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rhysand-vs-fenrys · 6 years

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Nesta in ACOFAS: My Overall Opinion

Below the cut is my stance and interpretation of everything Nesta and surrounding Nesta in ACOFAS. I’ve been as exhaustive as possible in my answer because I’m only making this one post to go through it all.

It is broken up into 5 sections (with subcategories):

How the trauma built

How it manifests

Rhys & Feyre’s responses (with some overall references to the IC here)

Cassian’s role

Nesta overall

The TL;DR of what follows is that I support the direction SJM is taking these characters and it is completely logical as they have been presented to us.

How the Trauma Built

This is to the people saying Nesta was OOC because of her PTSD (though again, Maas is these character’s God and Creator, it’s impossible for her to write OOC).

Nesta was isolating herself quite a bit in the beginning of ACOWAR. She wanted nothing to do with anybody, and also isolated Elain with her. She had a sort of ally in that regard.

Over the course of ACOWAR, Nesta started reaching out more and engaging more with Prythian and the other members of the Inner Circle. She even came close to reconciling with Feyre (more on that with “Rhys and Feyre’s Responses”).

For Nesta at that point, being alone to process her thoughts and then becoming more immersed in Velaris and Prythian was the right path. It helped her find the ground again after her trauma in the Cauldron, which is very much described in WAR as a violation with similar descriptors to being raped (feeling that their body did not belong to them anymore).

And then Nesta killed Hybern.

She was built as being incredibly resistant to even the idea of war, and never wanted to fight (More on that later in “Cassian’s Role”). The IC were the fighters, she wanted to maintain the sort of innocence that came from not surrounding herself in blood.

Not only did Nesta kill Hybern, but she killed a dying man. Elain struck the fatal blow- the knife through his neck. He was done for. Because of what he’d done to their father and to Cassian, Nesta snapped and literally sawed off his head while he was still alive.

ACOFAS builds around Nesta’s thoughts of that moment, the last words Cassian thought he would ever say to her, and her own fears during that time.

I think Nesta would have been alright if “just” the Cauldron happened (not that that was a weak blow). She was finding her way and her strength, she’d accepted that at her core nothing was different. She was still the same Nesta she’d always been- imperious and not someone to fight a war.

But then she was the one who ended it, and that shattered her sense of self and with it any progress Nesta had made against the trauma of the Cauldron. After 1 traumatic event, it is hard enough to find your footing. After two, spaced far enough apart that some semblance of recovery had been made? Utterly devastating.

How it Manifests

The Drinking

The IC has always processed things with the assistance of alcohol. Rhys’ answer to Feyre’s marriage to Tamlin was a plan to get blackout drunk. Cassian having a bad meeting with Nesta in MAF meant he went for the liquor when he came home. Feyre fighting with Nesta in WAR earned advice from Mor that it was fine to drink directly from the bottle.

Giving Nesta space to drink all she wanted might not have seemed entirely wrong (at least, at first). Fae healing probably means over-drinking isn’t as much of a threat to their health, and it took them a while to realize and accept that Nesta wasn’t just drinking off stress, she was well on her way to becoming an alcoholic.

I hesitated there to say that she is an alcoholic mainly because she wasn’t showing signs (in her PoVs) of an addiction mindset. She never seems to crave alcohol, and I think overall rather than an addiction it’s an expression of her trauma and attempt at self-medication of sorts (not to say it hasn’t morphed into full alcoholism).

Again, that isn’t a denial that it’s alcoholism, just a hesitation in assigning the term in this circumstance without more data.

The Sex

If you haven’t read the ACOMAF excerpt “A Court of Wings and Embers” about Cassian and Nesta’s meeting, it revealed something about her back story that she (and Cassian) never mentioned in the core trilogy or FAS: When Nesta broke up with Thomas Mandry, he attacked her and nearly raped her. He got as far as tearing her dress before she managed to escape.

In “Wings and Embers”, Nesta is even sensitive to Cassian’s normal taunts and demeanor because of that experience, she has a bit of a flashback of sorts while they’re talking and he realizes what must have happened. Nesta refuses to give him the name of the man who tried to hurt her (because he promises very sincerely that he will kill him).

For Nesta to go from that to unchecked anonymous sex ties directly into her references in ACOFAS to feeling completely numb inside. I think in forcing herself to bed some random stranger- which “Wings and Embers” makes clear is unacceptable to her- she was trying to trigger some kind of shame or horror response in herself.

She was trying to feel anything. Even if that feeling was fear.

The IC has always been sex-positive, and they didn’t have that critical piece of knowledge Cassian alone holds about Nesta’s past. So they had no hope of catching Nesta’s behavior early on as the cry for help it is.

In that vein, some people do use sex as a coping mechanism after stress or a traumatic experience (This one being killing Hybern). Nesta was lost and needed to figure out who she was after her self-image was shattered. The sex alone might not be the best way to handle it, but it didn’t raise flags for Feyre and the IC because they didn’t know the piece of Nesta’s story Cassian was pledged to secrecy over.

I did not see slut-shaming anywhere in ACOFAS. If anything, Feyre dwells on it because it’s the piece that really doesn’t fit for her. Nesta used Feyre’s sexual relationship with Isaac as fodder to make her miserable. Nesta is the one who slut-shames in TAR and even leans towards it in MAF when she’s snapping at Rhys (More on that in “Rhys and Feyre’s Responses” next).

Feyre isn’t sitting there going “Wow Nesta is a slut”, she’s trying to connect the dots, again while missing the piece of information that would reveal exactly how Nesta was using that sex in her PTSD.

From an outside standpoint, Maas was using it to show another way PTSD manifests. Feyre and Aelin both manifest as being hollow inside and completely shutting down. Some people affected by PTSD don’t have that “quiet” route, and so Maas is opening up and exploring another form.

The sexual aspect of Nesta’s PTSD is specifically to show that fundamental difference in how her trauma needs to be treated (more on that in “Nesta overall”).

Rhys and Feyre’s Responses

This section alone could be a novel, so I’m going to try and keep it fairly linear timeline-wise, but still separate Rhys and Feyre later on.

History

Think about how we’ve seen Nesta in ACOTAR and ACOMAF:

In ACOTAR, she’s a frigid, cruel bitch to her baby sister. She slut shames her, insults her, finds insults that literally make Feyre flinch and digs in harder, and does everything in her power to sabotage Feyre because Nesta is mad at their father. For years she makes Feyre’s life a living hell and even contributes to Feyre’s own psychological issues that Tamlin actually heals in TAR (props where props go).

Feyre has zero hope for life in the beginning of TAR, she even tells her father hope doesn’t exist because she genuinely believes that. It is tied almost exclusively to Nesta’s abuse or things that result from her abuse (if Nesta had helped Feyre instead, they might have been able to find a better footing in their poverty, or at least had a home Feyre didn’t dread returning to).

When she returns to the mortal lands, before venturing out to save Tamlin(’s ungrateful ass), Feyre finds a sort of peace with Nesta and starts to realize why Nesta was so horrible to her for so long. The key here is that there is no reconciliation, just a beginning step towards one.

In ACOMAF, Feyre returns from Prythian almost expecting that same quasi-peace she and Nesta found, only to find Nesta as viciously mean and cruel as she was in TAR (probably because of Cassian, but also her own prejudice against Fae and all that their presence might represent (war)).

Again, a bit of understanding is reached by the end of the book-

then Nesta and Elain are thrown into the Cauldron.

And guess how Nesta treats Feyre in WAR when she returns? Like shit. Again.

Each time the slide back to cruelty makes sense- TAR --> MAF it is the introduction of the fae element and knowing Feyre’s involvement makes the war inevitably an Archeron problem. MAF --> WAR it is the incredibly traumatic event Nesta and Elain went through, Feyre not being there to help them on the other side, and Nesta feeling as if she and Elain were abandoned to the care of near strangers after such a horrifying event (that again is always described along the same vein psychologically as being raped).

Still, even though it makes sense where she is coming from, Nesta does always return to the evil bitch role and never apologizes to Feyre (though she does come close).

Rhysand

He’s first because he’s easy.

People are harping on Rhysand for how he treats Nesta in FAS but it’s totally in line with canon. Feyre snaps at him in WAR for little offhand comments he makes against Nesta. He’s never had a particularly warm image of her.

Rhys brings out receipts for Nesta’s treatment of Feyre pre-ACOTAR, specifically sending her out to hunt in the forest. Remember what happened to Rhys’ little sister when the older sibling didn’t protect them? And she was meeting him somewhere that should have been perfectly safe, she wasn’t entering a dangerous area armed.

On top of that, he’s seen Nesta slut-shame her sister, and even from a non-Feyre side of things, Nesta has a habit of landing hard blows on his entire IC. His best friends who have helped him through horrible trauma, and she attacks them and repeatedly belittles them.

From his PoV, even if he wasn’t in love with Feyre, Nesta is just downright evil.

Feyre

Nesta is always going back-and-forth. Even Feyre cannot predict when Nesta will strike a blow (metaphorically) or when she’ll be somewhere in the vicinity of pleasant. She defends Nesta to Rhysand (in MAF, WAR, and FAS), but even so whenever Nesta opens her mouth to say something Feyre flinches or anticipates something horrible.

She doesn’t want Rhys to speak ill of her family because they are all she has left of her mortal life, and she had to literally risk her life to keep them fed for years. She couldn’t let grudges grow, because if she did she might just walk into the woods and leave them to starve. They are her family, and so she feels an obligation to protect both Nesta and Elain (more on Elain in a moment).

That doesn’t mean she isn’t affected by how she was treated, or that old wounds aren’t there. She just doesn’t want to get into it. It makes Feyre more dismissive of Nesta, but she is still trying. She’s just lost the strength to try as hard as she would for Mor or Cassian or even Elain- people who actually show her kindness and love.

Elain and the IC

Mor sees Nesta as a nasty thorn in Feyre’s side, but she knows what it is to deal with horrible family (to a much harsher degree). She supports Feyre and her stance, and that’s it. She tried making friends with Nesta and had her head bit off, so she’s not reaching out.

Amren and Azriel you all know.

Elain is where Nesta isolated herself wholly and completely.

In WAR, Nesta had Elain with her as they processed their trauma. Elain was worse off than she was, completely shut down, and so the isolation seemed like a good idea (you may remember in WAR it was not a good idea when it came to Elain, she needed to be around others regularly to open up).

After WAR though... Elain accepted Prythian. She doesn’t fully accept that things are over with Grayson, and doesn’t entirely acknowledge that she is fae, but she accepts Prythian and Velaris and Night. She accepts the world, even while ignoring her circumstance... and Nesta resents her for it.

Elain was always side-by-side with her, but as Elain settled and Nesta raged, she couldn’t count on her younger sister anymore to just be there and understand. Elain started having her own life and hobbies. She found a way to start processing her pain and deal with it. She wasn’t set back by the death of Hybern because Elain accepted that it had to happen and she was protecting her family and avenging their father.

Elain is very much the one to let go of grudges, while Nesta holds them in a vice-grip. Nesta resented Elain’s peace, and so she distances herself from even Elain, while still leaving a door open for the sister she always favored (at least for a while in FAS Elain is the one who can get Nesta to do stuff).

Cassian’s Role

From the very beginning of WAR, Cassian has known Nesta isn’t like her sisters.

He wanted Nesta to train, he taunted her over it repeatedly, trying to goad her into it. Cassian’s approach to Nesta has always been the closest to how Nesta needed to be approached. He has a fundamental understanding of her and her personality.

Cassian was once someone without a place in the world, and so he carved it out himself. He wants that for Nesta, but he also knows she has to be the one to take it. He tries to help Nesta while giving her her space, and he also seems to accept that while Vealris treats Nesta as if she’s his (brought up by Nesta herself in FAS), she is still her own person and free to be with whoever she wishes or live as she chooses.

Cassian is trapped between wanting to help Nesta as much as she will allow, and minding that line so she knows he isn’t trying to force his presence or himself on her. He is dismissed and ignored by Illyrians as a bastard and is touchy about that, but he endures dismissal when it comes from Nesta so that she knows he is always there for her.

Still, as much as he clearly loves her and cares about her, he can only take so many hits at a time before old wounds become too raw. That is why he will push more forcefully, but in the end he always leaves it to Nesta to take the final step herself.

Cassian is watching her more closely than the others, and he knows that missing piece about her sexual history. He is trying to help her as much as he is capable, but he also knows she needs something different. She needs real help, and Cassian doesn’t have any right to be the one to drag her bodily off to get the treatment she needs. He also knows she wont open up to some doctor.

I’m not doing a lot on Cassian’s stance because that’s what the next novel is going to be. Cassian honestly sees the same pain on Nesta that he had, and he knows her personality very well. She needs the fight, and she needs to feel like she’s earned and carved her own spot in the world.

She needs training as an Illyrian, a position he has always held when it comes to Nesta.

Nesta Overall

Contrary to how some tumbrs have been spinning it, the IC and Feyre never outright abandoned Nesta.

Even Nesta acknowledges at one point that the IC tried giving her jobs or pulling her along in their group to get her to engage. They tried to help her through her PTSD the same way they did for Feyre, Rhys, Mor, even Elain (given a job early on of designing the Townhouse garden). Rhys has offered her duties or positions, Feyre’s tried to help find hobbies for her, and yet Nesta is resistant to all.

As I said before, Maas is showing another form of PTSD, one that requires a completely different path of treatment. The IC try to heal Nesta the way they healed others, but she was never going to be able to walk that same path, not after what happened with the King of Hybern at least (remember, Nesta accepted the role as Ambassador to the Human Lands in WAR as she recovered from what the Cauldron did to her, then wanted nothing to do with it in FAS).

The IC didn’t abandon her, they just couldn’t understand her, and Nesta cannot express herself to show them how best to help her.

She’s always been barbed and defensive, and in this case when she needed people to gather around her all the more and see through it, they were pushed back because of her own past actions. The IC cannot help her, because she burned bridges with them time and again and they’re just done taking her punches.

Cassian sees what is happening, and he tries to reach for her- but Nesta doesn’t need him alone to make that leap. Even if she loves Cassian desperately and they are endgame mates (that’s not an ‘if’ that’s a fact), she needs to know the others care.

She needs to know that she is genuinely wanted, that her presence is appreciated and accepted with no other thought than “Nesta’s here, I’m so happy” (why Cassian reacted so strongly when Feyre made mention of the almost buyer’s bargain with Nesta coming to Solstice).

Feyre’s exhausted when it comes to her sister. Rhys and most of the IC have no reason to reach out for her very much because of her own personality and how it hides deep rooted insecurities. Rhys in particular has dealt with horrible people his entire life and he’s not willing to keep them around that much, not if he believes there is nothing redeeming inside them.

Nesta is screaming for help in her own way, but unfortunately it’s a case where no one else speaks the language, save Cassian. And knowing Cassian understands makes Nesta feel ashamed and weak, open and judged, so she uses every weapon at her disposal to push him back.

She needs both isolation and acceptance. Nesta cannot open up enough for that, and the rest of the IC doesn’t speak that language. They aren’t wilfully ignoring it, they honestly have no idea how to process it and are frustrated by that lack of understanding.

The minute she got up and went to the dying King of Hybern, this became completely inevitable. Nesta isn’t someone who can be strengthened and forged like Feyre or even Elain- surrounded by gentle love and kindness. She needed to be shattered and re-forged, and when she is she will be stronger, more confident, and happier for it.

The next book is going to be incredible.

1K notes · View notes

waywardimpalawriter · 3 years

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hi! i really love your writing, and was really hoping you could do another dean winchester x f! plus size reader. possibly were they are best friends and she is pining for someone else. so before she can make her move on someone else he stops her and confess his love for her. idk maybe some angst/fluff/smut?? you don’t have to if u don’t want to, it’s totally up to you. like no pressure at all! but seriously, i do really love all your writing and i wanted to say thank you for everything u write and do!! <3 once again no pressure at all with this ask, but overall thank you!!<3

Just one good reason

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Female Reader

SPN mixed Bingo Square: Hurt/Comfort Square

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester,

Setting: mid season 11

Rating: E (explicit), NSFW, 18+ only please

Warnings: angst, smut, yearning, grumpy and sweet Dean (yes they need a warning),

Word count: 12,805 (Truly Was suppose to be this long. I blame Dean for this.)

Summary: He’s given a million reasons, damaged goods, blood on his hands, nightmares, scared in so many ways. But most of all that he’s not good enough. Just when you’re ready to walk out that door he gives you one good reason to stay.

Notes: Thank you Anon for this request, I love writing for Dean so very much and to add a plus size gal in as well that just makes my day. I do hope you’ll enjoy this story. The song “Million Reasons” both version’s by Lady Gaga and Briana Buckmaster are inspiration for this story.

Tag list: Is open for all character’s and series I write for.

@spnmixedbingo

Dean Winchester list: @akshi8278

Just one good reason list: @chickensarentcheap

@impala1967dwinchester, @lilacprincessofrecovery, @superavengerpotterstar @jbbarnesgirl @sofreddie @slightlyobsessedwithissues

Ancient hinges creak wearily, firm hand pushing to hold open the heavy door letting you and Sam pass by. Fatigued sigh leaves slightly chapped lips, “It’s good to be home.” Taking the stairs down two at a time, tossing duffle bags towards the war table.

“Going soft on us old man?” Teasing quip tugging a smile from your lips as you drop down into the nearest chair. “Getting use to having that soft bed under your ass now huh?”

Scoffing, whiskey flecked green eyes settling on your plush frame, “Woman you forget we’re the same age first off.” Playfully stocking towards you, hands placed on the back of your chair to cage you in. “Second damn right that bed is magical, memory form baby, it remembers me,” poking your side, giggle leaving your lips body squirming in the seat.

“Stop,” pleading tone entering your voice, trying to evaded his questing hands trailing along your curvy sides. “Please,” puppy eyes begging for mercy, his hands aren’t willing to give. Though you can’t bring yourself to care seeing the weight, even for a moment, disappear from his countenance. Or the fact your sides aren’t the ticklish spot on your body, moving in the seat purely for show.

“Say your sorry for calling me old,” brow lifting watching you squirm under his hands. Wishing and not for the first time, he could have your soft body slotted against his harder frame. Knowing how well you fit just in a different way, one that hasn’t been enough for a long time.

Giggles burst from your lips, hands flat against the hard plains of his chest tugging on the dark blue t-shirt to distract from his plans. Pushing him away which had as much of an effect as a toy bulldozer did against a real brick wall. “Okay, okay I’m sorry, promise I’m sorry,” gasping for breath giving a hard tap to his shoulder.

“Now who’s giving up too soon?” Hands pause as his eyes catch yours for a long moment. Smiling face beaming up at him, heart beating triple time and not from assaulting you with his hands. Unable to resist the urge to touch your soft skin. Callused fingers come up to barely graze just under your left eye carefully capturing the eyelash on the tip of his forefinger from your cheek, “Make a wish.”

Leaning forward to place your lips close to the offered digit, eyes closed to blow a cold stream, eyelash fluttering away unseen. Keeping your libs lowered for a bit longer torn between what you truly desire and what’s within your grasp. Whiskey roughened voice breaking through your thoughts, sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

“What you wish for?” Swallowing hard, beloved eyes flutter open to ensnare his in there depths. Catching something simmering just below but disappears quicker than a jack rabbit running from a coyote.

Clearing yours throat, “Can’t tell ya Deano won’t come true if I do.” Giving a smile, pressing him backwards to raise and grab your duffle bag. Cell phone signaling an incoming text message making you pull the the black case wrapped piece of tech out of your front jeans pocket. Bright smile pulling your lips higher seeing just who’s messaged you. “Catch y’all later.”

“Someone good?” Sam speaks for the first time since coming home. Watching the scene between his brother and best friend. Wanting to strangle the both of you for not seeing what’s right in front of you.

Head snapping up from buried in your phone to stare wide eyed at Sam, “Yes, no I mean it’s nothing but could be something.”

“Will again?” Peripheral catching the dark scowl pass over Dean’s features before disappearing behind a mask of indifference.

Humming sweetly, sparkle lighting your eyes that go back to your phone for a moment. “He’s asking if we can meet up tomorrow for lunch, trying to choose where to eat.”

“What about,” clearing his throat to unclog the emotions choking off the air to breath. “That little diner in town? It’s your favorite and serves the best pie aside yours of course.”

Trapping and tugging your bottom lip between nibbling teeth, head shaking in the negative. “Nope he’s not fond of greasy foods.”

‘Plus that’s our spot,’ unbridled thought slides into your mind and you want to look over at Dean to remind him. But push those thoughts aside with a wave, heading towards the bedrooms carefully making sure not to bump into a wall while responding.

Green eyes follow till you round the corner, heart catching in his throat cursing himself for mentioning your diner. Knowing better yet wanting confirmation without asking if the spot is still special.

“You’re an idiot Dean,” shaggy brown head shaking as he to snaps up his duffle bag to head towards his room. “The foundation is already there start building before it cracks.”

“Thanks Riddler, just cause I’m Batman doesn’t mean you have to be so fucking vague.” Left with his thoughts and the growing feeling he’s loosing you to another man. Dean leaves his stuff lay where it landed glancing over the chair you vacated not five minutes ago then heading towards the kitchen. In need of something harder than beer but settling for the dark brew being the only alcohol in the bunker.

Opening the fridge door, grabbing a brew his fingers brush against the clear plastic container holding a single slice of pecan pie. Eyes unseeing, drifting back into memories when the Mark of Cain still burned into his skin.

2015

Charlie’s dead, beaten, murdered and left in a pool of her own blood. Every time his eyes close she’s there, expressionless sea green eyes staring blankly into his own. Never hearing her snarky retorts, sassy ways or those hugs she gave. Staring into cold brown sludge, hands gripping the mug a little too tightly. Not sure why he chose to come here of all places. When he could’ve started out on his hunt for the Styne’s. Deep down though he knows the reason right as the little bell signals someone’s entered the small family owned diner. Knowing exactly who and trying to ready himself for your present.

Never ready for how your soft fingers brush along his temple, settling on his shoulder for a moment while you slide into the worn pleather covered booth. Trailing those gentle fingers down his black and grey plaid covered arm. Tugging one hand from around the ceramic cup to intertwine your fingers. Head coming to rest on his shoulder, no words just comfort in a time when he needs it most.

“You shouldn’t be here,” dark with hints of gravel and kissed with pain in the tone. Whiskey flicked green obits focus, for the first time on something besides the cup in his hands, landing on the top of your head.

Shrugging, “Where else should I be Dean?” Looking up at him sorrowful eyes meeting right when your other palm comes up to brush moisture from his cheek. Unnoticed tears sliding down cool cheeks, “You’re my best friend there’s no place I’d rather be then right here helping you.”

“You could get killed,” the very through twists his heart till almost bursting. Brings bile to rise in the back of his throat, slithering through his system to settle unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach. It’s one thing to loose Charlie a heavy casualty. But you, Dean isn’t sure he’d come back from the dark path he’d follow for vengeance.

Soft sad smile turns your lips barely upward, “Not gonna happen I have my knight in shining Impala to keep me safe.”

“I couldn’t keep Charlie safe how can I…”

Shaking your head, finger placed over his kissable lips, “You’ve given me a million reasons already Dean Winchester and I don’t believe a single one of them.” Resting your foreheads together a moment, tenderness skating across your veins for the man beside you, “You might not believe it but your a good man.”

Pie filled plate slides across scared formica table top, metal fork clattering against the ceramic pushed in front. “More coffee,” sweet feminine voice floats from beside you.

Nodding, “Please, sugar and cream too.” Giving her a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes feeling Dean stir beside you.

“Black like my soul you know that sweetheart,” slightly chapped lips brush your cheek. A simple thank you for this act of kindness he feels undeserving of. If he hadn’t already been head over heels in love with you this sweet gesture would’ve sealed the deal.

Breathless gasp parts your lips as you turn finding Dean closer almost invading your space. Leather, motor oil and Irish Spring tickle your nose, eyes locking with those agony drenched obits, making another gasp exist your lungs. Heartache rocketing through your body, colliding with anger directed at the Styne’s.

“Eat your pie Winchester we’ll talk about that soul of yours later after dealing with the Styne’s.”

Heart freezing at the mention of the murdering family, “No,” rougher than intended, Dean grabs your chin twisting your face towards his. Rage hot and potent flaring through those beautiful greens. “No you will stay with Sam I’ll deal with them myself…”

“Dean you can’t be serious…” grabbing his wrist, pleading in your eyes for him to listen. Loosing Charlie splintered your heart, counting her as the sister you’ve never had. Her blood demanding revenge for the grievous act. But loosing Dean would kill you, knowing you never would come back from that agony.

“I am, deadly so. You try and sneak along I’ll toss that sexy ass outta Baby faster than you can pray to Castiel.”

Snorting, pulling your chin from his grasp, “You couldn’t lift me Winchester and you can’t stop me…” but the look he gives you does. Any farther flow of words halt in there bid to tumble out of your mouth.

“No I can’t,” callused palms cup your cheeks keeping you in place. Searching your eyes and making sure you understood, “I don’t want you to come with me Y/N. If there’s anytime to listen its now. I’ve lost one sister I didn’t want.” Bitting those words out to keep from speaking the others which threaten to pour from his being. “I can’t loose you,” resting your foreheads together again.

Nodding, trying to keep yourself from rubbing your cheek into his palm or worse press your lips against his. Lying to yourself isn’t something you normally do and you wouldn’t start now with the realization you were in love with your best friend and worried your going to loose him to the all consuming darkness.

You're giving me a million reasons to let you go

You're giving me a million reasons to quit the show

You're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

Downing the last of his long neck, drawing patterns over the hardwood table underneath with the condensation from the bottle. Eyes trained on that single slice of pie you’d bought him weeks ago.

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you D,” mirth filled voice floats towards him before you reach his side in body.

Hand coming into view grabbing for the container to toss it out. But Dean’s quicker, “If you value your life, you’ll unhand my pie,” thick fingers circle your wrist pulling your plush body down beside him. “It’s not nice to steal a man’s pie woman,” keeping his tone light, playful and away from the looming fate he knows will visit upon his person once you figure out Will is the man you truly want. Deserving of your light, and laughter, the sweetness, of your beauty that Dean only hopes the other man will appreciate.

Gasping in mock outrage, “Who me?” Hand to heart trying to keep the laughter from your tone. “I would never deprive you of pie Deano. But I would that slice since I think it’s become a science experiment.”

Narrowing his eyes towards the offending sweet dessert, “It is not.” Poking twice before pulling the pie forward for a closer inspection. Musical laughter meeting his ears, smothering the smirk threatening to bloom over his lips. “Okay so maybe your right,” turning his pouting face towards you.

“Course I am,” giving him a wink then standing to toss the ruined sweets out. Pausing by the panty, you peek in unaware Dean’s watching you from his seat.

Teasing sway to your generous hips has his eyes tracking every movement. Bitting the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning at how temping you look. Thick thighs encased in blue denim jeans feet bare from wearing those steal toed Dr. Martins during hunts. Body stretching upwards, soft cotton baby blue tank top riding up to bare a silver of delicate skin to his eyes. Your fingers barely snag the sugar container’s edge, pulling it down to clasp against your ample chest.

Chastising himself for the erotic thoughts flipping through his mind on a single film reel. “What exactly are you doing sweetheart?” Carefully keeping his lower half away from your line of sight. Lest you find out the problem currently tenting his jeans, teeth gritting to stop himself from acting on all those thoughts.

“Never you mind Dean Winchester,” tossing over your shoulder, checking for vanilla extract, light syrup, and butter from the fridge. Last stop the freezer mentally trying to remember if you there's a pie shell left or would need to make one. Hoping for at least a single, since checking the flour stock and coming up almost empty. “Start a list for me please and put flour on it,” setting the three ingredients in your hands down. Turning back to open the metal door to peer into the freeze, swaying slighting to a song running through your head. A triumphant “Yes,” exists your lips, a little dance of excitement upon finding the last shell.

Damn near swallowing his tongue so entranced by your movements gulping different words back down to keep from making a total fool of himself. As he utters, “Not till I know exactly what your making over there Betty Crocker.”

“Resorting to blackmail now?” Brow arched, unconsciously licking your lips slowly. Unaware of Dean watching the path it takes across your pump bottom lip, tucking it between indenting teeth.

For distraction purposes, Dean pulls his phone from the front pocket of his jeans. Bringing up the list app a suggestion to simplify things you gave him months back. Forcing himself to focus on the small screen in his hands instead of the woman currently dancing around the kitchen. Pulling bowls, pots and pans out, one chance glance has an inaudible groan vibrating through his chest at the sight of your plush ass. Bent over shifting through sheet pans knowing which you look for as arousal flares to life so potent Dean turns quickly hiding his reacting. Planting his face in the palms of his hands, elbows bent to catch the weight. Fingers digging into eye sockets to use the pain and banish the thoughts from reappearing.

Frowning at his actions you come over after putting the pan on the counter. Fingers running through his hair, scraping the scalp with short nails. Pleased smile at the groan you pull from his lips as he rubs his head into your palm like a little puppy. “Something wrong Dean?” Worry dancing through the cadence of your voice other hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

“Fine,” head popping up, forcing your fingers to slide out of his hair. Taking a chance to glance up into your worried eyes. Underserving of your soft touch searing his skin. An itch to run from our presence skitters across his veins. “I’m fine sweetheart just tired.”

Searching his face, those whiskey flecked green eyes so unlike the blue-greens of Will’s, catching something hiding in those deep depths he’s trying to hide. Never fooled by words, always inspecting his actions and those little tells partially concealed though you know them all too well. “You’re covering something up Winchester I’ll get it out of you one way or another,” patting his cheek and stepping away.

‘I don’t want you to go on that date,’ on the tip of his tongue poised to leave his lips he keeps smashed together burying those feelings to not ruin this chance you have at an apple pie life. The very thought tears his heart, rendering another hole in the punched out organ. Though it’s his own fault for giving you a million reasons to keep that boundary line in place. Tip toeing almost across a few times, but always toeing the line keeping himself in check. Head snapping around when something hard hits the back of his head, scowl in place though it’s more playful than menacing. “Did you just…” glancing towards the floor to find a lone pecan on the ground behind him. Head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed on your face, which is the total opposite of his holding a sweetly innocent look concealing the trouble he knows you’ll cause. “Seriously a pecan? That could’ve done damage Babe Ruth.”

Eyes rolling, snort issuing from your up turned lips, “I don’t know what you speak of Dean I’m just here making a pie minding my own business. Can’t help it if a pecan has it out for you.”

“Possessed it must be,” voice pitched in a poor imitation of Master Yoda, getting a boo hiss from your general direction. “Though something tells me a certain someone threw the poor helpless nut.”

Shrugging, face neutral a picture of indifference with hands on your wide hips ingredients spread out over the counter. “Stop calling yourself names Dean it’s not nice.” Bottom lip trapped for a second to keep from giggling at the way he’s looking towards you.

Enjoying this moment of normalcy you’ve managed to capture in these dark and dangerous times. Thoughts skittering towards Will, if he’s able to put up with the hunters life style? Former Marine, Will knows so little of what truly goes bump in the night making you worry he wouldn’t feel at ease. It’s the reason you’ve hesitated each time he’s asked you out. Not wanting to drag someone else into a life of blood and death. Persistence and patience paid off when you finally agreed on a dinner date for tomorrow night. One your actually looking forward to.

But then you glance towards Dean, seeing the smile grace those soft looking lips, shinning in his whiskey flecked green orbs for the first time in months and you hesitate. Would you want to leave this life for a man who wouldn’t understand you not fully anyway? Or stay and remain the best friend till a hunt takes one of you out? Could you truly leave your home with the Winchesters, with Dean?

His voice breaks through the your thoughts, ruthful chuckle echoing through the room, “Haha sweetheart stop trying to be John Candy it ain’t workin for ya,” bending to scoop up the tossed nut a memory filters through his mind. Opening a wound he thought long since closed over soaked in whiskey and women who’s names he’s forgotten. Shaking the thought away to ask, “You gonna chunk a nut at your boyfriend tomorrow night too? Or is that reserved for me?”

Not sure why he’s even asking or teasing you about it or the fact there’s a bite to the tone. He shouldn’t care about a simple date, yet the thought twists his gut smile slipping from his lips as he looks down at the pecan in hand. Unwillingly letting those images fill and play before his eyes.

If I had a highway, I would run for the hills

If you could find a dry way, I'd forever be still

But you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

December 2011

Run down two room shack a nicer way of putting it truly, you think while pulling up outside next to Baby’s sleek black side. Hands gripping the steer wheel till knuckles hurt and you can focus again through the haze of tears spilling down your cold cheeks. Still trying to grasp the fact Bobby Singer legendary hunter, go to lore man, and surrogate father, dead by a bullet from Dick Roman’s gun. Itching for vengeance you try to quell for another time when you can let all the anger out. For right now you knew he needed you more than any strategy planning or revenge thought.

Remembering Sam’s voice shaking, laced with pain, peppered with rage but above all coated in sadness you could hear over the phone lines. Never hesitating to drop the case — for now — breaking speed limit in the need to reunite with your boys. You’d do anything for family even those who weren’t by blood. Learning a long time ago that family doesn’t end with the DNA flowing through your veins.

Shaking those thoughts from your mind and existing the car only to lean back in and grab the bags from the passenger side. Standing to full height to peer over the top locking eyes with those anger clouded greens. “No I didn’t bring you anything Winchester so don’t bother asking.” Trying to lighten the situation with poorly used humor.

Words fail to leave thinned lips as you pass by, hand holding the creaking barely held together door open for you. Following behind his voice scratchy from no use, “Sam call you?”

“Of course silly why wouldn’t he?” Placing the bags on what could pass for a pile of rubble instead of an island countertop. Turning to face him cataloging each feature, the stone set of his jaw, shoulders tight with tension, eyes those beautiful normally vibrate whiskey flecked greens mute with anguish he tries to hide.

Shrugging, shoulders dropping forward with no will to keep them up, “He shouldn’t have your needed else where Y/N.”

“Bullshit Winchester,” moving with purpose to stand in his personal space. “Bobby was just as much a father to me as to you. There’s no other place I’d rather be than here, for a different reason yes but I’m not leaving so suck it up buttercup.”

Catching the flash of anger tinging the deep greens whether directed at you or himself you’re not sure. “We already salted and burned his body, there’s no reason for you to stay.” Turning away from your softening eyes knowing your going to try and reason with him. Make him see he’s not responsible for what happened.

“I know,” two simple words make him pause and turn back. “I didn’t come to say goodbye to Bobby, I came for you.” Taking one step closer arms wrapping around his slumped shoulders bringing him into the shelter of your embrace. Steady hands running the length of his stiff back, imparting your warm, trying to give comfort knowing he’s unaccepting of such sympathies.

Brows furrowing, frown tipping his lips downward, fists clinching at his sides, Dean tries to keep himself from giving into the solace he so easily could find in your embrace. Warmth sinking into his skin through the layers of clothing he wears, tingling his skin, quickening his pulse.“Why?”

“You need me, your not listening to Sam or Castiel talking about going off to track Roman down yourself,” spitting the Leviathan’s name out like chewed to long gum. Head resting against his strong chest feeling the slightly erratic beat of his heart against your ear.

Back stiffening, “I don’t need you to tell me what to do Y/N I can make that decision on my own.” Low growl rattling through his chest as he pulls from your arms and steps from the warmth evaporating from his body. “You should leave.”

“And get yourself killed?” Hands slamming to your wide hips glaring daggers at your best friend. “What happened wasn’t your fault Dean. Any one of us could’ve taken that bullet, Bobby knew the risks of the mission, accepted them and died…” swallowing the tears threatening to slip from your eyes. “A hero,” ignoring his last words, reaching out to try and take his hand only to have him pull away like you’ve burned him.

“Don’t, don’t try to reason this with me I know better,” turning his back to head for the wall covered in papers trying to figure out just what Dick Roman’s up too.

Shaking your head knowing he’s hurting but not wanting to voice those feelings, to make him appear weak. With a sigh leaving your frowning lips you move silently beside him looking over the wall of weird trying to piece together how everything connects. Brushing your hand against his, pinkie trailing to catch what you think is his forefinger. Wrapping the little finger tightly around his you lean over, “I’m right here when you’re ready Dean, I’m not leaving nor letting go.”

“You should,” not bothering to turn and face you. Memories of Lisa and Ben filter through his thoughts along with Bobby, his father and what he can remember of his mother. “I’m poison and get everyone around me killed.” He doesn’t want to add you to the growing list. Rather wanting you to leave and find a different path for your life.

Tugging on his finger to wrap the middle and forefinger with your ring and pinkie fingers, “Then Sam and I are the antidote to your poison.” Giving a soft sad smile to his side profile, wrapping him up into your arms. Resting your head on his shoulder, voice a gentle whisper of breath upon his cheek and neck,“Those reasons keep tallying up Winchester we’ll hit a million before long.”

Reminding you both of a long ago discussion between the two of you in Bobby’s junk yard while still teenagers. Before angels and demons, vampires thought long dead and ancient Leviathan brought back from the pit of purgatory. When you made the packed to never fall for each other and always remain best friends. To never let go no matter how dire the situation, you’d have each other’s back.

Evaporating memories of long ago, you speak softly still resting your head on his shoulder. “You work on this mosaic of papers you have plastered over the walls. I have a pie to bake,” not giving it much thought you quickly press a kiss to his stubbled cheek then turn to head back towards the passable kitchen area.

Tingles dance over his skin for longer than he wishes, wanting to suppress those feelings bubbling up to try and consume him. Thinking he could bury them under the mounting pain and self hated. Yet, the warmth of your arms, soft press of your lips, your words register and sink into his brain Dean turns to watch you work unable stop a few of those feelings from dancing around his heart. Single thought shocking him in its stark contradiction to his current state of mind, Dean Winchester self proclaimed ladies man has fallen in love with his best friend. A sucker punch to the gut making him gasp and reel that silent declaration in. Stuffing it under the right full emotions of anger and pain. Letting them tap dance through his veins instead, something much safer for the both of them. Something he could understand and deal with.

I bow down to pray

I try to make the worst seem better

Lord, show me the way

To cut through all his worn out leather

I've got a hundred million reasons to walk away

But, baby, I just need one good one to stay

Head stuck in a cycle, I look off and I stare

It's like that I've stopped breathing, but completely aware

'Cause you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

“He’s not my boyfriend yet Dean,” eyes rolling as you turn to melt the butter in a small sauce pan. Though there is a part of you wishing he could one day fill the role unless a single good reason can change your mind comes your way.

“But you want him too?” Words muttered through presses together teeth. Hating the fact he’s letting something so trivial effect him in such a way. You’ve had other boyfriends, one night stands he’s had to sit through yet this one feels different. As if he could truly loose you this time and those thoughts scare the shit outta him the most. Because yes you’re his best friend for longer than he can remember but above that you’re the woman who gets him, argues with him, sets his ass straight when he’s being stupid and above all or so he hopes, loves him warts and all.

Hands pause at his question looking into the melting golden liquid bubbling silently remembering to flick the tiny knob and turn the heat off. While your head screams to say yes but it’s a little small voice beating quickly beneath your ribcage making you pause. Clearing your throat to gather what thoughts you could from their scattered places. You’ve always spoke with honesty to Dean, unless circumstances dictated other wise, and you weren’t about to change now. Through you wouldn’t turn to face him when you did wanting to keep from seeing his eyes. Finding the reason for his questions in those green depths you’ve fallen for though never spoken the feelings. “Yes, he could…” swallowing to coat your dry throat to spit out the words rotting your stomach. “I could have a chance at happiness with Will, Dean. Why do you even ask?”

“I don’t want to loose you,” ‘Because I love you,’ on the tip of his tongue to tell you, give voice and life to his true feelings. Wanting you to stay and forget about those million other reasons he’s let slip between the cracks in your relationship.

Frozen in place, hands gripping the countertop beside the stove. “You wouldn’t loose me Dean I’d still go on hunts with you, I’d stick around,” lies tasting bitter on your tongue, heart beating triple time wondering if he’ll pick up on the dishonesty your speaking. Always feeling he’d never see you as anything other than his best friend. Never the type of woman to draw his attention, too soft and plush in places most men wouldn’t want and you didn’t pine for a man who’s given you a million reasons to walk away. So you shoved those feelings, the love you held back trying to make it work with other men. To find the one who’d surpass Dean destroying your feelings for the green eyed hunter, giving you the one reason to stay and belong. So why now did he have to put doubts in your mind? Why ask these questions when in years past he’d brush other men away as nothing more than a passing fancy?

Silently Dean stands slowly making his way towards you, taking in the ridged stance of your plush form. Hands itch to wrap around your thick waist and haul you against his chest. Pausing right beside you, brushing his fingers against yours too hook what he thinks is your forefinger with his pinkie. “You and I both know things wouldn’t stay the same between us sweetheart. He’d find a way to take you away from me,” praying you won’t pull away Dean turns to stare at your profile. Taking in the beauty he’s catalogued thousands of times, the curve of your lips when you smile, slope of your nose, eyes bright with laughter or spiting fire when angry usually at him. Softness of your cheeks under his palms the times he’s actually got to cup and caress the skin.

“We’ll remain best friends Dean that’ll never change,” gathering the courage to turn and look into his eyes. Catching the sadness coating those beloved greens making your heart ache. Tongue slipping out to tug back your bottom lip between your teeth indented them to keep from asking the question your heart demands.

Of its own accord Dean’s free hand comes up to brush over your cheek, cupping the soft skin, fingers spread from apple to jaw wanting so badly to draw you in and kiss those tempting lips. “I want you happy Y/N and if it’s possible out of this life, been wanting that for you since Bobby,” sliding his hand to your chin to pinch the end with his thumb and forefinger tipping your face up to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ll miss you sweetheart.”

Eyes lock with stormy greens after he pulls back, soft gasp parting your lips at the simple touch, words sounding like a goodbye instead of their usual see ya later. Grappling for words to say, questions to ask, trying to figure out what’s going on, and why now. But he’s gone before your brain can catch up with your mouth, and your turning to rush after, seeing his back disappear around the corner.

Feet finally responding to command as you quickly follow stopping at the doorway, “Give me one good reason.” Praying he’ll listen and stop, hoping it’s not too late. “Stop giving me all these reasons to leave.”

Back ridged but his mind a flurry of thoughts and answers, more questions than he could shake a stick at. Only one reason comes to mind, “Good reason to what?”

Traveling the short distance to take his hand intertwining your fingers with his, needing him to turn around and look at you. Needing the connection while stating, “Give me a good reason to stay Dean to not go tomorrow night.”

“I can’t,” partly wanting to flinch from your touch, to tug his hand free, and partly wanting to sink into your familiar embrace. Soak in the peace he always finds in your arms, to bath in your warmth and possibly bask in your love. But Dean wouldn’t be selfish he’d let you go even if it meant killing his own heart and soul.

The urge to punch him grows strong but your refrain from using violence, “Why not? Too scared? Or you just don’t care?”

The warmth of your hand disappears from searing into his palm, tingling those long nimble fingers, his eyes close knowing you’re walking away because of that millionth reason. Till the first brush of soft fingers tender in there touch upon his cheek. He gives in to the urge and rubs his slightly stubbled cheek into your palm. “If that’s you Sam, I’m gonna kick your ass dude,” ignoring your questions in favor of basking in your touch instead. Hearing the soft giggle from your lips brings a smile to his own. Eyes finally opening too stare into yours, almost doing a doubt take at what he sees in those beloved depths. “I don’t deserve you Y/N.”

“Stop giving me a million reasons Dean and give me the one that’ll make me stay,” imploring him with your touch, fingers tracing over his cheeks and jaw. Tracing his plush bottom lip with the pad of your thumb, “I just need one good reason.”

He’d find the situation funny if it’s anyone else standing in front asking the same question. Even Sam would get a chuckle from his lips, but you, his breath freezes, heart thumping wildly in equal measures of terror and excitement. The very thoughts running unrestrained in his mind scare the shit out of him, but only one truly feels right. Snaking an arm around your thick waist pulling you against his strong chest, fitting like missing puzzle pieces. His free hand coming up to cup your cheek, “I love you.”

Tears slip from their ducts barely held back till those three simple words spill from his mouth jump starting your heart and sending your emotions swirling. Warm palms cradle your wet cheeks, gun callused thumbs brush hot tears away, you spy the worry and fear your non response sparks. “Do you mean it?” Wanting clarification before handing your heart over to the very man who’s held it for so long.

Knowing what your asking Dean stops waiting and lowers his mouth to yours. That first touch of lips electricity shoots through you veins. Body responding quicker with arms going around his neck to pull him firmly against you not a wisp of space between your bodies. Fingers tangling in the short hairs at the back of his head while you slot your lips against his. Demanding and deep, a tangled dance of tongues. Clashing of teeth, a melding mouths and finding the right angles to draw those delicious moans from each of you. Till air becomes necessary and you break apart panting, “That answer your question sweetheart?”

“No,” smirking when his eyes narrow, “I wanna hear it again.”

No hesitation in speaking those three words, “I love you.” Groaning when your lips smash back to his. Stealing breath from his lungs and a moan from his chest, Dean walks you backward till your pressed against the cool tile wall. Lower pelvis holding your soft body in place so his hands can dance over your cotton covered plush form. Palm’s flat against your thick waist, slowly dragging them around and down to cup your generous ass. Squeezing firmly and making you gasp.

Using the opening as a way to work his tongue back into your mouth, delving in for another taste of your sweetness. Low groan existing when rearranging his mouth to fit differently and snag a gulp of air. Stubble abrading your chin in the most spectacular of ways. Pooling heat low in your belly and making your mind wander in other more salacious directions. Brought back from teetering on the deliciously desirable edge by a sharp bite, his teeth nabbing your bottom lip to tug, letting go with a wet pop. Breath fanning out over your heated cheeks. Eyes once closed now open and locked with yours a pleading undertone to the desire darkened greens.

Knowing what he wants to hear and unable to wait along, “I love you too Dean.” Heart bursting with unrestrained joy flooding your system and making you love drunk.

“Thank fucking God,” groaning, resting your foreheads together still trying to reign in the wild thumping of his heart. Your admission only serves to make the largest muscle spasm quicker. All his pent up emotions, desires and needs flowing to the surface, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from rushing into something too fast. Remembering it’s still fresh and new between the two of you a different path to the relationship already established in friendship.

Giggling softly, you cup both his cheeks, thumbs brushing along his skin, three days worth of stubble abrading your palms. “So,” teasing smirk pulling at your lips, “I better call Will huh?”

“For?” Trying to keep the bitter growl from escaping and giving away his feelings on the sore subject. Tugging your soft body back in place from your wiggles to side free, not ready to let you go just yet.

Sliding one hand down his chest to rest where you know his anti-possession tattoo resides. Tracing the edges with the tip of your finger over the black t-shirt he’s wearing, locking eyes with his, “Seems I’m a taken woman. Wouldn’t want to lead the poor guy on now would I?” Watching how those whiskey flecked greens darken, pushing his lower body deeper into your plush form. Barely heard as you try not to give away the whimper of need his body produces in your own, with his pressed so tightly. Cool concrete keeping you body temp from over heating for the moment.

“No,” clearing his throat leaning in to draw his nose over your jawline. Touring towards your ear, catching the lobe between his front teeth to tug. Low desire filled growl leaving his lips, followed by, “Tomorrow is another day sweetheart and right now you’ve got better things to do.”

Heading tipping over granting access to the parts of your neck he wants, trying to keep the shiver from rolling over your body. Heat flooding your veins sparking a need you’ve never felt with any of the other men you’d previously had relations with. “What,” licking your parched lips, “what better things Dean?” Praying it’s the same idea rolling around your head for the longest time.

Pausing in his mapping of your neck and shoulder with his lips, Dean raises his head to spear you with a heated look. “Me for starters sweetheart, that is of course…” uneasiness has him trailing off the first time in his life. The bitter taste of uncertainty coating his thoughts for a fraction of a second before your lips land back on his.

Teasingly soft presses, little ghost touches of your tongue, playfully dotting his cheeks, chin and forehead with your lips before brushing close to his ear. “Hey Dean,” smiling against his skin, tenderly pressing your lips just south of his ear. Nibbling the found patch of sensitive skin behind committing the spot to memory for later. Breath puffing out quicker feeling him shiver, knowing what the next words would invoke in Dean and his love for the movie. “You big stud. Take me to bed or lose me forever,” sultry tone added to the cadence.

His eyes close for a moment, heart swelling as you recite the words to one of his favorite movies. Marveling at the fact you’ve remembered the lines perfectly and Dean falls deeper in love with you if that’s possible.

The gentle caresses of your lips against his skin setting fire to his nerve endings, room in his jeans becoming a hot commodity as his shaft thickens and throbs. Finding the distraction almost too much while trying to recall the next line. Teasing giggles reach his ears that he replies to with a deep chuckle. Words coming back to him, “Show me the way home, honey.”

Reaching down to tug one hand from your ass, chuckling with a shake of your head when it doesn’t budge but squeezes the generous globe. Notching himself tighter into your body, smirk appearing as your eyes widen, gasp issuing from parted lips. Bitting the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling before the words can escape. “Is that a pickle in your pocket or you just happy to see me?”

“Oh sweetheart it’s a great big dill I can show ya,” flashing a smirk, both of you trying hard not to laugh.

“Preferably,” deep voice tinged with slight offense but liberally coated in amusement. “In your own room so the both of you aren’t bare ass naked in the hallway bumping like bunnies,” having rounded the corner towards the kitchen and catching the intimate embrace. “A vision I don’t want branded into my skull thank you very much,” Sam paused arms crossed in annoyance. Golden dotted green eyes dancing with mirth, catching the playfully scandalous expression cross your features. Glancing towards Dean who buries his face in your neck getting a deep chuckle from his brother.

Try as you might to keep from busting out laughing they just rolled out of your mouth as your eyes lock with Sam’s. Acting stoic but the smile tugging at his lips and the teasing flash through his eyes speak a different story. Only thing holding you up is Dean’s body still pressed heavily against your. The man in question glancing up first to look at you then over his shoulder towards Sam. “Don’t even start Sammy,” grumbling good-naturedly giving him a middle finger salute and the opening you need to slip from between his hard body and the wall. Teasing growl rumbling through his chest at the loss of your warmth. Dean reaches out to snag your arm but you manage to dance out of his reach, giggles echoing off the walls trailing behind your disappearing form.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Dean but Cas owes me fifty bucks,” patent Sam Winchester smirk sliding over his lips. Brow raised at his scoff, “Can’t believe I had a betting pot going?”

Watching you run off happy grin tipping his mouth upward, he looks back at Sam grin still in place. “Just can’t believe it’s with Cas. Rowena maybe, Jody, Claire, Alex and Donna fuck yes but Cas,” incredulous look stealing over his features for a few moments.

“Who say’s the bet’s not bigger than you think,” broad shoulders shrugging same smirk in place, Sam enters the kitchen on that note leaving Dean to stare wide eyed after his baby brother. “Matter of time, always just a matter of time,” laughter tinged voice exists the kitchen, unseen shake of his head at the mess left behind.

Stock still for a fraction of a second till soft giggles echo quietly down the hall, grin turning into full blown smile. Need rushing back through his veins in remembrance of your position just a few short moments ago. Low curse existing his mouth, Dean turns racing off to find which room you’re hiding in.

Nerves tingled through your body, worry interrupting thoughts/memories of short minutes ago. Hard press of his body against yours, warm moist breath fanning out over your skin sending tingles of a different kind to skitter across your veins. But now standing in Dean’s room trying to figure out where to lay or stand that would invoke images of sensuality. You look down at your bare feet toes wiggling against cold concrete. Up wards to thick jeans clad thighs, a baby blue tank top covering your torso, self consciousness went out the window decades ago. After the first serious injuries you suffered at the hands of a vengeful spirit had you damn near stripped naked in front of Dean. Confidence in face of adversity knowing he’s the only one for miles around to patch you up.

Now though is different, same confidence but wishing for sexier clothing something to entice and tease. Small snort issues from the depths of your body knowing damn well you had nothing of the sort in your possession. Flannels, tank tops, t-shirts and jeans hunter’s required staples along with the functional under garments you groan at remembering are mismatched at the present.

“Beautiful even in those rumpled clothing,” deep voice breaking through thoughts and making a squeak sound as you quickly turn to face the lazily leaning against the door jam hunter. Arms crossed over muscular chest, biceps straining the black t-shirt’s sleeves, “I meant what I said before Sammy interrupted us.”

Tugging your bottom lip back under indented top teeth turning to face him fully, “Which part?” Barely keeping the mirth from bubbling over, “That I should show you the way home or you have a big dill?” Easy going banter calming your nerves even the part about feeling ill-prepared clothing wise.

Tender infused whiskey fleck green eyes turn molten with each sweep of your body. “I love you,” words escape as eyes stay locked, Dean pushing away from the doorway. Booted foot catching the hardwood door and slamming it shut behind him. Stocking towards you as a lion would his prey, licking parched lips wanting to devour you. Hands fisting at his side though to keep from reaching out and doing just that incase it’s something your not ready for.

His breath froze upon seeing you walking around his room, something akin to relief floods his veins along with a sense of rightness. Sure you’ve come in hundreds of times to wake him from a nightmare or mornings, to barrow music and to talk. Yet, this time feels different giving your relationship changed moments ago. Catching the indecision clearly written in those beloved eyes that don’t focus on one place too long. For a moment Dean wishes he could read your thoughts but then having hunted and lived together for decades he picked up the situation and cues without having to know your thoughts.

Pleased hum breaks Dean from the wondering trail his thoughts took him on to spy the sweet smile gracing your lips. Hands positioned on your hips one cocked to the side as you stand there waiting expectedly. Restraining himself, Dean opens his palms to bring them up and cup your cheeks dragging you against him. Lips meeting in the tenderest of kisses that he keeps in place while speaking, “You want this, want me?”

Recognizing his vulnerability and what he’s asking with those simple words, arms wrap around his back fisting the shirt tightly to press the two of you together. Love saturated eyes burn into those greens you could drown in, “That’s my question Winchester stop stealing my lines.” Flattening one palm to slide up and into his hair. Pressing another kiss to his soft lips you’ve only imaged kissing till now. The reality so much better than any fantasy you ever came up with.

“Calling me a thief now sweetheart?” Using jokes to cover the fact he’s searching for the right words. Flustered and frustration slither through his veins in a combination Dean’s not accustom, words stammering of unintelligible nature tumble from his mouth. The feel of your blunt nails sending pleasurable shivers down his spine.

Nodding, craning your neck back a few inches but keeping your eyes locked, “You stole my lines and my heart Dean so yes that would make you a thief.” Hand sliding over his back now and settling into the back pocket of his jeans, “I also meant what I said back there.” Catching the cocked brow you elaborate, “Take me to bed Dean I’m tired of waiting, I want to know how it feels to have you inside me.”

Soft groan issues from parted lips. Wanting to act on your words so damn badly his body vibrates with barely contained desire. Forehead coming to rest against yours, strong hands sliding too loosely wrap around and caress your neck. “You know I’m not great at relationships. I could seriously fuck things up.”

“I know but then so could I,” any doubts or insecurities evaporating into the ether with every look.

Callused fingers brush over your bare shoulders sending sensual shivers cascading down your body. Rubbing your thighs together for added friction with the heated look Dean’s fixing you with. Boosting your confidence to step back his hands drop to the side as you own pinch at the hem of your tank top. Slowly pulling it from your body, letting it drop with a barely heard whisper.

“Fucking hell sweetheart,” resolve snapping, reaching for your hips and tugging you back against him harder than intended. Lips sealing quickly to swallow the gasp existed parted lips Dean takes advantage of and slips his tongue inside the warm cavern of your mouth.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss, it’s all teeth and tongues, fighting desperately for dominance. Pulling groans from the depths of Dean’s soul as he pulls whimpers and moans from your own. Till air becomes needed though it doesn’t stop your mouth from trailing a hot path across his stubbled jaw. Nibbling towards that little patch behind his ear to flick the tip of your tongue against. Smirking at the shutter rolling through his body, fingers dancing a rhythm over his shirt covered torso. Hem reached you tug twice to which he nods reaching behind him grasping and pulling the garment off to join yours.

Hands, palms flat immediately going to ghost over his rippling tummy. Muscle covered soften causing all moisture to pool south, clit throbbing almost painfully. Sure you’ve seen him bare chested before this time it’s different. For pleasure instead of patching him up. Drawing desired groans rather than pain filled. “I know Sam would abject but I so wouldn’t mind seeing you walk around shirtless.”

Full belly chuckle leaves Dean’s lips, “Sweetheart don’t talk about other men right now especially not my brother.” Possessive hands landing on your naked plush waist, fingers spanning the distance and gripping the flesh in his palm. Dreams having nothing on the real woman in his palms.

“Just stating facts sir nothing more,” trailing your fingers over the slightly hair roughen skin. Brushing pebbled nipples from the cool air and your proximity. Reserving a gasp when you lean forward to lap with the tip of our tongue and nip at the peaked point. Glancing to lock eyes as you switch and give the same attention to its twin giving the same attention getting a hiss from your actions. Dragging you lips upward to trace his tattoo with kisses.

Molten green eyes drinking in the sight of your lips on his skin, shooting desire straight to his cock. Throbbing need demanding attention no matter how good your soft lips feel against his body. “Baby girl,” groaning at the nip you place, eyes close to compose himself. Flying open as air cool brushes his skin inside of the shared heat of both your bodies. Mesmerized by the way you reach back to unclasp your bra, pushing your lushes breasts out teasing his vision, salivating for a taste of your skin.

He steps forward crowding into your space backing you into the bed till the back of your calves hit the edge. Wrapping his arms around your plush form to brush hands away and do the task himself. Finger tips skimming the edges of both straps till reaching the top at your shoulders and drawing them down. Keeping his eyes locked with yours while pulling the garment from your pliant body tossing it behind him. Eyes flicking down on a groan, licking his dry lips at the beauty displayed for his ravenous gaze.

“Lay down for me sweetheart,” meeting your lust blown orbs with his own. “I wanna see you in my bed,” biting off a whimper when you drop onto the edge. Bountiful breasts bouncing teasingly as he watches you slide backwards towards the head board. Hands going to the button of your jeans, low growl pausing your nimble fingers. “That’s for me to do baby girl, just,” swallowing harshly as he looks you over. Partially naked spread out over his bed picture perfect memory for those times when the darkness tries to steal this happiness. “Give me a moment to drink you in.” Unable to decide where to look first, “So fucking gorgeous.” Toeing off his boots, hands going to his own jeans your shaking head pausing the movements.

“I get the same pleasure,” licking your lips slowly while raising up on your elbows. Beckoning him with two crooked fingers, hand resting with the palms up beside your plush body, “Get up here before I get impatience and take matters into my own hands.”

Declaration making him pause a moment low growl rumbling from deep with in his chest. As desire blown green meet yours, smirk gracing his handsome features. One knee comes to rest on the mattress Dean leans forward keeping eyes locked while pressing a kiss to your ankle. Grinning, feeling the quiver that runs through your body. “You wouldn’t dare sweetheart,” adding his other knee to spread your legs and slowly fit his body between.

“Shall we make a bet Winchester?” Using your free foot to brushing the nearest thigh with the flat. Sliding towards the very noticeable bulge busting the seams of his jeans, toes teasing the thick ridge before pressing the flat of your foot against him. Rubbing the length slowly pleased when a growl echos the room.

Grabbing that foot tickling the pad enjoying the way you squirm and giggle. Taking the opportunity to move fully between your legs. “About that bet hum,” fingertips drawing an invisible path of fire down the middle your body. Bracing then both arms on either side of your shoulders hovering over you, warm breath fanning out over your cheek he nuzzles with stubbled chin. Pulling a whimper from your gasping lips.

Of there own accord, your hands slide up the strength of his arms and biceps to clasping fingers together around the back of his neck. Left leg draped over his waist to pull him against your pelvis, breathless moan parting your lips at the contact of his hard length pressing into your dripping center. “I don’t want slow or gentle Dean,” head tipping back to give access to his questing lips that find your wildly thumping pulse, sucking a mark into the soft skin. “We have all night for that I just…” words caught upon seeing whiskey flecked green eyes dilated almost pitch with desire. Cheshire Cat grin tugging kiss swollen lips upward.

“Just what sweetheart?” Humming, brushing your lips together before returning to his last spot. One hand dragging over your soft body cupping the generous globe massaging gently feeling the nipple peak against his palm. Teasingly circling the stiff nub with the tip of his index finger before giving a sharp pinch and making you gasp out. Back arching at the pleasurable pain skittering across your veins.

Grasping what’s left of your mind to try and form coherent words, body responding instead pressing your chest into his large hand. Nails score down his back, one completing the journey to give his ass a tight squeeze. As the other detours to between your intimately pressed body. Happy to find enough space to slot your palm against his erection, cupping his throbbing length and giving short little strokes. Smile blooming with a breathless groan against your collarbone where Dean’s forehead currently rests. Nimble fingers pop the small metal disk, pulling the zipper tab down to slip the hand inside. Warmth enveloping palm feeling him twitch has you slowly licking your lips at the mire thought of getting to taste him.

“You’re killing me Y/N,” rutting his hips into your hand, mouth coming back to claim yours in a punishingly bruising kill. Tangling your tongues together, nipping a little harder on your bottom lip than meaning to but the accompanying moan flows straight to his cock. Making him twitch against your palm that has slowed with the distraction of the kiss.

Breaking for air, panting while trying to form and speak the right words, “We’re both a little over dressed Dean.” Pulling your hand from the tight confines of his jeans, using the one at his ass to help pull them and his boxers down only stopping when you couldn’t reach anything passed his knees. Sigh of relief exists his parted lips making you giggle and press a kiss to his chin. “Feel better?” Bottom lip trapped and nibbled on as your fingers brush his length. Finding your fingers barely wrap around the girth while to stroke, palm sliding over precum leaking head. Hips thrust forward at the sensations tingling down his back gathering low in his belly.

“Now who’s over dressed?” Mumbling the words against your skin. Dean regretfully brushes your hand aside grinning at the annoyed huff that leaves your lips. “Ah sweetheart put that sexy pout away you’ll get a chance to taste me soon enough. Cause if you keep using that soft hand on my cock I’ll cum faster than I want.”

His words presenting so many thoughts to run through your mind only cut off when wet warm heat engulfs your right nipple. Tongue flicking quickly over taut peak, blunt teeth nipping then soothing over with the tip of his tongue. Switching to the twin leaving both sloppy wet and tight, gleaming in the low light of his room. Worshipping at the temple of your body with kisses pressed into your tummy, running scared callused hands over your skin in silent reverence. Eyes taking in very inch Dean sits back on his knees between your parted legs. Tracing his knuckles along the seam of your jeans covered cunt, making you jolt against him.

Pausing to strip your jeans and panties from your body, tossing them and kicking his own off to land somewhere on the floor. Raising up on elbows to finally get a chance to look at him in all his naked glory. Tracing each divot of scars over a broad chest, passing over the middle to admire thick bowed legs spread wide. Lips licked slowly upon landing on his ridge cock, slightly curved and resting against his lower belly. Palm itching for a touch, mouth watering for that taste. “You’re beautiful Dean,” words whispered so low your unsure if he’s really heard them.

Heat blooms over his cheeks at your admission, looking your fill of his adonis body. Dean returns the admiration. Tracing the features of your beloved face, staring a little too long at your heaving breasts, soft tummy he wants to nibble on at some point. Thick thighs he can’t wait to have wrapped around his waist once he’s buried deep inside your wet heat. The very though has his eyes dropping between your parted legs, glistening folds beckoning him forward. Caught in that tempting trance, Dean slides back between your legs. Brushing his lips just above your mound and receiving a whimper from you. Locking eyes, “I think you got that backwards sweetheart, it’s you who’s beautiful.” Dipping to run the thick flat of his tongue through your folds, humming at the tangy sweetness exploding over his taste buds.

Hips cantering against his mouth, your own letting a deep moan free as one hand slides down to card through his short brown locks. Tugging the strands getting a groan to vibrate against your cunt while his talented tongue dances through your soaked folds. Torturing your clit with ghosted touches, one arm wraps around our thigh spreading you open. As the other slips a finger inside your wet channel, finding you squeezing and tight, garnering a deep groan of arousal from the man between your lips.

“Dean,” voice wrecked and he’s barely touched you. When he doesn’t answer or budge from his sensual assault on your cunt. Lips having formed a perfect O around your clit, tongue flicking kitten licks to the tiny nerve filled nub. Pleased with he whimpers and whines that filter through his desire filled mind.

Resulting in you tugging on his hair harder, back arching as a small shock rocks through your body, tingling your belly when he bites carefully on your clit. “Dean please,” eyes rolling back into your head at the added second finger. Crooked and pressing into the little spongy spot you’ve never had anyone touch. Ripping a half scream from the hidden depths of your soul.

Smug smirk tugging over slick wet lips, stubbled chin coming to rest just above your mound. Watching as you heave a breath, breasts catching his eyes for a moment till you tug again. Fingers anything but still as they thrust and scissor you open, working you carefully to fit his slightly above average length not wanting to hurt you. “Yes sweetheart?” Licking his lips from your slick.

Free hand coming up to cover your heated face, “Don’t sound so smug,” gasping the last word when his thumb brushes over your clit making you jump and wither. Heat spreading from that special spot in your belly, where the tight coil starts to wind higher. Thick thighs tremble with each sensation Dean draws out of you. “Need you, please, please.”

Caressing your quivering walls with the gun callused pads of his fingers, massaging your clit as you plead. Breath chocked out on another moan, chest heavy, heat coating your skin as you wither under him. “Ah but I can’t help myself sweetheart you don’t know what seeing you like this does to me.”

Gathering what little strength you have in your limbs to reach down and cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the skin under his eyes. “Why don’t you get up here and show me Dean?” Voice wreaked yet a tender undertone rides through the cadence.

Pressing a single kiss to the pulsing little clit, giving once last flick making your squirm and Dean to chuckle. Slowly pulling his fingers out, stroking twice more your hips chasing the indescribable ecstasy winding its way through your veins. Only to have the tingles dance slower, the coil start to unwind as frustrated huff leaving your gasping lips.

Taking advantage to plunder your mouth, greedy for a sample of the wet cavern and a tongue tango that draws out a sharp moan of need. Especially tasting your tangy sweetness from his lips, sucking the bottom between your teeth to nibble. While reaching blindly over to the nightstand, damn near yanking the whole draw on the ground in his haste. “Give me a sec woman,” huffing out he rolls slightly off you. The noise drawing a giggle out causing him too stiffen, glancing back with a playful glare to refocus on finding his prize.

Using the opportunity to nose the thick column of his neck, taking in the scent of whiskey, leather and motor oil, peppered now with sex and sweat. Addicting and unable to help yourself from sink your teeth into his skin gently but hard enough to leave a small soon to purple mark. Soothing over with the flat of your tongue catching sight of the pause your actions caused. The aroused moan that leaves his lips, head resting on the bed to try and gather himself from your onslaught.

“Something wrong Dean?” Nipping just below his jaw, tracing your fingers along his side. Index finger swirling through the spares, crisp hairs leading a path to what you’ve craved to have inside you for a long time. Nimble fingers surround the base forming a perfect circle that can’t close but tightens. Stroking his length teasingly slow. In return receiving a warning growl — the sound devastating your senses making you throb — from the man currently fishing for a condom and growing frustrated when his fingers come up empty. “Shall I stop my love? Am I distracting you?” Whispered words breathed into his ear, lips kissing the shell. Knowing damn well just how tormenting you are to his senes and body. If his twitching cock your hand currently wrapping around stroking and the shallow breaths are any indication.

“Ha,” triumphant shout of accomplishment, Dean rolls back over you pressing bodies together and into the mattress. “Now where were we?” Flashing that teasing smirk with a hard rutting of his hips against your dripping core and tight fisted hand.

“What to you so long stud?” Biting back the giggles when he fixes you with a scowl.

Breath hissing out through clinched teeth when taking your hand off his cock, bringing those wickedly wonderful fingers to his lips and sucking on each one with a short nibble. Placing the open condom pack in your palm, “Do the honors sweetheart.”

Curling your fingers around the little foil packet, pressing your other hand into the back of his neck drawing Dean in for a tender kiss. Slow meld of your lips, light sips of your warm mouths. Tenderly tugging his bottom lip, to slide your tongue over the bruised skin and into his mouth. Licking and touring the heated cavern, seeking out ways to make his moan and grunt. A moment of forgetfulness while mapping his tonsils and sucking on his tongue, till you break for air. Chasing his mouth for more kisses only to receive a chuckle instead.

Eyes open to spear him with a heated look, foil packet crinkling in your hand a remind of your mission. Slipping fingers from his soft hair, to trace over his body, joining its partner between the two of your heaving bodies. Unlocking your eyes to glance down, hand wrapping back around his thick shaft to stroke twice getting a needy moan from the man above you. Before teasingly rolling the condom on paying special attention to the thick pulsing vein on the underside, mouth watering at the thoughts of getting to taste it later.

Dean grasps one of your hips to bring the leg around his waist, opening you up and feeling your soft skin under his palm. Sliding between your bodies to entwine his fingers with your, pumping his cock together. Different sounds, a hiss from Dean and a moan from you exists on shuttering breaths. Eyes reattach both blown with desire and coated in need, you notch the head of his cock at your entrance pressing the heel of your foot into the small of his back to urge him forward.

Teeth clamping to draw blood from your bottom lip but also to keep from screaming out in pleasure as he slowly sinks inside your quivering depths. Reaching up with his other hand to free your bruised lip, brushing the pad of his thumb over the glistening skin. “I wanna hear you sweetheart don’t hold back.”

“What about Sam?” Breath hitching, mouth hanging open on a moan that’s trapped on the edge of a scream when he bottoms out against you. Bodies flush, joined hands now resting above your head where Dean’s placed them.

Leaning in to press open mouth kisses to your lips and neck letting you adjust to his size, the exquisite stretch thumps through your veins the slight sting only heightening the pleasure. “Never mention his name while we’re in bed sweetheart,” snagging the lobe of your ear with his teeth. Pleased when you nod speechless, though not enough, “Words baby girl I wanna hear that prefect voice of yours.”

Swallowing trying to form words to answer, scoring your nails down his back an impatience mewling whimper leaves instead. Using the leg not wrapped around Dean’s waist as leverage to plant and push your hips up against him. Squeezing your walls tightly around his shaft drawing out a grunt from his lips. “Dean…” going to say more but he chooses that moment to pull out till just the crown rested inside your pulsing channel. “Just you…” hips snapping forward to fill you quickly stealing those words into a loud scream of ecstasy.

Starting a hard punishing rhythm, repeatedly waiting till your fixing to speak and either pulling out or trusting home. Always taking away what your going to say. Knowing your trapped between frustration and pleasure, Dean captures your mouth in another deep kiss. While his hips snap against yours, wrapping the other leg around his waist to angle you differently. Pressing your intertwined hands into the pillow beside your head and breaking the bruising kiss to gulp a lung full of air into both your burning lungs.

Feeling your walls start to quiver around his hammering cock, knowing by the pinched look on your countenance, the quivering of your thick thighs clutching at his trim waist. Heels pressing into the small of his back drawing him forward with quickened strokes that he’s shortened from the long deep thrusts. Notching your legs higher on his waist to press forward, curling his pelvis into your core, determined to make you cum first. Wanting to feel you soak his cock, see the looks of pleasure dance across your features.

Sliding his fingers through your soaked folds to find your pearl pulsing, pressing the pad of his thumb circling to make a gasp fly from your lips. Back arching, tingles no longer gentle but tap dancing a rhythm through your veins. Dean’s name a chant from your dry, parched lips, panting to try and fill your starving lungs. Body vibrating on a higher frequency only Dean’s turned in on as with every snap of his hips, brush of his thumb sends your spiraling deeper into euphoria.

Reaching up to wrap your hand around his neck to bring him back down for another kiss. This one sloppy as the thrusts of Dean’s hips, brief touches of lips, wet slide of your tongues across the other. Eyes sliding closed only to snap back open with a pinch to your nipple soothed over my his teasing fingers.

“Keep those beautiful eyes open for me sweetheart and cum for me I know your close. You just gotta let go for me,” resting your foreheads together, gritting his teeth to starve off his own orgasm. The wet clinch almost too much for Dean to handle. Always wondering but never imagining how good this truly would feel.

“Dean,” breathing out his name, a series of moans and whimpers following. Trying to capture his mouth for another kiss that’s broken off when your orgasm slams into you soaking Dean’s cock in your slick. Eyes rolling back his name a screamed prayer from your lips.

Body convulsing in pleasurable all consuming fire, little sparks of light pin prick behind your tightly closed eyes. Moisture breath fans out over your neck where Dean buries his face, lips pressing into your skin. Chasing that high while working you through your orgasm the wet clinch of your walls prove too much to starve off any long. Giving in with a groan of your name rubbed into your skin as he fills the condom. Circling his hips a few more times to drag out the pleasurable spikes racking his frame.

Collapsing into your arms a welcome weight pressing you into the mattress as you both try to capture your breath. He brings your joined hands down starting to untwine them but the shake of your head stops the actions.

“For a few moments longer,” voice hoarse from screaming out your pleasure. Free hand coming up to card through his sweat drenched hair. Brushing the strands back from his forehead and sliding your lips over his. Brief touches, lingering into something deeper. Tender caresses of mouth’s, nibbling, and sucking softly on bruised skin. Dean starts to move getting a whimpered whine from your throat tightening your arms around him.

“Gotta clear you up sweetheart I’m not going anywhere,” reassuring you with another soft kiss while carefully pulling out of your tender depths. Mesmerized by the slick coating your tights and dripping from your convulsing walls. Brushing his fingers over the reddening swollen skin, gasp reaching his ears, eyes flying up to yours. Then flicking across your body seeing the beard burn on your neck and chest, hand prints blooming over your hips. “Did I hurt you?”

Sitting up to cup his cheeks, “No Dean you didn’t hurt me. If you had I would’ve told you.” Leaning in to kiss him tendering, “Better take care of that mess it’ll get awful sticky otherwise,” giving him a bright smile. Watching while he gingerly takes the spent condom off, tying it closed before tossing it into the waste bin by the night stand.

Raising to walk on shaky bowed legs to grab up the wash cloth from the sink. Wetting with warm water he turns back stunned to find you watching him with a grin on your lips. “Like what you see?”

“Hmm no,” seeing the frown you go to finish. “Love Dean, I see the man I love,” frown switching to teasing smirk as he nears the bed.

Nudging you to lay back and spread your legs, tenderly wiping you clean. Dragging the warm cloth over your folds and inner thighs. Tossing it behind him to crawl into bed gathering your pliant plush body against his hard chest. Back pressed into his front, arms wrapped tightly around your thick waist. Placing a kiss to your shoulder, “I love to you Y/N, get some rest I’m far from through with you.”

Soft giggles vibrate into his chest, “Careful you’re getting old baby you sure you’ll have the stamina?” Toying with the fingers tapping against your tummy sending shivers cross your body.

Low growl accompanies the drag of his teeth over your sensitive skin, drawing a moan from your lips. Pressing his hips into your generous ass, “Give me an hour sweetheart and I’ll show you just how much stamina your man has.”

#Request #SPN Mixed Bingo Square #Hurt/Comfort #Dean Winchester x Plus Size Female Reader #Dean Winchester x Plus Size Fem!Reader #Dean Winchester x Plus Size F!Reader #Supernatural fiction

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the-bat-collector · 3 years

Text

SUPERBAT Rec List!! AU NO POWERS ish PART 2

No Powers or No Capes (There are some minor exceptions but I think this still applies)

Soo it’s become harder to find these fics and I kept postponing making this list just in case I found moreeeee. After some time convincing myself I decided that If I find more I’ll just make a part 3.

Here is the link to Part 1 Post

So without further ado. Here you go!

Storge by ichikonohakko @ichikonohakko

G - 3,310

Storge (storgē, Greek: στοργή) is liking someone through the fondness of familiarity, family members or people who relate in familiar ways that have otherwise found themselves bonded by chance. An example is the natural love and affection of a parent for their child.

Or the story of how Clark Kent meets the Wayne family children.

So this was in my mark for later and I read it as I was making this list and it’s very cute and adorable and highly recommend it!

don't you know an apparition is a cheap date by knoxoursavior @clqrkkent

E - 39,385

Clark has been able to see ghosts since he was eight, just a few days before his Pa died in his sleep. Years later, after having moved to the city with Martha to pursue writing, Clark meets Bruce Wayne, who takes an interest in his work and Clark in particular. Not long after they meet, Bruce asks Clark to marry him and Clark moves into a mansion that has more ghosts than it has people.

So I couldn’t find more AUs for this list, I was about to quit looking and yesterday I ran into this one and it gave me so much hope that there might be more out there (part 3?maybe?) I think of this as Ghost Whisperer Clark

Stories for the Loved and Lost by MatchaMochi @renaimori

M - 9,681

The first chapter leads Clark to another, and another. He turns the pages, eating the words up hungrily and feeling them, pored over the story as if he was reading someone’s personal diary. And the thing was, he knows it, he knows this story. He remembers flashes of memory that aren’t his, thrown in yesterday’s weird dream or last night’s nightmare.

or in which Bruce is an author and Clark is his fanboy.

I WILL read every single SOULMATE AU FIC I CAN FIND CAUSE I’D DIE FOR THIS TROPE. This is beautifully written <3 <3

Ghastly Murders in the East End by dippkip @dippkip

T - 38,227

London, 1888. A vicious killer known as Jack the Ripper has begun haunting the district of Whitechapel. In light of Scotland Yard’s inability to solve the case, intrepid reporter Clark Kent has made it his mission to track down this fiend and bring them to justice, though he may find himself more deeply involved in the affair than he bargained for.

Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne, a seemingly irresponsible and eccentric duke, remains largely unconcerned about these atrocities. The Batman, however, has taken special interest, and spends his nights relentlessly hunting the new murderer at large. The paths of these men will converge as the body count begins to rise, and their investigations and growing affections will cement their bond, intertwining their fates with that of the most notorious murderer in all of England.

OKaaaay this is one of the exceptions, Bruce is Batman but it’s a different century and Clark is powerless, I think it compensates. Usually I prefer when they’re both “capeless” but this was such a fun read.

As You Grow by dnawhite76 & Prubbs @prubbs

M - 59,946

After the death of his wife and children, Clark returns to the United States after spending years abroad to reconnect with his friends and their families. And while trying to gather what little remains of his old life and possibly move forward in his grief, he ends up falling into old habits with his first love and best friend, Bruce Wayne.

A story about grief and acceptance.

So I want to point out how good this fic is. I hate sad and this story has a lot of grief and I felt it was very grounded on its depictions of feelings. I tend to avoid this type of fics buuuuut this was so good. I couldn’t stop reading even if the grief got to me. It’s very wholesome and does have a satisfying ending.

A good start by BlueAlmond @discretocincel

G - 1,253

Clark loves being an elementary school teacher, but it breaks his heart to see any of his students hurting. So, when he notices Jason waiting over forty minutes every day for someone to pick him up, he decides to have a word with his father.

Absolutely love Professor Trope!!! Sooo you could argue this is ficlet but doesn't feel like one to me so I’m not putting it in the ficlet section.

Engraved In Our Souls by Nixie_DeAngel @nixie-deangel

T - 9,004

It started with pain, with warm blood and bold, black letters. How was he to know it'd lead to a pair of gorgeous eyes, shimmering with the promise of life long happiness and love?

Or, after years of waiting, Bruce finds his soulmate in the least likely of places.

Little cute soulmate AU<3 AS I SAID I WILL READ EVERY SINGLE SOULMATE AU OUT THERE CAUSE I LOVE THEM

Ghosts by ren_makoto

T -3,067

Wayne Manor is haunted. Clark doesn't mind.

Here is another of the exceptions, this is neither No Powers/No Capes, but they’re not relevant to the plot or we don’t see them using them (I don’t think they are mentioned but its implied). The Fic’s whole focus is on the ghosts! and absolutely loved it I LOVE REN MAKOTO FICS

There is Little Danger by ren_makoto

T - 5,327

"It's tradition," he said, one inch from Clark's mouth. "Yes," Clark said. "Tradition."

Or, where Bruce and Clark are trapped in an elevator

another Ren Makoto cause I can’t help myself

Semi-Permanent Couplings by ren_makoto

E - 10,463

"So, Bruce, how do you feel about one-night stands?"

Ren Makoto <3 <3 <3 This fic contains Adultery soo Read the Author’s Notes

Hubris by ren_makoto

M - 20,197

"This is turning into a routine," Bruce said breathlessly. "What can I do for you, Clark?" "Please," Clark said hoarsely. "I just want to get some sleep."

I really like the writing on this fic, this is a 100% NO CAPES, Clark does have powers and he’s starting to process them. Ren Makoto stole my heart with this one.

Not so Perfect Afterall by tekowrites

E - 6,966

AU: High school, Senior year. Clark thinks his life is nearly, if not already perfect. Then he overhears a conversation that changes absolutely everything. Bruce is there to pick up the pieces.

Red, White and Blue by melmel_79

E - 3,639

He works for the Secret Service, and it's best that no one knows he is in a relationship with the president. At least he hoped no one would know...

He grips the envelope tighter and knocks on the door to the Oval Office.

This was a mistake.

Late Night Feelings by the_butler @the-butler-fanstuff

M - 9,283

It was a little past one in the morning, the phone the only light in his room. He glared at it, then threw it to his side on the bed, not caring to see where it landed. A few seconds after, he patted all along the side to find it and looked at it again. He pulled up the messaging app, scrolled down, and then sighed. He exited the app and threw the phone on the bed again. He repeated this several times until some minutes later the phone chimed and he hurriedly sat up and felt for it on his bed. He opened the messaging app again and finally breathed a sigh of relief when he read the reply he’d been waiting for the whole night.

“Be there in 30 mins.”

I LOVE CLARK HERE, GOOD FOR YOU. He’s such a good adult looking out for himself! self-loving and self-respecting Clark here everybody.

it took me by surprise (I know you felt it, too) by jessequicksters @jessequicksters

G - 1,124

In which Clark and Bruce fall in love in between study sessions, track races, grocery shopping at Whole Foods and romantic student dinner dates, burnt lasagna and all.

FLUFF, could argue this is a ficlet buuuuut dont care, it goes here.

Towards You by tekowrites

E - 22,607

AU where Clark is a new transfer student at an elite high school, and he encounters Bruce Wayne. Clark doesn't fit in, not anywhere it seems, and his crush on the star of the football team? Only serves to shows how much. Jealous girlfriends, misunderstandings, hormones and lurking trouble are just some of the challenges he's going to face.

I LOVE THIS , basically this fic made want to make a PART 2, just had to find 15+ other fics to add to the list.

Read the tags, this does contain some heavy topics towards the end

The Game (of Love) by KaizokuHime @kaizokunohime

E -12,288

In WayneTech VR Augmented Gaming, a guild of superheroes has arisen who volunteer to help police that reality. One of these superheroes, Superman, has had a crush on his fellow member, Batman, for many years, but thus far has had little success on asking him out, even as fellow guildmembers. How will their relationship progress? And how intimate can they truly become without knowing the other's identity offline?

A Game You Can't Win gave me hunger for gaming fics, then I found this one and I WANT MORE GAMING FICS

Wham Bam Shang-A-Lang by ShowMeAHero @andillwriteyouatragedy

E - 8,354

Clark Kent is a professor at the same university as Bruce Wayne. Not that it matters, because Bruce doesn't really speak with his co-workers - they're there to work with, not befriend. That is, until Clark and Bruce are assigned to teach a class together in the fall, and start spending more and more time together, and Bruce starts to realize, maybe, he just might need a friend - and maybe, he just might need something else, something Clark-specific.

YES YES PROFESSOR TROPE. They are the best together!

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SORTA KINDA MAYBE FITS THE CATEGORY

The Gift by tmelange

E - 5,564

University student Clark Kent is on a field trip to Gotham City where he meets a creature of the night.

VAMPIRE AU, soooo Clark has powers but he is not superman so NO CAPES on his part. Bruce is a Vampire and I’m not really sure if he’s Batman but he’s some sort of vigilante. This felt very AU and sorta? fit the category, so I decided to add it anyways but it’s worth to mention this is an outlier on this list.

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SPECIAL MENTION CAUSE I HAVENT READ THIS ONE BUT IT WAS RECOMMEND TO ME by @just-add-butter

Spoils of War by littlechinesedoll @cumdumpsterbrucie

“If I go with you as a spoil of this pointless war, will you leave?” Bruce stands his ground, terrified and shaking, but he keeps eye contact with the warlord.

“Excuse me?” Kal must be hearing things.

“If I go with you, if I serve you, will you let my people live? Will you let my brother live?”

This is not finished buuuut it’s a Medieval AU. I just need to get myself in the right mindset to read an unfinished fic but will get to it! love what llittlechinesedoll writes.

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FICLETS

This section was accidental. I like my fics long and rarely read ficlets but here are a few that came across my way when I forgot to set word count filters.

Snapping the Chats by littlechinesedoll @cumdumpsterbrucie

G - 2,278

Clark tries to use the Snapchat filters on Bruce.

General Check-up by littlechinesedoll @cumdumpsterbrucie

T - 906

One where Brucie is getting a check-up from Thomas Elliot and he touches Bruce more cause Clark is obviously jealous

Subway Providence by the butler @the-butler-fanstuff

G - 400

A short drabble about art I did of Clark and Bruce waiting for the train on a subway platform.

So my first list was me coming across and realizing I love this kind of AUs and this second list is me carefully looking for them! Even tho my 1st list has some of my favorites, I hold this one closer to my heart. Hope you Enjoy it.

Also if you know of any that I haven’t included on these lists, please I beg you send them my way <3

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unnuevosoltransformalarealidad · 4 years

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Witchcraft

Title: Witchcraft Summary: Sam & Dean found out you are a witch. You have to explain to them that you are not like the ones they hunt them Pairing: Winchester Brothers x Reader, Rowena, Castiel Prompt: Square Filled > MoodBoard Warnings: Witchcraft talking, negative and positive energies, Word Count: 1581 This was written for the Make Me Feel Bingo of @girl-next-door-writes A/N: All the pictures were found on Google, except the anti possession tattoo, that picture is mine. Also, this is my first moodboard ever, so if you have any tips, let me know!

You’ve been hanging around and living with the Winchester since Bobby died. They promised him to look after you, mostly because you were hunting with them, but you’d rather doing research. You always said that knowledge was the best weapon you could master. Of course, Dean said you were as nerd as Sam was, but you wouldn’t complain because it was true. The Men of Letters’ bunker was a temple for you, it was pure gold. You spent hours and hours reading the books, the files, the research, everything. It was your perfect paradise.

One night after a rough hunt, Dean ended up having a really strong headache and nothing seemed to be helping him. You wanted to help him but you didn’t know how. You’ve read most of the books that were there and you couldn’t remember anything that could help him. Well, actually, there was one thing, and you’d promised Bobby to use it only with people you really cared about, and Dean clearly was important for you.

When you went to bed that night, you prayed. Prayed for Dean, prayed for protection, and prayed to help him to get rid of that headache. They didn’t know, but as Bobby used to say, you were special. It was a secret you needed to keep from them because you were aware of the reaction. Sometime later, Dean showed up at the library feeling a lot much better, like if he had never been on a tough hunt. You were really happy because he was feeling better, but you couldn’t say the same thing for you. You felt sick, probably the headache you were feeling was a lot stronger than Dean was feeling, you felt quite bad for him for feeling like that. You left your room and went directly to the kitchen, you needed to drink cold water.

-Hey — Dean greeted you — are you alright? — he asked concerned -Yeah, I just need some cold water — you explained -Are you sure? -Yeah, don’t worry — you said entering the kitchen. There was Sam -Hi Sammy — you greeted him -Hi Y/N — Sam greeted — how… Are you feeling ok? -Yeah — you said filling a glass with the water — I just need this — you said gesturing the water glass -Are you sure? You look pale — Sam said concerned -Yeah, Sammy. Don’t worry, it’s just a headache — you explained -If you need anything, let me know — you just nodded and went back to your room

The following hunt, an exhausting werewolf pack that moved around a few states was killed, Sam ended up with a migraine. Again, you looked for any spell or medicinal herbs to help him, but nothing was a hundred percent safe, so you did as you promised and once you were back in the bunker, you prayed. You prayed for him, to help him feel better, to get rid of that migraine, to give him a peaceful rest without pain. And a few hours later, he was as good as new, with just a slight headache barely noticeable, but you, it was a whole another story. You were light-sensitive, your stomach was churning and the pain was crushing your skull.

The next hunt was three days later after the werewolf pack. The guys had asked you to join them but you preferred staying to do some research, but actually, you just wanted to lay down and rest and get rid of the remnants of Sam’s migraine. The demon they were hunting had told Dean that you were a witch and you were performing witchcraft on them. Of course, Dean didn’t believe it and killed the demon. He wasn’t sure about it, because he started to remember his brother’s and his headache and hoe quickly faded. It was suspicious, but he couldn’t believe it. Probably the demon was just playing with his mind.

When they arrived at the bunker, they found you fast asleep on the war table surrounded by books. Dean wanted to wait until you woke up to talk with you. Not long after they arrived you woke up. You went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. When you entered the kitchen, Dean was already there with the computer looking for another case.

-Y/N, can we talk? — he said and you knew. He found out. -I guess — you said hesitating -How are you feeling? Really -I’m fine De — you said -Y/N, you stayed back on a demon hunt, and you were locked in your room with the lights out for two days. What’s going on? — He asked worried — Talk to me -I have strong headaches. I’ve been reading a lot lately and I’m getting older. I won’t be able to see perfectly my whole life — you just lie -Y/N, I’m serious — he clenched his jaw -Not now, De. I’m tired and I want to go to bed — you said heading to the hallways -Answer me this, and I let you go — you looked at him — promise -Ok. What do you want to know? -Are you a witch? What? — you asked surprised -Seriously Dean? — Sam questioned entering the kitchen -Answer me -No, Dean. I’m not a witch. Why would you say that? -What’s going on with you?— Sam was pissed off -I’m sorry, I just needed to know -Why? — you asked curiously -It’s something the demon said. Forget about it. I’m sorry I asked. He probably was messing with my mind. I’m sorry. You can go to bed sweetheart — You didn’t say anything and left the kitchen

You felt bad for lying to them, but it was the best. Dean couldn’t find out, he would kill you. After that little discussion, you called Rowena for help. You weren’t feeling great. Rowena showed up, she helped you and stayed a little just in case you needed her again

-I wasn’t expecting you to upset her, dear— Rowena said -I didn’t mean it, but… -What if she is? Does it matter? I’m a witch and you haven’t killed me — Rowena mentioned -Yet — Dean said -What do you know Rowena? — Sam asked curious You were in the hallway listening, you needed to tell them the truth. -No, Dean. I’m not a witch, well, not like Rowena -What do you mean by saying not like her? — he was confused -She is considered a witch, but she is not like me. She does good things for people, she doesn’t do harm with what she does — Rowena explained -I’m not following — Sam said -Well, I do witchcraft for my own benefit. Y/N does it to help people, to help the people she cared about -Dean, you remember the headache you had a little while ago, and then vanished? I kind of cured it. And sam, the migraine you had the other day, I cured it too They were perplexed, they didn’t understand what you were talking about. They didn’t know what to believe anymore -Listen to her — Rowena begged -I prayed to the gods, the gods I praised, to help you, both of you to get rid of the headache, and I absorbed it -You absorbed it? -Dean asked -Yeah. Most of the headaches are caused by negative energies in your body. I’m very sensitive to them, so I can absorb them and help you to feel better — you explained — It’s difficult to understand, but I can show you some books where it’s explained -It’s not the same as I do. So when she feels bad, like today, she calls me for help, and I helped her to change those negative energies into positive energy and make her feel better -I work with energies, the phases of the moon. I promise you Dean, I would never use these gifts to do harm, ever -She is considered a witch by the bible because it says that is something given by the devil — Rowena explained -It’s true — Castiel appeared — She has asked me a few times for help. She only does good -I understand if you don’t believe me guys, but please, don’t kill me. I’ll go -Y/N, we would never kill you. You are everything to us, and we promised Bobby to keep you safe — Sam said -But that was before we knew this — Dean commented -Dude, come on — Sam scolded Dean -If it makes you feel better, Bobby knew and he made me promised to do only good to the people I care about. And that’s you guys. — you said and started to move to the hallway to go to your room to pack your stuff -Y/N — Dean called you — Do you promise me, that you would never ever for any reason use that to harm people? -I promise you, Dean, I would never use them to cause any type of harm to anyone — you said sincerely -I’m sorry I reacted that what— Dean said and hugged you — you know how much I hate witches

You laughed and hugged him back. You knew that you needed to do a lot of explaining to them, but it was only a matter of time until they truly believed you. But lucky for you, Cas and Rowena were there to help you.

Tag List (Let me know if you want to be added)

#girl next door's make me feel bingo #make me feel bingo #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn x reader #spn fanfic #sam x dean x reader #dean x reader x sam #writing challenge

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xbaebsae · 4 years

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Changes and Deleted Content Part 2 - Far Cry 5: Features and Missions

This is a small passion project series of posts where I share some insight of what’s hidden in the game(s) files, but also some general observations. The main focus will be on character changes or deletions with a few words about functions and deprecated missions.

What will not be touched upon are a lot of the things the Resistance Mod on PC restores, namely deleted store weapons and clothes, weather systems and general gameplay related things like skinning animations. I also won’t go into audio files and their content, as @lulu2992 is already working on an amazing series for FC5 that summarizes them per character.

This part will be significantly shorter Edit from post finishing-Angy: This post turned out really damn long despite only discussing some scrapped or changed features and a couple of deprecated mission strings. I still hope you find this as interesting to read as I found writing and investigating it :)

1. Changed and Scrapped Features

1.1 Guns/Fangs for Hire

Just for reference, the release version of the game has 9 unique GFH/FFH available + 3 slots for random specialists you can hire throughout the world.

Among the game’s UI textures for tutorials is this image, showing an earlier version of the GFH screen.

What this indicates is that the planned amount for active GFHs you can have was originally 4; or the top row could function as some sort of favorites tab. We will probably never know for certain.

Interestingly though, this version has slots for 20 GFHs in total, 18 either filled a character icon or a locked symbol, suggesting the originally planned unique GFH count was 18.

Considering almost every NPC in-game has spawn-able archetypes with battle audio fully in place it is possible that we were supposed to be able to recruit more of them. I will return to the matter of recruitment shortly.

Another thing I’d like to open up for consideration is that there may have been plans for (ex-)cultist GFHs or at least areas where they act friendly towards the deputy. Reason for this assumption is the fact that cultists have recorded lines for when you meet them (spawn them), aim weapons at them (the taunts GFH and friendlies do too), along with idle lines when you use mods to spawn them as friendly followers. The game has no purpose for most of these lines, as you never walk into peaceful cultists outside of the intro. In the intro you have no weapons to aim at anyone, making it impossible to trigger these lines.

You may argue they were recorded for the arcade, but the Seeds are also featured in it and have none of those. However, they may also be a leftover from scrapped missions that would feature cultists that don’t shoot you on sight.

Additionally to that early menu screenshot, I have also found an old reddit thread discussing the game’s Uplay page near release because of the following image:

Unfortunately I was not able to find this particular page myself anymore, and knowing how short lived everything is nowadays, it might be lost in time forever. The commenters discuss that the three additional slots here refer to potential DLC characters, but we don’t get to use any of the DLC companions in the main game (nor do the DLCs share the main game’s art direction). So, this might be another indicator for additionally planned GFH/FFH we never got to see.

One of these was likely the Eagle FFH called ‘’Freedom’’ (Character/Unique/FFH_Eagle_Freedom), which was partially restored through mods on PC as its loaders and everything are still present. It is unknown why this was scrapped.

It also appears that there once were inventory (purchaseable?) items for almost each GFH (Boomer and Jess have none), as these placeholder icons exist inside the game’s ui\icons\inventory folder:

Possible functions: Quest items you needed to obtain to recruit them (implying changed missions); Gift items (for potential level up?)

Now to return to the matter of recruitment: Deprecated mission strings suggest that originally you had to hire unique GFHs similarly to random ones; and that was part of quest lines. These lines appear in ‘oasisstrings’, the game’s main language file(s):

HIRE Jess RECRUIT Adelaide Drubman ADD Adelaide to your squad

In light of the old GFH screen I actually looked up the definition of ‘Squad’, and on wikipedia it is listed that a Squad is a team of 5+ members, further strengthening the theory that originally you could have 4 active GFH (plus the Deputy they’d be 5, therefore a squad).

1.2 In-game Wiki menu

Some of the previous Far Cry titles have a sort of wiki menu that features short bios of characters, explanations of locations, resources and weaponry. New Dawn sort of brought part of this back with the ‘Survival Guide’ (accessible from the pause menu), but 5 does not have this at all. However, in the ui files there are still texture leftovers, implying this feature was planned and it had sections for Animals, Base Jumps, Characters, Destructible Structures, Fish, Locations, Parking Spots (Garages), Plants and Treasure Hunts. The following image shows the ‘undiscovered’ symbols arranged in that order.

Again, no text entries along with a lot of duplicate and unfinished images imply this was scrapped early.

You can view the additional images (minus characters, because they will be handled in the next posts) here.

2. Abandoned Missions

This section will focus on mission strings that still exist in ‘oasisstrings’. For the sake of readability I removed the style code the game uses and the line numbers. You can easily find them by searching part of the text in the files or website listed in References. Please keep in mind that only the mission titles themselves are 100% like that in the files, any assumption as to what they might have been used for is purely speculative, but I attempt to always provide a reasonable explanation with evidence for the theories presented. Also I am not perfect, so it is possible I missed something in-game. In that case please do correct me!

2.1. Investigation Type objectives

There is a set of objectives listed that imply a different setup for Willis Huntley’s mission. It introduces the objectives PHOTOGRAPH, TAG, LISTEN and INTERROGATE:

PHOTOGRAPH potential property PHOTOGRAPH an animal slaughter TAG the target PHOTOGRAPH the target LISTEN to the conversation INTERROGATE the target PHOTOGRAPH cult signs and rituals: BRING the photos back to Willis

The release build mission has you tail someone and steal a VHS tape. None of the above objectives appear. It’s interesting to see that at one point there were mechanics in consideration that included intel gathering.

2.2. Quest centered around Melvin

The only Melvin I could find in relation to Far Cry 5 is Nadine Abercrombie’s grandfather. Melvin Abercrombie joined the cult. It isn’t assured that these objectives refer to him, but if they do it’d mean a potential mission where you speak to a lower ranked cultist.

Please Note that mission strings are not always in correct order.

TALK to Melvin LOOT Melvin's corpse REACH Melvin's house WAIT for Melvin to arrive GO MEET Melvin

2.3. The ‘Redeemer’ Objectives

At some point there was a quest-line revolving around something called the ‘Redeemer’ in Holland Valley. I could not find out what this thing really was supposed to be, but it sounds like it was either a boat or a submarine (???). In this line it appears that the garage in Fall’s End had actual relevance.

FIND a similar engine BRING engine to Mary's garage TALK to Mary's assistant TOW Redeemer Back the Garage (this typo is also in the file) SUBMERGE the Redeemer FLIP the Redeemer upside down GET IN the Tow Truck PUT the Redeemer on the Flat Bed

What this also implies is the inclusion of tow trucks and that there was a ‘Mary’s assistant’ character.

2.4. A few seperate Entries before we focus on plot relevant ones

In light of the afore mentioned wiki menues there is also an objective type that goes very well with its character section:

DISCOVER this character.

This could be attached to unknown entries in the character list.

There also is an unused objective called:

FIND the cow in the field

Which at first glance made me believe it was related to the mission at Cattle co., but it is not used there or anywhere else. I suppose we will never find out what was so special about this mysterious cow.

TAKE Joseph's writings

is also an interesting entry, as it is not related to the mission where you burn his book. This is again an unused string with unknown original purpose.

2.5. Mary May and John Seed

There are two particularly interesting unused mission objectives in relation to these two characters.

For one, it looks like originally we were supposed to rescue Mary May from John’s ranch:

RESCUE Mary May From John Seed's Ranch

This could either be a replacement for saving her in Fall’s End or it is a mission that appeared later on in which John possibly captured her. It gets more possible applications with the next one, though.

FIND John and Mary May's secrets

Now, this one caught my attention immediately, because there are two big things that come to mind in terms of possible application. It could refer back to the novel Absolution in which Mary May gets captured and tattooed by John, heavily implying that part of the plot that made it to the novel was originally intended to be shown in the game (we will get back to this in the character episode when talking about Holly).

Additionally, keeping the previous objective in mind, it could also imply that Mary has been converted during her capture (or her capture was planned) and played a different role in the story overall. Of course, all of this is only speculation as we will probably never know, but the objective specifically says ‘John AND Mary May’s secrets’, refering to shared secrets, not just one of Mary herself (which would fit more into the tattoo theory).

If you have ever even considered the possibility that Ubisoft might have cut a lot of stuff from the Whitetail region of the game, the rest of this Mission section should finally prove this to you. I’d like to make clear here that this is unbiased. I have tried to dig up deleted content equally in all regions but it just turns out that this is the one they really went wild with. There is nothing that stands out in terms of deleted or changed missions in the Henbane area and the Holland Valley content is mostly not that plot relevant minus the last examples just mentioned.

2.6. Eli and the Wolf’s Den

In the final version of the game we are told that Eli is an important character, but he is not very active in any way. Where Mary May assists you on the way to John’s Ranch and Tracey and the others at the prison fight by your side in defense missions, Eli will stay at the Wolf’s Den and have you run his errands for him. Just like the other mentioned characters he has full fight capabilities though. His AI is capable of using that bow, despite him never leaving the bunker.

As it turns out, he used to be a far more active character and there were multiple ways you could encounter him for the first time. For reference: In the game as it is now you will only meet him when he and his people rescue the deputy after Jacob’s first trial. You cannot enter the Wolf’s Den prior to this point.

Inside the game’s animations folders are these three subfolders including the respective files (JJ and Key03 is how Eli is often referred to in the files, I will get back to this in the character post):

This means there were three ways that you would encounter Eli: Inside a cabin, through being captured in a net or by being released by Perkins. This was most likely Doc Perkins, giving her a bit more significance in the game.

The main cutscene files for these are not present anymore, only the animations remain so I could not find out where the exact locations for these were supposed to be at. I however, loaded these animations into a game cutscene so we get to look at them anyway. I have chosen Jacob’s death cutscene for the simple reason that there’s only the player + 1 NPC, it is daytime and there’s no intrusive DOF blurring everything. The video below shows all of them.

Keep in mind that only the player animation matters in the first two! Ignore the rest. The third one features Doc Perkins and has her animation applied to her. As you can see it is very very unfinished, but it shows that she possibly unties the deputy or opens an animal cage, then drives away in a car.

youtube

This unused mission string supports the theory of these different ways further, as it implies that you met him somewhere and he would guide you to the den:

FOLLOW Eli into the Wolf's Den

There are several other objectives that suggest a more active Eli, who might have accompanied you on some missions:

WAIT for Eli to arrive GO with Eli GO inside the Wolf's Den

2.7. Jacob and the Veteran Center

Before swan diving down a very deep rabbit hole, let’s address this unused mission string first:

TALK to Deputy Pratt

Sounds very unspectacular and like something you would do at some point, but this is never an objective in the game. The intended function will forever remain unknown most likely, but possibilities are vast, especially with the upcoming abandoned objectives.

There are hints at an alternate useage of Jacob’s bunker (specifically called bunker here and not armory). Mission strings are:

FIND a way out of Jacob's Bunker LEAVE Jacob's Bunker

Again, on first sight you’d think these are just what’s there in-game. But they aren’t. During the final mission it goes from RESCUE Deputy Pratt straight to ESCAPE Jacob’s Armory. There is no indicator that you’d need to find a way out. The objectives above hint that it was similar to John’s and Faith’s bunker initially, where you had to do a few more things before escaping.

An observation derived from the game’s subtitle file is that at one point there might have been a differentiation between ‘Armory’ and ‘Bunker’ as, most likely, a random NPC says "I don't know where Jacob's bunker is. I'm not sure anybody does, but it's out there somewhere." The armory is (other than John’s and Faith’s bunkers) directly next to a main road, next to McKinley Dam. It is quite impossible to miss. Therefore this statement, along with the inconsistent switch between calling it ‘armory’, ‘bunker’ or ‘gate’, could mean there was originally a different bunker and the armory really functioned as such.

Before moving on to more mission strings, there is one more subtitle entry worth mentioning: "When you tried to arrest Joseph, Jacob got wind of it and things got real crazy here in the Whitetail Mountains." It heavily implies that at some point, Joseph’s family might not have been intended to be present during the opening, and they instead found out about the arrest afterwards. As far fetched as it sounds at first, it does check out with the inactivity and absence of the three heralds after you cuff Joseph (and in case you ever wondered what the three of them are doing while you guide Joseph outside, they de-spawn and are gone as soon as you turn around).

But enough about that and let’s get back to more missions we never got to see.

For instance there is:

GO TO the Veteran's Center

Which, as most of you know, is impossible during the game because you get repositioned everytime you attempt to go close. This string implies a different kind of mission at some point.

HUNT Jacob

No, this also does not appear in the game. The final mission goes from DESTROY Wolf Beacons to KILL Jacob Seed. Possibility in combination with the previous entry is that you were supposed to follow him back to the Veteran Center and that’s where the final fight would be. It could also imply a different kind of trial.

Small observation because we are talking about the final fight: The Prima Games’ guide (based on a pre-release build of the game, it will be featured more prominently in the next post) depicts Jacob at the bottom of the mountain during this encounter. WIth a lot of perseverance I’m sure you can somehow manage to replicate this in-game. But it is interesting regardless that they chose this image. It might imply that at some point he was not positioned on top of the hill, and instead closer to the area he finally dies in.

Before we move on, here are a few other interesting unused strings:

TRAIN TRAIN yourself INTERACT with Jacob for finishing takedown TALK to Jacob

They imply a different way to end the fight along with the possibility to talk to Jacob at some point (unrelated to each other mind you). I have no clue in what kind of scenario you were supposed to talk to him. The only explanation I have is that trials were possibly supposed to be different at some point and maybe they had more intentions to explore the whole brainwashed aspect of it to the point you casually took strolls around St Francis. Now before you say I just made that up, I implore you to wait till after the next part to call me out on it, because there are reasons I offer that possibility up for discussion here.

TRAIN and TRAIN yourself might not be linked to this region at all. But it is interesting to have these sort of objectives as they form the ‘Train, Hunt, Kill, Sacrifice’ part of the region’s theme, when you refer back to other mission strings: TRAIN (yourself), HUNT Jacob, KILL Jacob Seed.

Now to get to the main part. If you ever used mods on PC that let you access the Veteran Center, you will have noticed that the AI acts very strange. Your assigned GFH might wander around, aim at nothing or even attack civillians. Cultists inside the area will not always attack you, while civillians will do. This is most likely why the developers were so quick to patch out the tricks to access the region without mods.

I have seen multiple speculations circling around, but the one that always struck me as the most plausible one is that there was some kind of mission after Pratt rescues you from the cage. It is a very discontinuous cutscene, in which you transition from the cage directly to the top floor of the Veteran Center, implying there were no problems for Pratt and the Deputy to get there, despite having to cross the entire guarded frontyard and going through multiple building floors to get to the office. So, naturally I wasted some time of my life trying to dig up stuff that proves this theory right and I...well I did find something.

Important note so you understand what’s going on here: It is very common in games to load objects underneath the map (outside of sight of the player) to assure they are properly loaded in when they are needed. I have seen posts circulating around which depicted Pratt underneath the building, suggesting they eventually had an area planned there. The more likely case is that Pratt was loaded there for later use in a cutscene.

Why am I saying that? Well, this following screenshot was taken underneath the map during the cutscene where Pratt rescues the deputy and it transitions to the top of the building. I have changed the time to daytime for a bit better visibility.

What you see here is an entirely unused set of either cutscene or gameplay elements. A truck, Jacob (who’s absent in the cutscene we see), Pratt, a random NPC, a bag, a small table (unseen in cutscene), a single door (unseen in cutscene), a double door and 3 small pieces of paper (only two are in cutscene). I have kept watch on these assets for the entirety of the cutscene and none of them were moved into place. Meaning that all of these were here to be used in either a different cutscene or even a gameplay segment.

It brings me back to the mission theory, where there was a potential stealth segment between leaving the cage and entering the office. Maybe there was an alternate cutscene for the case where you’d be caught and the one we see in the game is the one after successfully sneaking up there? We will never know for certain again but it is one possible explanation as to why these assets even still exist. It would also check out with the TALK to Deputy Pratt mission string, as you maybe had to speak to him after reaching a certain area.

Here are also some additional screenshots of the room in front of the office:

It was modelled and filled with a few detail props we never get to see much of.

Another potential mission, which would explain the broken AI behavior better, is the already mentioned theory that they might have planned to do more with the whole brainwashing aspect. Cultists inside the Vet Center area do not shoot and are allied, while civillians act hostile, implying while the player is there they are considered to be allied to cultists. TALK to Deputy Pratt, TALK to Jacob or TRAIN (yourself) could have taken place during this also. Something that could support this theory is also this unused timelapse marking days passing:

youtube

3. The Game’s Title and Closing Words

Internally the game is often called ‘fc zeta’, ‘zeta’ or ‘fcz’. So *sigh* of course I tried to find a deeper meaning behind it all and came to the sixth letter of the Greek alphabet ‘Zeta’. If you count Far Cry: Primal as a real standalone title, Far Cry 5 is the sixth Far Cry release. But because the Greek were special snowflakes or something, the sixth letter actually has the value of 7. So Zeta is actually 7 despite being the sixth. If you count Blood Dragon as a Far Cry release it’d mean FC5 is the 7th release. However, these theories exclude all the expansions and stuff for earlier Far Cry games.

Another indicator that Zeta might have been more than just a number, is this texture used as a decal on some clothing materials:

I have not found someone in-game who has this anywhere, and they might just disable the transparency and use it only for the American flag. But still, why would they make such a decal texture in the first place? Maybe very early name of the cult or resistance group?

Before closing this incredibly long essay, here is an old, unused version of the logo found in the files :)

Phew, we finally reached the end. If you made it all the way down here: CONGRATULATIONS you just read a long af essay! Again, i’d like to remind you that a lot of what you’ve read is pure speculation. I tried to prove my arguments as best as I could with evidence that I provided but only Ubisoft knows what really happened. And they are unlikely to tell us.

The next post will focus on the expansive character list and I may split it into parts because there is a lot to say and show about some characters.

I hope you have a nice day and thank you for reading ♥

_______________________________________________________

References:

text.farcry.info (website where you can look through Oasisstrings yourself!) languages\english\oasisstrings.oasis.bin languages\english\oasisstrings_subtitles.oasis.bin animations\narrative\cin_key03_q01_b00_meet_jj_cabin animations\narrative\cin_key03_q01_b00_meet_jj_net animations\narrative\cin_key03_q01_b00_meet_jj_release domino\user\fcz_proto_ld domino\user\zeta_dlcm ui\resources\textures\04_menu\tooltips ui\resources\textures\06_icons\inventory ui\resources\textures\05_hud\tutorials\_images __Unknown\XBT\AE800D066AB2E84A.xbt __Unknown\XBT\FD080AA2BBABE691.xbt Zeta on Wikipedia (english) Squad on Wikipedia (english) Prima Games guide (2018, collector’s edition, print and digital) reddit.com/r/farcry/comments/89nsf1/so_theres_3_missing_guns_for_hire_here_maybe_3/ __Unknown\BIK\C6AB10EDBC81E933.bik

#far cry 5 #gameinfo #obligatory longessay tag #if you ever wondered how much of a nerd i am #look at these essays #and know that i enjoyed writing and capturing footage of every second of this

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blueaura · 4 years

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Lost and Found Ch. 2

A/N: Hey guys, just trying my hand out at this fanfic thing. I love reading everyone’s stuff and decided to write something myself. I’m fairly new to Tumblr so any tips or suggestions are highly appreciated. Let me know if y’all like it and would like me to continue. Feedback would be amazing. Thank you and happy reading.

Summary: Sam and Dean meet a young hunter who is a little rough around the edges and they reluctantly take her under their wing. But she might be a little more connected to them that any of them realise.

Word Count: 1.6k

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Dean’s first priority after going back to the motel was getting Sam patched up. Y/N went to her own room and got into the shower to get the dingy warehouse stink off of her. The water pressure was abysmal but it got the job done.

She went back to the boys’ room and knocked on the door. Without waiting for a reply, she pushed the door open to see Dean wrapping Sam’s ribs. The younger Winchester clearly thought it was unnecessary if his facial expression was anything to go by, but he let Dean do it anyway. Sam knew better to argue with Dean in his ‘mother-hen’ mode.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Sam could see the guilt in her eyes. If only she had followed orders, Sam wouldn’t have bruised ribs.

“Really, I’m good. I’ve had worse. It’s part of the job. We screw up and we learn. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Now you know better for next time.”

It surprised her that Sam could read her so well after just three days. She remembered their first interaction. She had stopped for a quick bite at a diner when they walked in and sat beside her on the breakfast bar. At first, she had ignored them, going back to studying the case she was in town for. That didn’t last long though, as pieces of their conversation caught her attention quite quickly.

“Do you guys always talk about cases this loudly in the middle of a diner where anyone could easily overhear you?” she had asked them, still looking through her notes, “cause that does not seem like a smart thing to do.”

She had finally looked up and saw them staring at her in disbelief.

“Excuse me?” The shorter one, which she would later learn was Dean, had said.

“You are hunters. Discussing a case as weird as this one out in public. Loudly. I wasn’t even trying to eavesdrop. Like I said – not smart.”

“You’re a hunter? You’re like 12!” Dean had exclaimed. He had obviously been exaggerating. For one, she was 15, not 12; and two, Dean was still under the impression that she was over 17 at least. She couldn’t blame him. She didn’t look like an average 15-year-old and she had never bothered to correct him anyway.

They had gone on to argue over who would work on the case, and when neither party backed down, Sam had suggested they just all work together. The rest had been history.

She was jerked out of her thoughts when she registered what Sam had said.

“Wait, next time?”

Not happening. She liked the Winchesters and yes, they were not bad as far as hunting partners went. But there was a reason she hunted alone. She didn’t like people in her space. She knew that as soon as they figured out that she was a 15-year-old orphan, they would ship her off somewhere, ‘for her own good’. It had happened way too many times before for her to trust anyone, no matter how nice they seemed. She had been put into foster care three times on the behest of ‘concerned adults’ before. The homes were so bad that she preferred the streets and ran away the first chance she got. She had been on her own since she was 11 and had practically raised herself even before that. She didn’t need anyone to tell her what was best for her.

“Sorry boys, I prefer to hunt alone. Don’t get your hopes up for another team-up anytime soon,” she said before Sam could open his mouth again.

Dean’s jaw ticked but she could see him forcing the tension out, in hopes of reasoning with her. He knew that telling her what to do wouldn’t work, he had noticed that she had problems with authority.

“Look, we have this friend. She’s a sheriff and she’s got two other girls living with her who are either hunters or aware of the life. If you want –”

Dean knew that they had messed up. Y/N’s face grew hard as she listened to Sam talk about Jody and the girls. Yes, they had called her and asked her if she would be willing to take in another stray but Jody had warned them that Y/N didn’t sound like someone who wanted a normal life. Claire had wanted to hunt but she had also wanted a family. Alex had wanted to get out of the life. Both of them had wanted to be there.

He could see that they were losing her. He didn’t understand why he felt so strongly about helping her, but he panicked at the thought of her hunting alone out there. So, he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind – “You could hunt with us!”

Sam paused mid-sentence, looking at his brother incredulously. That was not what they had agreed on. While his brother clearly felt more strongly about helping her, Sam himself had grown quite fond of Y/N and wanted her to be safe. But he also knew that they had too much on their plate to add her into the mix. She’s just be in more danger anyway. They were in the middle of dealing with the darkness – there was no way bringing Y/N into their life would end well. After the way they lost Charlie, Dean should have been the first one to realize that.

Y/N’s face dropped the hard stare it was featuring only to be replaced by a look of surprise. Hunting with the Winchesters was something aspiring hunters dreamed off. They were the big leagues, where the real action was. She’d heard rumors about their dalliances with angels and prophets and monsters from purgatory. So, of course she was surprised when they offered her a chance to play with the big boys. But she knew she couldn’t take them up on it. Specially since Sam didn’t seem too enthusiastic about it either. Which stung – but she understood.

“As tempting as that sounds, I’m good. You guys probably have a lot to deal with anyway if Sam’s face is any indication. I don’t want to be a problem. I’ll get out of your hair and maybe we can team up again if you happen to be on the same case as me.” Y/N didn’t want to get close to people. They just ended up abandoning you sooner or later.

Sam backtracked guiltily, assuring her that they wanted her with them. He didn’t want her in danger but he didn’t want her to feel unwanted either. There was just something about her that made both brothers want to protect her.

“You won’t be,” Dean said firmly. “You’re clearly a good hunter. You figured out the case before us and you were right. You could use some tactical training and work on your combat a little bit. From where I’m standing, you don’t have anyone to teach you either. We can help –”

“You’re telling me you have time to take in a rookie hunter in the middle of dealing with your apocalypse of the year?” she scoffed, raising an eyebrow at Dean.

Sam remained silent, a spectator to the back and forth between his brother and Y/N. He wanted her to come with them. He just didn’t want her to end up dead like every other person they cared about.

Dean switched tactics when enticing her with training didn’t work.

“What about living arrangements? We have a pretty sweet set up in Kansas. It’s like a bat cave. You’d like it there.”

“I manage just fine in motels,” she fibbed just a little bit. Even with fake IDs and fake credit cards, she sometimes had a hard time convincing motels to give her a room. She’d spent more nights in the cold streets than she cared to admit, but it was all just a part of being a hunter and she accepted that. Even the rooms she did get were dingy at best, but she didn’t want their charity.

“Look kid, I know how it works. You can’t lie to me.” She looked away at that.

“What about family? You have anyone we can at-least get you back to?” Dean had just about admitted defeat at this point. Even Sam looked dejected and he hadn’t even exactly wanted her with them in the first place.

At his statement, she jerked, her whole body flinching at the mention of family. The reaction didn’t go unnoticed by either brother.

“Y/N? You alright?” Sam asked when she didn’t say anything for a minute.

“No. No family,” she ignored Sam. “I never knew my father, all my mother said about him was that he was a hunter too. I always assumed he died on the job.”

She was fidgeting with her rings. She did that when she was nervous or uncomfortable, they’d learned.

“What about your mother?” Sam dared to ask softly.

“Dead.” Y/N’s voice was hard which surprised Sam. In the time they’d spent together, she had never seemed cold, but she did right now.

“Killed by a werewolf when I was 11,” she continued in that same emotionless voice, “I’ve been on my own ever since.”

She didn’t ever share anything about her life with other hunters and the fact that she told them this perplexed her, but she couldn’t ignore Sam’s puppy dog eyes.

“I’m sorry kiddo,” Sam said, empathy practically oozing from his voice, “We know what it’s like losing a mother young. It doesn’t get easier.”

“What was her name?” Sam said after a brief pause.

She was silent for a long time. She hadn’t said her name out loud in almost 5 years.

“Sandra,” She finally said softly, the tiniest hint of emotion in her voice. “Sandra L/N.”

Dean froze.

He knew that name.

Chapter 3

TAGS: @vicmc624 @buttercookiemachoman @link--in--bio

If anyone else wants to be tagged, please send me an ask (: Thanks for reading!

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean x reader #sam x reader #castiel #castiel x reader #platonic relationships #Cee tries to write

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fanficsforheartandsoul · 4 years

Text

The Dragonborn | M!Reader x Geralt of Rivia | Part II

Note: I split the oneshot because damn 12k does nobody want to read in one go xD

Fandoms: The Witcher (TV Series), The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim

Warnings: Non-Canon Story, Swearing, Gore, Slight OOC

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier meet a stranger in the woods while on the hunt for a special monster. They decide to team up but neither does Geralt realize that his prey is close to him nor does the stranger notice he's the one being hunted...

Word Count: 6938

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name!

Please note that The Witcher is supposed to be around the Middle-Age. Homophobia existed.

Part I

_______

A few hours later, after they had eaten the rabbit, they began to look for tracks of the monster. There were a lot of them. For example, the scorched moss where Geralt almost turned into roasted meat, the dark footprints in the dirt, and the fallen trees.

The witcher was impressed by how good the warrior from Keizaal could search for tracks.

“You see that, Jaskier? The way the claws dig in the ground? It means the claws of the dovah are really big. That’s pretty unusual for female dragons, so it’s obvious we’re dealing with a male. But we uh... know that because Odahviing is male.”

While Jaskier and Y/N genuinely searched for any signs he just stared at the foreigner. He somehow felt like he had found a kindred spirit in the man standing in front with his back facing him.

A weird association, but there were only a few things that could really impress Geralt.

Magic, Fighting Skills, and usually breasts.

Which made him sound like a skirt chaser, but that wasn't it. It just meant what it meant. Dicks definitely didn't attract hi-

"What the hell?"

He lifted his eyes from the lower body of Y/N, and his breath hitched when those e/c eyes pierced his. Did he see...?

"The footprints are gone!"

Oh. That.

"That does make sense... Or not? It's a dragon, after all? They can fly. Or not? Can they?"

Jaskier stepped in front of him and obstructed his view on the other. Geralt turned and touched his face. His cheeks were burning. What's gotten into him? He remembered something Yennefer had told him once as a half-joke.

I sometimes think that if I haven't met you, you would have chosen someone who fights like you, thinks like you, who lives like you. And from what I believe that someone would have been a man. Because it needs a brute to move a brute's heart.

While his head was filled with thousand thoughts, Y/N and the bard inspected the tracks closer.

"It can't be that he took off. Do you see how the footprints are as deep as the others? If he wanted to fly away, they would be deeper because he had needed to shift his weight."

"Is that something you learned while hunting for the other dragons with the Dragonborn?"

The man from Keizaal nodded. Some locks fell into his face, and his expression was thoughtful while he searched for a plausible explanation. Geralt could see every feature of his sharp e/c eyes.

They were different from Yennefer's violet ones, their spark was different, but for other people, they must be as enthralling as the eyes of the sorceress to him. That's at least what he believed. They had a particular pull. He didn't feel it, but it was there. Puzzling, but powerful.

A cough pulled him away from Y/N's eyes, and Jaskier stared at him with a grin.

"What?" he asked, his voice almost defensive.

"Nothing," responded his friend with a knowing undertone. What the hell was going on?

"Well, I can't think of anything that happened. Witcher, what about you?"

The mesmerizing eyes turned to him, and he blinked. What was the question?

Thankfully, I always have a good answer ready.

"Hmm."

He shifted and knelt to see the footprints up close. They had a certain distance to each other as if the dragon was walking slowly. Y/N was right; he couldn't have flown away, the marks were too shallow. Either he disappeared into thin air, or the monster had an amazing control when it came to his weight.

"Strange..." was all he said.

He focused on the sounds around them, but there was nothing extraordinary. Just the whistle of the wind, a few birds singing, and the steady heartbeats of the other two men. It was a dead end.

"Fuck."

He looked up, surprised that he and the warrior of Keizaal said the same thing at the same time. Y/N shot him a grin, and Geralt snorted.

"Maybe we should try to set up a trap"

He turned and watched Jaskier's expression. It was a good idea, and they didn't have any other options, besides he wasn't really in the mood to search the whole forest for the dragon. The h/c haired man agreed and pulled a bow out of his satchel. The bard's eyes once again widened.

"I want a bag like this too."

"If you don't want to carry your things anymore, you can give them to me. I'll store them."

Jaskier smiled brightly, and Y/N returned it. Something flared up in Geralt's chest, but he ignored it. Damn bruises make my chest hurt.

The bard gave the foreigner their things, and he put them in his satchel.

"Let's think about the trap," the warrior tested the string of his bow and then focused his eyes on Geralt and Jaskier.

"Dragons are usually very picky about their food, but I belie- know that Odahviing is fine with deer meat. We should hunt some."

And they did. With the help of Geralt's tracking skills and crossbow and the Y/N's bow, they easily got two does. Although it took a while to find them since most animals steered free of the area where the dragon rampaged.

Geralt and Jaskier only watched, while Y/N slashed the throats of the already dead animals.

"Dovahs have a keen sense of smell; we have to cover our own scent."

He continued to drench his hands with the blood and even smeared some on his neck and armor. When he couldn't hear the other two approaching, Y/N turned around and tilted his head questioningly.

"U-Uh, what did you say?" asked the bard and avoided his gaze.

“What? Did I say something wrong? Can you... Is it a sacrilege to use doe bloo-"

Geralt interrupted him.

"We couldn't understand what you said because you spoke in a different language."

Y/N widened his eyes, and an apologetic look crossed his face.

"I'm sorry...”

Jaskier’s slightly odd expression concerned him and he examined the witcher. Geralt was more intrigued than scared by the fact the atmosphere in the woods seemed to have changed as soon as the other spoke in his probably native language.

The fact that Y/N’s voice got a lot deeper while he spoke, caused a shiver to run down his spine. The foreigner apologized again and then added:

“I said the dragon could smell us. We should cover our scent with the blood."

Jaskier didn't seem to like the idea, but the witcher nodded and followed his advice.

Soon the bard's and his hands were stained with doe blood. Geralt was unaffected by it since he already got used to it by hunting monsters for years, but the other man looked a little pale.

The warrior watched their actions and then approached the white-haired man. His yellow eyes followed all of his movements.

"You should also put some on your throat... It’s a place where a lot of sweat gathers."

As soon as Y/N touched his collarbone and neck, Geralt stiffened. Actually, he froze. Something about another man touching his carotid artery was really intimate. His nose caught the smell of iron, moss, and smoke.

Someone who lives like you.

Yennefer's words replayed in his mind, and he couldn't stop himself from unconsciously moving his head closer to the other man.

The warrior was only a few centimeters smaller than him, his head reached up to his eyebrows. The hands on his throat were rough and slippery, but they touched him with such gentleness, Geralt had to shiver.

He gulped, and his adam's apple pressed against Y/N's palm. The afternoon sun danced on the other man’s scars, and eyelashes and Geralt wondered if every man had such long ones. He breathed in and closed his eyes.

Is this the essence of a kindred spirit?

Suddenly Y/N's hands disappeared from his throat, and he could no longer feel the warrior's presence so close to him.

“Put some on your cheeks too.”

A little disappointed, he opened his eyes and noticed that the other man had already turned and now approached Jaskier just to do the same thing to the bard that he did to him.

Y/N's bare hands touched his friend's throat, and neck and Geralt suddenly had a very, very dark thought.

Abruptly he turned around and covered his lower face with his hand.

Did I... About this man...?

He could feel how heat crept up his neck, and he questioned the emotionlessness that every witcher was supposed to have.

What the fuck was he thinking? He has Yennefer!

Or at least had. Their relationship was somewhat in the stars at the moment. After their rather big fight last time...

Geralt didn't know why that mattered though.

He buried the fluttery feeling that had sprouted in his chest when the other man had touched him.

What he didn't realize, Y/N's heartbeat was pounding faster after the physical contact they had just shared.

After they had covered their scent with deer blood, they also smeared some dirt on their armor and clothes, much to the dismay of Jaskier. Then they decided to set up their stakeout one hundred meters away from the carcasses.

It was close enough to quickly attack, but also far away enough for them to be safe in case the dragon wanted to grill them. They sat on the mossy ground and leaned on the trees surrounding them.

"Now, all we have to do is wait."

Patience was something every hunter was supposed to have, and both Geralt and Y/N obviously had it. The bard, on the other hand...

The witcher's left eyebrow twitched in annoyance. After his friend had whistled, he began to eye the two men. Jaskier's stare felt like a cockroach was crawling over his body. He had a bad premonition about the weird behavior of the brown-haired man. He glared at him, but he just grinned.

Stop staring!

Geralt turned his head away and noticed how the warrior from Keizaal seemed to concentrate on something around his neck. He clenched and unclenched his fist with an absent expression.

He watched for a while and then realized that Y/N was holding a ring that he wore on a necklace.

A sinking feeling appeared in his gut, and he suddenly felt like a mountain weighed his shoulders down.

"You have a wife?"

His mouth was faster than his thoughts.

The man startled and then shared eye contact with him.

"Something like that..."

Geralt frowned a little. What kind of answer was that? He stared at Y/N with a hard look, but the other added nothing else, just sighed and hid the ring under his heavy armor.

The witcher only grunted and turned to face the direction of their trap.

Shit, why was he so annoyed?

The idea of the warrior having a doting wife waiting for him in Keizaal made his heart clench, and his chest felt tight.

This time he couldn't blame the bruises on his rips.

He finally acknowledged that the h/c haired man intrigued him and caused some rather odd feelings to rise.

But this... Why... Why the fuck was he feeling jealous?

And it wasn't even that the man had a wife, no; he was jealous because some woman had Y/N.

That dragon must have indeed killed some of his brain cells.

His yellow eyes traveled back to the other man's figure. His broad shoulders were hidden under his armor, but Geralt had seen them.

Just after he had woken up, he had seen the man in regular clothes. Although he had worn a shirt, the witcher had been able to see how muscular Y/N was.

His body seemed to be covered with scars. Tiny cuts on his hands, big slashes on his collarbone, and even some nasty ones close to his throat. Geralt was sure there were many more, but he wasn't able to see them. They were proof of fierce fights and the experiences the man had had to go through.

Was it weird that they attracted him?

Like the hands in his dreams that had traveled over his, the Butcher of Blaviken wanted to trace Y/N's scars with his fingers. He wanted to feel how his body had healed him, wanted to know the story of every scratch and bruise, wanted to touch the energetic muscles bursting with strength.

A flame of desire began to burn in his body, and he lowered his head to hide the dark expression he wore on his face.

These thoughts needed to stop; they would only become problematic in the future.

Geralt scratched his neck and then examined the brown-red flakes under his fingernails.

He felt a stare on his body again, and he sighed.

God damn Jaskier...

When he lifted his head, he was surprised to see that it wasn't the bard who looked at him but the warrior from Keizaal. Y/N's e/c eyes were unfathomable, but he showed a somber expression. He paused for a second, and the world seemed to turn slower.

The witcher could see every blemish on the other man's skin, every mole, every freckle. Geralt breathed in slowly, and the warrior's hair swayed in the wind.

He's so handso... The wind?

Geralt abruptly stood up.

"The-the wind turned!" he muttered and gulped. His cheeks felt hot, and he bit his lip. Jaskier frowned.

"Doesn't this mean that our smell would be...?"

Y/N sighed and nodded.

"Is a lake close by?"

The bard shook his head.

"But, we're only a few miles away from the sea."

The witcher watched the other man closely while he questioned the other's exhausted expression.

"The wind has turned due to the late afternoon. We should move."

Geralt and Jaskier only watched when the other stood up and grabbed his bow.

"Why not wait until the wind turns again?" asked the bard, and he followed after the h/c haired man.

"That won't be the case until tomorrow. The sea has saved the warmth from the sun while the land cooled down. We have to wait until the land is warmer again."

Jaskier eyed Y/N carefully. Geralt could already guess what he was thinking. He understood what the warrior from Keizaal meant. He learned about it when he was training to become a witcher.

"So, what are we going to do now?"

They both contemplated for a while and then Geralt spoke:

"Maybe we should indeed wait for tomorrow. I think it would be best if you tell us some more things about your dragon before we storm into this unprepared."

He tried to suppress a triumphant smile when the other two agreed. Of course, he wouldn't admit that he actually just wanted to spend some more time with Y/N.

He had a thought that they wouldn't meet again after this whole thing was over.

"Then what do we do about the deer corpses?" asked Jaskier, and it was a reasonable question. If they left them, they could attract other animals...

Both the witcher and the warrior looked at each other and then huffed. The bard just stared between them, and his face gradually darkened.

"You're not... thinking about eating them are-are you?"

Two hours later, they had put up a camp close to a clear pond and already roasted some rabbit meat.

They had buried the does, and although the physical labor was annoying, Jaskier was relieved that the two brutes didn't decide to eat them. The dead animals had been lying in the sun for a long time after all.

Y/N was peeling his armor off and thinking about the situation he was in right now.

The fact that they were on the hunt for a dragon excited him. Not the actual part of the chase but the fact that he would meet another specimen of his current best friends.

After he had killed Alduin, he had lost himself in a killing spree. Paarthurnax had warned him to get a hold of himself, but he wasn’t able to. His dragon soul caused him to lose all rational thoughts.

When he finally realized that he could learn so much more about Akatosh and the dovahs, he had already committed mass slaughter, and Odahviing and the wise dragon from The Throat of the World were the last ones of their species.

Or that's at least what the three of them had thought. But they were wrong, and now he had the chance to meet another dragon! And probably also the chance to go home. If he wanted to.

But first, they had to get a hold of him.

"Jaskier?"

He faced the bard who currently played on his lute while also watching the fire. He hummed in response and looked up.

"We should wash off the blood in the pond. Do you want to go first?"

The man seemingly wanted to say yes but then shook his head and responded with a slight grin:

"No, you can go first. I'll watch the rabbit."

Y/N furrowed his brows but then smiled and thanked him. He left the pile of his armor and Jaskier behind and wandered to the pond, which was located behind some trees and big boulders.

The view from the camp was obscured, which meant he had some privacy. Not that he cared much, but he would rather not show his back to the two other men. Since it showed one more change he had gone through in the last year.

Although Geralt wasn't currently in the camp anyway, he left to get some more branches for the fire.

The man carefully opened his shirt and took it off. His boots, pants, and underwear soon followed suit, and he stepped to the shore where some reed grew.

The water was cold when he stepped in, but he endured it. His muscles just tensed a little.

Y/N walked in further until the water reached his abdomen. He wasn’t even halfway in the pond, it was fairly big.

He sucked in some air when he lowered himself into the water until it reached his chin. He had to rub his skin a little, but then the water around him turned slightly red.

The man watched how the deer blood twirled, and he stared at his reflection. The red blood on his cheeks conjured a cursed memory in his head, and he heaved.

Hii los dur, Dovahkiin. Hi aal krii zu'u nu nuz zu'u ahrk pah dii Zeymah fen koraav hi mah wah hin daan. You are cursed, Dragonborn. You may kill me now, but all my brethren and I will see how you fall to your doom.

The ominous words of the last dovah he had killed echoed in his mind. He hugged himself, and his fingers touched his shoulder blades.

The skin was still shedding. Y/N sighed. What was going on with his body? The shedding had started a few months ago but he had no idea why.

And since it only started after he had arrived here he couldn’t ask Odahviing or Paarthurnax.

He breathed out slowly and then dived underwater.

The coldness cleared his head a little, and he relaxed slightly. His feet left the muddy ground, and for a moment, he floated.

If I could just stay like this...

His hand clenched to a fist, and he released some Magicka. The small pressure on his nose disappeared, and he automatically breathed in.

Air filled his lungs, and the Dragonborn smiled. Peace washed over him, and he spread his arms.

He slowly floated to the surface, and his face broke through it. Water droplets pearled from his cheeks and eyelashes, and he stared into the sky. The tree crowns whistled, and he watched how some clouds traveled across the darkening sky. The sun was already setting.

This was the ending of the first day together with the bard and the witcher. Geralt's face came to his mind, and he bit his lip.

The white-haired man reminded him of Farkas, but he was also completely different. His attitude for example. Farkas was openly benevolent and also voiced his concerns. The witcher seemed to be reluctant. Although Y/N was able to feel that he cared deeply for his friend.

They shared the same keen instincts, but Geralt's came from the harsh trials witchers had to go through while his love had them because he had been a werewolf.

I can't believe that you chose Farkas over Vilkas. Do you like strength more than brains?

Aela's voice sounded in his head, and Y/N huffed.

The huntress had probably been right. He was attracted to the Butcher of Blaviken. These yellow eyes... They had something animalistic and penetrating that stirred an urge deep inside of him.

He sighed and put his hands on his face. Then he scrubbed and splashed his face with water.

Suddenly, he caught sight of a person standing behind a tree at the other side of the pond after he had wiped droplets from his eyes and opened them again.

Y/N breath stopped, and a wail got caught in his throat. He abruptly stood up again, although it felt like he had still no ground under his feet. What...?

Light blue eyes framed by black war paint stared at him with a resentful look.

"Fa-Far..."

His voice failed, but he agitatedly began to move across the pond, trying to reach his lost lover and husband.

Breath erratic and tears were pricking in the corners of his eyes, but at that moment, he only felt happiness and relief. Farkas was alive!

"D-Dii Shul!" My Sunshine!

The ground suddenly declined, he lost his footing and dived involuntarily underwater.

Nevertheless, he was still able to hear the words that had left the lips he had kissed so often.

"So, you've abandoned me."

An ice-cold feeling washed over him, and his heart broke.

No, that's not true! I would never! You were gone! You left me! You died!

A disturbing scream erupted from his throat, and the skin around his mouth tore. The scream turned into a roar, and he clawed at his face. The e/c eyes shook, and the black pupils turned to slits.

Shreds of flesh got caught by growing claws, and gigantic fangs emerged from the man's jaws.

H/C hair parted, shrunk, and gave way for two enormous horns. His whole body shook, and his limbs twisted and cracked. His spine grew longer, broke through his lower back, and two bony wings arose from his back.

The murky water of the pond turned red and swirled around the tremoring creature who rapidly grew until it was able to stand on the pond bed. Flesh turned hard and into black scales. New tissue engulfed its wings and tail and also got covered by rockhard scales.

Burning heat crawled up its throat, and furious flames burst from its maw. It broke through the pond's surface, and the splashed water evaporated immediately.

The dragon spread its wings, and they created waterfalls when they left the water. The wingspan was as big as half of the pond, and when it pulled them closer to its body ready for takeoff, the leaves and needles of the surrounding trees shook.

A thunderous boom announced the beast's presence, and it tensed its huge muscles.

When it thrust off the pond bed, the water turned into waves and flooded over the shore and soaked shoes and clothes. Branches broke like grass when the dragon's wings grazed them, and trees lost all their leaves from the harsh wind which got created.

A scent caught the dragon’s attention and it whipped its head around. A triumphant roar shook the earth when it dashed towards the direction the smell came from.

The beast ignored the scared brown-haired human that stared at it from a small campsite.

Geralt was grabbing some more branches when he saw some Celandine, and he swiftly decided to take them with him. They were always helpful, after all.

Putting the branches on the ground, he knelt and carefully tore the flowers and the not yet bloomed buds from their stems.

While he stored them, his thoughts trailed off to the mysterious man who accompanied him and Jaskier.

Y/N had sparked something inside of him, and now he was questioning his heart, which confused him even more since the person he found interesting was a man.

On the other hand, he couldn't quite tell if the feeling in his chest was something along the lines of romantic attraction or just common interest.

Deep down in Geralt's heart, he knew that him eyeing the other man's ass was definitely not something one would call a platonic interest, but he just couldn't admit that he, who never thought about other men like that, suddenly liked one.

He didn't feel disgusted, but the thought alarmed him.

He had seen a lot of things during his time as a witcher, and relationships between two men were never something that ended well. Various churches took care of that.

An image in his head made his fists clench unconsciously.

And there was still Yennefer. They never openly ended their relationship so... Was he still involved with her? He couldn't tell.

The Butcher of Blaviken sighed and then noticed a pebble in the moss. It had white streaks over its grey shape, and they reminded him of the scars in the foreigner's face.

Was he seriously associating weird things to Y/N now?

Maybe the other cursed him.

While he pondered some more about the other man, it took a while for him to notice that the forest had turned unnaturally silent.

Birds stopped singing as if they held their breaths in fear, and suddenly a roar disrupted the silence. It came from far away, but Geralt was able to hear it loud and clear because of his mutated hearing.

He abruptly stood up and turned towards the direction. It came from the camp, and Geralt's heart sank.

Please no.

He disregarded the branches he had meticulously collected and started to rush back the way he came from. Thankfully he had taken his swords with him, and he unsheathed the silver one.

The image of the bard and the foreigner being killed carried his feet forward and pushed him to almost inhumane speed.

He wasn't even halfway back when a shadow cast on the moss stopped him in his tracks. A gigantic black dragon soared through the sky, and his wings caused the surrounding trees to shake. Geralt could feel the wind pressure, and the aura that the beast released caused a shiver to run down his spine.

The witcher grinned darkly. That bastard had an impressive bloodthirst. Geralt's hunter instincts wanted to fight that monster, but his heart worried for his best friend and his potential love interest.

He cursed himself for not taking his small bag with the various vials with potions and bombs, but he had no time to get annoyed because the dragon suddenly dived down, and he had to roll out of the way or else he would have been crushed.

When he stood up again and turned, he came face to face with the beast's massive head, and his heart skipped a beat.

Y/N fought against such big monsters? Repeatedly?

His respect for the other man increased significantly.

Geralt couldn't avoid his legs to tense, but the dragon didn't attack. Instead, its e/c eyes examined him, and the witcher wondered if the monster's pupils acted like a human's because they widened considerably.

This is a dovah...

The beast was at least as big as a typical villager house, and Geralt was sure that the spikes on its body would cause massive damage to any attacker. The black scales seemed impenetrable, and the monster slayer seriously questioned his chances of survival.

He had already felt it before when he had run from the dragon. It wasn't an enemy who he could overpower. If he had to fight, it would be either an overpriced victory or death. But escaping wasn't an option anymore, the dragon's tail had trapped him before the beast.

His grip around his sword tightened, and he was ready to use Quen on himself when the beast shifted and held its head up high. A growl escaped from its throat, and Geralt tensed even more. Unexpectedly, the dragon spoke:

"Dii rii lovaas fah hi. Wo los hi? Hi los ni rok."

The witcher obviously didn't understand, but the voice of the dragon shook him to the core. It was as if someone was screaming in his ear, and he had to press his hands on them. For that, he carelessly let go of his sword, but he felt like his eardrums would explode at any time.

His chest tingled, and the echo of the dragon's word resounded through his whole body. Geralt's legs gave out, and he fell to his knees.

The beast lowered its head until its throat almost touched the ground, and then it snorted.

Hot air blew his hair back, and the Butcher of Blaviken came to his senses again. He needed to get his sword back! Right when he stretched out his hand to take his silver sword, the dragon crept forward until its snout was dangerously close.

Geralt froze. If the monster decided to eat him now, he would have no time to react. This was the end.

The realization hit him, and regret washed over him like a seastorm. There were many things in his life that he hadn't resolved yet—many things he wanted to achieve and also many things he wanted to try.

E/c eyes showed up in his mind, and his heart burned. If the dragon ate him now, would they meet in death?

His eyes flickered to the dragon, and that's when he realized something.

Although he had no time to elaborate the thought because the dragon moved its head forward until there was merely the distance of a hand between him and the beast.

He breathed out slowly, and his witcher heart beat faster. He wanted to face his enemy to the last second, but after so many fights, he thought that closing his eyes and embracing death that way seemed more peaceful and freeing. So he closed them and took one last breath.

I'm sorry, Ciri.

Seconds passed, where he only heard his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Until wind brushed his hair in his face, and he heard a sniff. A rumble shook the earth, and he slowly opened his eyes again.

The dragon breathed in and sniffed, its eyes closed, and Geralt couldn't believe it when the beast closed the distance, and the scaly snout touched his chest. Black shiny scales only a few centimeters from his face.

He searched the dragon's eyes, but they were closed. The rumble sounded again, and if he didn't know any better, the witcher would have guessed that the monster was humming.

When it opened its eyes again, and yellow and e/c met, Geralt had an unbelievable thought, and he whispered:

"Y-Y/N?"

The look in the dragon's eyes changed, and it pulled its head back abruptly.

A growl erupted from the beast's throat, and it only took a matter of seconds for it to tense its muscles and take off the ground.

Geralt was left in a daze, panic, and realization the only thing he believed to have seen in the dragon's expression.

Leaves fluttered to the ground, and the deep claw marks in the dirt before him were the only proof for the monster's presence.

What... What just happened?

The dragon had touched him. He slowly lifted his hand and put it on his chest. It's warm. The dovah had an unexpectedly high body temperature.

Why did it...? Y/N... Was it really him? H-How...

He remembered something the foreigner had told them.

His dragon soul was too much for his human body, and he slowly turned into a dovah.

"The dovahkiin..."

Geralt lifted himself off the ground and took off running to the direction the dragon left for.

The dragon didn't make it far.

Geralt saw him soaring through the sky and circling above a clearing in the forest. The witcher could see a small hut standing at the clearing border, and he remembered another thing that Y/N had told him and Jaskier.

I've been staying here in the forest for a few weeks in a hut half a mile from here.

Geralt slowly realized that his intuition was probably correct.

When he arrived at the clearing, the black dragon had already landed.

Although it was more like a crash. Long furrows plowed the forest ground. But the Butcher of Blaviken couldn't see the dragon lying there because a strange fog obstructed his view. He was hesitant about approaching the steam, but he really wanted to know if his theory was correct. A voice interrupted his twisting thoughts:

"Bormah, Bormah... Aak dovah!"

It was deep and raspy, and he didn't understand what it said, but Geralt could recognize it instantly. It was him.

Y/N was the dragon.

His whole body hurt.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

Blue eyes watched him with a worried expression. He didn't reply. What was there to say? The dovah needed to die. He was the only one capable of killing them.

Why couldn't he understand?

"Think about it, Y/N. You're one of them, so you shouldn-"

"Don't you dare compare me to them! I AM THE DRAGONBORN! Dii Zahkrii kriin Dovah ni aak niin!"

He knew he went too far as soon as he saw the other's expression.

Farkas stared at him with slightly widened eyes.

"Control yourself, Dovahkiin. Or else disaster will fall upon you and the ones you love."

Arngeir stepped forward and put a shoulder on his lover's shoulder. He could feel how his pupils flickered. Anger welled in his stomach.

"Don't touch him..."

His voice was low and threatening. Farkas scoffed, but his face only showed hurt.

"Don't worry about me, Dragonborn."

The distance in his words was like a thorn in his heart. The idea that Farkas couldn't understand his thoughts tore his heart in two. Y/N only watched when his significant other walked out of the room, Arngeir following him.

"Wa-Wait, Farkas, no!"

He reached out his hand to stop him, but the other man was already so far away.

"Akatosh, Akatosh, help me!"

Tears welled up in his eyes, and a wail escaped his lips.

Arngeir was right. Disaster fell upon him.

The skin shedding on his back, his pupils turning to slits, the increased usage of Dovahzul, all were signs for his slow transformation.

He couldn't believe that the stories Odahviing had told him jokingly were real. His dragon soul was changing his body and personality.

And now it had happened. He turned into a dragon.

How many times had he already done that? The witcher mentioned that the monster they were hunting tormented the villagers.

What had he done?!

The pain he felt after transforming was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. Y/N became the monster he had thought he was slaying when he had eradicated all the dragons from Skyrim.

The scars he had received from all the dovah burned, and shame clung to his heart.

Why didn't he listen to Arngeir?

The greybeard was wise and only wanted his best after the dragonborn distanced himself from the Blades. His loved one died because he didn't listen!

And now he... He turned into an inhumane beast.

Suddenly he remembered the bard. Did he attack him?! A sinking feeling struck his gut.

Please, no, no, NO!

What about Geralt?

Oh Talos... I have to return to the camp!

He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were heavy. He groaned.

What if the two others were bleeding out while he laid here? If the witcher died... Y/N was sure he could never forgive himself.

Farkas's death was something that he could slowly overcome, although it took him years, and he still hadn't let him go but... If the witcher's death joined, he was sure his shoulders would give in under all the regret.

Just imagining how these beautiful yellow eyes lost their light, he couldn't take it.

He didn't realize it immediately, but his heart was already in the hands of Geralt. He had already lost.

Y/N finally regained some strength, and he used it to open his eyes. His vision was blurry, but he could see that the sky had already turned dark blue.

He knew what lurked in the forest at night.

The thought reminded him again of the witcher. What an irony that it took the white-haired man less than a day to sweep him off his feet. It was the complete opposite with Farkas. Maybe they weren't that similar at all.

He turned on his side and soon realized that his back felt different. The cold wind gave his arms goosebumps, but his back felt perfectly warm. He lifted his arm and cricked it to reach his shoulderblade. When his fingers grazed his back, he sucked in some air.

That definitely wasn't flesh. That smooth texture... Y/N would recognize it everywhere. He had felt it so many times after all.

His back was full of scales.

Panic and adrenaline gave him strength, and he sat up, ignoring the pain that bolted through his torso. Only now did he realize that he was completely naked.

That shocked him less than the fact that only a few meters away stood the Butcher of Blaviken with wide eyes, his sword in his hand ready to attack.

"Y-You..." Geralt didn’t continue.

Y/N opened his mouth but didn't say anything as soon as he saw how the other man flinched.

His heart pounded loud in his ears, and he felt light-headed. He breathed in, it sounded strained.

A smile crept on his lips, and he grinned exhausted.

"Thank Talos, you're alive..."

The witcher didn't know what to respond.

He was frozen although he couldn't tell if it was because the person before him was a fire-spitting dragon or because the man was butt naked. Something that usually wouldn't impress him but after realizing that Y/N attracted him... He was conflicted.

"You... you turned into a dragon," he finally said with a neutral tone.

The man sitting in the crater nodded slowly. He looked as lost as Geralt felt.

Did he not know?

"Are you... Are you the dovahkiin?"

Y/N nodded again, and he lowered his head.

The witcher could see the shame on his face. After receiving this information, he didn't know what to do with it. It should probably agitate him, all the villagers that had their cattle stolen and all the lost prey on hunts, but Geralt felt nothing. The shock was perhaps too deep.

One is a sorceress, one a dragon. It seems like I fall in love with extraordinary people. Wait...

His eyes found the e/c ones. Did he really...? Y/n watched him with a conflicted expression.

"Do you want to kill me?"

The question surprised him; he hadn't thought about it. But he opposed it.

"Should I?"

His voice had a challenging undertone, but it sounded light, and his heart fluttered a little when the other man smiled weakly.

Geralt lowered his sword. Y/N didn't feel like a threat; in fact, he looked defeated.

The h/c haired man leaned back and exposed his torso. The witcher was right. Even his chest was full of scars, and most of them looked like claw marks.

A strong warrior.

"I caused you a lot of trouble. If I have to pay for it, I'll gladly do it with my life. It's not worth much anymore."

These words caused him to frown. The man sounded like he had already given up. Where was his will to fight?

The imposing aura Geralt had felt when he stood tall as a dragon was gone without a trace. This man was broken. He couldn't imagine what Y/N had gone through, but he wouldn't let a warrior like him die a fool's death.

"It's true. You caused me a lot of trouble..."

The Dragonborn watched him with an apologetic expression. Geralt eyed him from head to toe, his stare burning.

"But instead of paying with your life, why not pay me with something else?"

Y/N blinked and stared blankly, then he blushed furiously. The witcher’s heart skipped a beat.

Did Y/N also...?

It excited Geralt that he apparently knew what he was hinting at and reacted this strongly. It meant he had a chance. Then he remembered the ring. Geralt examined the naked man and realized the necklace was gone.

"Your ring..."

Y/N touched his throat. Nothing was there. Geralt expected his face to turn panicked, but only a melancholic expression showed up.

"It's fine. It's time to move on."

The witcher didn't pry further, but he knew he didn't have to. The smile on Y/N's lips said enough.

"So, how am I supposed to repay you?"

The man lifted an eyebrow and grinned. He gulped, he didn't expect the man to be this willing. Suddenly he felt bad about his desires.

"Toss me a coin."

The warrior from Keizaal tilted his head and puckered his lips. Then he smiled, and his e/c eyes turned into crescents. They looked happy. But most importantly, human.

Warmth spread in his chest.

He had a thought that his future would be a lot more interesting with the dovahkiin by his side and Jaskier.

Wait...

Both of them opened their mouth and shouted:

“Jaskier!”

_______

Endnote: Congrats! You made it! Like I said at the beginning, this fic is based on a headcanon of mine. Where the dragonborn slowly turns into a dragon because of his dragon soul. The dovahkiin is able to live a lot longer than any other human due to his dragon nature and it’s taking a toll on him. The scales are something I had imagined from the start. This is a drawing of my dragonborn which I used as inspiration for this fic:

I wanted the story to end in a rather light tone which some might not find appropriate but I honestly got a little exhausted. I wrote this as a oneshot of 12k words, which was definitely too much xD Writing so much is new to me. But I’m proud that I made it this far :)

I wanted Yennefer to play a part here but more like the one of a former lover. She was also a tool to give Geralt a reason why he likes Y/N since he’s officially straight in canon.

I already decided to create a fic where Geralt gets taken to Skyrim but I haven’t decided if it’s going to be a sequel to this yet. We’ll see I guess.

Some sentences that were spoken in Dovahzul were purposely not translated because it was either from Geralt’s sight or it was to show that the dragonborn was slowly changing. But they meant the following:

Dii rii lovaas fah hi. Wo los hi? Hi los ni rok = My soul sings for you. Who are you? You are not him (as in Farkas).

Dii Zahkrii kriin Dovah ni aak niin = My Sword slays dragons not help them

Thank you for reading and being patient with me :D

258 notes · View notes

hiscyarika · 5 years

Text

Kir’manir: Chapter One

Beroya

n. bounty hunter

Word Count: 2.6k

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Reader

Summary: The Mandalorian finds himself face to face with another bounty hunter looking for the child.

Warning(s): Violence, Injury

A/N: This is the first part to what will be at least a six-chapter series! Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged for future updates! (Also, the gif is not mine!)

Masterlist

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Gif made specially for me by @theforceofdarkandlight ❤️

You aren’t sure why the tracking fob had shut off only to reactivate just a couple of days later. You’re also not sure why it had taken you to the desolate wasteland that is Arvala-7 and now has you landing on some equally deserted swamp planet called Sorgan. You’ve never known Greef Karga’s fobs to malfunction, so your best guess is that somehow the fifty-year-old bounty had managed to escape from their captor.

You scoff as you consider the idea. It was probably some amateur with no idea what he was doing.

You hover your ship over a clearing, slowly lowering it to the ground. Successfully landed, you stand from the pilot’s seat and climb down to the hull, gathering the weapons and supplies you think you’ll need for this chase. Karga hadn’t given you much to go off of when describing the bounty. No one is even sure what species it is. So, you opt to take one of your heavier rifles, thinking that it might come in handy in case this target proves to be a challenge even for you.

You step out of your ship and take in your surrounding environment. There’s plenty of tall trees where the clearing ends, shielding you from any prying eyes up above. Though really you don’t think that you’re going to have any problems with the locals. From what you understand about this planet, it’s made up of mostly farmers who are sparsely populated anyway.

Each step is careful and calculated as you make your way through the woods, following the tracking fob as it brings you closer and closer to the target. You step over rocks and fallen branches. Keep your boots from getting tangled in moss and scattered tree roots. There’s no path through the lush green overgrowth that you can find, but you suppose it’s better to stay where you won’t draw attention to yourself. You have no idea how the locals will take to an outsider creeping through the woods at the break of dawn, especially one as heavily armed as you.

By the time the sun has reached its zenith, you’ve found the first signs of life. Trails have been worn into the ground from being traced by hundreds of footsteps. Stumps remain from trees cut down, and soon you find yourself able to hear children running around as they play. Keeping yourself hidden, you stick to the edge of the treeline, just observing the villagers as they go about their day. The tracking fob is beeping wildly in a compartment on your belt, though thankfully you’re the only one able to hear it. You think to yourself that they should lend a little better to stealth operations. Maybe you’ll make the suggestion to Karga when you get back to Nevarro to drop off the bounty.

You let out a soft breath as you look out among the villagers, trying to figure out which one of them is the bounty. But all you see are natives, dressed in dark clothes and carrying around baskets full of bright blue creatures that you assume are their main source of food. None of them look like they’ve stepped far from the village, much less made it all the way to Arvala-7 and back.

And then you see it.

Amongst the children is a little green creature. You take out your binocs, using them to get a closer look. It comes into better focus, and you swear that you have never seen anything like it before in your life. Its pointed ears extend as far as the creature is tall, and it’s not even tall enough to reach the knees of the children. By the beeping of the tracking fob, you know this is your target, and it makes you wonder how such a tiny thing managed to escape the Guild.

You exchange your binocs for your rifle, carefully planning your shot so that none of the kids will be caught in the crossfire. As the crosshairs settle on the creature, it turns around, revealing huge, innocent dark eyes that shine up at his young companions. It’s a child. A fifty-year-old child. How could Greef Karga send the entire Guild after a child? And with orders to kill it on sight, no less.

Your mind is going faster than a Tatooine pod race. You may be a bounty hunter but you still have morals. You still have a conscience. You know that there is no way that you can kill this child and deliver its little body to Karga. There’s no way you could live with yourself after that.

Your rifle falls from its position, and you try to think of what you’re going to do now. If you’d managed to find the target, you know that other hunters will show up soon, and you’ve been a bounty hunter long enough to see that the others lack your moral standards.

Before you can even begin to formulate a plan, there’s a blaster at your back.

Instinct drives you and you whip around, dropping the rifle and drawing your own blaster in one fluid movement. You find yourself face to face with the Mandalorian.

There’s no one in the Guild that hasn’t heard of this man, though this is the first you have ever seen him in person. You think to yourself that he’s probably come for the bounty as well. It doesn’t surprise you that he’s been able to track the little creature to this largely unknown planet. He’s the best hunter in the Guild and Greef Karga makes sure that everyone knows it.

“Don’t,” you say, looking into the horizontal part of his visor. “It’s a child. Karga has us hunting a child.” Your voice is strong and firm as you try to reason with the beskar-clad warrior. You’re fully prepared to shoot him if he makes a false move. You don’t care who he is or what reputation precedes him. You won’t stand for the murder of an innocent kid.

The Mandalorian stares at you for a moment, silent. Then, his helmet tilts slightly to the left, like you’ve confused him. He lowers his blaster then, returning it to the holster at his side. Now you’re confused. You didn’t think it would be that easy to get him to stand down. Your grip on your blaster tightens, thinking that maybe this is all just a clever trick: he’ll get you to let your guard down, then incapacitate you and take out the kid. But you’re no amateur. You aren’t so easily fooled.

“I won’t hurt him. I...I took him from the Imps,” he finally says.

Now you’re really perplexed. This is the Mandalorian you’re talking to. Rescuing a bounty? That breaks every last tenet of the Guild Code. Surely Greef Karga’s favorite would never do such a thing.

You shake your head, pointing your blaster a little more forcefully at him. “Right, because I’m supposed to believe that?,” you scoff.

He’s not at all shaken by the fact that you could shoot him before he has the chance to draw his weapon again. “I brought him in from Arvala-7, then took him back when I realized what they wanted with him. There was a shootout. The entire Guild is looking for us now,” he explains.

You’re still not convinced. Surely if the entire Guild were after the Mandalorian, you would have known about it. But when you think about the tracking fob, and the lapse in its functioning, his story makes sense. He’d even mentioned Arvala-7, the planet you had been originally tracking the target to. And there’s something about the way he stands, about the way he watches you, that makes you rethink your judgement of him.

You let out a sigh, your body still tense as you look at him. Finally, you decide to lower your blaster, convinced that the Mandalorian is being truthful.

“You need to get him out of here. If I tracked him here, then others will come. It’s only a matter of time,” you tell him. You expect that there are already groups of other hunters headed for Sorgan now.

The Mandalorian gives you a curt nod. A silence falls between the two of you, disturbed only by the incessant noise coming from the tracking fob.

You take it out of the pouch on your belt, throw it on the ground, and crush it under the heel of your boot.

“Thank you,” he says, and with that you part ways. Before you head back to your ship, you take one last look at the little green creature. As you sling your rifle back over your shoulder, you think to yourself that you trust the Mandalorian to keep him safe.

---

When you cross the treeline into the clearing again, the first thing you see is the other ship landed not far from your own. It’s a light freighter, one that you happen to recognize as belonging to Daask, a trandoshan widely known for being ruthless and cunning. He’s the kind of bounty hunter that you’d rather not run into on the job, especially not this job.

You watch the loading ramp come down on the other hunter’s ship, revealing the trandoshan and his crew: a bothan and a twi’lek that you don’t recognize. Daask spots you immediately and grins wickedly, his forked tongue flicking out of his mouth.

He says something to the other two, but you’re too far away to hear it. You begin to close the distance, knowing that you’re not leaving Sorgan without some form of interaction. You just hope that the Mandalorian has the good sense to leave the swamp planet as soon as possible.

You take in a slow, measured breath, your eyes locked with Daask’s. Your gaze of stone never falters. You’re out in the open. You can’t afford to make an offensive move yet. But as soon as you’re close to your own ship, you call out to the band of hunters.

“The bounty is gone. They escaped and left the planet before I could get to them,” you say. The lie is weak, and you don’t expect it to work, but all you need now is to buy time.

The trandoshan narrows his eyes, and then pulls his own tracking fob from his pocket. He holds it up for you to see. The red light is blinking, indicating that the target is much closer than you were telling them. “She’s with the Mandalorian,” he hisses.

All three draw their weapons. You do the same. As they open fire, you press yourself against the side of your ship, an angle that keeps them from being able to hit you from their current position. But they begin to move towards you. You move every few seconds, firing back at the other bounty hunters. One shot grazes your arm, but in the heat of the firefight you don’t even flinch. Instead, you take out the twi’lek, your bolt hitting him square in the chest. He falls to the grass with a strained outcry.

The bothan goes down next, and rather than pursuing you on his own, Daask retreats back to his ship, abandoning his crew, leaving them to die. You step away from your ship, watching as the freighter takes to the sky in record time. You think that you’ve managed to stave off the trandoshan for now, but when he hovers above you and aims the ship’s guns down at you, you realize that you’re terribly mistaken.

Your heart flies into your throat and you try to run, try to make it back to the cover of the trees before he can fire, but your legs can’t carry you fast enough. You hear the blast, feel the heat of the explosion that follows, but before you can even comprehend what’s happening, the shockwave sends you flying across the clearing.

Everything goes black.

---

When you open your eyes, there’s someone standing over you. Their form blocks the sun from your eyes, leaving you staring up at a blurry silhouette. Your ears are ringing painfully, and for a moment you think that Daask has come back to finish the job after realizing that you weren’t dead. You try to bring yourself to move, but find yourself paralyzed.

The form begins to move, crouches closer to your level. You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you believe will be your untimely death. And all for the sake of the strange child that you will never see again. It was laughable really, a bounty hunter dying to save the life of her target. You’ll be infamous with the Guild for years and years to come. Daask will make sure of it. He’ll boast of your death as if he brought down the entire Galactic Empire on his own.

But the hand that wraps around your shoulders does not end with claws ready to tear you apart. No. It’s gentle, gloved in leather. Human.

The Mandalorian.

You open your eyes again. Your vision begins to clear and the ringing in your ears dies down. The outline of his helmet and the armor he wears comes into sharper focus. His voice comes quickly through the modulator in his helmet, but in your daze it’s like you’re hearing him through water.

“Can you hear me?” Syllables and words come together in your head as you finally begin to comprehend language again.

A labored breath escapes your lips. You force out a quick, “Yes.”

He slowly pulls you to sit up and you have to bite back a groan at the way your body aches. It’s a bone-deep pain that you know will stay with you for a while, but you suppose that’s better than being dead.

“What happened?,” he asks cautiously.

“They came for the child. One of them escaped. Daask won’t stop until he collects his pay,” you tell him, though you have no idea if he’ll recognize the trandoshan’s name. Regardless, he’s sure to understand the severity of the situation. More hunters will follow. And it won’t be long before they do.

“He won’t touch the child. I’ll make sure of that.” He sounds so certain, so confident, as if he doesn’t have the entire Guild on his trail.

He pulls you to stand next, and it’s then that you realize just what Daask had done. Your ship—what little remains of it, anyway—sits across the clearing. It burns and smolders, beyond hope of repair. He’s taken out your only means of transportation. You’re not sure how you’ll leave Sorgan now. All you know is that you can’t stay.

The Mandalorian follows your gaze. “What will you do?,” he asks softly.

“I can find my way on my own,” you reply, though you’re certainly not sure how.

“You killed two Guild hunters,” he retorts, looking at where the bothan and twi’lek lie dead just a few yards from the wreckage of your ship. “They’ll put a bounty on your head next.”

“I’m not afraid of them.” Your words are insistent. You’ve been at this for a long time. You know how to beat bounty hunters at their own game.

The Mandalorian goes quiet for a few moments, and as you face him again you can see that he’s pondering something. You’re not sure why he cares so much for your well being, not when there’s a child already dependent on him for safety. There’s no logical reason for him to be concerned about what happens to you now.

“Come with us,” he says.

Chapter Two: Narudar

---

Tag List: @theforceofdisney @ginger-swag-rapunzel

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #bounty hunter!reader #reader insert #dyn jarren x reader #dyn jarren #mando #baby yoda #the child #star wars

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lostinfic · 4 years

Text

Christmas Eve (stuck) in the Lab

Chapter 12/12 *complete*

Summary: Dr. John Smith and Rose Tyler both work at the Natural History Museum in London, he’s a scientist and she works in the gift shop. They are only friends, but the upcoming staff Christmas party promises developments they’ve both been longing for. However, John and Rose end up stuck with Martha, Donna and Jack in the laboratory, and shenanigans ensue: decontamination showers, cocktails in beakers, a game of truth-or-dare and a Secret Santa rigged by meddling friends.

Tags: mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff with light angst, found family

Rating: Teen (for now) | Words:11556

@doctorroseprompts

Ao3

The click of doors unlocking interrupted their celebration and made everyone run to the railing to watch the entrance below. Kate Stewart entered the laboratory. She wasn’t wearing a hazmat suit, which must mean….

“You’re safe,” she declared.

Palpable relief washed over the group.

Rose’s stomach untangled. She covered her mouth with her hand, laughing shakily. She had to call her mum.

She turned to John, he was all loud cheers and big grin. He grabbed Rose around the waist in a hug that lifted her off the floor.

When he put her back down, his hands lingered at her waist, and hers on his shoulders.

Kate joined them up in the gallery.

She gave some scientific information they all seemed to understand except Rose. She gathered the substance was not harmful to humans.

Kate handed them an information sheet. “Just in case, be on the lookout for symptoms on this list. Call the number at the bottom if you have any concerns.”

Jack was out the door before she’d even finished talking. Martha, Donna and John left in different directions, to call relatives or pick up their coats and keys.

Rose should have hurried outside too, but she dawdled, feeling oddly nostalgic. She shut down the monitor and covered the leftover food with plastic wrap.

She was aware of John’s spearhead left on the corner of the table, but couldn’t look at it.

She felt bad for disliking it. She appreciated its monetary value, if not its sentimental one. She wished he hadn’t just picked something off his shelf; her gift dealt with in an efficient manner, then dismissed.

Donna carried Rose’s backpack from her office and up the stairs. She had something else in her hand, too.

“I thought you should know, this is what John was going to give you.”

Donna unrolled a poster with a beautiful map of the world in neon colours. She explained how he’d made it using UV light and special proteins.

It was perfect, bright and creative and just so special. Yet it only added to Rose’s frustration.

“I don’t know why he changed his mind. He really likes you, Rose.”

“But not enough to tell me himself.”

“Or so much it scares him.”

“Well, he knows where to find me if he needs help with that too.” She sighed, regretting her snark. She was tired. “I suppose it’s because of what happened to his parents.”

“What about them?”

He hadn’t confided in Donna, but he had in her. Maybe that meant something. And yet, Rose couldn’t help but remember once again how she’d fooled herself into believing Jimmy’s behaviour meant more than it did.

From the gallery, Rose could see across the lab, down into John’s office. He was still there, talking on the phone.

Her heart softened for him, as it always did.

Perhaps, for once, she should be the one going to him. In her determination to not misread any signals, she’d forgotten to send out her own.

---

As she approached the Doctor’s office, she overheard his conversation with the airline.

“Were you able to book another flight?” she asked after he’d hung up.

“Yes. Later tonight.” He hesitated. “The Mendoza team is counting on me. I can’t let them down.”

“Hey, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. I go out of my way to avoid the street where my dad was killed.”

He nodded and offered a sympathetic smile.

“It’s important work I’m doing every year. I’m helping out labs with less means to preserve their own history.”

“I believe you. I’ll see you in three weeks, then. Drop by the shop as soon as you can. I fully expect you to use those vouchers.”

“I don’t know,” he joked, “maybe if you sweeten the deal with your employee discount.”

“I think that could be arranged.”

“Good. Looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

Rose shuffled her feet and wrung her hands. John rearranged random items on his messy desk.

“I think I need your help,” she stammered.

“Yes, of course! What do you need? What can I do?”

“I’m not quite sure how to get money out of this.” She held out the spearhead.

John sprang to action. He sent her links to trusted auction sites, wrote a description of the item for her and hunted down the original authenticity certificate.

She had to stop him when he got trapped, elbow-deep in a filing cabinet.

“It’s okay. It can wait.”

“But if you get the money now, you might be able to enroll in time for the winter semester.”

Rose narrowed her eyes at him.

“Did you listen to my conversation with Martha?”

“Er, well, I wasn’t listening so much as voices accidentally reached my ears.”

“Right.”

He sat on the edge of his desk, his long legs stretched in front of him and crossed at the ankle.

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to,” he added.

“S’alright. Explains a lot actually.”

“Listen, I know some professors and uni administrators and how to get financial aid.”

“You would help me?”

“Absolutely.”

“And if university isn’t what I want? I mean, I haven’t even got my A-levels.”

He shrugged. “You deserve all your dreams to come true, whatever they are. You’re brilliant, Rose.”

No one had ever said that to her. Not this earnestly.

A lump rose in her throat.

Before she’d found something to say, he offered to walk her home.

“I live in Peckham. That’d be quite a walk.”

“Don’t care.”

---

Fresh air welcomed them outside the Museum. It felt like they’d been trapped inside for years. Early dusk painted the sky a soft lavender, and fluffy snowflakes drifted down over them.

After a few steps, John took Rose’s gloved hand. She smiled and tightened her fingers over his. They laughed shyly for no other reason than the sheer pleasure of having their affection reciprocated.

In front of the Museum’s ice rink, John babbled on about bronze-age skates made from animal shins and references to skiing found in writings of the Han dynasty, in China. Joined hands swinging between them, they laughed more than the fun facts warranted. Their hearts felt as light as the snowflakes floating down from the sky. Simply put, they were utterly giddy.

They strolled down a quiet street. Decorations twinkled in windows and relatives greeted each other at the door.

John’s pace slowed down, his gaze turned inward and unfocused.

“I think I might call my former foster family,” he said at last, glancing at Rose for approval.

“Sounds like a great idea. You were close to them?”

He nodded. “The last ones I lived with, they really encouraged me to study. I even had a sister, of sort, Sarah Jane.” He smiled at the memory. “She was a Smith too. We used to pretend we were real siblings… I should’ve kept in touch.”

“Never too late for that.”

They passed by a tube station without stopping. Street lights switched on one after the other, as if only for them. They would have to part ways soon. It was a long ride to cousin Mo’s house, and he had a flight to catch.

At the gate of a quiet garden square, Rose stopped walking. They still held hands, and she fiddled with the cuff of his jacket.

“You remembered Jack’s dare, didn’t you?” she asked him.

“Uh, vaguely. Well, most of it. Where was he keeping that mistletoe?”

Rose waited a beat, but he didn’t say anything else.

“John, you know what you were saying about helping make my dreams come true?”

“Yeah?”

He stepped closer. Her breath quickened. She licked her lips, and his gaze flicked to her mouth.

“Well, maybe there’s a dream you, uh, you could…”

“What?” His face split into a grin. He clicked his jaw. He knew full well what she was trying to say.

“You could kiss me. Shut up.”

She looked away, but John’s hand on her cheek brought her eyes back to him. He opened his mouth, probably to say something smart-arse again. Instead, Rose grabbed his scarf and pulled him down to her. Cold nose tips met pink cheeks. He laughed against her lips. Their arms wrapped around each other, bringing their bodies together, as close as their winter coats allowed.

Rose forgot the cold and the passersby, she forgot it was Christmas Eve. Her hand in his hair knocked off his beanie. A tiny whimper came from the back of his throat, and she found herself with her back to the garden gate being thoroughly kissed. It was probably a good thing they were wearing so many layers.

When they broke the kiss, he rested his forehead on hers. The clouds on their breath mingled.

“Now I regret booking another flight,” John whispered.

“You’d better not forget me whilst you’re gone, mister.” She poked him in the chest playfully.

“Haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day we met— I doubt I will after that kiss.”

“Let’s give you plenty to think about, then.”

She rose to her tiptoes and kissed him again. An unforgettable kiss.

#ficandchips #ten x rose #doctor x rose #Christmas fluff #finished but stay tuned for a bonus smutty chapter #lostinfic writes stuff

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dontshootmespence · 4 years

Text

I’ve Got You

Summary: After a difficult hunt, Dean’s wife provides him with some relief.

Pairing: Domme!Reader x Sub!Dean / Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,101

Warnings: D/s dynamics, wax play, pegging, lots of lube, hand job, some quick male masturbation.

A/N: For those of you 18 and over! This fulfills my wax play square for @spnkinkbingo. Gonna tag some of my lovelies for this one because it’s new for me and I don’t think I did half bad. @heycasbutt @stusbunker @impala-dreamer

As he tumbled into the bunker, you watched Dean massage his aching muscles, his hand working out the knots between his shoulder blades.

“How’d it go?” You asked. As the wife of a hunter, this was a win - at least he was alive. But by the dark streaks of drying blood on their clothes and the grimaces etched onto their faces, it was clear that this hadn’t been a run-of-the-mill case. “Not just a small nest, was it?”

“Fuck no,” he mumbled in return, his head falling against your shoulder as he stood at your back. “Big nest. Had t’a be about 20.”

Your heart jumped in your throat, mind reeling with the realization that you could’ve easily lost him tonight. Reaching behind you, you ran your fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead. Falling in love with a hunter was no picnic, but Dean was who he was because of hunting - and you loved the man he was. “Do you want to relax?”

Without a word, he nodded against the hard angle of your shoulder, pressing kisses along the curve. “Yes, Mistress,” he whispered, nibbling gently on your earlobe.

Slipping into your role, you spoke against his temple. “Then be a good boy for Mistress. Go inside. Strip. Get on all fours. I have something planned to get you outta that head of yours.”

“What makes you think I’m in my head?” He asked genuinely, walking toward the bedroom.

You and Sam replied at the same time as he snaked his way between you to grab something to eat from the fridge. “I’m your wife.”

“She’s your wife, dude.”

“A’right, you two. Shut up.”

When he left the room, Sam gave you a hug hello. It was your thing with your brother-in-law; your way of making sure he was okay too. “We lost someone.”

“I figured as much,” you said softly. “I’ll get him out of his head.”

Sam chuckled and bit his lip, his hands resting on his hips. “I guess that means I’ll be putting on my headphones.”

“Probably a good idea.” You snickered.

After placing the final dish onto the drying rack next to the sink, you tidied up the area, knowing full well Dean would be buck naked on your bed and raring to go. But anticipation was everything with Dean. And to you. You had no control, never knowing if he’d come back or not, but in these moments you did. And you treasured them.

Nearly 10 minutes later, you sauntered into the bedroom, mouth dropping open at the sight of Dean on your bed just as instructed - naked, on all fours and waiting. “Hello, Mistress.”

“Hello, my love,” you purred, walking alongside the bed and dragging your fingernails against the scar-riddled skin. “Have you missed Mistress?”

Swallowing against his growing need. He mumbled his reply.

“Use your words, baby.”

“I missed you, Mistress. S’much.” He’d only been away for a couple of days, but like this, with him at your whim, it had been a while longer. You’d missed this too.

As he anticipated your next move, you paced around the bed, appreciating the beauty before you. “Do you realize how beautiful you are?” You knew he never thought of himself like this. But he needed to know. To know how deep your love for him ran. All the little things you noticed. The way his calloused hands, so rough and hardened, sat softly atop your bedsheets. The way his body relaxed under your gaze, chest rising and falling in rolling waves. The way his cock hung thick and heavy between his thighs, ready for your touch. No matter how many times you took this all in, no matter how precise the picture in your mind remained, you made sure to appreciate him. All of him.

His breath hitched as you bent to kiss the healing scar on his back, courtesy of a young werewolf who had no idea of the men he was fighting. When your fingers danced across his skin, his cock twitched expectantly. Before he could even get the words out, you chided playfully. “Patience, baby. I’ve got you.”

After spreading some lube into your hands, you sat at his side, snaking your arm around his left leg and slipping your hand around his straining cock. With the other hand, you reached behind him, fingers grazing over the muscular curve of his ass before cupping his balls. “No coming without permission. Okay, love?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he replied thickly. “Need your permission.”

A smirk formed at the corner of your lips as your thumb brushed back and forth over the head of his cock. You started out softly, your featherlight touch driving him crazy. He groaned, bucking down into your hand, either unable to form words or knowing he’d get what he needed on your time, not his.

Leaning your head against his back, you let out a laugh. “So needy already, baby. I think I should have a taste.” You removed your hand from his cock, chuckling again at his strangled moan as you slipped your thumb into your mouth, washing your tongue over the pre-cum coating your finger.

When he glanced back, you saw his pupils blown, light green giving way to darkness. But there was still something behind his eyes, some semblance of a thought dancing around in his head. And you couldn’t have that. Turning your attention back to his cock, you began sliding your hand up and down, tightening your grasp at the base and the tip in perfect rhythm. With the other hand, you massaged his balls, thumbing the seam that separated them. Dean groaned, his chest dipping toward the bed for a quick moment before he steadied himself. “Oh, fuck, Mistress.”

“You like that, baby?”

“Yes,” he said on a growl. “So much. Need more.”

Giggling, you bit your lip and picked up the pace of your movements, tugging lightly with long, languid, sure-handed strokes that left him groaning and grunting. “Can I come?”

“Excuse me?”

“Can I come, Mistress?”

“Thanks for asking, but you may not,” you chuckled darkly, letting go of him completely. “I have other plans for you first.”

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat and watched as you strode across the room to search for your strap-on and the special wax you liked to use on him. It was a garish red that contrasted beautifully when it hardened on his skin. For the last few minutes, he’d been staring at the wall, letting his mind go blank, but those beautiful green eyes sparkled back to life when you stood in front of him, slowly stripping yourself of your clothes and sliding on the strap on. “How do I look, baby?”

“Fuckin beautiful, Mistress.”

“Want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, please,” he replied, nodding furiously as the words got caught up in his throat.

As he steadied himself on the bed, you applied more lube to your hands, roughly grasping the cock between your legs. You loved being a woman, but this was a nice way to switch things up every now and then. The wax began to warm at your side, the luscious, red, almost liquid taunting you. One of these days you’d have to ask Dean to use it on you.

Gliding your thumbs up and down the globes of his ass, you lubed up his hole and crawled up onto your knees behind him, placing the head of the red cock against the tight ring of muscle. Gently, you pushed against him, steadying his hips with the weight of your hands. Your grip tightened as you slipped the head of the cock just passed his ass - his gasp of pleasure bringing a smile to your face.

Pushing back against you, Dean grunted, desperation flooding his features - every twitch of his muscles, every buck of his hips, every curl of his toes. It was a heady perfume to watch a man so in control lose it because of you. Once you fell into a steady rhythm, rolling your hips against his ass, you leaned over to grab the melting candle, holding it over the canvas of Dean’s back and waiting for the first drop to start off the painting.

You heard Dean gasp below you before you saw the small blotch of red wax, quickly hardening against his sweat-slick skin. With your thrusting shallow, almost massaging his prostate, you experimented with the wax, letting it drop from different heights and at uneven paces. Each drop that landed on his skin brought a beautiful pink bloom behind, the sting just enough to pull Dean away from what was bothering him and into the present.

All of a sudden, you had an idea, bending over as much as you could to whisper in Dean’s ear, pushing the strap-on in even deeper in the process. “I’m gonna mark you, baby. Should I take a picture so you can see?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good boy,” you purred. “While I mark you, I want you to fuck yourself on this cock, okay? I think you deserve it for being so good.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” He groaned, pushing himself back on the strap-on. For a moment, you were too entranced by his movements, watching as it disappeared inside him over and over and over again. He was quickly losing control.

Turning your attention toward his back, you dripped the wax in precise, steady movements, smiling when your picture came to life before your eyes. It was a little messy, with Dean fucking himself against you, but it was clear what you’d written. “Stop moving,” you commanded. “My turn now.”

Immediately, Dean stilled, allowing you to reach for your phone and take a picture of your artwork. “Would you like to see what Mistress did?”

He groaned in response, and you pitied him, not requiring him to use his words. Dipping down toward his face, you held the phone out. Written across his back in wax was the word ‘mine.’ “Yours, Mistress. Please. Please fuck me. God, I need it. Please.”

“That’s not fair, baby, you know I can’t deny you when you beg.”

Pulling out nearly all the way, you teased him, pulsing the head of the strap-on at his asshole, before plunging into him, moaning at the way his ass pulled the device inward. You picked up your pace, fucking into him relentlessly until he was sweating and moaning and needy and begging.

Soon enough, you were gracelessly bucking into each other as you roughly stroked his cock. Over and over again, you told him how beautiful he was and how much you loved him. “I want you to come for me, baby. Touch yourself while I fuck you.”

Dean grunted in appreciation, tugging at his cock more quickly than you could in this position. “Thank you, Mistress.”

You lost yourself in the movements, breathing heavily as you took in his features, observing how his mouth dropped open and his muscles tightened just as he was about to come. Before he could fall over the edge, you raked your fingernails up his ass, making him shiver as he pushed himself flush against and cried into the sheets below. He spilled into his hand and onto his stomach and then fell into the mattress, a drawn out moan leaving his lips when you pulled back and the strap-on dropped between your legs.

“Fuckin hell, Y/N.” His face was smashed into the mattress, blissed out and happy, muscles like jelly. Trembling, he pushed back up onto all fours and started to move off the bed.

“Wait there, love. I’ll clean you up.” After divesting yourself of the strap-on, you grabbed a couple of wipes, handing some to him to clean up his stomach while you took care of his perfect ass. “Stand up.”

Slowly but surely, he did as you commanded, resting his hand on his shoulder in search of yours. You entwined your fingers with his and began to peel the wax off of his back, letting it drop unceremoniously to the floor with the intent of cleaning up in the morning. “Now get your sexy ass back into bed.”

With a sleepy smile, Dean chuckled and slipped under the covers, extending his arm to gather you close to him. “Thank you, Y/N. You’re the best wife ever.”

He always said wife so proudly and it made your heart soar. “Do you want to talk about tonight?”

For a moment, he stiffened, but he knew he didn’t have to put on pretenses with you. “Tomorrow.”

“Okay, babe. Just close your eyes. I’ve got you.”

#spnkinkbingo #spnkinkbingo2020 #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #domme!reader #sub!dean #dontshootmespence #i've got you

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chemicalmagecraft · 4 years

Text

Taiyuu OCT Entrance Exam

@taiyuu-oct

"Big day, huh?" Ryuji said with a toothy grin as he and Yukino got in his car.

"You say that like this isn't the third entrance exam I've gone to," Yukino dismissed as she closed the door.

Ryuji shrugged. "Doesn't mean it isn't a big day. Who knows, maybe this is the one."

"Maybe," Yukino said. She went to press the seat heater button, using her knuckle so as not to scratch it with her claws.

"Hey, could you get mine, too?" Ryuji asked. Yukino nodded and pressed the button next to it.

"Ahhh~" they sighed a few moments later in simultaneous bliss when their seats started to warm up.

"Whoever invented seat heaters was a genius~" Yukino purred.

"Yeah~" Ryuji agreed.

They spent the short car ride mostly in silence, with Ryuji occasionally giving Yukino tips that she mostly doubted she would need to know for today. As it turned out, Ryuji didn't live all that far from where the prospective hero students were supposed to go for Taiyuu's entrance exam, so he'd offered to let her sleep over for the night and drop her off first thing in the morning.

"We're here," Ryuji said when they reached the destination. "Though I don't see a school, so I might be wrong..."

Yukino pointed to a structure that looked a bit like the entrance to a subway. It had a banner on it that said 'TAIYUU ENTRANCE EXAM DAY!!!' in big red-and-gold characters. "The thing said it was on an island, so I'd have to take a special train there."

"Right, this was Laccadaisy's school..." Ryuji said as if that was all the explanation needed. "Well, judging by the lack of people coming in we're either early or late."

"We're early," Yukino said after consulting her phone.

"Alright, then. Need to top off real quick?"

Yukino nodded with a smile. "Yeah. Thanks, niichan."

Ryuji grinned and held a hand out to Yukino. "No problem." He took a deep breath and a ball of fire appeared, hovering over his open palm. "What kind of big brother would I be if I didn't set my little sister on fire when she asked me to?"

Yukino stuck her hands in Ryuji's fire. Despite the fact that she was sticking her hands in a fire, her hands only steamed a little instead of burning. "Probably a good one," she joked.

"Hey!" he retorted. "Don't bite the hand that feeds you fire!"

Yukino took her hands out of the fire and started moving her head towards Ryuji's hand. "Ahhhhh."

"Seriously, please don't bite me," he said as he closed his hand, extinguishing the fire. "You good now?"

"Yup."

"Good. Now, before you go..."

Yukino rolled her eyes. "Another pro hero tip?"

Ryuji jabbed his finger in front of his Yukino's face, a single black claw inches away from her nose. "Behave. I'm serious. I don't wanna have to come back early because you picked a fight and got kicked out."

Yukino scoffed and brushed Ryuji's arm aside. Some white vapor emanated from her wrist where it made contact with his, and Ryuji winced and had to rub his arm. "Be careful with that thing or you'll take someone's eye out. Again. And when have I ever done either of those things?"

Ryuji held up his hand. "You literally just used your Quirk on a pro hero."

"Point," she conceded. "I promise I'll be nice."

"Thank you." Then Ryuji held out his arms. "Good luck hug?"

Yukino hugged him. "Good luck hug."

x x x

The train ride was uneventful and, frankly, kinda boring. You'd think that a train running under the ocean would be super cool, but all the windows showed was the sides of the tunnels going by. Yukino couldn't get any reception on her phone either, so that limited the things she could do to entertain herself a bit... The highlight of the trip was someone started singing Under the Sea at one point, which was definitely saying something because Yukino was more of a Frozen girl. Eventually the train stopped and an automated message asked the examinees to disembark in an orderly fashion. Yukino, because she was early, had been able to take a seat close to the first train car's door, so she was first in line getting onto the island.

The island looked pretty impressive. Apparently the principal had used her Quirk to create the entire island, and yet it didn't look like it at all. The ground was covered in grass, aside from pathways, and there was the occasional flower and tree. Yukino even saw a dense forest, though judging by the pillars it had at each corner it was probably a training ground.

"Welcome, potential students!" a woman wearing a sort of green leotard said with a big smile on her face. "I'm Laccadaisy, and if you're lucky I'll be your principal after today! Now, I'm sure you all know why you're here today by now, so just follow me and we'll be able to start the exams soon enough!" She beckoned them to follow her, then turned around and started walking to a small building. The building was filled with small lockers. "Right, put your stuff in one of those lockers and take the key. Phones, water bottles, anything that isn't life-saving medication. You'll get it back when you're done. And we suggest you check for those keys after every event, just in case." There was some grumbling, but eventually everyone put their belongings in a locker. Yukino only had her phone with her, because she'd forgotten her staff at home, so it didn't take her some time. At least she wasn't that one girl who decided to bring a real-ass goddamn sword to the exams...

Once everyone had put their stuff away, Laccadaisy had them walk to a field. There was an area marked off with flags. "Right," Laccadaisy said. "Everyone got three numbers after they applied, right?" A few of the examinees nodded. "Right, good. I hope you remember your numbers, because those are the three events you're doing."

"Why are we only doing three?" a tall boy with double-toned blue hair asked.

"I'm glad you asked that! See, you were all selected to do three events from a pool of eight at random. Each of the events tests a different set of skills or traits that are needed to be a hero, so we'll use them to evaluate how good you are. But because doing all of them back-to-back would probably wipe most of you out before you get to the last few, you'll only be doing three. Now, remember that for all of these events you're allowed to use your Quirks for anything but attacking your fellow examinees. If you do that you're out. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. We do not condone heroes fighting each other on duty. Okay? Okay. Now then, everyone who was assigned event one please line up there, and everyone else can sit on the side!" She pointed to one end of the field, then started walking to the other. "We will begin shortly!"

Yukino sat down on the side, as she had two, four, and eight. She watched as Laccadaisy explained the event (and snickered at its name, Shake Shimmy), which was pretty much just "get from one side of the field to the other while I use my Quirk on it," then did exactly that. The ground shifted and heaved under the effects of Laccadaisy's Quirk, a geokinetic Quirk so powerful that it could raise an island. The effects were almost imperceptible at first, just little waves and bumps in the ground, then slowly but surely grew in intensity. By the time most of the students were near the finish line, the field looked like a churning sea at storm. Yukino was fascinated by every second of it. The sheer power she displayed... It reminded her of what inspired her to become a hero. And it gave her an idea. She took one of her hands out of her hoodie pocket and placed it on the ground. White vapor curled from her hand... but then she changed her mind. Burning through a bunch of energy just to test something out in the middle of her entrance exam was definitely not a good idea, even if she wouldn't get disqualified for performing a very destructive use of her Quirk when she wasn't allowed to use it.

She lifted her hand back up, revealing that the patch of grass she'd put her hand on was frosted over. "Maybe later, though..." she decided.

x x x

After Shake Shimmy was done with, Laccadaisy took the examinees to the forest Yukino had seen earlier. Standing in front of it was a serious-looking man who looked vaguely like he was made out of plants. Laccadaisy slung her arm around him. "This here is Wolfsboon!" Laccadaisy said, slinging an arm around him. Wolfsboon almost immediately removed her arm from him. "He's gonna be in charge of the next two events! Take it away, Wolfy!"

"Never call me that again," Wolfsboon growled. "Alright, everyone that's in event two please step forward."

Yukino stepped forward, as well as a few others. She looked at her fellow examinees. Someone who probably had a hair Quirk, a girl who looked to be partially made of tar or ink or something, and a person with hair that appeared to be made of Jupiter-colored dust stood out to Yukino.

"This event will test your ability to evade attackers." Laccadaisy nudged him, causing him to sigh the sigh of a man forced to say something he found ridiculous. "It's called... Who Let the Dogs Out..." Yukino snorted. Wolfsboon shot a glare at her before continuing. "You will be given five minutes to hide somewhere in the forest. After those five minutes are up, wolves will begin to hunt you for fifteen minutes. These wolves are made from my Quirk and will not attempt to hurt you. However, if they touch you, you are out and will have to exit the forest. And don't try to lie about not getting tagged, I'll know. If you attempt to leave the area marked by the flags, you will be warned. Attempting to do so again is an immediate disqualification. You may climb trees if you so wish, but just know that my wolves can as well. Finally, you are allowed to fight back against the wolves, but you can't injure them too badly and any direct touch will still count as a loss even if you're the one who punches them. If there are no questions, we may begin now."

Nobody had any questions (though some very much wanted to), so they were sent into the woods. Yukino walked through a forest path, humming to herself. Maybe she should have been hurrying a bit more, but all she needed was the right space for... there!

Yukino walked into a small clearing. It was big enough for what she was planning, though. Surrounded by trees and not a flag in sight, too! Yukino sat down in the middle of the forest, cross-legged. The tips of Yukino's hair, which were touching the ground, emitted white vapor as she used her Quirk, Cryomancy, through them. A few lines of frost streaked across the ground from Yukino's hair. A circle of frost formed with a radius of a few meters around Yukino. Pure, perfectly clear ice formed from the circle, building up into a thick dome of ice with a few small holes in the top so she could still breathe. A design of an eastern-style dragon curled around the side of the dome. "And now we wait," Yukino said to herself.

A tone sounded about a minute later, signaling that the wolves would be hunting soon. A few howls emphasized that. Yukino just sat there still. Despite the fact that she was sitting in a dome of ice, it was still somewhat warm. It helped that the dome was almost completely clear, so the sunlight warmed her up. She was glad she decided to wear her black hoodie today.

A wolf made of plants walked into the clearing from the same path Yukino came from, sniffing at the ground. It looked up and glared at her. Yukino smirked and beckoned the wolf to attack. The wolf howled and charged...

Running straight into Yukino's dome with a thud. She laughed at the now very confused wolf. "You didn't really think it'd be that easy, did you?" she asked.

The wolf glared at her, then sniffed the air in front of it. It put a paw on the ice, then started trying to climb it. It didn't make any headway.

"Too steep for that," Yukino told it. "Did you really think I'd leave an obvious weak point like that?

The wolf stopped trying to climb the dome, switching to pacing around it instead. Yukino watched it make a complete circle around the dome, then start clawing at the ice again. However, it was clear that this time the wolf was trying to chip away at the ice.

"Thaaat's not gonna work, either," Yukino boasted. "This dome is made from perfect ice, a special kind of ice I can make with my Quirk by using fine telekinesis on the water as it's forming into ice. In addition to having a flawless crystal structure and no impurities, which is why it's so clear, it's much denser and stronger than normal ice."

The wolf finally managed to make a small scratch with its claw. Yukino responded by pressing a single vapor-emitting claw of her own to the ground. A line of frost shot from it, spreading to the area of the dome that the wolf was attacking. When it hit the base of the ice, the segment of ice wall that the wolf was scratching at started to thicken with more perfect ice, repairing the damage the wolf had made and then some. It wasn't quite perfect, as you could still faintly see where the scratch had been, but the message was clear.

"I figured multiple independent summons would have a limitation like that," Yukino smirked as she shook her hand out and put it in her hoodie pocket. "You aren't strong enough. I can make perfect ice way faster than you can scratch it."

The wolf scratched at the ice some more, then stopped. It sat down and pouted at Yukino.

"Puppy dog eyes aren't gonna work on me," Yukino said. It was a complete lie. She was already wavering and preparing to frost the dome over so she didn't have to look at it, but the wolf didn't know that.

It whined at her.

"No!" Yukino shouted. "Bad dog!"

That one boy with the blue hair that asked Laccadaisy a question earlier ran into the clearing. He stared at Yukino and the wolf, then ran for another path out of the clearing. Two wolves chased after him.

"Well?" Yukino said to the wolf sitting in front of her dome. It had looked over at the boy for a moment before focusing back on Yukino. "You can't touch me, so you might as well go for someone you can."

The wolf seemed to grumble, then left to chase the boy.

"Bye, doggy!" Yukino said with a wave. She shivered a little. It wasn't too bad, but repairing the barrier made the temperature in her barrier drop a bit... "Hope no more wolves come by..."

Just in case, Yukino decided to stand up and shook around a bit to warm herself up. Once she felt better, she just stood there. She waited, occasionally looking around the clearing for wolves. Aside from the occasional howl or scream in the distance, she didn't find any sign of the wolves for a while. Though at one point she could've sworn she saw movement. After what seemed like a few minutes, though... A wolf howled, followed by another. And then another. And then a few more. An entire pack of wolves filed into the clearing from all sides, and Yukino could have sworn it was led by the wolf that originally attacked her.

"You're back," she said. "And you brought friends. Clever girl." She smirked and walked over to the side of the dome. "Just know that I'm not gonna take this lying down." She placed her hand on the wall, her other hand still casually stuffed in her hoodie pocket. The telltale white vapor that always rolled off her body when she used her Quirk came from her hand, and lots of it. The wolves balked as frost spread on the ground all around the dome, spikes of ice growing from it. Yukino shook off her hand and put it in her pocket. "Try to get past that."

The wolf in the lead cautiously approached the spikes. It pawed at one of the spikes, then tried to swipe at it. After a few tries, it managed to snap the point off of it. The point didn't fall, and instead started bashing itself into the wolf with its blunt side.

"Did I mention that my Quirk isn't just cryogenesis?" Yukino asked. "I could've sworn I mentioned telekinesis at some point."

The wolf growled at her, but backed off. As soon as it did, the floating icicle dropped.

"Good doggy," Yukino said. "Now please stay away until the exam ends. I don't wanna hurt you guys."

The wolves lingered, but didn't approach again. Eventually another tone sounded, probably the end of Who Let the Dogs Out judging by how the wolves dropped their collective guards as soon as they heard it. "Are you guys not gonna attack me if I leave?" Yukino asked.

The wolves all walked over to one of the paths leading out of the clearing, toward an approaching figure. The proctor of the exam, Wolfsboon, walked up to Yukino's spike field. "Can you get out of there through your own power?" he asked curtly, his voice muffled due to being on the opposite side of a thick wall of ice.

"Yeah, just give me a minute." Yukino thrust her hand forward, and with the motion all the ice and spikes in front of her slowly disintegrated into powder. She walked through the path that she'd cleared for herself. "I can do the rest," she offered, "but I'd prefer to save my energy for later if that's possible."

Wolfsboon sighed. "That's fine, we have someone to clear the forest of... debris... anyways. I suppose I should walk you back."

"Thanks." The whole walk out of the forest, Yukino eyed the wolves tailing behind them. Some filed out as they walked, probably hiding for the next exam, but there were still a few when they were almost out.

"Are you okay?" Wolfsboon asked.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I'm totally fine," Yukino replied.

"You were eyeing my wolves, did they... scare you?"

"Oh, not at all! It's just..." Yukino sighed. "You noticed I look kinda... monster-y, right?"

"I wouldn't call you monster-y, for reasons I should hope are obvious," the plant-like man said, "but I'm guessing you're talking about the horns and claws?"

"And fangs." Yukino bared her teeth, showing that they were all very sharp. "My grandfather has a dragon Quirk. It's cool being able to say I'm literally part dragon, but... It seems like most animals look at me and only see a dragon, y'know? They're usually really scared of me until they have a lot of time to get used to me, so..." She looked at the plant wolves, which were completely unfazed by her.

Wolfsboon sighed. "You want to pet them, don't you?"

Yukino gave him her best puppy dog eyes, which was pretty easy because he was so much taller than her. "Please?"

"Be quick about it," he said after some hesitation.

"Thank you!" Yukino said, then started petting one of the wolves. "Who's a good boy?" she cooed. The wolf was very appreciative of the pets. "Who's a good boooy~?"

x x x

Yukino was very glad that she didn't have to do the third exam. Having to actually catch the wolves would've been way worse than just taunting them from within a dome of ice surrounded by spikes. Waiting in front of a forest with the only entertainment being occasional sounds of distant struggle was just boring, though. Yukino ended up picking at the grass, occasionally frosting a few blades over, to pass the time and replace some of the telekinetic energy she'd used up earlier. Eventually, though, the tone finally sounded and the examinees started to file out of the forest. Yukino's attention was drawn almost immediately to a very tall girl with black-and-red hair and eyes. Not just for her interesting eyes (the sclera were black, which looked really striking) or the fact that she looked absolutely beautiful, but also the fact that she was being followed by an entire pack of curious-looking plant wolves. Yukino got up and slowly walked to the girl. She looked her right in the eyes (she had to crane her head up a lot because damn was this girl tall), then crouched down a little and started petting one of the wolves. The girl didn't stop her at all.

After a few moments of Dog, Wolfsboon yelled at her to stop petting the wolves and get a move on to the next event, because everyone else was leaving. That reminded Yukino that next event was one of hers, so she got a move on. And when she go there she very much wished she hadn't...

"The Wall of Pain!" Laccadaisy shouted from on top of a six-meter rock wall. Crud. Yukino was not that good with heights... "It's literally just a rock wall. You only get one try, one of the teachers down there," she pointed to the teachers standing on the padded mats at the foot of the wall, "will catch you if you fall. Though we only have so many teachers, so try not to all fall at once. And again, don't attack your fellow examinees. You may start... Now!"

Yukino took a deep breath as the other examinees started to climb the wall. "What did Ryuji say about climbing again..." she muttered to herself as she watched someone with bird or harpy mutations blaze up the wall. Yukino didn't see how she could use her Quirk to climb that easily...

"Why aren't you climbing already, kid?" an old-ish woman in a poncho asked her. "Are ya scared?" It seemed like she was trying to intimidate her.

"No," Yukino defended. She sighed. "Okay, maybe a little, but I'm also trying to remember what my brother told me about how to climb things."

"He a hero or a rock climber?" the woman asked.

"Hero, but he also does some rock climbing. We don't have a time limit, do we?"

She shrugged. "Not really, but you'll probably be disqualified if everyone else is up there and you haven't even started yet." A lot of people were still only a meter or so off the ground, so Yukino still had time.

"I think I remember my brother saying something like... it's better to get an idea of the path you're gonna take, if you don't have a time limit but you can't fall," Yukino explained. She could kinda see a few paths, but she didn't know how good they were... "I mean, I am totally procrastinating, but at least I'm-"

"What's the matter, can't do anything without that flashy Quirk of yours?" that one person with the hair Quirk from earlier jeered. They were about halfway up the wall already. "Or are you just scared?"

Yukino gritted her teeth. "Yeah, that's it." She walked up to the wall, and a small, almost imperceptible amount of white vapor rolled from her hands. She was keeping her Quirk barely on, just enough to chill whatever she touched a fraction of a degree and barely lower her own temperature, in case she'd have to use it in a hurry. "Not gonna let a stupid wall get the better of me." She took a deep breath, then gripped two of the handholds.

"Your claws aren't as good for climbing as you might think," she remembered Ryuji telling her once. Ugh, if he found out she actually payed attention to him when he was trying to tell her how to climb things he'd hold it over her forever... "Grip the rock with your fingertips unless there's not enough room for it. The same goes for your toes."

She put one foot on one of the footholds, then the other. Her hands trembled slightly, but she tried to work past that. She slowly raised herself up and grabbed the next handhold. Then she stepped up and put her foot in the next foothold. Handhold, foothold, handhold, foothold, she slowly but surely climbed up the wall. When she was a little less than halfway up she saw someone try to jump to the top, then slip and fall. Yukino remembered Ryuji saying something about how hard jumping while rock climbing was, and how it was typically not something a beginner could just do.

And then Yukino's hand slipped. She looked back up, seeing a patch of ice where her left hand just was, and ice beginning to form under her right hand. She must've accidentally turned up her Quirk a bit when she saw that person fall... In a split-second decision, she turned it up more, frost streaming down from her right hand. She managed to make a platform of ice just before her right hand slipped, so she only fell a bit instead of falling all the way down. Yukino rubbed her now-sore butt as she surveyed the ice platform she'd made. It was sloppy, with patches of white and impurities instead of her normal ice's pristine clarity. She looked down at the teachers. "Um... am I good? I fell, but I also caught myself like immediately."

"You didn't touch the ground, so you're good!" the teacher she was talking to earlier said. "Go on, kid!"

Yukino heard some cracking from her ice platform, so she quickly held it up with her telekinesis, then reinforced it with a little more ice. Her hands were a little numb from the cold now, so instead of trying to climb again she placed her hands on the rock wall with her Quirk active. A ladder of ice formed from it, some distance away from the wall but anchored to it with bars of ice. It probably wouldn't be very fun to climb, but the way she made it, she should hopefully be able to have a decent grip on it. She climbed up the ice ladder. The rungs were cold and a little slippery, but she didn't slip. She pulled herself up onto the top of the wall. "That... probably could've gone a lot smoother..." Yukino berated herself.

"Don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to work on it if you get in," Laccadaisy assured her.

Yukino sighed. "Figures..."

x x x

After the Wall of Pain was Middle School Gym Class, a funny name for an event Yukino was very glad she didn't have to do. It was a rope climb, even taller than the rock wall. The examinees were told to climb up it one by one, with each person only getting one chance to touch a rubber ball at the top of the rope. Yukino felt queasy just watching the examinees climb it... She did watch the red girl from earlier climb, because she'd piqued her interest earlier with the wolves. And no other reason.

The next event was called Chariots of Fire. It was an endurance run through the woods. Not much happened there, that Yukino could see anyway. She saw what happened at the next even, Hop, Skip, and a Jump, much better, though. Yukino was amused watching everyone jump around on rock pillars and falling in the water.

And finally, Just Keep Swimmin'. The eighth and final event. "This event will test your endurance when swimming, and yes you're going to be doing this in your current clothes," Laccadaisy explained. "You'll be swimming to that island over in the distance," she pointed at the island, which had a straight path to it laid out with stone pillars, "and make sure to keep inside those pillars, the seafloor there is raised so it's safer. And if you drift outside of them for too long you're disqualified, so it's not exactly worth the risk. Remember you're supposed to get to the other side as fast as you can, but don't tire yourselves out!"

Yukino raised her hand. "Question," she said. "Are we supposed to swim or are we supposed to get to the other side? Those are two different things, and I'm much better at one than the other."

Laccadaisy grinned. "Well-noticed. You're probably fine, if it's what I think it is. Now then, unless anyone else has any questions, let's start!"

Yukino stood in front of the water. Normally, she hated swimming. Despite the fact that she had an ice-based Quirk, she much preferred to be warm. So getting soaked in cold water? Horrible. If it wasn't for what she was about to do, she'd probably be even more unwilling to do this event than the Wall of Pain. But...

"Start!" Laccadaisy shouted.

Yukino quickly dipped a single claw in the water. She activated her Quirk, and some ice froze just under the tip of it. She slowly raised her hand, bringing the steadily growing ice construct with it. Once the oddly-shaped ice was out of the water, she grabbed it. Now that she could touch her ice without fear of freezing her own hand, she raised the power of her Quirk. The ice boat began to form much faster, and soon Yukino was holding onto the tail of a short, but magnificent dragon boat made entirely of ice. It had no oars, but with her Quirk Yukino didn't need oars.

"Hey, do you mind if my sister rides your boat with you?" the person with the Jupiter hair asked, followed by the tall red girl. So they were siblings. "She's not the best with water, because of her Quirk.

Yukino considered it. She had a weird feeling about them, but... "Yeah, sure, why not?" she shrugged.

"Thank you!" Mokusei-chan said graciously. Akai-chan just nodded.

"My Quirk makes water suck, too, so I know how it is," Yukino explained. Then she grinned evilly, revealing her very sharp teeth. "That being said, don't expect me to take it lying down if you try to kick me off my boat, Akai-chan."

Akai-chan didn't seem to feel threatened by that. However, Yukino did notice her face heat up a little and her ears turn the slightest shade of red. Ooh. She could work with that. Yukino patted the side of the boat, inviting Akai-chan to get on.

"Thank you," she muttered, then sat down in the only seat on the boat. She tried to keep to one side so Yukino would have some room, but when Yukino vaulted over the side of the boat she very purposefully landed directly on Akai-chan's lap. Akai-chan stiffened slightly. The boat started to move with a wave of Yukino's hand.

Yukino looked up at Akai-chan for a second, just a small glance to get a look at her expression. She was looking at Yukino sternly, though Yukino could see a bit of confusion poking through. Yukino grinned and adjusted herself a little on Akai-chan's lap. "In case you had any thoughts about just throwing me off," Yukino said. She created a small statuette of her from ice, then caused it to shatter. "Not that it'd work out for you too well..."

"I had not planned on that," Akai-chan muttered.

Yukino grinned. "Plu~us, it's so much more comfortable to sit on such a pretty girl's lap than to just stand on a boat. Not to mention sitting on hard ice. Speaking of, how are you doing back there."

"Ah... I'm..." she hesitated. Yukino chuckled to herself as she watched the taller girl blush in her reflection on the ice. She couldn't see that much, due to her ice being so clear, but it was still entertaining. "I... I can deal with it."

"Don't worry, it won't be too much longer," Yukino assured her. They were already over halfway there. Seventy-five meters may have sounded like a lot, but she was effortlessly making her boat go... oh, thirty, thirty-five km/h. And that was nowhere near her top speed. "Watch, I can go faster," she bragged. She upped her telekinetic output a little, bringing the boat up to fifty km/h. Yukino got up once she had acclimated to the increased speed and stretched. They were almost to the finishing island, so Yukino started to slow her boat down a little. "Right, this was fun and all, Akai-chan, but I think this is where our team-up ends." She climbed onto the dragon figurehead and snapped her fingers, concentrating on her telekinesis.

The sound was almost completely drowned out by a loud CRACK as the boat shattered into large pieces. The figurehead she was standing on stayed flying toward the island, but the rest of the boat slowed down a lot and began to disintegrate into diamond dust. Yukino jumped off her dragon head and rolled when she hit the ground. She saw the finish line and got up to start running towards it...

"SHE'S SINKING!" a voice shouted from behind Yukino. She turned around to see that one person with the hair Quirk who jeered her earlier shouting as they ran ashore, their massive volume of now-wet hair flashing bright colors. Then she saw Akai-chan. Below the water. And not moving, from the looks of it.

Shit. That was her fault. Yukino ran back for Akai-chan, no hesitation. She didn't pay much mind as Niji-chan ran past her. Akai-chan had only just fallen, so if Yukino was quick enough... She plunged her arm into the water, activating her Quirk. This was gonna suck... A line of ice spread across the submerged ground to Akai-chan, and when it reached her spread out to a platform of frozen sand. The platform rose, lifting Akai-chan back above the water. Yukino stood back up, shaking off her now very cold hand and carefully picking the ice that'd formed from using her Quirk underwater off with her telekinesis. She floated Akai-chan over to her. She looked like she was unconscious, but when Yukino put her ear to the girl's chest she could still hear breathing. Yukino breathed a sigh of relief, slumping over Akai-chan. Then she remembered what was going on and looked for the finish line. She saw Niji-chan standing on the other side of the line looking pleased with themself. Maybe. Their hair covered like half their face, so Yukino could've been wrong.

Yukino snorted and stuffed her cold hands in her hoodie pockets. "Didn't even stick around to see if Akai-chan was fine..." She slogged out of the water onto the beach, Akai-chan's platform floating behind her. Someone put a hand on Yukino's shoulder when she was halfway to the finish line. Yukino turned to see the woman with the poncho from earlier.

"Let me guess, you're taking her with you so she can complete the course even though she's unconscious," Poncho-chan said.

Yukino nodded. "Yeah. Kinda my fault she got knocked unconscious to begin with..."

"Even if you checked her out, I need to make sure she's good. And while it was heroic of you to go back for her, you shouldn't have dumped her in the water to begin with, even though you technically didn't attack her."

"Yeah, sorry..." Yukino agreed sheepishly. She gently lowered the platform of frozen sand onto the ground.

"Now go, finish up the exam, kid."

"I'd like to come back to check on her when I'm done, if that's okay."

"Fine, fine, just go already!" Sheriff shooed her off. Yukino did as she was told and jogged to the finish line. Even with that distraction the nearest examinee to the finish line (aside from friggin' Niji-chan...) was still only like half of the way through the course, so Yukino didn't really feel the need to hurry. Almost like most people can't swim faster than a boat propelled by telekinesis.

Yukino sneered at them, making sure to bare her pointy teeth, as she crossed the finish line. "'What's the matter, can't do anything without that flashy Quirk of yours?'" she parroted. There was no way they could've swam fast enough to keep up with her boat, especially with that much hair.

"Shut up, nerd," they said.

Yukino rolled her eyes and looked at the teacher standing at the finish line, a man with deer mutations wearing a nice suit. "Am I good? I kinda wanna check how Akai-chan's doing."

He nodded.

"Thanks." Yukino walked back over to where Poncho-chan was checking out Akai-chan. "How is she?" Yukino asked her.

"I'm fine, thank you for asking," Akai-chan said. She slowly sat up.

"It turns out she just knocked herself out with her Quirk so she wouldn't accidentally shock that other examinee," Poncho-chan explained.

Yukino scratched the back of her head, lightly so as not to hurt herself with her claws. "Yyyeah, sorry about just dumping you in the water like that... I should've figured that wouldn't be good after what Mokusei-chan said..."

"It's fine," Akai-chan dismissed. "I'm just worried I accidentally hurt the other person."

Yukino snorted. "Oh, don't worry about them, they're fine. Ran as soon as they distracted me with you. The nerve..."

Poncho-chan shrugged. "Arguably not as bad as dumping your ally in the water when you know she'll react badly to it," she commented.

Yukino jabbed a finger at her, ready to argue, then acquiesced lowered her hand. "No, I can't really argue with that, can I..?" She sighed. "I know you said it's fine, Akai-chan, but I still feel bad about doing that..."

"Thank you for your concern," Akai-chan said. "I am okay, if I didn't hurt anyone."

Yukino sighed. Akai-chan said that, but Yukino still didn't feel that much better about it...

x x x

"How'd it go?" Ryuji asked when Yukino got in the car.

"It was fine," Yukino muttered.

"Doesn't sound like it. Did something happen?"

Yukino shrugged as she put her seatbelt on. "I mean, obviously stuff happened, but nothing I feel the need to tell you about."

Ryuji narrowed his eyes at her, then returned his eyes to the road. "Fine, I won't pry. Did you have fun, at least?"

"Honestly it was kinda hard..."

"Well, that might be a good thing. Didja learn anything there?"

Yukino thought about it. "Yeah," she realized. "Yeah, I did. You know what, maybe I'll go to Taiyuu."

Ryuji grinned and offered her a high-five. "That's great!"

Yukino smiled. "Yeah, I guess it is." She high-fived him.

#taiyuu oct #taiyuu high #taiyuu ocs #bnha #bnha ocs #Takeda Yukino

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whitewitchdani · 4 years

Text

Laters, Baby: Chapter 11

Read Chapter 10 Here

Word Count: 1579

Pairing: Winchester!Sister x Lucifer

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of blood

A/N: Sorry it’s late but here’s Chapter 11! Let me know what you guys think and if you’d like to be tagged!

Laters, Baby Masterlist

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I’m not going to help you summon Lucifer, Y/N. Not when your plan is to shut out your brothers and submit yourself to him fully.”

You huffed, “I thought you agreed that this was happening for a reason?”

“I do. But this is not the way to go about it. Your family is on the other side of that door and wants to help you. Let them.”

“HA!” You rolled your eyes and began pacing, “Family. That’s rich, Cas. According to Dean I have no family.”

Cas sighed, “Dean did not mean what he said in the way you interpreted it. He’s worried for you Y/N; Lucifer entered your subconscious and he believes he’s using the connection and its effects to manipulate you.”

You looked at him confused, “How do you know all of that?”

“The Winchesters are my charges; it is my duty to watch over and protect you all. I was coming to speak to you all about Lucifer and I showed up when you awoke. I decided to keep my presence hidden as you took care of family business.”

You sighed, “What am I supposed to do?” You looked down and rubbed your temples; everything from the past hour was giving you a migraine.

“I am not sure. We should bring back your brothers and Bobby so we can discuss it. While this is your life, you are not the only person who it will impact.”

“I know that Cas,” you grimaced and rubbed your forehead; your head was really starting to hurt. “I just want to do what’s best for my brothers, the world, and, well, myself.”

“I understand. We will figure it out, Y/N. Please, allow me to fetch Sam, Dean, and Bobby. All of us together can determine the best solution.”

You heard what Cas had said but were having a hard time focusing on the angel in front of you, feeling like you couldn’t get your eyes to focus on one spot for too long. It caused the headache to move back to your temples and behind your eyes, and you began holding the sides of your head to try to get it to stop.

Cas tilted his head and walked towards you, “What’s happening? What’s wrong?”

You grimaced, “Ah, I don’t know. My head has been hurting since I woke up and it’s starting to get worse.”

Cas moved right in front of you and lifted your chin with his finger, making you look up at him. When you finally met his gaze, his demeanor immediately shifted at what he saw. He waved his hand at the door and moved the dresser that had been shoved in front of it.

“SAM! DEAN! GET IN HERE!” Castiel bellowed through the newly opened door.

Three pairs of boots could be heard running through the house and up the stairs. When Sam, Dean, and Bobby all arrived in the room, all they saw was your back with Castiel standing in front of you cupping your face.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” asked Dean.

“You need to see this.”

Cas moved from in front of you to allow the three men to take his place. When they did, they were speechless. It was obvious you were in pain from the expression on your face, but that wasn’t what bothered them.

It was the trail of blood leaking from your right eye.

“What the hell? Y/N/N are you alright?” Sam moved forward to look more closely at your face.

You took a shaky breath, “My head really hurts, Sammy. What’s happening?”

Sam brought you into his arms and turned to look at his brother, who in turn looked to Castiel for answers. “Well?”

“The blood isn’t coming from any injury that I can sense. The headache and the bleeding are not caused by any physical ailment. It’s the connection. She’s been away from him for over 24 hours and it must be affecting her more than we originally believed. Lucifer visiting her in her subconscious I’m sure did not improve things.”

“Why were you in here in the first place?” Dean skeptically asked the angel.

“She called for me. She wants me to help her summon Lucifer. Originally, I vetoed that idea without your input, but now I’m not seeing many other options. This connective migraine could subside on its own...”

“Or?” questioned Sam.

“Or it could persist until she is reunited with Lucifer. Possibly get worse.”

“What about Lucifer? If she’s like this, shouldn’t he be feelin’ the hurt downstairs too?” Bobby moved to wipe the blood from your face; it was killing him to see you hurt like this. The Winchester’s were basically his own kids, but he was especially protective of you.

“Most likely, though I’m sure it’s not to this degree. Lucifer’s human vessel will feel the physical pain but it will be more irritating than anything. The longing is what will affect him the most.”

It was quiet for a few moments as what was happening sunk in. The boys looked at each other in silent conversation both saying the same thing: they had no idea what the fuck to do.

Sam looked down to the shaking form in his arms. Another trail of blood was streaming down your face and it was obvious you were still in pain. He looked to Bobby, “What do we do, Bobby?”

The elder hunter sighed, “Do I look like a devil’s soulmate handbook to you? I have no idea what we should do. Honestly, the only person we should be talking to about this decision is her. This is her life; she’s the one that will have to deal with the pain. It should be her decision, not ours.”

“We can’t let her run off with Lucifer, Bobby. There’s no way he’ll just turn over a new leaf for her. We, we can fix this. We can find a way to put him back in the cage without hurting her.” Dean was pacing at this point.

“That would be inadvisable, Dean. If you were to return Lucifer to his cage in Hell now that the connection has begun, you could very well kill your sister.” Dean ran his fingers through his hair pulling slightly. What the hell were they supposed to do?

“Wait, I’m starting to feel better.” You emerged from Sam’s arms and walked to stand in the middle of the four men. “The headache is subsiding.”

“You aren’t bleeding anymore either.” Sam pointed out.

You put your hand up to your eye to see that Sam was right. Whatever just happened was not pleasant, and you would prefer if it didn’t happen again.

“So what do we do now? What’s our next move?” Dean asked the angel.

You knew what you thought you should do, but Cas was right, everyone needed to weigh in on this.

The angel sighed, “Truthfully, I am not sure. Part of me believes we should go with Y/N’s original plan to avoid another of these episodes. But the other knows what my brother is capable of and how his mind works; we should come up with a plan. You three should continue hunting as you normally do, I shall look for ideas for what to do next.” With a whoosh, the angel was gone.

“So what? We just go hunting like normal and pray you don’t have another episode in the middle of it? Yeah, that’s a great idea.” Dean scoffed and walked to the window. Like hell he was risking that.

“I’m fine Dean. This is our job and we have to do it. Let’s go downstairs and look for a case. Honestly going on an actual hunt sounds good to me right now, I can’t think about all of this for another second or I’m gonna go insane,” you said with a small laugh.

“I think you already are insane! You’re in no shape to hunt,” yelled Dean.

“I hate to agree with Dean Y/N, but I think he’s right,” said Sam.

You scoffed at your brothers and went to argue with them but were interrupted by Bobby, “I got word of a salt and burn over in Wichita. Should be simple, ‘specially with the three of ya. Go take care of that and see how she does and go from there; ya can’t just stop hunting. You’d go insane and you’d drive me insane by staying here.”

You looked at your brothers pointedly, “Well?” you asked crossing your arms.

Sam looked at Dean expectantly and the eldest Winchester sighed, “Fine. We’ll go on this salt and burn. But I swear on everything that is holy Y/N if you even sniffle during this hunt I’m bringing you back here to Bobby. And you have to tell us if anything hinky or Lucifer-ish happens. Capiche?”

You rolled your eyes but nodded, holding up your three middle fingers, “Scout’s honor.”

Dean sighed, “Fine, let’s roll out.”

You and Sam left the room to prepare for the hunt while Dean hung back in the bedroom with Bobby. The eldest Winchester sighed once more and ran a hand down his face. This was a bad idea.

“It’ll be alright, boy. If she says she’s fine, then she’s fine. Don’t go all overprotective on your sister or she’ll resent you and then Lucifer will have an even bigger chance of getting her.”

“I hope you’re right Bobby, I really hope you’re right.”

Read Chapter 12 Here

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bleedinghearthalstead · 4 years

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SWAT!Jay / Upstead AU

A/N: Part 3! Crossposted on AO3. Takes place right after Trudy Got a Gun, but is mostly unrelated plotwise. Enjoy!

Five blocks from their house, Hailey's phone vibrates in her pocket. When she pulls out the phone and sees the caller ID, she can't help but sigh – it's Hank.

"Upton," she answers. Jay watches her out of the corner of his eye as she hums and nods to what is being relayed to her until she hangs up the phone with, "I'll be right there." So much for a free afternoon with his wife.

Five blocks from their house, Hailey's phone vibrates in her pocket. When she pulls out the phone and sees the caller ID, she can't help but sigh – it's Hank.

"Where are we going?" Jay asks, already checking for places where he could potentially u-turn.

"Jay, you don't have to drive me there-"

"It'll be quicker," he cuts her off, "just tell me the address." And Hailey knows not to argue because she knows that look on his face that reads 'mission mode', so she just tells him the address and they're on their way.

When they pull up at the crime scene, Hank's car is already there and Hailey wonders how he beat them here, since they were only ten minutes away and Hank was still at the district when Hailey left. She doesn't say anything when Jay parks and also gets out of the car. Hailey's already got her badge clipped on her belt and Jay slips the chain with his badge around his neck. The patrol officer standing guard at the red police tape is giving Jay a weird look, but the officer doesn't stop them when Jay holds up the tape so he and Hailey can duck under it. Jay momentarily thinks about changing, he might have another shirt in the trunk, but actually no, who cares.

They find Hailey's sergeant at the loading dock of what appears to be a logistics center, semi-trailers parked in front of the gates. Hank and the medical examiner are standing over a body, a man in his late forties with a single bullet hole that sits neatly in the middle of his forehead. A clean kill. Not that much to do here for the ME.

"Hey, Sarge." Hailey stops next to Hank, peering down at the victim. Jay is looking around the crime scene behind them, studying the blood splatter on the ground behind the man. "Listen, I was on my way home, so my-"

Before she can finish her sentence, Hank turns to Jay and sticks out his hand. "Halstead, didn't know we needed SWAT support today." They shake hands.

"Voight," Jay returns, "yeah, unless you're cool with instigating a sniper standoff, I'm kinda looking forward to my afternoon off." Hank raises an eyebrow at him in question. "Distance, wind conditions, narrow angle between the trucks… this wasn't an easy shot."

"What makes you think this was a sniper?" Hank asks, intrigued.

"Well, I don't know if you've talked to any witnesses yet, so I don't know if anyone saw a shooter, but with that blood spatter, this definitely was a high-powered rifle." Jay tilts his head, examining the blood spatter closer, then turns around, scanning the horizon. Obviously looking for something, he moves to stand right behind where their victim must have stood, mindful not to step on the blood. He points at a building in the distance. "Angle suggests…" He squints, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun with this hand. "That mid-rise structure about a klick south. Looks like a parking garage, but I can't say for sure."

Hank grunts at him in agreement, then turns to his detective. "Hailey, you wanna go confirm your husband's theory?"

And of course Hank knows, Hailey thinks. She has been quietly watching the exchange between the two men, but when Hank calls her name, she perks up. "You sure that's alright, Sarge?"

"Take some uniforms with you, canvass the area." That's all the confirmation she gets.

They get back into Jay's car and he drives them in the direction of the building that he spotted earlier, a couple of patrol cars trailing them. While he is driving, Jay keeps leaning forward over the steering wheel, trying to glimpse the building he saw from the crime scene.

"Sooo…" Hailey starts, "Hank knows."

"Didn't think he cared." Jay shrugs, still looking around. "And it's in your personnel file, so I'm pretty sure he's always known."

"Yeah, you're probably right… it's just weird that the whole team knows now. Trudy knows! And why am I not surprised that Hank already knew, but never thought to mention it to me?" Hailey frowns. "I've been in this unit for two years now and I'm not close enough to anyone that they know I'm married."

Jay raises an eyebrow at her. "Babe, you can be incredibly aloof about your personal life."

Hailey pouts. "Are you saying I'm an antisocial freak?"

"More like international woman of mystery."

"Good, my plan is working." They both glance at each other and grin.

They keep driving in silence, until Jay asks, "But you trust them, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. They're all good police."

"And good people too?"

"Sure," Hailey answers after a moment's hesitation. And she does mean it. They all have their issues, but what makes the unit work is that they all have each other's backs, no matter what.

"Then why don't you let them in a little?" Jay suggests. And truthfully, Hailey doesn't know how to answer that.

After some twists and turns, but not more than five minutes later, they arrive at what Jay has rightly identified as a parking garage. Hailey has one patrol car wait on the ground floor, telling them to find the manager in case they need to look at the security camera footage. The other cruiser follows them as they drive up to the top floor.

Jay parks and gets out, walking around to the trunk of his jeep. Rummaging around in a box, he pulls out a spotting scope. He quickly orients himself and goes to the north side of the garage, looking for an open space. A few cars over, there is a free parking spot. He walks right up to the edge, which is a half-height concrete wall, and peers through the scope. "Looks good." He hands the scope to Hailey, who, at Jay's direction, finds the logistics center they were at earlier, although their crime scene is hidden between two big trucks. "It's not the exact angle from here, but it's pretty damn close."

Still looking through the scope, she can see the crime lab techs still cataloguing the scene, but sees that Hank's car is already gone. Jay takes the scope back from her and determinedly walks to the northeast corner of the structure. He stops right at the corner of the building and looks through the scope again, then nods. "Got it." He turns to Hailey. "Roll a crime lab to our location."

Hailey nods in confirmation and relays the info through her radio. As she watches him examine the scene and then tell the two patrol officers to cordon off the scene, she thinks about how in another life Jay could've been a great detective.

* * * * *

When Jay drives her back to the district and again doesn't just drop her off, but parks and gets out with her, Hailey almost stops him. It was one thing for him to come with her at the crime scene since he was already there and she thinks that he wanted to back her up just in case, but to join the briefing? She isn't sure how that's going to go down with the team.

He is a few paces ahead when he notices that Hailey is still standing next to the car. Jay thinks he's gotten pretty good at reading his wife's mind and backtracks. "Is it okay with you if I join the briefing?"

She thinks about it for just a second, then nods her head 'yes'. It was Jay who figured out that it was a sniper and it was also him who found the point of origin within minutes. If not for her husband, they would have had to wait for hours until the crime techs processed the scene and then it would have taken even longer to find the parking garage.

Entering the district, Trudy just nods at them and Hailey uses the hand scanner and pass code to buzz them up to Intelligence. Upstairs, the team is already putting up info on the white board, Kevin sticking a picture of their victim onto the board and Kim writing down his stats.

"So what do we have on the victim so far?" Hailey skips the greeting and gets straight to business. When the others notice that she has a tag-along, they all perk up, first and foremost Kevin, who comes over to give Jay a bear hug.

Jay laughs. "Hey, buddy."

"'Sup, man? How you doing?" Kevin pulls back and they do a special handshake. Hailey can only wonder when they had the chance to learn that? She didn't see them do that at the bar.

Adam also joins the group. "Nice catch, man."

"Ah, it's nothing." Jay brushes off. "Total team effort."

Hailey marvels at how easy it is for Jay to fit into the group, almost a little envious that Jay has been able to build a comfortable rapport with her team mates on one single night out drinking, while it has taken her two years of working with them to achieve that sort of comfort level. He can be a charming bastard when he wants to.

Hank comes out of his office and breaks up the chitchat. He acknowledges Jay with a nod, then turns to his unit. "We got a dead body, what do we have?"

Their victim is Frank Moretti, the logistics coordinator at the center where he was found murdered. No priors, no obvious gang or organized crime connections, he seems like an odd assassination target. The team is going through the crime lab and medical examiner's reports, collecting their findings on the board. Jay's sniper theory is proven right, the recovered bullet's caliber suggesting a long range rifle. Unfortunately for them, the round is a .300 Winchester Magnum, which is popular in game hunting as well as military and police use.

Jay nods, "Popular is an understatement. Hell, even I use them."

When they get around to talking about the shooter's location, Hailey summarizes the report. "No conclusive evidence found at the parking garage, no notches or indentations from the rifle, no bullet casings, although we assume it was a single shot, no nothing."

Kim adds, "We're still going through the security camera footage, but no luck yet."

"I still think this was a professional hit," Jay interjects. "It's just too clean. If it was me, I would've done it from the cover of a van. Set up, open up the door, hit the target and drive off. If you know your target's schedule, that would've taken a few minutes tops." The others look at him with various degrees of alarm, Hailey included, but Jay just shrugs. "Just saying that you should be looking for a van arriving and leaving the garage within an hour of time of death."

"Alright, you heard the expert, let's get to work," Hank orders. "Upton, Ruzek, you go check out Moretti's home. Burgess, Atwater, you check out the footage and his financials. See what we can find."

The sergeant then turns to Jay and shakes his hand. "I guess I did need SWAT support today." Then Hank adds, "Don't tell your commanding officer."

Jay grins. He didn't have an afternoon off, but he was able to help with their case and he did get to spend some quality time with his wife. "Anytime, Sarge."

#upstead #jay halstead #hailey upton #chicago pd #swat!jay au #case fic is HARD #more fluff/humor next time #bhhfic

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naitiaclo960writings · 4 years

Text

Day 12 - Rewind

The Winchesters had not kept many memories of their earliest childhood. When the fire broke out and the house burned down, all their possessions were gone except for a small box containing photos that John kept in the trunk of the Impala. Dean remembered seeing it for many years without John really pulling it out of there, warm in the false bottom of the car. On rare evenings, however, John took the time to take it with him to the motel room where they were staying before he plunged back into the past years.

Aside from a few pictures of his mother or him as a baby, Dean hadn’t seen much else. John jealously guarded the box as if he were afraid it would catch fire too. Fortunately, the years passed and with them, the fear of opening this box faded. Dean had been allowed to keep a photo of his mother, brother and himself in his wallet while he was already old enough to hunt. Later, John disappeared and the box returned to them.

Dean perfectly remembered the day Sam asked him to open the box with him. They had just returned to Lawrence to take care of a poltergeist in their old house and had briefly seen their mother’s ghost at the bottom of the stairs. This vision had been such a shock and, John not being around, Dean decided that a night to remember the good old days couldn’t hurt. Although they both had very few stories to tell in the photos, being too young to remember.

The years went by and the box followed them. It made a short stop at Bobby’s when Dean had to fix the Impala from top to bottom before following them back to the roads and finally landing at the bunker. Sam and Dean had taken the liberty of sharing a few photos to put in their room before carefully storing the box under the elder’s bed.

It was therefore not uncommon for Dean to dig up these photos, which he now knew by heart, during a lonely evening. They had taken care to weigh down the box with other memories over the years and now, other faces came to rub shoulders with those of the Winchester family. Nevertheless, these faces were still family members themselves.

Sighing and the outline weighed down by an invisible weight that seemed unable to leave him since months, Dean sat down on the edge of his bed and opened the box again with some relief. Going through these photos was like going back to his childhood. It was to go back in time and rewind the tape of his life to replay the best moments. With a small smile on his face, Dean contemplated another portrait of his mother holding a smaller version of him in her arms at the hospital. Mary was younger in this photo and she had always been radiant. Of course, it wasn’t like she had to endure the damage of time, Dean somberly thought. He carefully set the photo aside and took another.

This one was more recent, he had to be at least 26 years old and his brother four years younger. Dean remembered that Bobby had taken this picture in the backyard of his car wreckage while the two brothers laughed at a joke he had long forgotten. Sam still wore such short hair that it came into his eyes and Dean had this oversized leather jacket on his shoulders that had once belonged to his father and that he wore for years. Everything seemed simple and light at the time despite their already hectic life.

Dean gently nodded at his little brother’s childish face in this photo.

He knew that Sam kept his own memories in his room, lying on his desk or hanging on the cork board above it. In addition to a few other pictures from their childhood, one photo was different from the others. Dean had already noticed it, as it seemed to be much better preserved than the others despite the fact that it was at least a decade old now, as if Sam was taking special care of it. In the picture, one could distinguish a young blonde woman with a face dotted with moles standing beside Sam wearing a Stanford sweatshirt. Both seemed to be at a student party and held hands with a shy smile. Maybe then Sam sometimes had the same wish as him, to reverse the course of time to find the one he once loved.

Dean put the photo with his brother on the bed and went through some other memories before stopping at the photo they had taken at Bobby’s. "The last night on Earth," had he said before the camera went off with a quick click. He almost regretted having said those few words now that extinct faces were sitting on that photo in place of the usual smiles. Everyone was preparing for death that evening, and some found it.

Dean also lingered on Castiel’s serious face, ramrod straight in his eternal oversized trench coat. This angel who had sacrificed everything for them and who continued to do so day in, day out at their side. He briefly wondered if Castiel also kept pictures of his brothers and sisters somewhere, perhaps of his garrison even. But the angel was not on good terms with more than half of his fellows, and even if he was, he doubted that any of them would ever let themselves be photographed. As a result, Dean was pleased to know that they were probably the only family in which Castiel had several photos of him, some even showing him with a rare relaxed smile. Like this one where Sam was teaching him how to use a computer and the angel laughing at one of Dean’s jokes.

He also took the time to look at Bobby, the surrogate father whom he missed a little more every day, but that he was happy to find in this box whenever he needed it. Lost in his thoughts, Dean looked up at another picture in the box depicting him and Sam fishing with John. Dean moistened his lips with a nostalgic look for the photo, almost melancholic. He remembered that day when the three of them spent the afternoon at a pond in Oklahoma before taking out that huge pike out of the water and that they were showing in the photo. However, their faces were relatively closed in the picture which revived this bitterness in Dean’s chest.

He also remembered the night before when John was so drunk while looking at Mary’s pictures that he started crying in their motel room. Sam woke up to his sobs as Dean tried to comfort their father as best he could, but no appropriate words could come out of his mouth. He had felt so helpless in the face of his father mourning the death of a mother that he himself could not overcome, even years later. When John wasn’t at the motel, Dean was worried every day that he wouldn’t come back and walk through their room door. When he was there, the days were never the same: either John would take them out for a nice burger at the local diner, or he would drink until he couldn’t move.

Dean didn’t even count the nights he had to take care of his father in addition to his younger brother who barely understood what was going on. He did not consider having an unhappy childhood, he had grown up with Sam and it was the only home he needed to be happy. But he could not help but think back to those moments of solitudes that he had felt as a teenager when he saw other children growing up differently.

Dean sighed and tried to get ride of his dark thoughts. In any case, there was no point in bringing up the past like that, he already had too much to do with the present and his responsibilities. Moreover, he felt that he had not progressed that badly despite all the events of his life. Slowly, Dean put the pictures away and closed the box before putting it back under his bed. He barely had time to get up that he already heard Sam calling him to eat, Castiel having just returned. A pleasant smile stretched his lips.

Yes, he didn’t particularly want to live in the past. Not anymore.

* * * @winchester-reload

So, the original plan was to do Dean’s POV, then Sam’s, then Cas’... But I ended up with this idea rather than anything and I tried to include Sam and Cas too anyway. Hope you liked it, see you tomorrow for some ladies!

You can find the whole series on Ao3

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fanficsforheartandsoul · 4 years

Text

The Dragonborn | M!Reader x Geralt of Rivia | Part I

Just an idea I had after reading an awesome story by @waiting4inspiration

Notes: I never finished Skyrim. Also, many things I’ve written here are based on The Witcher 3 game, since the lore of the Series is not covering everything. Also, also, this story is inspired by a headcanon of mine about the Dragonborn. I will elaborate further in the next part :)

Fandoms: The Witcher (TV Series), The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim

Warnings: Non-Canon Story, Swearing, Gore, Slight OOC

Word Count: 5785

Taglist: @yes-captainstark @stuckupstucky

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name!

Please note that The Witcher is supposed to be around the Middle-Age. Homophobia existed.

Part II

_______

He definitely had to rethink his decisions when it came to helping villagers.

Geralt usually never hunted monsters that weren't on the information boards in towns, but when he heard the rumors in the tavern and the worried glances from every villager, he made an exception—something he regretted now.

He wanted Jaskier to stay at the tavern, but the bard was stubborn and just tagged along into the forest.

"Don't worry, Geralt. I won't get in your way."

The witcher didn't say it out loud, but that wasn't exactly why he wanted him to stay behind. Hunts with unknown monsters were dangerous even for an experienced monster slayer like him.

The Butcher of Blaviken couldn't prepare his silver sword with special oils since he didn't know what he would encounter. But from the rumors he had heard, the monster seemed to be a draconide, so Geralt used some strengthening potion on himself.

He didn't find any other clues, and the whole search for information hadn't helped at all. So he decided to just go for it. He would probably regret it later, but when did he not?

And now here they were. In the middle of a dark forest. It was almost nighttime, and Geralt and Jaskier hadn't found shit.

The witcher had left his horse in the stable of the village's tavern because the forest was close, and he didn't want Roach to get hurt in case the draconide wanted her as food.

So they had to carry everything by themselves. Thankfully, Jaskier insisted on taking their sleeping blankets and food rations.

"You know this could be a great opportunity for a new song. An unknown monster to slay, a dark and eerie forest, the Butcher of Blaviken..."

The bard appeared to be as lively as ever, Geralt on the other hand couldn't share his excitement. In fact, every muscle in his body was tense, and he concentrated hard on his hearing. The forest was whispering, and he heard a twig snap in front of them.

"...be something along the lines of Slay-"

"Shhhh."

The bard's expression changed, and he stopped talking immediately. The witcher unsheathed his sword and listened intensely.

There it was again. A shuffle in the bushes, the crunch of fallen leaves. A presence coming towards them. His shoulders tightened, ready to attack when the bushes parted, and a man tumbled before their feet.

"Oh, greetings, strangers."

Jaskier just stared at the newcomer while Geralt pointed his sword at his neck. The man was wearing the strangest armor he had ever seen. It was black with blood-red features and had pointy shoulder pauldrons.

It gave the man an intimidating aura, and the large scars in his face didn't help. But the way he greeted them and how he awkwardly scratched his head in uncertainty, made him look less dangerous. Oh, and the fact that his sword was sheathed.

"Wha-what an odd turn of events," commented Jaskier, who tried to hide the fact that his legs almost gave out when the stranger had appeared before them.

Geralt studied the man with a strange feeling in his chest. He could sense it. Something was strange about him. Maybe it was his accent, or the foreign armor, or how he looked completely calm when a blade was pointed at his throat.

"Do you not know what lurks in this forest at night?"

His tone was harsh, the stranger slightly agitated him, although the witcher didn't know why. The other just watched him for a few seconds, his e/c eyes scanning him. A shiver ran down Geralt's spine.

"I'm hunting."

Jaskier seemed to feel the strange atmosphere between the two because he said with a light undertone:

"Well, we do too."

The witcher gave him an angry look, but the bard looked purposely in another direction to avoid his disapproving eyes. The stranger's expression turned somber when he heard these words, and Geralt furrowed his eyebrows, this fellow was definitely strange.

"I assume you're a witcher?"

His voice was missing any disgust or contempt which surprised him. Geralt didn't respond, but he didn't have to because Jaskier, the babbler, took the word, as always.

"Yes! He is Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken. And I am his humble friend, Jaskier, who tells the world his noble deeds. And who are you?"

The stranger seemed stunned by Jaskier's cheerful behavior, but then he returned the smile and bowed a little. It looked weird with his intimidating armor. Geralt squinted his eyes. Was this man a fool? His adam's apple almost touched his sword now.

"Call me Y/N. I do not have a last name, but I come from Keizaal, a faraway land. And I’ve been staying here in the forest for a few weeks in a hut half a mile from here."

Keizaal? The witcher had never heard of it before, and it disturbed him. All the studying he had to do when he was younger, but the homeland of this person was unknown to him.

Geralt examined the man closer. For someone who apparently stayed in the forest for a long time, he looked a little too clean. But maybe people from Keizaal had a different washing methods. His thoughts trailed off.

"A pleasure to meet you, Y/N," replied Jaskier and bowed in return, he gave Geralt a look and the witcher only hummed, although lowering his sword.

"What are you hunting if I may ask?" requested the h/c haired man while he absently watched how the moon appeared in the sky over the tree line. It was fully night now, and Jaskier unconsciously took a step closer to Geralt. The witcher had no problems seeing in the dark, and the stranger didn't appear to either.

"None of your concern."

Once again, he gave the man the cold shoulder, but Y/N ignored it. He only raised an eyebrow and grinned slightly. Surprisingly, it made Geralt's blood boil. That bastard's presence was bothersome.

"It looks like we need to part ways again, but it was a pleasant surprise to meet the witcher everyone is talking about."

He tensed at the mocking undertone.

What was that supposed to mea-

A scream disrupted the three of them, and both Geralt and Y/N turned around to see from where the sound came from.

"Jaskier," grunted the witcher, and the bard stepped behind him.

"The Nightwraith," murmured the foreigner, and his head whipped around to him.

"How do you know that?"

Geralt's voice was sharp and menacing, but Y/N didn't respond, he unsheathed his sword and swung it in his hand with practiced ease. His defensive stance screamed mighty warrior, and a shiver once again ran down Geralt's spine.

What is this strange feeling?

He could hear Jaskier's heart pounding fast with the help of his increased hearing. The foreigner's heartbeat, on the other hand, was calm and steady as ever.

"It might be best if you protect your companion."

These words were the last ones of the stranger before he disappeared through the bushes.

"What are you doing?!" shouted Geralt, but Y/N was already gone.

The man ran until he confirmed that the distance between him and the two others was big enough. He clenched his hand and concentrated on his Magicka. The spell for detecting any undead engulfed his eyes, and he saw the Nightwraith 30 meters in front of him. The ghost looked straight at him and once again screamed like bloody murder.

"What a shame that the ghosts here cannot be captured in soul gems..."

Y/N grimaced and decided to attack first. As long as the spell was activated, he was able see the monster even when she was in her ethereal form. It would decrease her chance of escaping and attacking the witcher and the bard. So he decided to charge.

"WULD NAH KEST"

A whipping sound erupted, and a familiar feeling washed over him as he dashed towards the Nightwraith with inhumane speed. The creature screeched in surprise and pain as soon as his enchanted ebony sword hit her. He understood the confusion of the ghost, his weapon was not from this world, and neither was he. That's why he was able to harm her even when she was in immaterial form.

He had fought against thousands of monsters, slew giants, trolls, werewolves, and even daedras. And obviously dragons. A mere ghost like the Nightwraith was nothing for him.

He slashed the monster's gown, and the cloth sizzled and turned to ash when the ebony touched it.

She tried to fight back, raised her clawed hand in an attempt to attack his head, which was the only part of Y/N's body that wasn't covered by his armor, but her claws didn't connect. His sword impaled her rotten body, and a howl full of agony erupted from her mouth.

A tremor in her body and the lack of physical resistance to his sword showed him that she was about to split into three copies of herself, but he wouldn't let her do that. The man shifted, ignoring how her body disappeared and then turned around to face her petty trick.

A fiery heat crept up his throat, and the ground shook slightly when he shouted:

"YOL TOOR SHUL"

The copies that appeared behind him got engulfed in green flames and turned to dust. With a twirl of his hand, Y/N rammed his sword inside the original Nightwraith's skull, who emerged from the left.

A wail escaped from the monster's lips when her body too exploded in green flames and vanished.

The man's legs buckled under him, and he had to use his sword as support not to fall.

Using two shouts so quickly after another had always weakened him. Even when his body began to adapt to his soul. Slowly he sat down on the moss-covered ground and took a deep breath. Exhaustion washed over him like a wave and he huffed.

Maybe they had heard the Nightwraith's dying scream because he could listen to fast footsteps approaching him. He only glanced into their direction, and when he saw that the witcher and the bard looked unscathed, he sighed in relief.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!"

Geralt of Rivia was fuming, he could smell it, and his voice clearly gave it away.

"I was trained to kill monsters; I am a witcher! Did you believe a mere human could kill a Nightwraith?! Be happy you didn't find it. It would have torn you to shreds!"

When he heard the insult, his eyes twitched, and he closed them. It wasn't a good idea to show them to the angry witcher at the moment.

After so many years with his dragon soul, which prolonged his life, his body began to go through chances. His pupils turning to slits when he was agitated was one example.

The fact that the bard had watched the white-haired man with a surprised expression showed him that he wouldn't normally react this strongly. Y/N shifted, and the clinking of his armor drowned out his scornful snort.

"Well, I am quite happy because I was indeed able to kill her."

He didn't see the witcher's expression, but the silence said enough. The corner of his lips twitched, and when his eyes stopped hurting slightly, he opened them again and stared into Geralt's yellow ones.

"But I'm exhausted now. I don't think I can stand up and return to my hut."

Jaskier exhaled through his nose and muttered: "with this armor, no wonder." The bard turned to face his companion, and they held a short silent conversation before he set down his lute next to Y/N and said with a lively voice:

"Well, since it's already night, let's camp here together."

"NO!" yelled both of the armed men at the same time. Geralt glared at him, and the other returned it with a scowl.

Jaskier eyed his partner suspiciously and then turned to the h/c haired man who's intense stare made him unconsciously lick his lips. Oh, he saw what this was.

"Come on. We cannot leave Y/N alone out here if he isn’t even able to stand up. We will light a fire and give you some of our food."

In the end, they both complied even though not without grunting and murmuring curses under their breath. Geralt lit the branches he gathered while Y/N peeled off his armor with skillful efficiency. His clothes underneath looked elegant, but they were dirty and had brown stains, which most likely were blood.

Jaskier prepared some bread and cheese that they had taken from the tavern back at the village and then sat on his sleeping blanket. The witcher watched as the foreigner and the bard started a conversation.

"How far away is Keizaal? I never heard of it."

The man took some time before he replied.

"I had to cross the ocean for a year to get to you."

"A year?! Mercy! Did you hear that, Geralt?"

He only grunted. Skellige was already so far away, how many miles had the man traveled to get here? That fact impressed him a little, but he didn't show it and just continued stacking the branches he collected.

"You look skilled with the sword..."

Y/N looked at his strange weapon, and Geralt couldn't help himself to listen carefully when the other began to talk about his life.

"From where I come from, men have no choice but to learn how to fight. There was a civil war when I first came to Keizaal, or Skyrim how the natives call it. I had to pick sides, and many people relied on me. Fights with monsters like the Nightwraith", he pointed to the heap of dust a few meters away from their camp, "happened daily. Your continent and Redania is similar to Keizaal in that matter. You can die anytime. If you're not careful."

The man had a longing in his voice when he spoke of his homeland, and his silhouette looked lonely. Then he laughed, but it sounded bitter.

"Oh, but there's one difference to your land. We had dragons."

Geralt stood up and turned to face the man.

"We have dragons too."

Y/N shook his head and dismissed the comment with his hand.

"I mean real dragons, not your pathetic lindworms. The first time I met one, fire rained down on earth, and a whole town was burned to ashes. Keizaal was in the claws of terror for years. His name was Alduin, the World Eater."

Jaskier's jaw dropped, and he grabbed his lute.

"Tell me more! I get inspiration from stories!"

The h/c haired man shifted to sit more comfortably and then started to tell the story of the most significant threat Keizaal had ever faced.

"...and that's how the Dragonborn slew Alduin and returned to Keizaal."

Jaskier's eyes were beaming, and his face showed a slightly scary expression, but Geralt knew that the bard just imagined all the things the warrior had told them.

"And then? What happened to him? I mean, you should know, you said you were his friend."

Y/N grimaced and let his rough fingers travel across his blade. He looked like he didn't want to talk about it, but in the end, the man sighed and just said:

"His dragon soul was too much for his human body, and he slowly turned into a dovah. His humanity was gone, and only a violent beast stayed. His other companions and I had to kill him."

Geralt noticed the pain in his eyes, and he felt bad for the man who had lost his best friend. Y/N lifted his head and realized that the witcher was looking at him. He turned away in slight embarrassment.

"We should sleep now. I will stay on watch first."

The Butcher of Blaviken only nodded, and Jaskier sighed.

"Then, I will take the next shift."

He didn't like taking the last shift, but Geralt didn't say anything and just laid down on his blanket, facing away from the two others.

Dovahkiin. It really sounded strange. The fact that there was a place out there so different from everything he had ever known... It intrigued Geralt. Y/N seemed to have been bound to fate, too, at least in a way.

He regretted yelling at the man, but at that time, he had really believed that he was just some fool who tried to boast about his skills. But Y/N had indeed killed the Nightwraith. Geralt had seen the remains.

He looked at the shadow of the foreigner that danced on the trunk of a tree close to him. Since he wasn't wearing his intimidating armor anymore, he just looked like a normal man, who had seen too many people die and fought against too many demons.

Just like me.

He felt a strange bond between himself and Y/N, and he decided to try and be a little friendlier tomorrow.

He closed his eyes, and the only thing he heard before he fell asleep was the steady breaths of Jaskier, the man humming and the fire's crackle.

Hands touched his shoulders. They were rough and big. Geralt shivered when they traveled across his back and all the scars he had received from his life as a witcher. "What are you doing?" he asked when he could feel a breath on his neck. "We are the same," replied a deep voice, and it sounded raspy. He wanted to turn around, but somehow he couldn't. "The same?" He stopped short when a warm body pressed against his back. The person snaked their arms around his torso and touched his chest. Geralt felt heat creeping up his body. Laying in the arms of this person, he felt safe but also slightly uneasy. His heart skipped a beat when two lips touched his neck. They were rough, but the kiss felt like a feather. The other person's breath tickled his skin, and he shivered, although it was pleasant. "Both of us are monsters." The hands on his chest suddenly began to claw into his skin and ripped deep wounds into his flesh. He began to scream.

"..ralt, Geralt! Wake up!"

He jolted awake and found himself staring into Jaskier's worried face.

He grunted "what's going on?" his voice deep from sleeping, and the bard bit his lip.

"Y/N went to take a piss, but he hasn't returned, and I heard a roar, a thunderous roar."

Geralt sat up and rubbed his eyes with one hand. His forehead was damp from sweating so much, and he cursed the person of his dream.

"He didn't run away?"

Jaskier shook his head and pointed to the armor next to the warrior's blanket.

"He woke me up for my shift and then said he would be right back. He wasn't even wearing his boots."

He didn't miss the worried undertone of his friend, and Geralt sighed deeply.

"I'll go look for him. Stay here. Don't let the fire die out and call out to me if something approaches the camp!"

The bard was definitely not happy with being left behind, but he knew that was better for all of them. He wasn't much of a help, not when it came to killing monsters. And the thing he had heard out there was definitely one.

Geralt took both of his swords and sheathed the one made out of steel. With the silver sword in his hand, he began to walk into the direction Jaskier had pointed to.

He saw the footsteps on the ground, leaving a trail of dark spots on the dewy moss. He followed them, and they led quite far away from their camp to a tree from where he could smell the stench of piss. He wrinkled his nose and searched for other tracks, but there weren't any.

"What in the worl-"

He was still able to turn his head around, but he couldn't avoid a black thing that slammed into him at full speed.

The witcher was sent flying, and when he crashed on the ground, it took his breath away and caused his vision to turn black for a few seconds. A roar shook the earth and the trees as if there were an earthquake and a storm at the same time. His ears rang and he lost focus for a second.

A shadow cast over him and Geralt's blood froze when he saw two rows of gigantic sharp teeth with a blurry vision. An orange glow appeared, and he could feel the heat radiating. He threw himself to the side; any second later, he would have been turned into roasted meat.

His instincts told him to run, and he did. Shameful, but a witcher knew when his opponent was too strong. He still couldn't see properly, his head was ringing painfully, and his ribs and chest felt like they would explode, but fear carried him forward.

Thundering footsteps could be heard behind him, and a roar erupted again from the beast's throat that pursued him. It shook him to the core, and he was sure that this was the monster the villagers had talked about. The beast was growling, and he paused mentally. Did this thing just say something?

Geralt took a step forward, but there was no ground underneath his foot, and he tumbled down a steep hill. Stones dug into his back, branches tore his undershirt, and his head hit a bolder. It felt like his energy was sucked away. Everything turned black.

"I found him!"

Y/N informed Jaskier and rushed down the small hill into the dry riverbed where an unconscious witcher laid. He knelt and checked Geralt's pulse. It was slow and slightly weak but there. He searched with his hands for any severe wounds, but besides the nasty gash on his temple, he was fine. Or that's all he could see for now.

He pushed the shirt of the Butcher of Blaviken up and touched his torso. He was correct. There were some bruises right over his ribs. Fortunately, nothing seemed broken. He pushed and felt around some more until he heard a cough, and he stiffened.

"What.. uhm, what are you doing?"

The bard's voice sounded suspiciously like he was grinning, and Y/N clenched his teeth in annoyance.

"He bruised his ribs. It will probably hurt for a while. We should take care of his temple wound."

Jaskier whistled, which caused him to furrow his eyes, but he didn't say anything; instead, he stood up and roughly grabbed the witcher and threw him with ease over his shoulder. Y/N turned and left the bard standing there with a gaping mouth. What a hassle.

It had been strange. When the man had woken up six hours ago, he had laid somewhere in the forest, his enchanted shirt torn at the back, and his hands and feet were dirty. His fingernails were stained black because of the earth under them, and he had a raspy throat. He had no memory of what had happened.

The sky was still dark, and next to Y/N laid a fallen tree that looked like it had been broken in the middle with force. Wood splinters surrounded him.

He had used one of his spells to find the way back to the camp, where he found Jaskier alone and scared shitless.

"You're alive!" was his greeting.

The bard told him how Geralt went looking for him, and breathlessly explained that he hadn't come back. He thought the warrior from Keizaal had died.

Y/N luckily didn't, and they decided to look for the witcher in the morning. Or he decided, Jaskier was firmly against it, but when he taunted the bard to search by himself, he gave in quietly. He knew that it was safer for both of them.

While he waited with sweaty hands, Y/N realized something and discreetly changed his torn shirt. He also wondered how his enchanted clothes could be damaged to such extremity.

When the sun rose, they had begun searching, which led up to now.

"Isn't he heavy?"

Jaskier's question made him chuckle.

"Try lifting my armor. If you're not strong in Keizaal, you'll die before you can hear the end of the Dragonborn song."

The bard suddenly grabbed his arm, and Y/N stopped walking. Jaskier's eyes were wide, and his face had a pleading look when he practically yelled:

"A song? Sing it to me, please!"

He blinked slowly. When was the last time someone asked him to do that? Was it 50, no 80 years ago? He didn't remember.

The ring on the necklace he wore around his neck seemed to burn his skin, and a pair of eyes flashed before him. It had been so many years, and his heart still hadn't let him go.

"I can't sing well... But if you really want me to..."

The smaller man nodded profusely.

"Yes! Absolutely. Please."

Y/N needed a moment to translate the text and remember the tune, then be began:

"Our hero, our hero

Claims a warrior's heart

I tell you, I tell you

The Dragonborn comes..."

Geralt woke up 2 hours later. His head was still pounding, and his ribs also hurt, which was strange. Did his healing abilities not work? And where was his undershirt? Why was his head bandaged? He looked at the crowns of the trees and pondered for a moment. What happened?

"You’re awake?"

He turned his head and stared into the e/c eyes of the foreign warrior. His hair fell into his face, and Geralt thought that the scars in Y/N's face must have really hurt. Somehow he was relieved that the man was alive.

"What happened to the monster?"

Y/N furrowed his brows. He didn't seem to know what he was talking about. Slowly he sat up, and a groan escaped his lips when his chest protested.

"You should be careful, nothing's broken, but bruises can hurt anyway."

Geralt scoffed. "I had to endure worse things."

Then he paused. That's not what he wanted to say. Didn't he decide to be friendlier?

The warrior didn't reply, but his shoulders stiffened, and he realized that he might really be a little too unfriendly. But he was a man anyway, so why did it even matter? Maybe he got a concussion after that fall.

"Did you find me?"

He changed the topic, and when Y/N nodded, he looked away and hummed.

"Thank you."

He only received a pat on the back, and Geralt's heart skipped a beat. The man's hand felt like the one's from his dream. Was he thinking about Y/-

What a stupid thought. The witcher shifted and turned to face the fire where Jaskier sat and roasted a rabbit.

"Oh my, I had thought it before, but seeing you now... you look like shit if I'm allowed to say."

You already did.

"Well, you try and get chased by a fire-spitting beast."

The bard paused and exchanged a look with Y/N. He wondered when they got so close. Could people consider this to be close? Exchanging knowing looks? Geralt had no idea. He didn't even know why that mattered. Maybe he had really hit his head a little too hard.

"So that's what happened? You ran away?"

Jaskier was as considerate as ever. He clenched his jaw and then relaxed. Might as well tell the truth.

"Yes... I think that thing is completely different from anything I've ever hunted before. I wasn't able to see it properly, but it spitted fire and walked on two legs. The latter would suggest a wyvern, but the fire doesn't, and another thing was strange... I think it spoke? It said Gaan Vah Haas or something like that."

Y/N suddenly coughed. Both their heads turned to the h/c haired man.

"Gaan Lah Haas? Are you sure?!"

Geralt nodded, and the eyes of the man suddenly beamed. He blinked. The way the man's eyes turned into crescents had something... captivating.

His brain sputtered. He could only nod some more, his mind too focused on the strange thoughts.

"Do you perhaps know something about this beast?"

Jaskier continued to turn the rabbit over the fire, but his eyes were fixed on Y/N, who was silent for a while before answering.

"Truth be told, I only came here because I was searching for someone from Keizaal. He disappeared, and I was put in charge of bringing him back."

This new information made him regain focus.

"Are you implying the thing that chased me and tormented the villagers is the one you're looking for? It may have had two legs, but it definitely wasn't human."

The man shook his head and pulled a satchel out of nowhere. He put his hand inside, and Jaskier's eyes almost popped out when his arm entirely disappeared as if the satchel was much bigger than it looked. He retracted his hand and conjured a red scale. It was gigantic.

"This..." began Y/N, and his eyes held a look of melancholy, "is one of his scales. He's a dragon. Like Alduin."

The bard was still in shock about the magic satchel, while Geralt studied the scale from afar. It had a vibrating red color and beautiful iridescence. When the beast had chased him, he didn't see exactly what color it had, but if it’s scales were such a vibrant color, he would have surely noticed, right?

"A dragon from Keizaal?"

He received a nod.

"And you have to bring it back?"

"His name is Odahviing, and he's harmless. Also, yes, I have to bring him back."

"The thing out there definitely tried to kill me, I don't know about you, but that doesn't look harmless to me."

Y/N's expression turned dark.

"He's mostly harmless. But that's why I have to bring him back."

Truthfully, he was spouting horseshit.

All the things he had said up to this point, about his life in Keizaal, his journey, all were lies. He didn't travel a year to get to this continent, or more like this world. He walked through a goddamn portal and arrived in the middle of some forest he had never seen before.

Had he not met a kind but old soul who took him in and helped him, Y/N would have probably gone crazy. Or maybe he already did. After all these years, he wasn't so sure if that wasn't already the case.

Furthermore, he wasn't the Dragonborn's companion, no, he was him.

Or had been. He wasn't anymore.

After all, Alduin's death was 130 years ago, and everyone who knew his real story was already dead. Only his friends from the Mer side had remained. And Paarthurnax and also Odahviing.

Using his friend's name felt like a betrayal. But he couldn't really explain the portal thing without telling Geralt and Jaskier that he was the Archmage of Winterhold and he already said that the Dragonborn held that title, so...

That was also why he didn’t heal the wound of the other man although he really wanted to. He somehow couldn’t bear the thought of the witcher hurting.

Y/N used his friend as an excuse to not hurt the dragon.

He decided to spin a story around it.

Well, it was only half a lie. The thing that attacked the Butcher of Blaviken appeared to be a dragon from his world. The shout that Geralt had heard and obviously also had to endure was proof enough.

It was the Thu'um with which a dragon could drain the vitality of their prey. If Y/N had to guess, that was why they had to bandage his head wound and why the witcher's healing abilities weren't working for the time being. Besides the fact that the shout was otherworldly magic.

But what he didn't know was how a dovah from Keizaal could come to this world. The portal he walked through had appeared in the middle of the woods, but he had slain all the dragons after Alduin's death, so it didn't make sense.

Well, he would probably find out the truth in the next few days. And when he found the dragon, he would just ask them. They would probably also be the key for him to return home.

Y/N slightly paused. Did he even want to go back to Keizaal?

Most of his friends had already left for Sovngarde, and the ones who remained had been troubled by the personality changes he had gone through after his lover’s death.

Would they be happy if he returned?

Maybe I should stay... There's so much to learn about this continent and its inhabitants.

His eyes traveled to the witcher.

He would think about this later. The most important thing right now was to capture the dovah so that they could interrogate them.

"My job is usually to kill monsters. Not capture them."

The white-haired man pulled him out of his thoughts.

Y/N searched his eyes, and his heart stung a little when he realized once more how similar Geralt's yellow eyes were to Farkas's when he had turned into a werewolf. It devastated him but also drew him to the witcher.

Geralt was grumpy. Just like his love had been often. Talos, his heart...

"If I plead, will you not kill him? Or do I have to toss you a coin?"

The remark made Jaskier beam, and he grinned a little.

The bard was the complete opposite of the witcher. Maybe that was the reason why they were friends. Although it did look like the brown-haired man would just hang onto the other if he wanted to or not.

"You know the song?"

"Of course I do, there's not one tavern where I haven't heard it."

"You do not have to plead nor give me money. As long as that... as long as he stops terrorizing the villagers, I'll try not to kill him."

Geralt's voice sounded once again harsh, but Y/N could feel his sincere feelings, and he smiled at him.

"Thank you."

A silence fell over them, and Y/N was pleasantly surprised when the witcher returned his smile with a small but existing one. His heart skipped a beat, but he ignored it.

The atmosphere around them was peaceful for the first time they had met, but Jaskier interrupted it:

"So am I correct when I say that you just teamed up to capture this Odahviing? Oh, heavens, I just received your inspiration for a new song!"

While he grabbed his lute and began to mutter things along the lines of "Two warriors so great" and "Once upon a time, two monster hunters met and became friends," Geralt and Y/N exchanged a look and rolled their eyes simultaneously.

Maybe they would indeed become friends.

________

Wuld Nah Kest = Whirlwind Sprint (A shout that grants the ability to dash rapidly forward.)

Yol Toor Shul = Fire Breath (A shout that allows one to breathe a forceful blast of fire.)

Part II

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