slytherin-over-there // @1000roughdrafts // @its-medeanwinchester // @simplyhemmings // @dream-believe-and-love

Message me if you would like to be added!

35 notes · View notes

dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt. 46

Keith hadn’t expected to be moving in to his apartment on the following Wednesday. He also didn’t expect said apartment to be three blocks away from work. The hunter had a feeling Shiro was behind that. His brother cautious over any potential dangers Platt had to offer.

He’d seen Miriam on Monday, not that he’d admit it but he’d waited in the car for Lance to message, never leaving the parking lot. Miriam seemed in good spirits as she talked about Lance and how happy she was that he’d found someone like him. Lance was a lot like his Mami. They both had this way of talking that drew you in. She also had a razor sharp sense of humour, and the way their faces scrunched up as they laughed was obviously a family trait. A family trait that left him feeling both grateful and anxious as his own thoughts kept coming back to his mother. He hadn’t said goodbye to her. He’d up and moved country, leaving her behind and it felt weird. Almost as weird as it was to be working for Coran now.

Coran seemed to like him too much. He’d asked all about how Lance was getting on. Keith felt kind of like he was betraying his boyfriend by explaining everything that had happened, which the fae seemed to pick up on as he smoothly changed the topic to how Lance was getting on with Matt. Lance seemed to be getting on better with Matt now. Matt was a tech geek like his little sister, he’d set himself up in the living room with his laptop, he and Pidge dissolving into techno-babble that only Hunk could keep up with. Now he was in Platt, all Keith wanted to do was go back to Garrison. Their apartment was already furnished, owned by Voltron, and had three bedrooms. The windows showed views of the city streets, where far too many noises drifted up to reach them on the fifth floor. Shiro said he wanted to find them apartment, yet somehow they’d ended up going with the flow. Coran meant well, but it kind of felt like they were being kept under his thumb. Keith wouldn’t have been surprised to find hidden cameras in all the light fittings like some dumb movie.

Their stuff had been delayed in delivery, so wouldn’t be there for anything from two more weeks up to a month, making things feel even more sparse and unhomely. Like he was a stranger in someone else’s life. Pidge already blown up the chat that morning complaining that he hadn’t said anything about his sudden moving and he owed her big time for leaving. Sure, he’d left, but Pidge was where he wanted to be. She wasn’t lost. She hadn’t left Lance’s house since Matt’s return. Neither of them would be there tonight when Pidge’s parents came to dinner at Lance’s. Lance was stressed over it that morning when they’d cuddled in bed. This “move” couldn’t have been on a worse day, nor did it make much sense to Keith. Sure, Coran wanted to do skill assessments on both on them first thing the following morning, but he could have dragged his arse out of bed at ungodly o’clock if it meant not seeing Lance trying to be happy for him.

That wasn’t to say Lance wasn’t happy that he’d be working through things with Shiro. He was and he’d told him that so many times Keith had to kiss him to shut up. It was more... more... like Lance had given him a taste of what it felt like to be in a real home where hunting was secondary to living. Throwing himself down on the red pleather sofa, Keith pulled out his new phone. Blue and Lance were his Home Screen, his Lock Screen a random photo of the desert he’d found on the internet. Sure, he was being sappy and stupid, but he could really use a cuddle from Blue right about now. With his leg slung over the sofa, he hated the piece of furniture. The only thing going for it was the fact it was red

“Well, this is it. Coran said we can find our own place once things settle down. We need to go shopping for the essentials. You’ll probably want more clothes”

Lance had packed him a backpack filled with the few things he’d bought him in their time together, plus a few shirts and pairs of jeans that he’d been borrowing

“Keith, did you hear me?”

Keith kept tapping on his phone, opening his chat with Lance up. Lance had messaged him, because his boyfriend was far too damn nice. His message along the lines of guessing Keith was frowning right about now, but he needed to remember that it wasn’t forever and Garrison really wasn’t that far away. Keith couldn’t help smiling slightly. Even apart, his boyfriend still cared

“Yeah. You want to go shopping”

“Unless you’re intending on sitting there sulking”

Keith frowned, his tone huffy

“I’m not sulking”

“Right. You do know Garrison is down the road”

“I’ve been told”

“Look, Lance will be fine with Curtis. Matt and Rieva have started settling in, and he’s got Pidge”

“I didn’t say he didn’t”

Keith’s thumb paused over his phone. He wanted to tell Lance how much the apartment sucked... yet... if he did that than Lance would worry. The apartment didn’t really suck. It was clean, styled around the primary colours, plus green and black. Not his colour theme, but not hideous and not Lance’s house

“Am I allowed to send him photos?”

Photos would say what he couldn’t

“Not of the outside, or from the windows. It’s for our safety and his. You’ve got your private phone, but if you lose it, it’s safer it doesn’t trace back to this place”

Keith nearly rolled his eyes, feeling like he was channeling a little Pidge as nearly corrected Shiro over “GPS” being a thing. Pointing that out would mean Shiro would probably say no to him sending photos

“I’m going send him photos first. He’ll be worried”

Shiro sighed at him. They’d picked up the keys from Coran, so it’d been like 2 hours since he last saw Lance. Talk about being pathetic

“Keith, you only saw him this morning”

“So? It’s not my fault it feels weird being here without our things. We were supposed to take this move thing slow”

“Coran wanted us...”

“I know. Let me message Lance, then we’ll go shopping”

“Okay, kiddo. You want to pick a room?”

He kind of had to. Keith knew Shiro knew he was in a flunk over moving. When they’d come back after meeting with Coran, the first thing Lance had done was wrap his arms around him and welcome him home. Was it stupid he wanted that for here to. He wanted Shiro to wrap his arms around him and welcome him back? They’d kind of moved on from doing that and Keith had forgotten how nice it felt.

Out of the three bedroom, Keith picked the one with the least amount of light. His sleep schedule had been pretty messed up before Lance came into his life. Insomnia had come with the job, long nights of tossing and turning unable to switch off after work. Lance soothed that. He didn’t question Keith’s nightmares. He didn’t make a scene or a fuss. And Keith was grateful for that. Coran had tried to make the bedrooms more homely. The beds were all queen sized, each with a flowery duvet cover and small crappy trinkety things on the bedside table. His new room was okay in it’s own way, if you liked something that looked like it’d been put together by someone who was at least several decades out of style. Taking photos, he hesitated before sending them through to Lance. He didn’t want Lance to feel he was rubbing this new distance between them in his face, so followed up with “I wish you were here”. He hoped that didn’t sound too lame. He already knew he was being stupid and lame over the move. He’d lived for his job for so long, that he really should be used to it.

“Why am I not surprised you chose the room with the least amount of light?”

Keith tried to act like he hadn’t been so absorbed in waiting for his messages to be read by Lance that he hadn’t jumped at Shiro’s voice behind him

“Because mornings can go fuck themselves?”

“Keith, I know it’s hard, but this is a fresh start for both of us. I think it’s what we both needed. Adam wouldn’t want us to be stuck on his memory. He loved you, kiddo. He’d want you to be happy”

Playing the Adam card was a dirty trick, because Keith knew Shiro was right. His brother probably had a lot of bad memories in Rome, and hell knew he wouldn’t miss James and the rest of the werewolves

“I know. Do we really have to go shopping?”

“Unless you want to start our night with figuring out how to eat the sofa, then yes. We really have to go shopping”

“Fiiiiine. I’m getting a new cover for the bed”

“I don’t think Coran will mind”

“I don’t care if he does. Lance said he’d judge me on me, but he talks so much about Lance that it’s kind of weird”

“Well they have known each other longer than we’ve been alive. He’d got to be better than Iverson”

“Iverson can suck my dick”

“I didn’t know you felt that way. Better not tell Lance”

Keith rolled his eyes. Out of all his instructors Iverson had been the worse. Always going on about how he could do better. Always going on about how he should be more like Shiro and Adam. He’d punched him hard enough to detach the man’s retina in his left eye. He felt like shit for it. He’d very nearly been thrown out of it, but Shiro had stepped in. Needless to say he hated him even more after the incident

“Lance and I are taking things slow”

“That still doesn’t mean you don’t want Iverson to...”

“Say that again and I’ll punch you in the dick”

Shiro gave a laugh

“Okay. Okay. Point made. It’s not every day that you mind out your brother is into older men”

“I’m not. It’s just Lance. And stop making me talk about him. I don’t like missing him”

“You don’t want to miss him?”

“I don’t like feeling like I’m on the other side of the planet... I feel like... like something’s going to happen”

“I know it’s hard, but he’s not alone”

“That’s the problem. What if he turns into a bat?”

“Then they’ll cover it”

“What if he goes into heat and something happens?”

“Keith, he was perfectly okay on Sunday, and we’ll be back in Garrison for the weekend. If anything happens he has your number”

“I’m overreacting, aren’t I?”

Keith stared down at his phone, Lance hadn’t replied yet. He didn’t like that Lance hadn’t replied. He was probably busy with the others, but what if he was busy he forgot about him? Coming up behind him, Keith was lifted off his feet by Shiro, his brother dumping him down on his new bed, before collapsing next to him

“I forgot how big you’ve gotten”

“You’re just getting old”

Shiro snorted at him. Keith huffing as he slapped his brother’s stomach

“Geez. Thanks for that. Look, it’s a new relationship, I get it”

“I just feel like...”

“Lance isn’t about to forget you. He isn’t about to skip town. He’s probably busy making lunch for the others”

“I know. I feel stupid for missing him”

“Nah. Not stupid, only human. Now, can we please go shopping? I’m starving”

“Lance fed you this morning”

“So? All this morning has me hungry”

“What moving? It was three bags and your suitcase. You could have at least packed clothes for me”

“Let’s not dwell on my mistakes. This is going to be good for us. I can feel it”

“Yeah... maybe”

That was all the enthusiasm Keith could muster. He really was pathetic. He’d survived all those years without Lance, a few more days wouldn’t change anything.

Saturday took its sweet time rolling around. For an underground complex, VOLTRON wasn’t as bad as it seemed. There gym complex was kind of awesome. It had everything Keith could ever want from a gym, including a pool which he was excited to try out. Thursday had been all about testing physical strengths, once they’d been through full medicals... his heart passing with flying colours. Friday gave him flash backs to high school he could have done without as Coran tested their base knowledge with written exams. Allura had offered to show them the sights around the city, but Keith wanted to do that with Lance.

It wasn’t that he disliked Allura, she was just someone he didn’t know. Friday he’d tried out the gym, sensors stuck to him so Coran could analyse the data. The man pointing out the few jumps in his heart rate which he delighted in pointing out coincided with messages from Lance. Lance sending him stupid gym work out memes, despite Keith telling him Coran was monitoring his physical condition. He’d turned into one of “those” people in the last three days, those kind of people who waited for every message and leapt to check their phones at the first chance. He’d never been that before. He’d never worried over what to say, or cared what kind of face he was making. Shiro called it his “Lance face”. Keith called him stupid. He missed his boyfriend and when Saturday came, he couldn’t have been happier.

Having barely slept, thanks to over thinking seeing Lance again, his two coffees didn’t agree with him during the car ride. Shiro had to pull over twice because he’d gone pale, his stomach rolling the whole drive. Apparently the car came with the job, it wasn’t anything remarkable, a plain sedan designed to be like the other thousand plain white sedans in Platt. The only difference being it was teched up, and carried a small arsenal in the trunk in case of emergency situations. Shiro thought he was hilarious as he’d bought a solar dancing thing for the dash which was a vampire whose head and arms moved. Keith could only groan at him, supposing it was better than a dancing hula girl. If he’d said as much out loud, Shiro would have made it his mission to find one, so the hunter wisely kept his mouth shut.

Pulling into Lance’s drive, Keith nearly threw up as his nerves bloomed on top of everything. It felt like every time his social worker had pulled up at next foster home. He’d be there for a time, proven too much effort, then move onto the next family. By the time reached Lance’s house, Lance was out the front waiting. Blue trying to escape from his hold. They’d finally made it and the drive couldn’t have felt any longer if Shiro had actually tried

“I didn’t think my driving was that bad”

“I think I used the wrong milk”

Shiro had his own milk. Living with Lance, Lance automatically swapped to lactose free and he hadn’t given it any other though. Not all milk turned his insides into a pit of boiling lava, but apparently Shiro’d found another brand that did. Maybe it was easier to hide his butterflies under the guise of bad milk when it meant ignoring memories of the past

“I’ll swap it out when we get home. Need help getting inside?”

Keiths stomach gurgled, Keith hoping things weren’t about to get any worse than this in front of Lance. Lance could probably hear them... he didn’t want his boyfriend knowing. He was grown man. He shouldn’t be this nervous. This was Lance. He had no need to be nervous in front of Lance, plus, what would he say about Keith showing up sick?

“It’s an upset stomach, not a broken leg”

“Okay. Let me know if it gets any worse. I can pick up something from the chemist if you need?”

“Don’t blow this out of proportion”

“I forgot how moody bad milk makes you”

Shiro was lucky he was his brother. He wasn't being moody... Shiro should be grateful he hadn't brought up Curtis, like a moody anger loaf might. They might need to check on Matt, Rieva and Lance, but Keith would bet money that Shiro and Curtis were a hell of a lot closer than his brother wanted to admit. But no. He wouldn’t say that. Because he wasn’t moody.

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

15 notes · View notes

arthurjdrake · 4 years

Text

For Keeps : Alain & Arthur

Summary: A phoenix and a hunter go into a bar. (aka Amelie and I somehow never posted a doc we wrote like 3 months ago don’t judge us) >_> Parties: Arthur and @carbrakes-and-stakes

Recent events had come to show that sometimes meeting new people (Leah especially) didn’t always go terribly, and the little he’d experienced of Alain so far from their online conversations gave Arthur a strangely positive vibe. He couldn’t say what it was, but shared interests were certainly a scene setter for an interesting afternoon over beer if nothing else. Though it transpired with recent revelations that his interest in Alain was further vested in gauging just what sort of person he was and just what Evelyn saw in him that made her interested in being with him. Call it protective curiosity. The Perfect Pint was a decent enough establishment and one he frequented if only for the full plate of good food and Guinness they had on tap. A sizeable establishment with light filtering through slightly grimy windows, it smelled like an ashtray but was relatively clean by most pubs standards. Not to mention the presence of several dart boards and snooker tables for patrons to use if they so pleased. Wooden stools lined up against the bar resembled careless soldiers. Two were occupied and Arthur was five minutes early. So he leaned on the darkwood bar, occasionally sipping a cool pint of Guinness while watching the highlights scrolling on the screen and wincing at a particularly nasty tackle.

Alain pushed the door to The Perfect Pint expecting to have a peaceful moment for once. No hunting, no arguing, not questioning everything. Just chatting with someone with common interests and seeing where that led. Not going to the Silver Bullet for once would also be a nice change. It must have been months since he last went to a normal bar. Being greeted by the sound of football matches and people playing pool was a nice change, and it reminded Alain of the few weeks he had spent in Europe a couple years ago. Now he did not care much for the smell of cigarettes, but if this was all he could complain about, then he would not complain at all. Recognizing some customers as he made his way to the counter, he nodded politely and took a seat with the man he figured would be Arthur. If not, then things would probably get awkward really quick. “Bonjour,” he greeted him, figuring that would be enough of a tell. The bartender approaching, he ordered himself a pint of Amber Ale and turned his attention back to Arthur. “I hope I’m not late.”

There weren’t too many people in town Arthur felt he could go down to the pub to simply have a drink with, he was woefully short on friends who weren’t so studiously academic that it was kind of funny to imagine them in a setting like this. Plus, it reminded him of home in an inexplicable way. From the smell to the darkwood features of the pub, like his local back in Twickenham. Occasionally he glanced at his wrist-watch checking and rechecking the time, the smooth carved wood of its casing a familiar comfort in its proximity. As a figure approached and sat down beside him he turned, body-language relaxed and comfortable, an amicable smile warming his features upon hearing the French. “Salut,” he greeted with a small dip of his head, taking a moment to just study Alain, taking in the years around his eyes and features, the stubborn lingering grease around his fingernails and a missing finger as well. Interesting. Arthur vaguely remembered him saying he was a mechanic in a past conversation. A bit rough around the edges but he could see the appeal though it was the personality he was more intrigued to learn more about. “Not at all,” he laughed quietly at the sentiment with a shake of his head “no, I’m just partial to being early.” He let Alain order before he leaned back a little, “so you own the garage in town right? How’s business been going for you lately?”

If Alain could feel like he was being scrutinized, he didn’t mention it to Arthur, and instead, pretended to look just about anywhere else. He had never been here, so this gave him a good enough excuse not to be attentive. “Is it really how pubs look in the UK?” The place looked like a postcard, and a whole lot like pubs that claimed to be authentic, and he couldn’t quite decide if it was really close to the actual thing or a caricature. Clearly, the mime places weren’t as authentic as they claimed to be, so maybe this was the case here as well. He rubbed at the corner of his eye with one finger and thanked the bartender as he came back with his drink. “Do you actually speak French or…” either way, there would be no hard feelings, but once again, he was curious, which was a good indicator : a bored Alain did not ask questions and hardly spoke. Taking a sip from his pint, he leaned back a little in the seat and nodded in reply to Arthur’s question. “Business is doing alright. I’ve had a few good months with the falling fish. Lots of shattered windshields, lots of intensive cleaning too,” scratching the back of his neck, he shrugged. With the big lobsters, a bunch of cars had been roughly damaged, and considering he had to spend some time off work, all those events had helped keeping the cash coming. “What about you. You’re a teacher, right?”

“It’s not a bad imitation of one considering they even have an old geezer eating roasted peanuts” Arthur admitted eyeing another patron at one of the tables in the corner. “Plus this is the only place I can actually catch games when they’re on, even if it is at like one AM… Granted it’s worth staying up if only for the Irish breakfast.” The question was met with a nod, “I speak a little to pass conversation. I’m kinda rusty and the amount of exceptions to all the tenses always catches me in one place or another…” He shrugged a shoulder taking a sip of his beer “personally, I think it’s important especially if you’re going to live somewhere for a while you know? Too many people just expect everyone else to cater to them just because they’re too lazy and entitled to learn another language.” That was a trait that bothered him about most people growing up in an anglophone environment, the lack of desire to even try and relate to people from other walks of life; forcing them to adapt from their culture. It was hardly fair in his mind. “Ha, yeah I can imagine there’s all sorts of interesting things that keep you busy. The newspaper mentioned something about screaming moose you know? I never thought I’d live anywhere that the wildlife would be much of an issue.” Or maybe he should’ve considered that before moving to White Crest. “Yeah! I teach up at the university, history and mythology department. Certainly no lack of folklore around these parts.”

“What?” Alain followed Arthur’s eyes and his shoulders shook with amusement at the sight of the old geezer eating roasted peanuts. “Alright, that is authentic for sure,” he had another sip of beer. Listening to the man talk, his brows furrowed. “You’re kidding? This is like music to my insomniac ears,” of course insomnia was a stretch, but Alain was not about to tell Arthur that he was a vampire hunter, and that as a result, he really didn’t need to sleep that much. Insomniac seemed a lot more simple. “Night entertainment and food, I’m sold,” he scoffed. Now was he surprised to hear that Arthur struggled with the french language? Not really. “Hey, if you ever need practice, you know where to find me,” he offered. It did not cost him much, and he liked chatting in his native language. Really a win win. “I agree. I mean, obviously if you’re only here for a week, there’s only so much you can do, but don’t expect everyone to speak your own language, that’s… logical,” he shrugged, refraining from rolling his eyes. “You just have to be … logical,” he repeated. Clearly things were easier for him when he visited France, but his time in Spain had been quite something, as he could only remember very few things in Spanish. “Screaming moose?” His eyebrows raised and he glanced to the side, clearly concerned. Could it be due to supernatural reasons? Possible. He’d have to ask Kaden about that one. “Clearly not. The area is quite … rich in folklore. I think we’re a good tie with Louisiana and Salem,” he agreed. “What is your favorite folklore story?”

“See?” Arthur chuckled eyes crinkling at the corners in his mirth at the token sight that seemed a staple in most pubs back home, there was always at least one. “No way! I kid about a lot of things but not that. Definitely not when it comes to a full Irish and watching rugby or football. For sure, next time there’s something on I’ll let you know, even if it does mean I have to sit and watch France play--” he lamented with a put-upon look though it was all in jest. Insomnia was interesting but hardly surprising in a town such as this; there could be any host of reasons behind it. “I might take you up on that, I find it hard not to be so formal in structuring the sentences...” Arthur tilted his glass a little “well, yeah sure but I still think if you’re going to visit another country it’s at least polite to try. It’s just always been a pet peeve, just people being so self-involved they don’t think about trying to make an effort for anyone else.” Alain seemed surprised and Arthur’s brows furrowed, “didn’t you see the newspaper? It was a while back but something about Sunday at sundown being when moose would scream? Seemed a bit weird… I didn’t know moose could scream… Just thought they trampled things.” But hey, wild life could surprise you especially in a town like this.

“Rich is an understatement,” he said with a shake of his head. “Issue is most of the stories around these parts were passed down by word of mouth… Not many actual documents to look at.” There was a spark that always seemed to light up his features whenever he got into a discussion about folklore, “oh, would totally have to be the Huldufólk - the hidden folk - Icelanders believe they’re hidden elves that live in the shadows between rocks, it’s said they love to dance and invade farms at Christmas to hold wild parties. That their origins come from the Garden of Eden, when God visited Adam and Eve, Eve was washing their children and hadn’t finished… Embarrassed, she hid the unwashed children and lied about their existence. To punish her God declared that the children she hid would be hidden from all of mankind and so the first Huldufólk came to be.” It was an interesting and unique narrative and one that had always intrigued him. “How about you? Do you take any interest in folklore?”

Pursing his lips, Alain remained silent as he turned to look at the other man, looking as offended as he looked amused by his comment on French teams. “Let’s not mention that England has not won a world cup in football since the 60s, despite being such a great nation of football, then, shall we?” clearing his throat, he took a sip of beer to hide his smile. Such an argument could go on for days, for sure, but it seemed like Arthur was not the kind to start pointless arguments. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I will admit to being less formal than I used to be,” it had been a while since he left the Babineaux household, and his speech level had grown simpler with time. “Of course. Portugal was awkward, I didn’t speak a damn word of portuguese and had to rely on one of those tiny vocabulary books,” he mimed the rough size of said book with his hands and raised his eyebrows in despair as he remembered how thankful he was that most people knew more English than he knew Portugese. “Yeah, some people do have a hard time not focusing on themselves,” scratching at the back of his neck, Alain looked thoughtful for a moment, staring into the gap. “They kind of sound like nazguls when they scream,” he finally commented, but it usually happened a bit later in the year. Alain had not exactly planned to discuss rut season, but if this was where the conversation was heading, why not?

“Like most stories. And it’s not like books or history is any better. It’s always written by those who survive, or those who won,” biased, but at least the version couldn’t change once printed on paper. You could tell how enthusiastic Arthur was about the subject, and it was refreshing. Leaning against his elbow, the hunter listened to the scholar talk about some ancient legend. The story sounded a bit too polished to be the truth, but he did not doubt that Iceland had a bunch of little folks living in the shadow. “It’s hard not to when you spend your whole life in this town. I’m afraid I don’t have stories to tell however,” clearly this was a lie, but Alain knew better than to start telling people he barely knew about his night time activities.

“True,” though Arthur raised a brow in mild challenge, “but what we do have are three six nations titles to the name in the last ten years. So I think that counts for something. You can take football, I’ll take rugby. Issue settled.” It was banterous and Arthur’s grin was cheeky in spite of himself. “You tend to get that way with time, formalities are nice but they can be so constricting to adhere to all the time.” He snorted a little at the comparison, “oh Gods don’t ruin Nazguls for me like that. No no that’s not allowed.” Lord of the Rings was sacred in this sphere and nothing, especially no moose screaming was allowed to ruin it.

“I mean that’s true of almost anything in life. It’s just nice to actually have some hard evidence to work from rather than just the word of mouth. At least that way you can start to deduce what influences there might’ve been on a source.” Perhaps the story was too polished, too easily wrapped up but it was a nice tale nonetheless. Not everything in the world had to be all doom and gloom. So what if there were elves that liked to play games and pull tricks. “Huh, really? Did you grow up here?”

“Heh, fine,” then coughing to jokingly hide what he was about to say, he added in a hurry, “Football’s better anyway.” Obviously coughing was not meant to really hide anything, and he found himself laughing. Shaking his head, he ran a hand in his hair and sighed heavily. “Formalities are fine by me, although I wouldn’t hope to see me ‘formal’,” he scratched at the corner of his mouth, shook his head and took a sip of beer again. Once again he found himself laughing at the man’s reaction. Alain really would have to stop insulting everything Arthur liked. “Nazguls ruined themselves on their own. Moose have the right to ruin them more,” it appeared they had yet another thing in common. Although he was never an hardcore fan, he still remembered the first time he read the Hobbit very fondly.

“Fair enough. I just feel like history is really biased and often misinterpreted too,” you just had to look at what people were taught at school. Maps placing their country in the middle of the world, wars lost barely mentioned… “I did grow up here. But no, no stories,” not any he wanted to tell. “I can however bore you to death about astronomy. Or myths related to constellations, although you probably already know them all.”

It wasn’t the worst, Arthur rather enjoyed a challenge and the fact Alain seemed willing to challenge ideas in a joking fashion was a good sign for the man’s own personality. “Noo!” he protested with a laugh waving his hand as if to try and stop the insults light-hearted as they were “that’s not allowed, only the waters of Bruinen are allowed to completely wreck the Nazguls or a hobbit with a frying pan. Sheesh these are the sorts of debates I used to get into with Evelyn. The real issues of life.” It wasn’t entirely true, this was one facet of many that he and Evelyn had discussed but Arthur was curious to see how Alain would react to hearing her name.

“It often is, but I think that’s part of the challenge of studying it. Knowing you have to work to try and uncover the obfuscated truth behind the fogs of what people want you to believe.” It was countless, the amount of times he’d tried to submit revisions based on contrary evidence, some had gone through while others… It was a tiring endeavor but one he’d continue to pursue regardless. “That would hardly bore me. I’ve been fascinated with astronomy since I was a child. There’s actually very little I find more interesting.”

“I don’t know,” Alain’s brows furrowed at the mention of hobbit held frying pans, and they furrowed some more at the mention of Evelyn. You could see the cogs turning and trying to figure out what this was about. Biting his lip, he shook his head. “You wouldn’t happen to be…” he tried to remember the words she used. “I think she might have mentioned that she had a favorite professor in town,” he scoffed, shaking his head. He supposed that it made sense that she would mention him to her mentor, as secretive as she could be, it was hard not to share some things.

If Alain had often had to do research, it was far from the academic kind, but that did not mean that he couldn’t dedicate entire days to gathering information on certain kinds of undead species. The hardest part was not knowing the species name and hoping to recognize characteristics in his readings. “That’s what I like with cars, they don’t usually tell lies, which makes my job a lot easier,” he doubted that cars would be something Arthur could be interested in, but he was not too surprised to hear that he liked astronomy too, but that did not mean he wouldn’t be excited about it. “Really?!” His tone of voice was unusually cheerful. “Then you have to join me for stargazing sometimes.”

It would be interesting to see what Alain came up with, and while he clearly processed the passing mention Arthur took a sip of his Guinness giving him time to think but out of the corner of his eye watching curiously. “Oh did she?” it was easy enough to feign mild surprise with just a dash of curiosity thrown in for good measure. He made a quietly amused sound, “yes, she does like to remind me of that as often as she can - along with the fact she was one of my brightest students… She’s hardly a forgettable person but if you know her I’m sure you’re aware of that fact.”

“Well, no lies if they’re built well. I once had a guy try to sell me a knockoff Bentley - full look of the thing but the insides were scavenged from hell. Luckily I didn’t agree to that deal.” While Arthur didn’t know much about cars, he knew which ones he liked and back in the day he’d raced the odd car here and there. So it was more a casual interest than a passionate hobby. The enlightened state that seemed to come over Alain’s features on the topic of Astrology - much in the same way his own lit up at the mention of mythology was interesting and Arthur could tell that whatever else, Alain was certainly someone he liked. “Stargazing? Sure, I’ve actually got a great telescope back at mine. Always try to do some Astrophotography when I’ve been out on fieldtrips… Nothing better than a long hike and taking some good photos. I’ll have to show you sometime.”

Alright, so maybe it was not completely a coincidence that he and Arthur had ended up talking to each other, although Alain hoped that they really shared the same interests. “She does leave a strong impression, a good impression,” he clarified. Even knowing that she was not really human, he couldn’t seem to be able to change the way he felt about her, and he was terrified by it, even though he liked to tell himself that if she had fed on him this whole time, he would change his mind about the woman he had feelings for. “I’m grateful we met.”

“The lies here come from that guy, people lie, not cars. If you ever want to acquire one of these, please do tell. I like restoring properly older cars. “The Continental Bentley from the 1950s is a real beauty, but hard to find in good shape these days,” the man’s enthusiasm didn’t waver as the subject changed to astronomy. Quite the contrary. “See, that’s something I struggle with. I never seem to be able to take a proper picture. I tried, but I think I’m just really not good with that kind of technology,” he liked taking pictures, and Evelyn liked having her picture taken which was a great combination, but when it came to space, it was almost disastrous. “You really need to show me. I could use that.”

“That’s true,” Arthur agreed, seeming to take measure of the answer and find it satisfactory “she’s quite a remarkable young woman.” Evelyn had been right, and from what Arthur could tell, Alain was being genuine. “How did you meet? If you don’t mind me asking?” Evelyn had been rather cryptic of late regarding Alain and Arthur was rather curious to learn the story there. “She��s a good friend of mine so I find myself interested in the people she surrounds herself with.”

While Arthur was still taking note of Alain’s general disposition, he seemed to relax into the new conversation put at ease by what he could read from the other man’s reaction regarding Evelyn. “It’s funny you mention that, I’ve got the Bentley Continental V8 here at the minute but back home I have a 1949 Bentley VI Saloon and a 1962 Chevrolet Corvette. They’re some of the best drives I think I’ve ever had on the road.” An understanding nod was given, “ah yeah, often you just have to spend a while playing around with the exposure on the camera and make sure you use a tripod to keep it stable. It’s a bugger but once you get the hang of it it’s not too bad.” He grinned clearly excited by the proposed idea “but sure, next time there’s something astrological going on, send me a message and I’ll give you a crash course. Maybe you can give me a crash course in cars.”

Young woman. He had to wonder if this was meant to be an attack or not. As far as he was concerned, yes, she was young, and yes, he was older, and it was uncommon, but it was something he and Evelyn had discussed. In the end, it was Alain who felt the least comfortable about the difference, not her. “Oh, ahem,” he mused. “Well, I was trespassing on her property, which is a great first impression apparently. I wanted to find a good spot to stargaze, but didn't know it was a private beach,” he trailed off. Yeah, that had been embarrassing, and he had considered fleeing the place the moment Evelyn disappeared to get a cardigan.

Now he was glad he did not.

“Oh.” Well he really was not a fan of the newer ones, as he found them a bit too soft looking, but he kept that to himself. And so it surprised him that Arthur seemed to like some very different cars, but he would not question the man’s taste. To each their own. “See Evelyn, she owns too many cars,” he scoffed. An understatement, although it was not really a surprise. She liked owning things, especially pretty things, and Alain wondered sometimes if there was a reason for that need. “Sure, that sounds lovely. Let’s just hope that my crash course involves no crashing cars,” shaking his head, he took another sip of beer. “I just think that people, just, everyone should know more about what’s under the hood.”

It was less an attack, more a statement of fact and Arthur’s view of evelyn. She was an incredible young woman. There was no further intention to the words than that and if he did notice any discomfort it wasn’t remarked on. He’d learned one lesson lately and that was to let some things lie. So instead, he listened to Alain’s story, leaning a little more on the bar with his interest fixed because he was genuinely curious to learn the tale and get a better understanding of his friend’s mind in this. “And did she stay out?” Arthur assumed so but better to get clarification just to be on the safe side.

“But I do have the other two older ones, I might get them shipped over at some point… I just didn’t know how permanent my residence here was going to be and I didn’t want to ship them and find myself heading back overseas you know? Too much hassle.” Though he had to laugh at the statement of Evelyn and cars, “she has too much stuff period. Always has, but I can hardly blame her for that.” Arthur had his own reasonings about why that might be the case but it wasn’t something to discuss right now. Alain was nice enough but not someone he’d chat in depth to about his long-time friends. Not yet at least. “Yeah, I’d rather not go out in a ball of flames.” The irony of that statement wasn’t lost on him. “You’re probably right, I guess it seems so foreign and alien to most people that even approaching the topic seems like a challenge. It’s kind of the same with history… or language. Some people nowadays are afraid of not being able to overcome the challenge I think.”

“She did,” he wrinkled his nose, “considering the reputation of Harris Island folks, I did consider for a moment that she was staying with me until the police arrived,” which was something that made him feel terrible, but could you really blame him. “I think she had nothing better to do,” Alain might have never been the luckiest person there was, but he always wondered what he could have possibly done to deserve her.

“I mean, that’s fair.” Alain rarely had to get cars imported, but he remembered having to import his own car from France, and how much of a hassle this had been. “I’d love to have a look at those, if you ever do get them shipped here,” he added, finishing his pint and searching for his wallet to pay the bartender. “Glad to know that she always has been this way,” he had a light laugh. Alain had given up on thinking of things he could offer her, hoping that memories could be things she would cherish more. “Let’s avoid that, yeah,” he shook his head. “People probably think it’s too complicated, too hard, too … I don’t know… That only some people are allowed to have this kind of knowledge,” the man had always been curious, and it was no surprise to learn that Arthur, an academic, felt the same way about learning new things.

“Understandable,” Arthur had met a few people that lived out that way and hadn’t been too impressed with them “Harris island folks can be pretty funny about strangers wandering onto their properties. Luckily she’s one of the better few out that way.”

“Sure, I’ll let you know if I ever make the decision to do that… Though considering how much glass damage it seems people complain about online I’m not sure if it’s something I’d really want to expose myself to… But I guess knowing a mechanic doesn’t hurt with that issue.” Setting his glass on the counter he pushed back a little. “Maybe, I guess some people just feel its unreachable for them in particular or they have no effort in pursuing the avenue to acquiring it.” Arthur waved his hand as he saw Alain reach for his wallet, fishing his card out the back of his phone case before good-naturedly adding “don’t worry about it, I’ll get them.”

“I suppose that’s what happens when you get a bit too out of touch with reality,” Alain was certain that his sister, or his parents, were the kind to react poorly to trespassers, and the reason he knew that was because he was himself not really fond of trespassers, and this, despite having spent the last two decades in the middle class.

“I don’t think soundproofing your garage is the answer to big noises, but hey, you now know a mechanic. I’m sure you’ll be alright,” the corners of his mouth tugged up, as he stood up from the stool. “Let me know if you ever feel like learning a thing or two, alright?” He frowned slightly at Arthur’s offer, but didn’t question it for too long and instead nodding, thankful. “Alright, thanks.”

With a huff of amusement Arthur grinned, “good thing people who are rational like us exist then.” With the delivery of a few notes across the bar and a tip for the waiter Arthur pushed to his feet and tucked his wallet away. “Well, nice to meet you Alain. And if you ever fancy watching ridiculously late night rugby matches just let me know.” With a wave of his hand he made his way towards the door and the walk back home in the early afternoon light.

#for keeps #para #alain #p: alain

5 notes · View notes

incorrectquotes-randomthoughts · 4 years

Text

(This is so long I’m sorry but I had to rant cause honestly I’m scared )

I literally made a post the other day about how we have to welcome in new fans and treat them equally but truth be told? I’M. NOT. FUCKING. READY

Bitch bitch bitch I mean I’mma have to stand this kids hardcore shipping Luke x Annabeth ???? Or Luke x Thalia ???? SIS they’re SIBLINGS wth Annabeth realized it later on it changed there was an arc.

Like this fandom closed the discussion on Luke’s redemption arc and the way he is and his motives we agree we have opinions but we’re FINE. Are you telling me ma boy is gonna be played by some hot teen (he is older) and 12 y/o’s are gonna be biased and I’m gonna have to yell at them across a screen cause they’re gonna act like Luke is a saint !!!!??

THE SHIPS. FUCKFUCKFUCK. BoTL Percy spent worried about Nico and if it’s done properly we’re gonna have all that worry face first and no one’s gonna be able to ignore it like the AMOUNT OF PEOPLE who are gonna say that’s OTP. I mean SHIT.

I haven’t even been in the [internet] fandom for that long like how I’m I supposed to go against this people who were here before me I mean they LEFT but what arguments do I have !?!?

The amount of people who only read pjo and went BYE like I can’t bring HOO up in discussions wdym????? How I’m I supposed to talk development and change and character arcs and what would they do in certain situations if you’ve never heard of them ????

I’M NOT READY

Y’all wanna know something terrifying? The maze runner fandom. Because there’s so little creators out there who actually love it the way I do and so much of it is obsessed with Thomas Brodie-Sangster and Newt I haven’t been there since I finished the books I couldn’t stand it. And I can’t stand the fact that our Percy actor is gonna be good-looking and I’m TERRIFIED of the amount of people who are gonna be here for what the actors look like you can’t understand this.

I MEAN all them debates are coming back up I can’t do this. This is such a fantastic fandom (and I’m in many, trust me) like we’re all at peace there’s no arguments you can literally come by and just vibe.

OH FUCK ANOTHER THOUGHT. So since we’re getting official characters and stuff I swear if ONE IDIOT hates on viria’s or Livibis’ or Markiehh’s art (they’re the one’s at the top of my head) because it’s “inaccurate” or “far off” from what they look on screen they better watch the fuck out because they have no idea the fandom they’re messing with.

OH AND SHIT I know this has been brought up but the way we treat Nico??? All baby and soft and all that and how our fanon Nico is just so different from the actual canon kick-ass Nico, ya know? But we kinda understand how powerful Nico is but we still love him cause poor kid was 10 and then all of it happened and he was 13/14 (?) during tlo and the PTSD so we’re chill with that BUT. There’s the fact that our son is gay and god the amount of people who are gonna come in (cause there’s obviously gonna be foreshadowing) and be like “ooh gay baby look at him” that’s badly explained but I know you guys understand. And specially if we get to HoO and the horrors getting to ToA would be. Like we already have our fanon Nico but if someone DARES to even IMPLY that Nico can’t kill you with a thought the entire fandom know better and will prove them wrong. But the new fans what would they know.

You know what’s going to be fucking horrible ???? PARENTS. I mean UGHHHHHH. My parents only know I’m reading what I tell them I’m reading (“a book about Greek mythology”). Like I’m terrified of my mom picking up The Burning Maze sitting on my desk or any Cassandra Clare book cause the homophobia in this household is astronomical. (Don’t know how many of you will understand but the PANIC I went through reading the red scrolls of magic? God knows she would check every book I get form the library from the on) Back to the point sorry. But y’all pjo is mostly safe but Rick already talks about how parents complain about adding a Genderfluid character to a Norse mythology book (I mean Ma’am go educate yourself) and how his books “would be more successful without [gay] characters” ???? What if we get Kane Chronicles some asshole is gonna come up about Sadie being polyamorous, Alex and Magnus are gonna be a problem, Will and Nico, House of Hades is gonna make Karens riot because of one scene.

You can see how Disney treats Seblos (hsmtmts) compared to the other couples on the show. You can see how not even half of Andi Mack is actually on Disney+ (after getting brutally canceled) you can see how Diary of a Future President hasn’t been renewed when it’s reviews are 100% for both critics and public. How the Love, Simon series was removed (now on Hulu) because it wasn’t a good mix with “the family-friendly content on Disney+” (underage drinking + s*x are brought up in discussions but the show isn’t out yet and we have no idea). So pardon me for being scared of how this is going to be treated.

Back to the new fans. I’m gonna say the topic that’s the most brought up that causes discussions is Leo (?) Tbh I’m still lost on the Leo x Echo thing that everyone else seems to understand. Plus the hate on Caleo is probably the biggest issue in this fandom. (Which is like saying the biggest problem in a perfectly written essay are some barely noticeable erase-marks, but still). Anyways a fair amount of people dislike Leo for reasons I kinda comprehend. I know a kid and he’s the exact definition of Leo, (I’ll probably talk about this in an individual post) and people don’t like him, I know most of you would avoid him. I know he’s great but people just don’t seem to like him.

(wOw i’M sO gOOd aT sTaYInG oN tOpiC)

I don’t think I’m gonna be able to survive hate on characters that probably WILL come.

Solangelo is called rushed a lot and I would want to see this two fall for each other and Nico let down his walls and talk about his PTSD from Tartarus (which friendly reminder Percy saw for a few minutes the way Nico saw it the whole time and it was the worst part of his entire experience there). But I mean there WERE six months between BoO and ToA, I am pretty sad we didn’t get to see them.

oH JESUS follow-up on Nico earlier; the fetishization, or Apollo, or Will.

Ok... ha, this is fun....

OH WAIT NEW THOUGHT SJDJDJD On the topic of Luke’s redemption arc... BIANCA,, they better do my girl properly who thought she had stayed months at the Lotus Hotel babysitting her lil’ brother and then was put into a school where they were outcasts and she probably knows as much as Nico about mythomagic from his rants and she thought he was gonna be safe and she wanted freedom and be her own person so she joined the hunters. And as a fandom we’ve talked this out but what about the new fans, they better not try to act like she did anything wrong cause that’s just not-

OH AND no one better hate on Clarisse cause yeah she’s the minor antagonist but she’s a very well-written character who doesn’t change the way she is but is kinda less of an ass towards Percy. And she and Silena are good friends and she and Chris are dating and she is a human being with valid feelings. She was terrified for Chris in BoTL and cared for him and nurse him back to sanity and stayed with him. She throws Percy and Annabeth into the lake which so it’s prove she and Percy are more in the friendly banter I-won’t-admit-how-much-I-care-for-you-if-it-meant-my-life relationship. Then this doesn’t happpen until the last two books (seasons?) so we can’t actually go around saying it? In SoM we learn about how Ares treats her which is SO important so I guess S1 comes out and we sit here telling new fans “You’ll know next season” cause we can’t directly spoil it and then we’re like “You gotta wait for seasons 4 and 5” ugghhhhh this is too much.

Ok I’m done for now I’ll reblog this with any new terrifying thoughts when if they come.

18 notes · View notes

dbhtychou · 5 years

Text

You and Me at the End of the World

Connor x Reader

Sequel to Friends With Benefits

Summary: Inspired by the polar vortex that happened last winter. I have a friend who lives in Chicago while that happened and was telling me all about it. Connor and reader are stuck indoors while it's far too cold to go outside, even for an android. (I started writing this in the winter and then forgot about it.)

Hank didn't know how Connor called him. He knew the android didn't have a phone, or a phone number for that matter. But still, his phone buzzed and when the screen showed no number, he knew it was Connor.

“No, do not try to come back home, I mean it,” Hank said to Connor on the phone. “It's supposed to get to fifty below by tomorrow morning. No one should be outside. They're going to set the fucking train tracks on fire for God's sake. Not even you are going to survive that cold. If she's letting you say, then stay until this shitty weather is done. You hear me?”

“I understand, Hank. Take care of yourself and Sumo.”

“Okay, good luck.”

***************

“Hank wishes us luck,” Connor reported as he cut the connection. He did not add the inferring tone Hank had in his voice when he said it.

“We're going to need it,” (Name) said. “It's anyone's guess when the water pipes will be fixed. I don't even know if they can be fixed before the polar vortex lifts. Thank you so much for picking up a few gallons of water from the store.” She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I don't know what I'd do without you.”

He smiled at the contact. That cute, crooked, boyish smile that he had. “My pleasure. I am happy to assist you in anything you need.”

“Can you assist in fixing those water pipes?” she teased.

“That, I'm afraid, is out of my realm of expertise.”

“Still amazing anyway,” she praised with a wink and turned her attention back to the food cooking on the stove.

Connor sat himself politely at the table as he watched her cook. He wished, not for the first time, that eating was an activity in which androids could participate. Many human social practices revolved around meals. The dating aspect was no different with common traditions of taking a romantic interest to dinner or out for a drink. Connor could offer these options, but could not participate. As such, it could be awkward to both parties. Sometimes it was even awkward with Hank. The few times his partner would actually prepare himself a real meal, he would complain of Connor watching him while he ate. But Connor was not sure of what else to do with himself.

The same was here as well. He watched (Name) at the stove with trepidation. The weather had him trapped at her apartment, he couldn't just leave. And he truly didn't want to. He had been pursuing her company since that fall rainy day when he left her speechless at the bus stop. Maybe even before then.

She had rejected his very blunt 'friends with benefits' plan. She wasn't that kind of girl, she said. She would only be intimate with someone she loved. Later, she did return with a compromise: if Connor wished to learn more about the physical aspects of getting to know a person, she was willing to do the small things. They had held hands. She had fallen asleep on his shoulder a few times when they watched movies. Since the fall, there had been very little else.

Connor hadn't minded. His goals had changed. He was no longer as interested in learning the intricacies of physical human intimacy. Yet. The former deviant hunter in him wanted the more difficult prize. He wanted her love; he wanted to her fall for him. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to achieve this. Talking to Hank wasn't any help either.

“Look, Connor, it either happens when it happens or it doesn't. That's just the way it is,” was the best explanation Hank could offer.

Connor found this reply unsatisfactory and was determined to learn the full equation of human romance himself. So far, he was very much lacking in data. They had spent time together these past few months. (Name) was always happy to see him, to spend time with him. They enjoyed each other's company, they became closer friends. But there was little else. The spark of this human emotion of love seemed elusive still and Connor did not know how to gain it.

So he continued to see her, to study her. And to frown at her back slightly while he watched her stand at the stove, preparing himself for a meal made awkward since he could could only watch her eat. Something humans were not comfortable with.

(Name) finished cooking and fixed her plate. Then she turned and motioned her head toward the living area. “Thanks for waiting. We can go now.”

Go? Connor followed her and she plopped herself on the couch, folding her legs under her with the plate propped up on her thighs.

“So, what's up with that RK900 model?” (Name) suddenly asked him while she ate. “Why would Cyberlife even think of releasing that after all that's happened?”

Connor raised a brow at her, surprised at the sudden topic. The RK900, practically dropped on the DPD's doorstep with little explanation, was the subject of plenty of office gossip. To the other humans. No one talked about it around him. No one had asked him other than Hank's initial “What the fuck is that?” when he first saw the new android.

“I'm a prototype,” Connor responded in his 'just the facts ma'am' voice she sometimes accused him of. “The RK900 was supposed to be the resulting model developed for commercial release. Or, I suppose, military release would be more accurate.”

“And yet there seems to be only one of him, and he's at the precinct,” she responded.

“I cannot say why the RK900 was released. I have long since left Cyberlife. I do not affiliate with them anymore.”

“Good, you shouldn't. You're much better off here where people care about you.” Connor smiled a little to himself at her admission of caring. She didn't notice as she chewed thoughtfully. “Have you ever like... talked to him?”

Connor blinked at her. “No,” he realized.

“Why? Is it because he looks like you? Is that weird? It would be weird to me.”

He thought about it. Practically every android in the city, save maybe Markus, had at least a handful of other androids that looked to be their carbon copies. It didn't seem to bother them. This one sudden RK unit that appeared a few weeks ago was the first android Connor had ever met that looked exactly like him. But looks were all they had in common. Their inner build was different. Not even their basic programming was the same. Connor wasn't sure if same-model androids felt any kinship to each other, but Connor certainly felt none of that toward the RK900. It was a stranger to him. An Other with his face. And Connor suddenly realized that not only had he never conversed with the RK900, he had never wanted to.

“You okay?” (Name) then asked. “You look a little concerned. Your LED is yellow.”

Connor blinked, trying to put his thoughts and feelings in order. “I honestly don't know how I feel about the RK900. I... I think I have been actively avoiding the subject and him on purpose.”

“It's okay if he makes you uncomfortable, Connor. You're allowed to feel that way. Though there may be some point where you will have to converse with him at work.”

“You're right. I'm going to think on this.”

“Do you mind if... I talked to him?”

Connor's LED roiled back to yellow. His brows went down and (Name) knew her answer before he said anything.

“Don't worry, I promise I will always like you better,” she assured with affection.

Connor wasn't sure why, but that statement soothed whatever emotional turmoil plagued him.

“Be right back.” (Name) stood from the couch and took the empty plate with her. Connor had completely forgotten she was even eating in front of him. It had been as comfortable as ever. He was always comfortable around her, he realized. Even the first time he met her. Their personalities just fit, like two pieces of a puzzle that were always meant to lock together.

His gaze followed her as she walked back into the kitchen. Then, the lights suddenly went out and they were dropped into pitch blackness. A power outage, Connor thought calmly. He wasn't surprised with the weather outside. It was bound to happen.

“Connor?”

He stood, called by not just his name, but the anxious tone in her voice. He had never heard her sound so lost and vulnerable before. It awakened a protective streak in him and he strode with purpose to the kitchen.

“I'm here.” His night vision made it easy to see her reaching out blindly in the darkness. He took her outstretched hand and felt certain satisfaction when she immediately came into his space.

“There you are. I can see your LED.” With her free hand, she touched the blue circle at his temple and swirled her finger around it. She didn't touch his face often. Connor found himself bending down closer, wishing she would touch him more.

“Too bad you're not wearing your jacket,” she added. “It would make you easier to find. I've always liked how it glowed.”

“I'll wear it for you in the dark another time,” came the cheeky response.

She laughed. “I'm really glad you're here. I think I would have freaked out if I was alone when this happened.”

“Don't worry, I'll always keep you safe.” His low tone sent a tingle up her spine and she fought to shake it off.

“I can't see a thing. Do you think you could find my phone for me?”

In the pitch, she felt Connor's fingers ghost down her arm before he said, “Stay there. I'll be right back.”

In the dark, she already wanted him back when his presence left her. It was almost annoying. She had been on her own so long, why was she suddenly allowing herself to turn into this scared little girl around him when she knew she could have handled this on her own? But what she said was true. She was glad he was there. It wasn't just a simple power outage. She was in the pitch, trapped by a chill beyond the walls that could kill a person. There was something eerie about that.

“I found it,” Connor said as his footfalls entered the kitchen.

She saw the floating LED before his hand found hers and he placed the device against her palm. “Perfect! Thanks!” With her usual gusto now returned, she used her phone screen as a flashlight to clean up from dinner, but then remembered that the apartment's water pipes were still busted. “I guess that will have to do for now.” She frowned at the dishes in the sink. She hated leaving dishes undone. Tapping her fingers on the counter top, she looked to Connor. “No water. No power to watch movies. I don't even own a single board game. I guess tonight's a bust.”

“I'm sure we can figure out something,” Connor said with amusement. “Neither of us are going anywhere.”

“True,” she agreed as she walked past him and Connor was happy she didn't seem disappointed he was stuck in the apartment with her. “I think I have some candles and a flashlight somewhere.”

When (Name) stepped into the living area, she noticed a strip of what seemed like light streaming in from her nearly closed curtains. She walked to the sliding glass door of her fifth floor balcony and pushed open the drapes. There were no lights on outside, but the city was still bright. The moon was out, reflecting off the white snow that covered everything.

“Look at that,” (Name) breathed as Connor joined her at the window. “Not a soul out there, all the buildings completely dark. Absolutely deadly outside. It looks like the end of the world.”

“Eerie and somehow beautiful at the same time,” Connor said.

(Name) sat herself right there on the floor, eyes glued to the scene outside. “It really makes me feel grateful I have some place that's warm and safe.” She looked to Connor. “And a good friend who's here with me.”

Connor's frown in response was puzzling to her.

“What?” she asked with slight amusement. “You always make that frowny face when you're confused.”

He turned from her, his LED rolling from blue to yellow and back again. “When you said I'm your friend, I felt... disappointment. I don't know why. I like being your friend.”

“But...?” she pressed.

He did that thing where his brows went up and down while he thought. It always made her want to laugh when he did that. But she was trying to stay quiet while he processed. Certain aspects of Connor's deviancy required some time to parse out and (Name) let him have the time he needed.

“I... I really want more than your friendship. I've said this before. But I also... don't want to not have your friendship. I don't know if both can exist at the same time. I am not very good at the nuances of human relationships.”

(Name) took a moment to think on this, taking her gaze from him back to the dead, frozen city before them. “Relationships can be complicated and confusing, even to us. And there are many, many types of relationships with millions of variances for each person. It really depends on what that person wants and if the other person in the relationship can offer that or not, and visa versa.”

“What do you want in a relationship, (Name)?”

She shyly kept her gaze from him. “I've always wanted someone who was my friend as well as the person I loved. I don't just want to love them, I want to like them, too. I want to enjoy just being in their company whether it's out doing things together or just sitting at home. I want a best friend, a partner, not just a lover.”

Connor furrowed his brows again. “But having a significant other who is a best friend and also a lover is not friends with benefits?”

“No, it's not. The benefits part is using each other for physical gratification. There is no romantic love between you. No emotional closeness, no fidelity. Sometimes, you're not even really friends. It's just empty... fucking.”

Connor took some time to process that.

“What do you want in a relationship, Connor?” (Name) asked. In a slightly quieter voice she added, “What exactly do you want from this relationship?”

“It is still the same as before,” Connor replied with simple pragmatism. “I want you to fall in love with me.”

Now, it was (Name) who looked confused and a little hesitant. It had been several months and Connor's answer had never wavered. He had been upfront with her about his intentions from the start. Why did it confuse her now?

When he asked her about it, she gave a sad half-smile. “We've spent all this time together. I feel like we've grown closer, but nothing's changed. You haven't changed.”

“Of course not. My goals concerning you are still the same.”

Her expression looked almost hurt, thought she strangely still smiled. “Connor, you say you want me to love you but... you're not in love with me.”

Connor pulled back, sitting up straight and blinking rapidly at the unexpected accusation. His mouth moved to protest, trying to find the words. “But... I really like you.”

“I really like you, too, Connor. But it's not the same as being in love.”

Connor couldn't help but look distressed. He felt like he was falling into a deep hole with no purchase. How did everything crumble so fast? “Are you saying you'll never fall in love with me?”

“I was very open to it. I was beginning to. I thought we could fall in love together. But... I haven't really felt like that was what was happening. I know you've been wanting me to love you, and I've wanted to love you, but I don't feel anything back. I just feel you wanting, I don't feel you giving anything.”

Connor's LED went to yellow in his confusion.

“I'm sorry, I know I'm not explaining myself well. I'm honestly not that great at love myself.” She shivered and stood. “It's getting cold. I'm gonna grab a blanket.” She stood and padded toward the couch to grab a comforter while Connor quietly ruminated, keeping his back to her. She paused to look at his silhouette, feeling bad. She didn't want to have this conversation, but it had been sitting in the back of her mind for a while.

She knew something was missing between them, but she didn't know how to put it into words. The last thing she wanted to do was put the blame on Connor, but maybe it was possible he didn't have the capacity to love her like she was looking for. Maybe they were only compatible as friends and nothing more.

With the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, dragging on the ground, she walked back toward the balcony door. Nearly there, she stepped on the dragging blanket and tripped forward. Limbs tangled in the blanket, she saw the horror that was coming. Oh, God! She was going to smash through the glass door face first.

Then, Connor was there. His body was in her way, back pressed against the glass as he caught her. Her fall was nothing more than a dull thud as her body was cushioned by his. (Name) froze against him, wide-eyed and hardly believing she was still whole.

“Are you okay?” Connor asked.

“Y-yeah,” she breathed out, her heart still racing. She huffed out a relieved laugh. “Nice catch.”

“As I said, I'll always keep you safe.”

(Name) closed her eyes, not moving from his embrace. In her heart she wanted this, wanted to rest against him with his arms around her. Being with him all these months had only increased that want. But her fear was that his embrace would be empty, robotic. That it would be as comforting as being hugged by a chunk of plastic. Maybe her fear had gotten in the way, too. Maybe she was the one not letting it happen because this embrace did not feel empty. She felt it deep down in a place no other man had ever touched.

“I know... I'm an android,” Connor said. He didn't release her and she felt the rumble of his voice reverberate in his chest. “Maybe I'm not able to love like a human can. But I care about you. I always want you to be safe and happy. I want to be the one who makes you happy, and the one who keeps you safe. It's that the start of love?

“Maybe I'm not so good at it now, but I'll learn. I'll get better at it for you. I--”

Her mouth pressed to his before either really knew what was happening. It was little more than lips against lips, unmoving until she pulled away. They looked at each other, still hanging in the limbo of trying to gauge their own emotional reactions. Maybe she shouldn't have done that. She wanted to but Connor hadn't reacted at all. Maybe he didn't like it.

“I'm sorry, Connor, I shouldn't have--”

He cupped her face, sweeping her up to kiss her hungrily. Until that moment, she didn't know androids could feel hunger. She felt his as he kissed her deeply, again and again. Like he couldn't get enough. His body rose up and she clung to him; firm and strong, but not just a machine. The life and the passion in him was real as he settled both of them to the floor, Connor on top, his mouth still taking charge of her very breath. Her world was spinning, her head light like a cloud, delirious, warm, relieved.

When she was fighting his mouth for breath, he pulled away to let her get some air and hovered above her on his elbows.

“Connor,” she breathed.

He hummed back in reply, a bit drunk from the euphoria himself. “I like how you said my name just then.”

She pulled him down, brushing their noses together. “I like saying your name,” she whispered.

He kissed her again and she readily kissed him back, pulling him closer. Connor settled more weight on top of her. Now it wasn't just their lips learning each other, their bodies shifted in the want for closeness and friction.

(Name) moved against him a certain way and then made a surprised noise against his mouth, causing Connor to pause.

“Are you alright?” Connor asked when she tensed. “Did I hurt you?” He would have moved away, but her arms were still around him, if somewhat looser than before.

“Oh, no! You didn't hurt me at all!” she insisted. “I was just surprised. I didn't realize... I'm sorry, this is weird, but I'm just going to say it. I didn't know you were a model that was anatomically correct.”

Connor's brows raised up curiously. “You did not think I was equipped with male genitalia? But you considered being with me anyway?”

She shrugged weakly beneath him. “I like you as you are. If you and I got to that point, I figured we'd make it work somehow.”

“Sexual satisfaction is important to humans,” he said bluntly.

She smiled. “You're important to me.”

Connor felt it, a thud in his chest that stirred him. Was this what falling in love was? Was this what he had been missing before?”

“Do you want to see it?”

Startled, her jaw dropped and she let out an offended noise. “Connor!”

“I didn't mean in a crude or sexual manner. This is an honest offer. You are always so interested in anything involving androids. I thought it might be something you were curious about.”

Despite the chill, (Name's) face was red hot. He wasn't wrong. Though she would never be caught dead in a place like the Eden Club, she had always been curious about the aspects of having an android lover. Very curious, if she was fully honest with herself.

“That's... okay,” she said, trying to not look as embarrassed as she felt. God, she wanted to avoid his gaze but he still lay on top of her, staring right at her. She had to admit she liked having him on top of her. “Some things people are allowed to keep private.”

“I honestly don't mind. The offer is always open.”

She barked out a laugh, her face still flushed and she was glad for the darkness to help hide it. “I'll keep that in mind.”

Silence grew between them, neither of them moving. Him and her laying together in the dark, the world looking like it was ending right outside. Connor did not try to kiss her again, but he had settled into running the bridge of his nose along her jaw. This evolved into the two of them nuzzling each others faces like a pair of cats. The skin-on-skin contact felt good, intimate. (Name) liked his touch, feeling his skin against hers. It wasn't what she thought it would be. It felt natural, soothing and comfortable.

He opened his eyes when she brushed some stray strands from his forehead. “It's getting colder. With the power out, I'm going to have to dig out every blanket I have before going to bed.”

Connor gave her a cute smile, his temple illuminated by the contented azure of his LED. “May I offer my services for tonight? I can generate a comfortable amount of body heat if you would like to put me under all those blankets with yourself.”

She grinned and kissed his nose. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

#detroit become human #dbh #dbh connor #connor x reader #dbh fanfiction

104 notes · View notes

andavs · 6 years

Text

Yet another unprompted prompt from this long list of prompts. Prompt.

Number Fifty-Three: “That wasn’t very subtle.”

Allison took to late night drives.

Between her dad, Scott, Lydia, and Isaac rushing back from France, everyone had been a little...intense about her safety, to a stifling degree. She wasn’t holding it against them, it’d only been two weeks since she mysteriously rose from the dead, but she was getting a little stir crazy, and she needed to have a conversation with someone who didn’t look at her with reverence, almost a religious awe as if she was a miracle on earth. She just wanted someone who wouldn’t drop everything they were doing whenever she called, as weird as that seemed.

It was uncomfortable being everyone’s number one priority. It felt like they thought she would disappear if they asked her to wait an hour while they finished up whatever they were in the middle of—like this was only temporary and she could drop dead at any second so they had to see her as much as possible while they still could. The time Lydia assured her she was totally free and then showed up with a half-finished manicure really sealed the deal, so...sneaking out in the dead of night to be alone became a thing.

Sneaking out of the apartment in her socks and putting her shoes on in the hallway like she was back in high school or something—not that she actually graduated.

But as humiliating as it was, she would do whatever it took to get some time to herself, with total strangers who didn’t know anything about her. She was determined to find a pocket of normalcy somewhere in Beacon Hills...which is how she got the opposite of that and happened upon Stiles.

She was turning right onto a near deserted Main Street at almost three in the morning on a Tuesday, and he was just right there in the front window of the only 24 hour coffee shop on their side of town. Like that was a totally normal place to be.

She never would have sought him out like this before—well, before, but he’d kept his distance since she “came back from France” and she missed him. He’d always been good at distracting her, blowing through one topic to the next too fast for her to linger on her own thoughts for long, and these days she had a lot of thoughts to linger on, most of them bad. She could use some distracting.

(And while Scott insisted that the Nogitsune really was gone and had been for a year, she wanted to see for herself. To her, it was all less than a month ago, a demon using Stiles’ body to massacre innocent people, and in the very few brief moments she’d spent with Stiles, she couldn’t help but notice a hardness to his gaze that wasn’t there before.

She just needed to check.)

She walked right past him on the sidewalk without him noticing, even though he was sitting at the counter along the front of the shop, facing the windows. He was completely focused on his laptop in front of him, hand hovering over some stapled packets of printouts spread haphazardly across the counter, taking up three chairs worth of space. There were only two other people in the cafe, slumped in arm chairs near the fireplace at the back, so it wasn’t not like he was being rude.

Allison entered quietly and slid into the stool next to him, and it took a few seconds for him to drag his focus away from his work, frowning already at the intrusion into his claimed space before he even saw who it is. Then recognition flickered into his tired eyes and he jumped a little in delayed surprise.

“Whoa, Allison!” He flailed a little, less animated and more sluggish than she remembered, and his eyes tracked over the papers around him quickly like he was checking for anything incriminating. “What are you, uh—” he shoved a book farther under a printed page and tried to act natural. “What are you doing here? It’s like 1am.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “It’s like 3am, and I could ask you the same thing.”

He frowned and squinted at the clock in the corner of his computer screen, then answered distractedly, unconvincingly,

“Working on a paper.”

There was the half-hidden book open to a chapter on necromancy and a quickly closed internet tab named Lazarus Pit that suggested otherwise, but she didn’t mention them yet.

“How are finals going?” she asked instead, playing along even though she knew the entire pack was home from college for Christmas break.

“Good! Great! Yeah, can’t complain!” he answered somewhat manically,

She nodded along. “And the research into the undead?”

He slammed his laptop shut before she could register his movement, and she jumped, which seemed to make him jump in return, like he just realized what he did. She raised an eyebrow and his expression turned shifty. He debated his options for a moment, then gave in.

“That wasn’t very subtle, was it?”

She grinned and laughed through her nose; one of the few genuine laughs she’d had since she came back.“No, it wasn’t.” He bobbed his head in acceptance. “Any theories?”

His eyes flicked towards the empty street outside, then back to her. “What?”

“About me.” She gestured to the open book just behind him, and he didn’t even glance at it before he started to look guilty. “Do you think someone brought me back to use me?”

“Not seriously?” he tried, but she knew he wouldn’t be looking into it if it hadn’t crossed his mind with some sincerity. She raised both eyebrows and he sagged a little as he conceded, “Okay, a little bit. You’re kind of known for being a badass, you’d definitely be my first pick for any war of the dead.”

“That’s very flattering.” Probably. “Have you found anything about an upcoming war of the dead?”

The way he sheepishly scratched at the back of his head said no, he hadn’t but he would keep going until he did.

“There’s...a lot of texts to look into.”

Allison squinted an eye, playfully doubtful. “The texts of...Wikipedia?” She’d definitely seen the logo on a number of his tabs before he’d slammed his computer shut.

“I’m still narrowing down my sources!” He played along, feigning offense and falling back into their old dynamic from high school. It was unbelievably refreshing with everyone acting so strange. “There’s a lot online to sort through, and your family’s bestiary doesn’t have a post-death section—believe me, I’ve looked so many times, because no one around here can stay dead for longer than five minutes!”

His eyes widened a little, like he’d just caught up to his rant and realized who he was talking to. This was usually the moment things got uncomfortable, where everyone else started apologizing, or looking at Allison with wide and concerned eyes, like it would offend her to mention that she’d been dead.

She needed to stop that this time, before it even started. She couldn’t handle hearing another apology, not from Stiles too.

“Wait, okay.” She held up a hand. “Besides Peter and Kate—” Scott had filled her in on all of that, while looking very sincere and concerned it would upset her “— and obviously me, who else came back? I’ve missed four years of supernatural gossip, I need to catch up.”

Stiles reared back, awkwardness forgotten. “Wait, has no one told you about the chimeras? Like fifteen people died and crawled out of holes in the ground like actual zombies, and one guy tried to eat me—oh, and don’t even get me started on Derek, because I still have no idea what happened there—I mean, one second he was dying and then he was a wolf, and now he’s—”

Allison smiled at the barista who brought over a refill pot of coffee and another mug, and settled in to get lost in Stiles’ winding, ranting tale.

He may be a little sharper around the edges, a little darker, but he was still Stiles. He hadn’t become a werewolf, or a hunter, or a coyote or whatever the latest incarnation was—he was sitting in a coffee shop at four in the morning, ranting about the new patch of grey in Derek’s beard with an indignant intensity that made Allison want to ask a few questions, with his research taking up too much space, and his hands dancing around as he spoke.

Even after hugging her dad, Isaac, feeling Scott’s warm and enveloping arms around her, finally getting to have another girls’ night with Lydia—weirdly enough seeing this, Stiles in all his usual frenetic energy—that solidified things more than the rest.

Allison was back.

She didn’t know why or how, whether it was really permanent or not, but Stiles was on the case, just like he’d always been, and if there was something to be found, he would find it. He always did.

#teen wolf #look i just love stiles and allison a lot #ficlet #accidentally did some intermittent fasting today and it really does help you focus!#i got a fic done!#i mean i didn't really do my job that well #but i got SOMETHING done

368 notes · View notes

bamby0304 · 7 years

Text

Victoria Grimes I: Found

Summary: Victoria was alone. Her dad was dead and she had been separated from her mum, brother and dad’s best friend for awhile now. She was left to fend for herself, trying to survive.But when she hears the blaring alarm of a car coming down the high way, she’ll ever believe what’s install for her. And she never expected to get close to the red-neck hunter.

Chapter Ten: Getting Close to Dixon

Masterlist

Warnings: None...

Bamby

I woke up to the feeling of strong arms around me and a headache pounding in my head. I knew the headache was from the drinking last night, though I couldn't trust my mind about the arms. Did last night actually happen? Why would Daryl Dixon stay? Why didn't he leave?

"Mornin'," he mumbled, obviously already awake.

"You're really here?" I asked, rolling over so I could look at him.

He nodded. "I told you I'd stay."

The door to my room swung open as mum came to wake me up.

"Victoria, honey, you coming to breakfast?" She froze. One look at Daryl lying on the couch with me and I could see a mixture of emotions on her face. "I'll see you down in the dining room," was all she said before she left.

I turned back to Daryl who seemed worried. "You think your mum thinks something happened last night?"

I scoffed. "She's definitely gonna be thinking something happened. I know it," I told him.

He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. "I should let you get dressed then."

I nodded and stood up so he could move. "Yeah, better go before she thinks up more stuff." I sighed turning around. I felt hurt that he wanted to just leave.

"Hey." He turned me around. "I'll see you down there," he said before giving me a reassuring look and leaving.

"Mornin'" dad mumbled as he walked into the dinning room.

We all sat at the table, waiting for the breakfast T-Dog was cooking up. I had come in before most people. It had just been mum, Carl and Dale when I got there. I had taken a seat next to Carl, avoiding the questioning look my mum was giving me. It didn't take long before Daryl came in and sat next to me.

I moved so I was closer to him. "Hey." I smiled, looking at my empty plate.

I felt his hand under the table brush against my knee. I put my hand under the table and intertwined my finger with his, he froze but didn't pull away. I took that as a good sign, my smile growing slightly.

"Hey," he said, without the smile though.

Across the table from us Glenn was groaning and moaning. "You okay?" I grinned, remembering how drink he had been last night.

"He just needs some protein," T-Dog said as he filled everyone's plates with eggs. "It'll help with the hangover."

Glenn just groaned, "Don't ever, ever, ever let me drink again."

"Hey." I looked up to see who my dad had said hey to, to find Shane walking in. Daryl's hand, the one holding mine, tightened it's grip slightly.

"Hey," Shane said back as he grabbed some coffee.

"You feel as bad as I do?" dad asked him.

"Worse."

We all went back to eating, though I noticed Daryl had moved closer to me. You didn't see me complaining though. I actually didn't mind him worrying over me, and protecting me...

"Hey what happened to you?" T-Dog asked Shane. I only noticed than that he had scratches on his neck and hand. I was sure they were from me and not Daryl. Daryl would have given him a bruise, not some girly scratches.

Shane took a seat, avoiding looking in my direction. "Must have done it in my sleep."

"Never seen you do that before," dad noted.

"Me neither." Shane looked at me then. "Not like me at all."

I swear I had to tighten my own grip on Daryl's hand to stop him from jumping across the table and beating Shane to a pulp

"Morning." Jenner came in, walking straight for the coffee maker.

"Hey Doc," dad said in reply.

I turned to Daryl, wanting to get out of there. It was just a little too crowded for me. "I'm gonna go for a walk... wanna come?" He nodded as we got up to leave, our hands no longer together.

Just as we were about to leave, the others got up and moved to the door, following Jenner. They had been talking to him and I had chosen to ignore it. I didn't want to know anything. We were safe and that's all that mattered.

"Come on Victoria,” mum called as she walked past us. There was no avoiding now. It looked like we were following the rest of them.

We walked into Zone Five, moving to one of the inner computers. Jenner had given Vi, the computer, an order and suddenly the screen in front of us turned on to reveal some pictures and videos of a person. But it wasn't a normal video... you could see the brain and how it worked.

"Is that a brain?" Carl asked Jenner. I held in a laugh at the fact it was my brother who asked the question.

Jenner turned to him. "An extraordinary one." They both turned back to the screen, as did everyone else. "Not that it matters in the end," Jenner added before giving Vi another order.

The picture on the screen changed, taking as further into the brain.

"What are those lights?" Shane asked.

At the sound of his voice, Daryl moved himself so he stood between me and Shane, not that we were close anyway. Yet I couldn't help but smile up at the red-neck.

"It's a person's life. Experiences, memories, it's everything." Looking at Jenner he seems so interested, so drawn in by that knowledge. It was his passion. "Somewhere in all that organic wiring, all those ripples of light, is you. The thing that makes you unique and human."

Daryl stood up from leaning on the computers, crossing his arms over his chest. "You don't make sense, ever?"

Jenner stood, pointing at the screen as if he were a professor at a lecture and we were the students. "Those are synapses, electric impulses in the brain that carry all the messages. They determine everything a person says, does or thinks from the moment of birth to the moment of death."

"Death?" Dad walked forward. "That's what this is? A vigil?"

"Yes," Jenner answered before adding. "Or rather the... playback of the vigil."

Andrea looked both interested and horrified as she stepped for closer. "This person died? Who?"

"Test subject 19. Someone who was bitten and infected. And volunteered to have us... record the process," he answered, then gave another command to Vi.

The screen changed once more, the blue lights turning black. "What's happening?" I asked, moving closer to Daryl as I suddenly felt a sick feeling coming up. I didn't like this. I didn't want to know. But I had to.

Jenner pointed at the picture again. "It invades the brain like meningitis. The adrenal glands haemorrhage, the brain goes into shutdown, then the major death." Jenner looked down, and I couldn't help but think he knew the test subject. "Everything you ever were or will be... gone."

"Is that what happened to Jim?" Sophia's sweet voice broke the silence and my heart broke. She was too young for this. The world was too cruel for a little girl like her. Kids like Sophia and Carl shouldn't have to live in a world like this.

But no one spoke the words I had been thinking. Instead Carol just simply said, "Yes."

"You okay?" Daryl asked me. His voice distracted me from the others as I looked up to see him watching me. I hadn't realised I had been pacing, my hands shaking.

I shook my head. "I don't feel too good."

He brought his hand up to my arm and rubbed it up and down, calming my shakes and relaxing me a little. "You don't need to worry. I'm here. I'll protect you."

I smiled up at him. "You don't have to do that."

He shrugged. "I told you I won't go anywhere, and that's the truth. You're stuck with me now."

We turned back to the video, watching as the lights in the brain started to glow again. Only this time there are less lights, and they're red.

"It restarts the brain?" mum asked.

"No, just the brain stem. Basically it gets the up and moving."

"But they're not alive?" Dad stood behind Jenner's shoulder staring at the brain.

Jenner turned and moved so he stood next to my dad. "You tell me." He pointed at the screen.

"It's nothing like before. Most of that brain is dark," dad answered.

"Dark, lifeless, dead. The frontal lobes, the human part, that doesn't come back. The 'you' part." I looked at the screen as the body starting moving its jaw and head. "It's just a shell, driven by mindless instinct."

There was a light on the screen and then something went through the brain. The dark parts disappearing.

"God, what was that?" Carol stood up straighter, confused.

"He shot his patient," I answered, looking away from the screen.

"In the head," Andrea added. "Didn't you?" Jenner ordered Vi to power the screen down. "You have no idea what it is, do you?"

I walked away, not too far but far enough so I could ignore the others talking. I didn't want to hear anymore. I didn't want to hear about how there was no hope for the future. I knew it was true. I mean we came here to get a cure, to get help, but all we found was one guy. There was nothing left.

Jenner walked past me, leaving the room, and I turned to my dad just in time to hear Vi.

"When the power runs out, facility-wide decontamination will occur."

Mum had led everyone back to their rooms, while Shane, dad, Glenn and T-Dog went to check out the basement. I sat in my room, backing my things to keep myself busy. As I put my things away I came across my hair brush, and I could think of any other way to calm my nerves.

My door opened, revealing Daryl. "Can I come in?" he asked.

I nodded, letting the brush run through my hair as I kept brushing. I noticed he held another bottle of alcohol.

"What're you doing?" he asked, sitting on he couch as I sat on the floor.

I shrugged. "Relaxing."

He scoffed. "So you brush your hair?"

I looked up at him and smiled. "Can you think of anything else to do?"

He just held up the bottle of alcohol and grinned. I rolled my eyes and turned back around, going back to brushing my hair. Suddenly the lights turned off.

"Daryl?"

He stood up and I could barely see his hand reaching out, so I took it as we made our way to the door. As he opened it we saw Jenner walk past.

"Why is the air off?" mum asked from the room next door.

"And the lights in our room?" Carol added.

"What's going on? Why is everything gettin' turned off?" Daryl asked.

Jenner took the bottle of alcohol from Daryl's hand. "Energy use is being prioritised."

I followed Daryl as he left the room and followed Jenner. The questioning look from my mum did not go unnoticed.

"Air isn't a priority? And lights?" Dale asked from the door way of a room up ahead.

"It's not up to me. Zone Five is shutting itself down."

"Aye. Aye, what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Daryl grabbed my hand, making sure I kept up as he walked a little faster. "Hey, man, I'm talking to you. What do you mean it's shutting itself down? How could a building do anything?"

"You'd be surprised."

I could hear the others running down stares and I followed mum to look over the railing. "Dad?"

"Rick!" mum called over as well before we followed Jenner down the stairs and back to the main computer room. I was seriously starting to hate this room.

Dad came toward Jenner, and I could see he was both worried and mad. "Jenner, what's happening?"

"The system is dropping all non-essential uses of power. It's designed to keep the computers running to the last possible second. We've just approached the half hour line. Right on schedule.” Jenner pointed at the timer on the wall. He stopped at the steps, taking another drink before giving it to Daryl as he turned to everyone. "It was the French."

"What?" Andrea stepped forward.

I followed, no longer wanting to stay behind Daryl. I wanted answers and this guy was going to give them to me. If the world was going to end, why not have a little knowledge?

"They were the last to hold out,” he elaborated. “While our people were bolting the doors and committing suicide in the halls, they stayed in the labs to the end. They thought they were close to a solution."

Jenner turned away from us but I grabbed his shoulder and turned him around so he would face me. "What happened?"

"Same thing that's happening here. No power grid. Ran out of juice." He shrugged. "The world runs on fossil fuel. I mean, how stupid is that?"

"Let me tell you..." Shane stepped forward, pushing past me.

Dad was right behind him. "To hell with this Shane, I don't even care. Lori, grab our things. Everybody. We're getting out of here now!" everybody did as dad said, turning around and heading the way to our rooms.

Suddenly the sound of an alarm blaring stopped us in our tracks.

"What's that?" Shane asked. Jenner moved to a little device on his screen as Shane continued to shout. "Everybody ya'll heard Rick. Go get your thing's!"

"Come on," T-Dog yelled. "Come on, let's go."

The doorway to get out was blocked as a shutter came up, closing it off.

I stopped and turned to the doorway, feeling panic set in. "Dad?"

"Did he just lock us in? He just locked us in!" Glenn exclaimed.

"Carl? Victoria?" Mum came running back.

"Mum!" Carl ran to mum.

I was about to when I felt Daryl run the other way. I turned to see him heading for Jenner.

"You son of a bitch!"

"Dad!" I screamed, and he turned right away.

"Shane. Shane, stop him," dad yelled.

Shane grabbed Daryl. "No, stop. Don't!"

Daryl struggled against Shane. "He locked us in!"

I came up to stand between Daryl and Jenner. "You can't do this. Please."

Dad came storming past us. "Jenner, open that door now."

"There's no point. Everything topside is locked down. The emergency exits are sealed." He fixed his coat and turned to his computer.

"Well, open the damn things!"

But Jenner just shook his head. "That's not something I control. The computers do."

"Over ride them," I snapped.

But Jenner just went on, "I told you, once that front door closed, it wouldn't open again. You heard me say that. It's better this way."

"What is? What happens in 28 minutes?" Dad was having a hard time controlling himself, and I was glad he had that strength.

The only thing that kept me from throwing myself at Jenner and beating him till he opened the door, was that Carl and Sophia would see it.

Shane kicked Jenner's chair. "Come on!" he shouted as dad asked the question again.

Jenner stood, no longer in control of his emotions. "Do you know what this place is? We protected the public from very nasty stuff! Weaponized smallpox! Ebola to wipe out half the country! Stuff you don't want getting out! Ever!" he snapped. Calming down, he sat and turned to his computer again. "In the event of a catastrophic power failure and a terrorist attack, for example, HITs are deployed to prevent any organisms getting out."

"HITs?" dad questioned.

"Vi, define," Jenner commanded.

"HITs. High-Impulse Thermobaric fuel-ari explosives consist of a two-stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive except nuclear. The vacuum pressure ignites the oxygen between 5'ooo and 6'ooo degrees, and is useful when the greatest loss of life and damage is required."

Dad pulled mum into his arms, Carl as well. I rushed over there, throwing my arms around them as I felt tears well up.

"It sets the air on fire," Jenner finished.

Bamby

If you would like to be tagged please send an ask, and tell me what tag-list you want to be added too, it’s just easier to organise this way :):)

Victoria Grimes:

@deanervs @clementine-thx @aliceyourelatefortea

#the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fic #walking dead #walking dead fanfiction #walking dead fic #twd #twd fanfiction #twd fic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon x oc #victoria grimes #Victoria Grimes I: Found #so I got a queue...

23 notes · View notes