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crispy-chan · 3 years

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carriwitchet ch.5

pairing | han jisung x reader, 3racha x reader genre/warnings | fluff, angst, high school au, slow burn, friends to lovers, love square word count | 3k a/n | sorry for the long wait. I really have to be in the right headspace for thsi series but i'll try my best to update it more often from now on. also - this chapter is a lil bit sadder than usual. enjoy <3

my masterlist

CHAPTER 5

“Hello there N/n,” Changbin beamed as he ran towards you. (I trolled you all kekeke)

“Oh hi Bin,” you waved at him, as he tackled you into a bear hug. This wasn't unusual in your relationship, the both of you being quite affectionate people. However, the hug was getting a little too long, even for a person like you.

“Ugh, let go. I can’t breathe,” you groaned, patting his back.

After he finally let go of you, you got to have a proper look at him. He definitely dressed up for the occasion. He sported a crisp white button-down (that outlined his toned biceps) tucked into black ripped jeans and topped off the look with his signature high-end cap. Overall, he looked pretty damn handsome. Suddenly, you felt a bit underdressed in your cardigan.

Changbin turned around to find you staring. “Whatcha looking at?” he smirked cheekily.

You immediately blushed and swatted him away, turning around to pretend you were looking at the movie options. It was a stupid move since you guys have already agreed on the movie, but Changbin was thoughtful enough not to call you out on your bullshit.

He must have sensed your discomfort though, because he leaned in and whispered in your ear, “you look really pretty today.”

You felt shivers run down your spine as he said that and felt a soft blush stain your cheeks. You pushed that thought out of your mind, focusing on securing a spot in the line so you could purchase your tickets.

Changbin looked amused at your antics but gracefully decided to drop it. Both of you approached the counter and asked for the tickets. You agreed on two back-row middle seats but argued for a while on who should pay.

“Stop being ridiculous Y/n, I'm taking you to the movies for your birthday so you're not gonna pay.”

“Oh come on, I can just pay for my own ticket,” you tried to protest but Changbin was already swiping his card on the terminal.

“No. I'm paying and that's final.”

You wanted to further object but decided to drop it at the unamused expression of the part-timer behind the counter. You didn't want to be kicked out after all and the annoyed whispers of the people behind you led you to simply drop it.

You reached the minibar and started to roam over the menu.

“Do you want to buy popcorn?” Changbin inquired, smiling at your apparent excitement.

“Of course. What's going to the movies without having popcorn?” you laughed as you stuck your hand in your pocket, struggling to pull out your wallet.

Changbin frowned at that, not liking that you wouldn't just let him pay so he put his hand over yours, halting your movements.

“Come on,” he whined, “just let me pay, ok? I invited you as a birthday present so the least I can do is actually pay for it.”

You groaned at that but finally agreed, albeit begrudgingly. Whiny Changbin was actually pretty cute.

Wait for what?

“Fine but I'm paying next time, ok?”

Changbin just shot you a wink and a sing-songy “maybe,” as he went up to the counter and ordered one extra-large popcorn and two medium sodas.

He pulled out his wallet and took out his credit card before swiping it over the terminal. Damn, why did guys always look ten times more attractive when paying by card? That must have been surely the mystery of the century. After grabbing the order, he pulled you in the direction of where your movie was being played.

“So, are you scared?” he teased.

“Oh shut up Bin! I'm sure it can't be that bad, right?”

“Well good thing you've got me to protect you,” he chortled.

“In your dreams.”

“Which seats do we have again?” you asked while climbing up the stairs.

“Twenty-seven and eight,” he read from the tickets.

You finally got to your seats, placing the popcorn on the floor for a moment before shuffling around to sit properly, lifting the popcorn from the floor, and placing the sodas in the cup holders on the armrests.

“Don't forget to turn off your phone,” you reminded Changbin while pulling out your own to not disturb anyone.

“Your right, thanks.”

The lights in the room slowly dimmed as all the ads started to run. After about ten minutes, you were feeling a little tired as you absentmindedly leaned your head on Changbin's shoulder. The boy was startled at first but cracked a smile at your zoned-out expression. When the movie started, he gave you a light nudge to get you to focus on the screen.

You whipped your head up in surprise, your cheeks heating up at you slip up as you quickly sat back, eyes directly on the movie. Changbin internally chuckled at your flustered state, redirecting his gaze at the screen too.

The movie was actually quite interesting, save for the occasional jumpscares that scared the shorts out of you. During one of the scenes, you could tell that the main character was walking straight into a trap and you really didn't want to witness it.

“Oh god, why is he going there?” you whined, “isn't it obvious that she's there and that she'll kill him.”

You couldn't stand it anymore, almost launching yourself onto Changbin's lap (while doing some gymnastics to get around the armrest in between you) as you pressed your head into his chest to drown out the movie completely.

“Why did I even agree to this in the first place?” you moaned, “I should have said no.”

Changbin had a hard time suppressing his chuckles at your adorableness. He'd never tell you this but he was actually glad whenever you snuggled up to him. At this rate, he was afraid though that the movie might be too much for you so he slightly nudged your shoulder.

“What?” you whispered, looking up at him with those big eyes. “Just that, you know - if it's too much, we can leave and go get ice cream or something,” he muttered, his palm going to brush some stray locks of your hair behind your ear.

You felt your heart skip a few beats at the gesture, choosing to snuggle back into his arm to avoid his intense gaze.

“I'm fine Bin, sorry for… sorry for acting like this. I should be fine now,” you smiled, moving away from him and sitting back in your seat. Embarrassment started to creep on you with how you just behaved. You hoped that Changbin didn't think you were too weird after this.

The rest of the movie went rather smoothly, none of the jump scares being nearly as frightening as the previous one. Changbin still did reach out to hold your hand whenever he sensed something even mildly alarming.

When the final credits rolled, the both of you started to pick up your stuff, heading out of the dim room while chatting about the movie.

“Look, I'm sorry for all that,” you started nervously, “but please don't tell anyone. I'd never live it down if they catch wind of it.”

He smirked at the display of you begging him like that but after seeing how worried you were, he decided to drop it.

“Don't worry N/n, I won't tell anybody. Besides, why would I share something as cute with the rest? This is now a thing between you and me only,” he smirked.

“Okok, that's enough,” you said firmly, not wanting to talk about it anymore, “let's go get something to eat.”

------

You entered the cozy cafe and took a seat near the window in a quiet corner. You scanned the menu, getting a little too immersed in choosing what you want as you completely zoned out when the waiter came to take your order.

“N/n,” Changbin flicked your forehead lightly to bring you back to earth. “What do you want to order?” he asked, pointing to the waiting part-timer who was slowly losing his patience.

“Oh. sorry, I'll have the latte and a matcha pudding, please,” you murmured, hoping the boy heard you. Luckily, he did as he scribbled down your order and briskly walked away.

You sighed, hating yourself for spacing out like that and making a fool of yourself. You were zoning out all day and you didn't know why. Maybe it was because of the movie - you were quite scared after all, no point denying that but you had this underlining feeling.

After finishing your drinks, Changbin walked you to the bus stop (insisting it was late already, and you shouldn't walk alone) and thanked you for coming with him.

“Seriously. Bin, stop,” you chuckled, “why are you thanking me? I should be thanking you. It was lovely, I didn't realize I needed this but I actually really did. I had lots of fun, and I hope you too.”

“Of course I had fun N/n. As long as I'm with you, I’ll always have fun,” he patted your head with a wink, shooting you the finger guns as he walked away.

You were still laughing about it as you got on the bus, his corniness proving to be really funny as always. You realized you actually missed some of his stupid jokes, the momentary separation between you two suddenly seeming way pettier.

You softly hummed the melody of For You. Again. But you just couldn't help it, the song had such a calming effect on you. It was your go-to song when you were stressed, anxious, or overwhelmed with school. And hey, who knows? Maybe there really are blessings waiting for you.

Getting off the bus, you walked the short walk home and rummaged for your keys. After stepping in, you made your way to the bathroom. You jumped in the shower, feeling ready to wash off all the sweat and lather yourself in that coconut body lotion.

------

On Monday morning, you walked into the school building, exhausted from just going up the few steps. You didn't get much sleep last night, opting for preparing for that chemistry exam even though it was on Thursday.

You see, chemistry was never exactly your forte. That's why you had mad respect for everybody that understood it, which was unironically about half of your friend group. Felix and Jisung were absolute chem and bio whizzes, making you wonder if they ate workbooks for breakfast. On top of that, Iris was also quite good which left only you, Mei, and sometimes Changbin to stick together

It was quite painful watching everyone understand the lecture and later not study at all, only for them to get a better grade than you, who had studied for three hours every day a week before the exam. You learned to suppress those feelings, not wanting to come off as rude, it wasn't their fault after all that you just couldn't beat those damn formulas into your head.

Chemistry today was especially hard, the teacher dividing you into pairs and handing you worksheets to complete with your partner.

You were paired up with Changbin, who usually fared better than you but today, he was none the wiser.

“God damn, I have no clue how to do this,” he cursed under his breath, scanning the handout with visible distaste.

You laughed at his antics, going through your backpack to find your notebook. “Neither do I but I think we should manage with the help of my notes.”

“Yeah, your notes are a literal lifesaver, thanks.”

You plopped the notebook on the desk, opening it and turning the pages to find the needed material.

With the help of your trusty notes, the two of you managed to complete the paper, even finishing before the bell rung and giving you some time to chat.

You left the classroom with a smile, feeling like you probably won't fail the next exam.

If you just put enough time into preparation, you could maybe even scrape an A. Today was Monday - that meant that you still had three days left to prepare. You studied for three hours yesterday, familiarizing yourself with the theoretical part of the topic. Now all that was left was to not forget it and go through the formulas to make sure you could build the proper equations.

Let's say you could cram in about two and a half hours of studying every day until Thursday. With that much dedication, you could likely do pretty well. While you were counting in your head and mentally planning out study sessions, Jisung ran up to you from behind and scared the shorts out of you.

“Wassup, N/n. Wanna hang out?” he put his arm around your shoulder and playfully nudged your side.

“No Jisung,” you threw his arm off, speeding in the direction of your locker, “sorry but not this week.”

When you saw his pouty face, you patted his hair and added, “the chemistry exam. I need to study as much as I can.”

“How come you didn't ask for help? I can tutor you if you want, I know how you despise chemistry.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I'll have to decline, Sung. I want to manage on my own.”

“I see,” he murmured, “that sounds a lot like you, actually,” he crinkled his nose and laughed. “See you tomorrow then.”

“Bye,” you waved at his retreating figure. Maybe you should have taken up on his offer. He was really good at chemistry, after all. You blinked, thinking about what would happen if you agreed, wouldn't do you any good. Plus, Jisung was a busy guy, he had a lot of things on his mind and you didn't want to bother him so it was better you declined.

You trudged your way home, entering your room and slamming the door shut. It was going to be a long day. Opening your notebook with a sigh, you started to go over the stuff for the n-th time. Oh, how you wished you were good at science. The stuff just didn't come easily to you and you had no idea why. You tried everything! All the methods there were but you could just never figure it out until you studied for hours. Maybe that's what you needed to do? Just suck it up and study some more.

You were about to just do that but the sudden clang made you put down your notes for a second. And then you heard it. The beginnings of a loud argument that brewed between your parents almost every day. They always fought over the pettiest things like who put the dishes in the wrong place in the dishwasher? Who left their cup on the table? Where was the remote?

Whenever you heard someone raise their voice, you could feel your thoughts spiral down the deep end. It was like this trigger that sent your thoughts to this dark place. Blocking out the noise, you picked up your notebook and tried to concentrate on studying as to distract yourself. That's something you really needed at the moment.

At ten pm, you decided you had enough. Standing up to stretch your sore limbs, you threw on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, not even bothering to brush your teeth as you made a dive for your bed.

It was a dreamless night.

------

The next morning, you practically moved on autopilot. Pulling on your clothes and shoving breakfast down your throat, you left the house without even bidding your parents goodbye. You ran to the bus stop and pulled out your headphones to listen to some music.

“Yeah I know, we know If it's you, you can do it, ayy Don't give up, oh no You persevered up until now What's the worry? Believe in yourself”

That helped a lot. It calmed your racing heart and gave you hope. You struggled with some pretty harsh thoughts and just bottled it up because you didn't feel like you had anyone to talk to. Listening to their songs provided at least a little comfort and let you somehow channel this stuff out of your system.

------

The day at school was pretty uneventful, you were only assigned an English essay and a few math equations. Nothing you couldn't handle.

It must have shown that you didn't sleep too well, many of your friends asking if you were okay at the sight of the black circles under your eyes. You bit back a sob and tried to patiently assure them with a fake smile that everything was indeed okay. That you just binged a Netflix show till four am and were tired.

They all bought it.

Except for Jisung.

He watched you like a hawk for the entire day, being extra kind and doing little things for you here and there to better your mood. You appreciated his efforts, you really did but no amount of candies and encouraging little notes would make you forget the upcoming exam as well as the stress piling up on your shoulders.

After class, you skipped lunch and went straight to your locker so you could leave as soon as possible without anyone noticing you.

“Oh hey, Y/n. Wanna grab lunch together?” Changbin smiled at you before bending down to tie his shoelaces.

Shoot. You completely forgot that Changbin didn't have lunch in the canteen on Tuesdays. You racked your brain for possible excuses, before eventually settling on the lamest one.

“Sorry, I have to study for chem. I'll probably just get something to go near my place.”

With an apologetic expression, you backed out of the hall, and almost ran to the exit with a quiet “bye” thrown in the confused boy's direction.

You ran down the cobblestone path, ignoring the grumbling of your stomach. When you told Changbin you'd get something near your place, you were lying. You figured there wasn't time to spare and you planned to invest every second possible into preparing for the exam. You knew it was wrong, to skip meals and lock yourself in your room for hours but you didn't know any better. Every time, you told yourself it was the last time you'd pull a stunt like that but as they say...old habits die hard.

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spn-safeandsound · 4 years

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12. Long Distance

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 1x17; Hell House

Word Count: 7,182

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, sisterly antics

Author’s Note: Enjoy! Let me know what you think! Make sure to reblog and like!

Masterlink in Pinned Post!

Julia anxiously watched the printer in Beth and Taylor's study, her lips quirking into a smile as the professional cursive was inked onto the expensive paper that Beth insist she get for her diploma. She had finally graduated from Stanford and, although she didn't get to attend graduation, she was very proud of herself. Her double major in Religion and Linguistics had been received simply because she was too meticulous and stubborn to let her education go waste.

But now that education was over and she couldn't lie and say she wasn't happy about it. Sixteen years in school was a long time—even though she went two years less than other people she graduated with—and she was glad that part of her life was over. She just wished that her mom and Levi were still here to witness this. Still, she knew they were watching up in Heaven and that was the best she was going to get.

Once the printer spit out her diploma, she carefully set it on Beth's desk so the ink could dry without any smudges. She was just taking a seat in the desk chair where her open laptop was sitting so she could continue working on the case she found for Sam and Dean down in Texas when her cellphone rang.

She wasn't surprised that it was Dean; he had been calling her every couple of hours to check up on her. He wasn't happy that she didn't want to hit the road just yet after Levi's death but he understood and was supportive anyway. He just made sure she knew that he and Sam would check up on her and the rest of the Petersen family. That was sweet and everything and Julia appreciated how supportive the Winchester brothers were being but sometimes there was such a thing as too many calls. She couldn't believe that Dean accused her of talking too much.

Beth and Abby thought it was the cutest thing ever when she'd have to leave the room to talk to Sam and Dean—though it was mostly Dean as she and Sam communicated through a text thread—and not return for a half-hour. Beth and Abby weren't the ones who had to assure a very worried Dean every couple of minutes that they were safe and feeling a little bit better. Usually Julia was the mother-hen but, apparently, in her absence, Dean took up the title.

Julia sighed and flipped her phone open. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Dean."

"Yeah, I know," Julia rolled her eyes, glad that he couldn't see the obvious look on her face. "What's up?"

"Well, Sam just woke up with a spoon in his mouth," Dean chuckled, sounding satisfied with himself. "and I took a picture to send to you."

"Yeah, it's real funny, Dean," Sam grumbled.

Julia shook her head in amusement; Sam and Dean's prank wars were always a hit with Dean, even if Sam didn't enjoy them as much as his older brother.

"Where are you guys?"

"A few hours outside of Richardson," Dean answered her. "Give me the low down on this case you found."

"Okay," Julia pressed the space button on her laptop, waking it up, and clicked on the folder of information she collected. "About two months ago, a group of kids went poking around a local haunted house."

"Haunted by what?" Sam wondered.

"A misogynistic spirit, I guess. Like we need any more of those in the world," she hummed in disapproval; Sam chuckled in agreement. "Anyway, the legend goes that it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters."

"Okay, so what happened with this group of kids?" Dean said, getting her back on track.

"They saw a dead girl hanging in the cellar."

"Anybody ID the corpse?"

"The body was gone by the time the cops got there," Julia clicked on the police report in the file. "The police think that the kids were playing a joke on them."

"Maybe the cops were right," Sam suggested.

"They could be but I've read some of the first-hand accounts from the kids involved," Julia sighed. "They seemed pretty sincere about the whole thing."

Dean sounded skeptical when he spoke next. "And where did you read these accounts, Junior?"

Julia took a beat, glad that he couldn't see the flush rising in her face. "I might have surfed through some local paranormal websites."

"Mmhm," she could hear Dean's disapproval even though he hummed. "and what's it called?"

Julia sighed as she read the website from the file, "Hell hounds lair dot-com," she heard Sam laugh. "Hey, it could be legit!"

"Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit them in the ass, Julia," Dean sighed.

"Hey, you wanted a case, I delivered," Julia defended herself. "If it's nothing, that's fine, but it doesn't hurt to check it out."

"Especially since we let Dad and Luke take off," Sam backed up Julia.

Julia frowned, still bitter about that. She wasn't mad at Dean and Sam by any means. No, she was angry with her dad. He didn't come when Julia was dying or when Levi actually died but he was fine following John Winchester to Chicago just to see the failed trap the girl who killed Levi set up for them.

It wasn't like his daughters were only a half-hour away, mourning the loss of their older brother or anything. It wasn't like his only son was killed.

"Fine," Dean gave in when he heard Julia's silence. He had been the one to tell her that they saw Luke with their dad and it was heartbreaking to see the expression on her face. He hoped he'd never let her down like Luke did. "We'll check it out. How have you been doing, shortcake?"

"I'm fine," Julia twisted her lips. "I got my diploma today."

"Wait, are you serious?" Sam exclaimed. "That's great, J! Congratulations!"

"I'm proud of you, Julia," Dean added sincerely.

"Thanks, guys," Julia's chest swelled with love. She was so glad that Sam and Dean Winchester were in her life.

"Send me a picture."

"I will," she agreed to Sam's request. "Well, I'll let you go—"

"Wait, wait," Dean stopped her from hanging up. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Dean..."

"I mean, you can talk to us."

Julia quirked an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't do chick-flick moments?"

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, well..." he changed the subject. "How many times have you watched Dirty Dancing since we left?"

Julia hesitated; Dirty Dancing was her go-to movie to watch whenever she was sad. It was her mother's favorite movie and Julia grew up watching it a lot. She absolutely adored Patrick Swayze, the dancing, the music, and the love story that made up the film. It made her happier.

"Jules?"

"I've watched it every night, okay?" she confessed. "Leave me alone, I'm delicate."

"All right, all right," Dean gave in; Julia could tell that he was worried about her and that was sweet but watching that movie was her coping mechanism and it hadn't let her down so far. "We'll talk later, shortcake. Stay safe."

"I will," she promised. "You guys be safe, too. Love you."

"Love ya, too, J," Sam called. "Bye."

"Bye."

Julia closed her phone and set it down on the desk beside her laptop. She pulled up her internet browser and started doing more research for the case, hoping that any information she pulled would help the brothers out.

Dean and Sam walked into the record shop, looking around for the guy that the witnesses said sent them to the house where they saw the dead girl. As they passed by the first table full of records, a worker came out from the back with his hands full of more merchandise to put away.

"Gentlemen, can I help you with anything?" he asked them.

"Yeah, are you Craig Thurston?" Sam asked him politely.

"I am," the worker confirmed as he put a record in place.

"Well, we're reporters with the Dallas Morning News," Dean told him. "I'm Dean and this is Sam."

"No way," Craig's face lit up. "I'm a writer, too. I write for my school's lit magazine."

"Ah, good for you, Morrison," Dean chuckled as he began to look through the crate of records in front of him. He completely missed the confused look that Craig gave him but Sam noticed and cleared his throat.

"Um, we're doing an article on local hauntings and rumor has it you might know of one," Sam smiled at Craig, wishing that Julia was here to get the information out of him—she was much better with the guys than he was.

"You mean the Hell House?" Craig asked.

Dean nodded, looking up from the records. "That's the one."

"I didn't think there was anything to the story," Craig said avoidantly.

"Why don't you tell us the story."

"Well, supposedly, back in the thirties, this farmer named Mordechai Murdoch used to live in this house with his six daughters," Craig told them after a moment of hesitation. "It was during the Depression, his crops were failing, and he didn't have enough money to feed his own children. So, I guess that's when he went off the deep end."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "How?"

"Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick rather than starve to death, so he attacked them," Craig stated. "They screamed, begged for him to stop but he just strung them up, one after the other. And, when he was all finished, he just turned around and hung himself. Now, they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside."

Dean pressed his lips together; the story Craig was telling sounded just like that. A story. His words were something out of a dramatic novel, not a true story. And what parent would just kill their kids instead of trying to do whatever it took to make sure they lived?

"Where'd you hear all of this?" he asked Craig.

"My cousin, Dana, told me. I don't know where she heard it from. You gotta realize, I didn't believe this for a second."

"But now you do," Sam assumed.

"I don't know what the hell to think, man," Craig shrugged. "You guys, I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, okay? That girl was real. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house ever again."

Dean shared a look with Sam and then nodded at Craig. "Thanks."

A half-hour later, Sam and Dean were walking through mud to get to the so-called Hell House. It was creepy looking, they had to admit, but not anything less creepy than the things they saw everyday during their job. It was just a little run-down house, not much else.

"I can't say I blame the kid," Sam sighed, his eyes searching the grounds around the house.

"Yeah," Dean agreed as they got closer to the house. "so much for curb appeal."

Sam took a look around the perimeter of the house while Dean pulled out the EMF meter. It whirled like it usually did when there was anything unusual around but the way it started up as soon as he pressed it on, made him think that something was off.

He tapped the device, frustrated, as Sam came back over to him.

"You got something?"

"Yeah, the EMF's no good," Dean looked around, the powerlines above the house catching his eye.

"Why?"

Dean nodded at the power lines. "I think that thing's still got a little juice in it. It's screwing with all the readings."

Sam sighed heavily. "Yeah, that'd do it."

"Come on, let's go."

They entered the house, finding that it was unlocked in its abandoned state. They started in the front room and then moved onto the living room where a fireplace lined with various candles was. The walls were covered in spray paint, a bunch of different symbols that didn't really even go together scattered randomly around the room.

Dean whistled sarcastically. "Looks like old man Murdoch was a bit of a tagger in his time."

"And after his time, too," Sam muttered, eyeing a symbol of an encircled cross. "That reverse cross has been used by Satanists for centuries but this sigil of Sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the sixties."

Dean gave Sam a long took, wrinkling his nose. "How do you know that?"

"I listen to Julia when she talks about this kind of stuff," Sam said pointedly, knowing that Dean checked out whenever something that required a little brain power was brought up.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shuddup," he walked across the room, looking at more of the symbols on the walls. He stopped in front of one that looked like an upside-down question mark with two little lines on either side. It looked kind of familiar. "Hey, what about this one? Have you seen this one before?"

Sam studied the symbol and took a picture of it with his phone. "No."

"I have...Somewhere," he couldn't place it, though.

Sam cautiously reached toward the symbol, rubbing it with his fingertips. "It's paint," he studied the slight stain that it left. "Seems pretty fresh, too."

Dean sighed and turned away from the symbol. "I don't know, Sam. You know I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind but the cops may be right about this one."

"Yeah, maybe—"

A loud noise cut off Sam's agreement. The brothers instantly went on alert and followed the noise to a door that led to another room. They stood on either side of it; when Sam nodded, Dean whipped open the door and stepped into the room.

He was immediately attacked by bright beams of lights right in his eyes and two groans of horror. When the flashlights flitted away, he could see that there were two guys in front of them, around his age with camera gear.

The brunette groaned. "Oh, cut. It's just a couple of humans," he told his companion, who shut the camera off. "What are you guys doing here?"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Dean countered.

"Uh, we belong here," the ginger guy with the camera drawled. "We're professionals."

"Professional what?"

"Paranormal investigators," the ginger reached into his pocket and pulled out a card to give to them. "Here you go, take a look at that, boys."

Dean took the card and read it. He groaned in realization, "Oh, you gotta be kidding me."

"Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler? Hellhoundslair.com," Sam read over his shoulder. "You guys run that website?"

Ed, who was the ginger with the camera, nodded. "Yeah."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, we're huge fans," Dean said sarcastically as he passed Ed and Harry to check out more of the kitchen.

"And we know who you guys are, too," Ed said.

Dean and Sam turned to face him sharply. "Oh, yeah?"

"Amateurs," as soon as the words were out of Ed's mouth, Dean pursed his lips and turned away once again. "looking for ghosts and cheap thrills."

"Yep," the other guy, Harry, agreed. "So, if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here."

"Yeah?" Dean noticed a gadget that they must have brought with them on the counter; he picked it up to inspect it. "What do you have so far?"

"Harry, why don't you tell them about EMF?" Ed prompted his friend.

Harry hesitated. "Well..."

"EMF?" Sam played dumb and Dean saw that he was trying not to smile.

"Electromagnetic field," Harry told him as though he was an expert. "Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector," he pulled a EMF reader out of his canvas vest. "Like this bad boy right here."

He turned on the EMF, causing it to whirl angrily. "Woah, woah," he exchanged an excited look with Ed while Dean smirked at Sam. "It's two-point-eight MG."

"Two-point-eight," Ed repeated excitedly. "It's hot in here."

Dean whistled mockingly while Sam tried not to laugh. "Wow."

"Huh," Dean clicked his tongue. "So, have you guys ever really seen a ghost before?"

"Once," Ed looked back to where Dean was standing by the counters. "We were, uh, we were investigation this old house and we saw a vase fall right off the table."

"By itself," Harry added needlessly.

"Well, we didn't actually see it, we heard it," Ed corrected himself but grew serious again. "And something like that...it, uh, it changes you."

"Yeah, I think I get the picture," Dean crossed his arms over his chest and walked over to Sam. "We should go, let them get back to work."

"Yeah, you should."

Dean nodded at his brother and then the door. "Sam."

Sam followed him out of the kitchen and they left the house, not wanting to deal with the kids who wanted to enter the big leagues.

Julia kneaded the sugar cookie dough on the counter in front of her, humming along to whatever Disney song that the radio that was playing throughout the kitchen. Lizzie was on her side of the island, cutting out cookies with a heart-shaped cookie cutter while Beth and Abby were on the other side, decorating some of the finished cookies with colorful icing.

Once that song was finished, a familiar one started, making her smile.

"Oh, I love this song!" Abby exclaimed while concentrating on the flower cookie she was creating. "Let's get down to business to defeat the Huns!"

"Did they send me daughters when I asked for sons?" Beth joined in.

Julia sang next. "You're the saddest bunch I ever met but you can bet before we're through..."

"Mister, I'll make a man out of you!" Lizzie finished loudly, making Julia, Beth, and Abby laugh.

They continued singing along to the best song that Mulan produced while making cookies. When Lizzie was finished with the rest of the heart batch, Julia slid the tray into the oven. Once she set the timer, she gave Lizzie the last batch of dough, allowing her to cut out some dinosaurs.

"I'm done with the dinosaurs, Momma!" Lizzie announced once the dough was gone.

"Good job, cutie," Beth smiled. "Why don't you go wash your hands?"

"Okay!" Lizzie climbed off the stool she was standing on and ran out of the kitchen to the nearest bathroom.

"Use soap!" Beth called after her; once she was sure her daughter couldn't overhear her, she turned to Julia. "So..."

Julia pursed her lips, knowing what was coming. Since Dean and Sam left four days before, Beth had been waiting to talk to her about something. She had that look in her eyes where she wanted girl talk and it also occurred every time Dean called her. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

Julia sighed and started wiping the excess flour from the counter. "So what?"

Beth smiled coyly and Abby shook her head impatiently. "She wants to know about you and Dean."

"What about me and Dean?"

There was no her and Dean, no matter how much Julia wanted that. She had moments recently when she and Dean spoke—especially when Sam wasn't joining the conversations—where she thought Dean might have the same romantic feelings that she had but she wasn't sure. Dean cared about his family and he considered her and the rest of the Petersen family his family. It wasn't like he was pining after her the same way she was pining after him.

"Oh, stop deflecting, Julia Ruth," Beth scolded her. "There's something going on with you and Dean and I—" Abby cleared her throat and Beth corrected herself, "—we want to know."

Julia scoffed and threw her washcloth into the sink. "There is nothing going on. Trust me."

Beth and Abby exchanged skeptical looks. "But you want there to be, don't you?" Beth guessed; she gasped loudly when she saw Julia scratch her cheek. "Oh, my God, you do!"

"No, I don't!"

"You scratched your cheek, you liar," Abby pointed out with a laugh. Julia scowled at her. "We're sisters, Jules. Sisters talk about this stuff."

"I've never talked to you about my boyfriends before," Julia protested.

"That's because by the time you had an actual boyfriend you were at Stanford," Beth reminded her. "and you did use to talk to me about boys. Remember that guy you liked when you were in high school?"

"Ugh, don't remind me," Julia groaned; Abby and Beth gave her expectant looks. "Fine, I like Dean. Happy?"

"Extremely," Abby smirked. "He sucked you back in, huh? How old were you when your crush on him finally went away?"

Julia blushed. "Fourteen."

Abby snorted in amusement. "Yeah, now I remember."

Julia sent her a glare while Beth slapped her arm. "Abby, stop," she scolded her before turning back to Julia. "Ignore her, Jules. It were cute."

"A fourteen-year-old crushing on a guy who was twenty? Yeah right," Julia scoffed. "And that's the problem, isn't it? He's almost seven years older than me. He doesn't see me as anything but a little sister."

Abby calmed her laughter. "Jules, Dean doesn't look at you like a sister," she told her baby sister. "He looks at me and Beth as sisters. He looks at you like you're sex on legs."

It was Beth's turn to giggle as Julia's cheeks darkened further and she ducked her head.

"And Sam says that he always checks you out," Abby added.

Julia looked up sharply. "He did?" Abby nodded. "Since when do you talk to Sam?"

"Since he grew up to be a hottie with a body."

Julia rolled her eyes so heavily that it hurt. "No one actually says that, Ab."

"Since when were we talking about me?" Abby protested as Beth laughed again. "my point it that Dean wants to fuck you."

"Okay, the five-year-old is going to be back any second so let's not use that language," Beth smothered her laughter as they heard the faucet cut off in the bathroom. "But, seriously, Julia, he likes you."

"What we're going from sex to feelings now?" Julia asked incredulously. "Sex, I get. I'm hot and Dean loves sex but feelings? Are we talking about the same Dean Winchesters, here?"

"I wanna talk about Uncle Dean!" Lizzie chirped as she ran back into the kitchen. She climbed back onto her stool and looked eagerly at her mom and aunts. "Are you talking about the crush he has on Auntie Jules?"

Julia gaped at her while Abby pointed enthusiastically. "See? Lizzie sees it too."

"That's because Beth's poisoning her mind."

"No," Lizzie protested innocently. "I heard Uncle Sammy and Auntie Abby talking about it."

"Well, I'm so glad that my love life is so interesting to you guys," Julia huffed with warm cheeks. She glanced at the oven, wishing the timer for the cookies would go off so they could change the subject.

"Look," Beth sighed. "Dean calls you multiple times a day, every day just to see how you're doing. Do you think he does that to anyone else who isn't Sam?"

"He's checking up on me."

"Don't give us that sh—crap," Abby shook her head, correcting herself before she could cuss in front of Lizzie. "You're scared that you'll put yourself out there and get rejected."

"Because it's Dean!" Julia exclaimed, frustrated. "Dean, who doesn't do relationships. So what if I want to protect myself? That's good."

"It's good to protect yourself," Beth agreed and grabbed Julia's clenched fists. "but you and Dean...you should see each other. You look at him when he's not looking, he looks at you when you're not looking. You move even an inch and he's shifting toward you. The way I see it, is this isn't a passing fancy."

"You're together every day, you fight along side each other, you protect one another," Abby continued. "You trust each other and that's rare in our profession, Jules. Even I can see that you guys have something special."

Julia wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. It was nice hearing her sisters say these things but she couldn't tell Dean about her less than platonic feelings for him. He was too important to her and she didn't want to lose him, even if it meant she had to get over her feelings. Dean didn't do relationships and she had tried the one-night stand thing and it didn't go well for her. Maybe it wasn't meant to be.

As if the universe was disagreeing with her, her phone rang from the counter by the fridge. Lizzie eagerly climbed off her stool again and raced toward the phone, flipping it open.

"Hi, this is Lizzie!" she chirped before gasping excitedly. "Uncle Dean, we were just talking about you!"

"Lizzie!" Julia lunged toward her niece, ignoring her flour-covered hands to grab the phone from her. She pressed it against her ear. "Uh, hey, Dean."

"Hi there, shortcake," Dean's voice was coy. "Heard that you girls were talking about me. Are there gonna be pillow fights next because, if you want, you could—"

"Okay," Julia hurried interrupted him, waving frantically at her sisters as they laughed at the mortified expression on her face. "We were, um, we're making cookies actually, so...yeah."

"And I just so happen to come up in the conversation?" she could practically hear the smirk on his lips.

"Uh, yeah, because," she walked out of the kitchen and into the bathroom next door, shutting the door firmly behind her. "I was telling Lizzie that you liked pie instead of cookies."

Dean perked up. "You guys are making pie?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Julia agreed even though they hadn't really planned on it. "So, what's going on down there?"

"Eh, we got some more information," Dean sighed, becoming serious again. "Some kid told us that a guy named Mordechai Murdoch killed his six daughters during the Depression but what Sam found didn't quite match up."

Julia frowned. "Well, what did he find?"

"That the guy's name was actually Martin and he had two sons instead of six daughters," Dean informed her. "There's nothing to say he ever killed anyone."

"Huh," Julia wrinkled her nose. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, I talked to the police and there's no missing persons, either," Dean paused for a second. "Jules, we dug like you wanted but we don't think there's anything here."

"Well, that's good, then," Julia said. "No spirit, no dead people, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well, on your way back, you can stop in Houston," she suggested. "I, um, I got that NASA tour for Levi, remember?"

"Jules, we can't—"

"Yeah, you can," Julia insisted. "I don't want it to go to waste and you love that kind of stuff, Dean. You and Sam deserve some fun once in a while, you know?"

Dean was quiet for a few seconds. "All right. We'll check it out."

"Good," she smiled. "I'll email Sam the information about the tour and hotel."

"Thanks, shortcake," Dean's voice cheered up a little. "I'll call you later when we head out, okay?"

"Okay, talk later. Bye, Dean."

"Bye."

Julia snapped the phone shut and sighed, pressing it to her chest. She was glad that she got to the phone before Lizzie could spill on what they were really talking about. Dean was already insufferable when he knew they were talking about him but if he knew that they were talking about feelings and sex and all that, his ego wouldn't be able to fit in the Hancock building.

She slipped her flour-covered phone into her apron pocket and quickly washed her hands before heading back to the kitchen.

Before Sam and Dean could even leave town, they got a call from the detective Dean spoke with the day before. The sun was still setting when he called, telling them to get to the Hell House as soon as possible. When they arrived on scene, a body bag was being carted to the coroner's van. The detective informed them that a girl had hung herself in the house, which sounded just like the Mordechai story went.

They went back to the Hell House around midnight and dodged the cops when those nerds, Ed and Harry showed up. Mordechai ended up attacking with an ax and was immune to rock salt, which led them to more research.

Dean sat on his bed, drawing that familiar symbol on the notepad that the motel provided. "What the hell is this symbol? It's bugging the hell out of me," he looked up at Sam, who was researching at the table. "This whole fucking job is bugging me. I thought the legend said Mordechai only goes after chicks."

"It does," Sam said distractedly, focusing on his laptop.

"All right, well, that explains why he went after you but why me?"

"Hilarious," Sam looked away from the screen to scowl at him. "The legend also says he hung himself but did you see those slit wrists?"

"Yeah."

"What's up with that?" Sam shook his head. "And the ax, too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over again?"

Dean nodded. "This dick keeps changing."

"Exactly. I'm telling you, the way the story goes..." Sam typed in Ed and Harry's website and pressed enter, waiting as it loaded. His eyes widened when he saw a new article about the Hell House. "Wait a minute."

Dean looked up from his notepad. "What?"

"Someone added a new post to the Hell Hound site," Sam informed him. "Listen to this: They say Mordechai Murdoch was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an ax before slitting his own wrists. Now, he's imprisoned in the house for eternity."

Dean sat up as he stared at the symbol he had drawn, finally recognizing it.

"Where the hell is this going?"

"I don't know but I think I might have just figured out where it all started," Dean rolled off his bed. "Come on, we gotta go to the record store."

They entered the record store not long after, spotting Craig at the cash register.

"Hey, Craig," Dean called to him over the loud rock music playing through the store. "Remember us?"

Craig sighed. "Guys, look, I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions, okay?"

"Oh, don't worry," Dean waved him off as he stopped in front of the record crate marked with the second letter of the alphabet. "We're just here to buy an album, that's all."

He quickly flicked through the records in the crate and pressed his lips together when he found the one he was looking for. On the back of a Blue Oyster Cult record, he saw the symbol he had recognized at the Hell House.

He grabbed it and slowly walked over to Craig with Sam on his heels.

"You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was and then I realized that it doesn't mean anything," Dean told Sam conversationally, his voice hardening toward the end. "It's the logo for the Blue Oyster Cult. Tell me, Craig, you into BOC or just scaring the hell out of people?"

When Craig turned around to face him and Sam, he handed the Blue Oyster Cult album to him. He took it and flipped it over, eyes flitting over the cover art, which included the symbol that was spray painted at the Hell House.

"Why don't you tell us about that house," Dean suggested. "Without lying through your ass this time."

Craig looked up at Dean for a moment. "All right," he sighed heavily. "My cousin Dana was on a break from TCU. I guess we were just bored and looking for something to do. So, I showered her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted so we painted symbols on the walls, some from albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks."

"Then, we found out this guy, Murdoch, used to live there so we made up some story to go along with that," he continued. "They told people, who told other people, and then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took a life of its own."

Dean blinked at him; something about what he said was familiar.

"I mean, I thought it was funny at first, but..." Craig shook his head sadly. "That girl's dead. It was just a joke, you know? I mean, none of it was real. We just made the whole thing up, I swear!"

Sam nodded. "All right."

As they turned away from Craig to leave the record store, Dean muttered to Sam, "If none of it was real, how the fuck do you explain Mordechai?"

Dean was trying so hard not to smirk as he watched Sam wiggle around in his seat, trying not to scratch at his crotch. While his brother was in the shower, he had sprinkled itching powder into Sam's underwear and now he was able to watch the whole thing unfold right in front of him.

If only shortcake was here, too, he sighed mentally.

Sam was in the middle of talking to Julia on the phone, telling her his thoughts about Mordechai being a tulpa when Dean interrupted him, "Dude, what's your problem?"

"Nothing, I'm fine," Sam said avoidantly.

"What's going on?" Julia's voice came from the speaker.

"Nothing," Sam assured her. "So, these tulpas...There was this incident in Tibet in 1915. A group of monks visualized a golem in their head. They meditated on it so hard that they brought the thing to life out of thin air."

"Okay, well, there are thousands of people on the internet," Julia said thoughtfully.

"Exactly," Sam nodded, wincing as he picked at his itchy jeans. "I mean, Craig starts the story about Mordechai and then it spreads and goes online where countless people believe in the bastard."

"Wait a second," Dean spoke up. "People believe in Santa Claus so how come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?"

"Cause you're a bad person," Sam opened his laptop, still squirming, and pulled up a photo of the sigil that brought tulpas to life. He showed it to Dean. "And because of this. That's a Tibetan spirit sigil on the wall of the house. Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook. I bet they painted this, not even knowing what it was."

On the phone, they could hear a thump of a book and then pages being flipped. "Okay, this book says that the sigil has been used to centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass. So, people who are on the Hell Hounds website, staring at the symbol and thinking about Mordechai...would that be enough to bring a tulpa to life?"

"It would explain why he keeps changing," Dean answered her.

"Right," Sam adjusted his jeans and added, "as the legend changes, people think different things so the legend itself changes. Like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work."

"Yeah, because he's not a traditional spirit," Dean stated, choking back his laughter as Sam started wiggling more than he had. "So, why don't we get this spirit sigil thing-y off the wall and off the website?"

"I don't think it's that simple," Julia sighed as they heard more pages being turned. "Once a tulpa is created, they take on a life of their own."

"Great," Dean grumped. "So, if he really is a thought form how the fuck are we supposed to kill an idea?"

"Well, that's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us," Sam showed him the video Ed and Harry put up on their website. "Since they posted the footage, their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone."

"Huh," Dean clicked his tongue thoughtfully. "I've got an idea but we have to find a copy store."

"What are you thinking?" Julia wondered.

"We're gonna give these boys a story and change the legend," Dean told her as Sam forcefully stood up and did a weird walk to relieve himself. "Dude, what the hell?"

"I think I'm allergic to our soap or something."

Dean snickered as Julia spoke up, "What? We use hypoallergenic soap, Sam."

Dean's laughter increased as Sam did a weird lunge in the middle of the motel room. Sam immediately stood up to his full height and glowered at his older brother.

"You did this?!"

Dean couldn't talk, he was laughing so hard.

"You're a fucking jackass!"

Dean continued to laugh, standing up from his chair to dodge the attack coming his way.

As Sam chased Dean around the room, they didn't notice as Julia sighed, "All right, I'm gonna hang up now."

After Dean and Sam told Ed and Harry about this new legend that they found—in which Mordechai would be killed with a pistol and wrought-iron bullets—and a little prank Sam pulled on Dean—where he superglued his beer bottle to the palm of his hand—they headed back to the Hell House to kill the tulpa once and for wall.

They entered the house with their firearms drawn and slowly walked their way around, looking for any sign of Mordechai.

Dean winced as he tightened his hand around his gun. "I barely have any skin left on my palm."

Sam snickered. "I'm not touching that line with a ten-foot pole."

Dean pressed his lips together, irritated, and flashed his light straight into Sam's eyes until he flinched. Once he was satisfied that he got some sort of revenge on his little brother, he continued on through the living room and into the kitchen. "So, do you think old Mordechai's home?"

"I don't know," Sam pointed his gun at the door that led to the basement.

"Me either."

Sam and Dean whipped around at the new voice, pointing their pistols in Ed and Harry's faces.

"Woah, woah!" Ed shouted while Harry lifted his hands in the air to show he meant no harm.

Sam raised his gun away from them. "What are you trying to do, get yourselves killed?"

"We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, okay?"

Before either of the irritated brothers could say another word, a crash came from the basement door. They instantly went back on alert, aiming their guns back at the door.

"Oh, shit," Ed muttered from behind them, focusing his camera on the action. "Hey, guys, do you wanna—you wanna open that door for us?"

"Why don't you?" Dean dared him.

None of them even stepped closer to the basement door as Mordechai burst through, growling at them while waving his ax in the air. Dean and Sam immediately took their shots but Mordechai didn't falter. It was only after full rounds that he disappeared but not in the way they wanted him too.

Sam and Dean immediately left the kitchen to check the other rooms on the first floor.

"Wait a minute?" Ed said breathlessly. "He's gone? He's gone."

"Did you get him?" Harry asked him urgently.

"Yeah, they got him."

"No," Harry shook his head. "On camera. Did you get him on camera?"

Ed faltered. "Well, I..."

Harry grabbed the camera from him. "Let me see it, let me see it."

He flipped open the little screen but was pushed to the floor as Mordechai appeared, smashing the camera with his ax. Dean ran back into the room after hearing some loud noises and glared at them.

"Hey, didn't you guys post that bullshit story we gave you?" he barked at them.

"Of course we did," Harry answered, getting to his feet as Sam came back into the room. "But then our server crashed."

Ed nodded in agreement. "Yeah."

"So, it didn't take?" Ed and Harry shook their heads at Dean's question. "These guns don't work?"

"No."

"Great," Dean sighed and turned to his brother. "Sam, any ideas?"

Sam shrugged; no ideas. None whatsoever.

"We're getting out of here," Harry spoke up.

"Yeah," Ed agreed quickly. "Great idea."

They left the kitchen, only to run into Mordechai again. They screamed and ran for the front door but it was locked and they were unable to get out. They turned to see Mordechai and followed them to the front door and was slowly advancing toward them, raising his ax.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph."

"The power of Christ compels you!" Ed shouted at the tulpa. "The power of Christ compels. THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU."

Any other time, what Ed was saying would make Dean laugh so hard. But, alas, now was not the time for amusement. Sam ran up to the front door and shouted at Mordechai, getting his attention.

"Hey! Come and get it, you ugly son of a bitch!"

While Sam and Mordechai fought and Ed and Harry ran out of harm's way, Dean found some lighter fluid in the kitchen. He quickly sprayed it all over the floor and onto the cupboards before heading into the living room to spray it there, too.

"DEAN!"

Hearing Sam's shout of help, Dean quickly grabbed a bottle of spray paint and pulled his lighter out of his pocket before running toward his brother and Mordechai.

"Hey!" he shouted at the tulpa before lighting his lighter and spraying the paint at the same time, creating a homemade blow torch.

Mordechai let Sam go and disappeared; Dean grabbed Sam and helped him run back into the living room.

"Mordechai can't leave the house and we can't kill him? We improvise."

He showed Sam his lighter and clicked it out before throwing it onto the floor. The old wooden beams lit up immediately and Sam and Dean took off, knocking down the front door and jumping off the porch.

As they ran into the trees, Sam turned to Dean incredulously. "That's your solution?" he pointed at the flaming house. "Burn the whole damn place to the ground?"

"Well, nobody will go in anymore," Dean shrugged. "I mean, look, Mordechai can't haunt a house if there's no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty but it works."

"Well, what if the legend changes again and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?"

"Well, then, we'll just have to come back."

Sam sighed at Dean's nonchalant answer and turned back to the house. "Kind of makes you wonder," he said. "Of all the things we hunted, how many existed just because people believed in them."

Dean didn't answer but he thought about what Sam said as he continued to watch the house burn. It did kind of make him wonder but he couldn't really consider that. No matter if a supernatural was real just because someone believed in them, they were still killing them and saving people.

It was the family business, after all.

(Gif is not mine)

#supernatural rewrite #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x original character

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lily-blue · 4 years

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CODE Z3RO | CODE 04

characters: BTS & Red Velvet genre: thriller, futuristic au warning: blood, death summary: The twelve most ambitious and promising university students are welcomed in Choego, the world’s first entirely artificial intelligence-driven city, to compete for five job contracts that could change their life. But what if something goes wrong? What if they get trapped? What if the city suddenly turns against them? Can they find a way out before the countdown reaches zero? words: 4,7K tagged: @philosopher-of-fandoms

➼ Chapter Index

The corridor was dreadfully quiet as if Jung Hoseok had walked down on an abandoned graveyard full of long forgotten souls. Honestly, he hated every damn minute of this impossible trial that the researchers had forced upon their group of twelve, but at least his rivals weren’t too much to bear except for Taehyung whom he hoped would have disappeared along with or rather instead of daddy’s little princess. At least, Sooyoung had been a weaker link than him, a brainless doll dressed in gold and glitter. Considering the dynamic of their miniature society, she had meant no harm, meanwhile Taehyung seemed to be one of those guys who would have given you the last drop of drinking water just to poison you in a deserted island. He was ambitious and Hoseok knew that people like him would have done anything to get what they wanted.

Taking a sharp right turn, the Sociology major pushed the canteen’s double door open and walked towards their group that was eating in the corner, putting his arms on the edge of an ugly, plastic chair’s backrest. For a few minutes, he listened to their quiet chatter about neutral topics in silence, rolling his eyes when one of the girls changed the subject from a television show to the weather. It was a natural reaction for the chaotic situation they were in, complete ignorance, but the fact that he had known that it was something he should have expected didn’t mean that it didn’t rub him in the wrong way.

He cleared his throat to gain everyone’s attention. Looking at the empty lunch boxes and the dirty cellophane in front of Seokjin, he couldn’t wait to leave this creepy hospital behind, finding useful clues in the researchers’ headquarter, earning some good points for his neatness from their supervisors. He had always been good at finding links between reasons and consequences until the equation hadn’t expanded with risky variables such as haunted buildings, axe murderers and walking zombies. Would have it been possible that the researchers had made a complex trial for them, getting their inspiration from stupid, American survival shows and lame books for young adults? Shit! How much he hated their sick society and the masterminds behind the contemporary entertainment industry.

‘Did anyone see our Korean Richie Rich or that scary IT guy with the eerie look?’ he asked before he could have overthought their situation even more, his long fingers already shaking under the imaginary weight on his shoulders. Staying composed in an ambiguous situation had already taken a lot of energy out of his body and was harder that he had first thought.

‘Did you check the toilets?’ the grumpy guy with lilac hair asked, chewing on the last bites of his sandwich in an obviously annoyed pace and Hoseok wondered whether Taehyung had hated people in general or it was him whom he had an actual problem with.

‘Well, obviously. I’m coming from there,’ he answered and patted the front side of his jeans with a wide grin, satisfied that he had finally found a toilet after he had failed so during his first attempt, half an hour prior when they had stepped into this eerie labyrinth with dozens of empty rooms and abandoned beds. Although a part of him did find rationality behind the absence of people - Choego was still under construction and was waiting for its wealthy inhabitants after all -, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy whenever he thought about the silence that surrounded them 24/7.

His gaze never leaving the boy deep in his own thoughts, Taehyung rolled his eyes at Hoseok’s stupidity, saving his energy as he swallowed a cocky comment on the inevitability of having more than one toilet in a huge building like this one with at least six floors. Humming, he honestly started to doubt the company’s management, considering that they had indeed thought of idiots like Hoseok as valuable candidates. From his point of view, even his three-year-old little sister was smarter than a significant part of their group of so-called prodigies. The thought of teaming up with a bunch of losers was utterly ridiculous yet he couldn’t disobey the researchers’ orders.

They all finished the remains of their food in utter silence except for Wendy who hushed her boyfriend when he tried to break the unpleasant atmosphere with a joke about two cartons of milk talking in the desert that only Seokjin could appreciated. Said boy stood up not long after the carefree laughter left his mouth and looked around with a pinch of worry in his eyes as the peace finally settled between the lovebirds on his right.

‘So now that we all finished our breakfast and Joohyun also got her insulin, I suggest to go and find the others. Any objections?’ he asked in a firm tone as he took the lead voluntarily. After all, when it came to measuring their possible strengths and weaknesses, he was far the most qualified for the job since he’d already had experience in disastrous situations thanks to his degree in Crisis Management. He’d served his required volunteer service in Nepal where a massive earthquake had killed more than eight thousand people in 2015. He was certain that he could handle the researchers’ tough simulation just as smoothly as he’d helped to rebuild hundreds of buildings for those who had lost not just their homes but their loved ones, too, from one day to another. Although back then, he hadn’t had to deal with disrespectful youngsters like Taehyung.

‘You bet! Could you explain, why are they so freakin’ important?’ he asked as he stood up just the same, his itching palms resting on the top of the table, voice heavy because of the boiling anger in his veins. He looked at his rivals, annoyed, then smashed the wooden furniture, fingers curling into pulsing fists as he stretched his back and faced with the eldest challengingly. ‘I mean, we’ve already left that crazy bitch behind - thank goodness -, so why are they any different? Is it because of his money?’ he came up with the first thing that seemed rational enough to waste their time for losers when Seokjin’s sharp glance rendered him speechless. The lilac-haired boy gulped but didn’t blink, holding onto his pride with tooth and nail regardless of the others’ disapproval snorts.

‘It’s because we’re in the same team, Taehyung, and we won’t betray another fellow. Not until I’m here,’ Seokjin claimed earning a few smiles mostly from the girls. When he took the first step towards the double door, no one stayed behind. They all followed him to the hallway, leaving their bags and luggages casually in the corner, close to Jimin’s belongings.

As if the obvious disagreement between Taehyung and Seokjin had forced everyone’s mouth shut, the incomplete group walked down the hallways without exchanging small talks, only Joohyun’s heavy breathing emerging from the background noise of their firm steps. Unlike his caring girlfriend who simply couldn’t hold herself back from glancing at her roommate’s direction, Namjoon looked more than bothered because of her current state. But he chose not to confront the redhead more than once within a single hour and fixed his gaze on the strange duo right in front of him. Seeing Taehyung’s clenched fists and crimson ears, the mechanical engineer had some serious doubts whether Joohyun was the only one they should have been worried about.

‘Did you see the Saw?’ Hoseok asked completely out of the blue as his gaze glided from the light green tiles to the boy on his left with an arched brow floating slowly yet challengingly to the middle of his forehead. He seemed nervous, Namjoon could tell, as his trembling hand ruffled his messy locks unintentionally, his hair already resembling to a bird’s nest because of his ugly cap that now peaked out of his jeans’ huge back pocket.

Namjoon narrowed his eyes, waiting anxiously when the lilac-haired boy’s annoyed voice reached his ears with a harsh ‘What?’

The older boy had always thought of himself as someone who rather avoided conflicts than raising his voice on the verge of an upcoming storm yet he couldn’t stop his shoulders from becoming naturally tense as he observed his childish teammates. He didn’t understand why any of them or anyone in general would have made an anxious sphere even more uncomfortable on purpose and if not on purpose then how came that they didn’t notice the obvious, the negative effect of their debate on the remaining people in their group. For him, it was enough to shoot a quick glance at Wendy’s creased forehead and he knew that something was definitely off with the situation.

‘In the sixth movie, although I’m not sure, there was this horrific game in which all the victims had to work together…’ Hoseok went on, trying to take a further discussion on the subject that seemingly made the whole situation worse as Taehyung’s fingers curled up in a slightly shaking fist.

‘Jeez! Just shut up already, would you? You’re such a headache,’ he snapped and speeded up his hasty steps to get as far from the Sociology major as possible considering his limited options. In the end, he slowed down next to Seulgi and walked by her side in silence as if she hadn’t been there in the first place. Not that the girl would have minded the momentary peace, Taehyung’s rejecting attitude was better than listening to their whining.

‘Asshole,’ Hoseok murmured under his nose, darting his tongue out at the younger’s back when he thought that no one was watching. But his resentful comment didn’t slip Namjoon’s attention as the engineer stepped behind him and watched her girlfriend as she checked on Joohyun when she was finally left alone. Her genuine eagerness to help others in need never failed to amaze the ever so rational boy therefore the fond smile that played in the corner of his mouth was rather proud than annoyed.

‘I saw that movie, man. It was the fifth actually,’ he answered the question Taehyung refused to and even patted Hoseok’s shoulder a few times to soothe his nerves, encouraging to follow the others who were already a few steps ahead of them. ‘A bit disgusting, if you ask me, but genius.’

They changed their opinions on the mentioned movie in which there had been a group of people who had to work together in exchange for their freedom. Yet, they failed miserably as they couldn’t stop sacrificing each other, not caring about anything but their own lives. Every single task in the survival game was designed to emphasize the importance of teamwork hiding it behind selfishness and the players only realized it when it was too late. At the final challenge, they had to fill an enormous object with their own blood and considering that by the time they had reached the last room only two of them survived, they almost bled out and died inches away from their redemption. If they hadn’t been killing one another so carelessly, a few ounces of blood would have been enough from each one of them. It was mind-blowing, one of the most amazing plot twists in the history of horror for sure.

Opening every single unlocked door and walking into every damn toilet and janitor’s room, they searched for Yoongi and Jimin literally everywhere in vain as if the Earth had suddenly opened its mouth and swallowed both of them up in whole. It made everyone uneasy.

They were on the ground floor in the eastern wing when Seokjin finally stopped and they all could take a short break from this insane hide and seek. Though, not everyone was so keen to rest as Jungkook and Taehyung markedly walked back and forth, not knowing what to do with their energy. But while the grumpy boy kicked into the wall here and there lightly, testing his strength, Jungkook observed the remaining doors on the current level one by one.

‘I really don’t think that they’ll be there,’ Namjoon stated when the youngster pushed the door with the basement sign on it open and peeked inside, turning his head left and right.

‘Maybe,’ he hummed, not really paying attention to the fellow engineer’s presence as he stepped on the first step behind the door instead. He had questions and he was more than willing to leave their group behind for a few hours at most if it was really necessary to find the desired answers. What was the whole point of this simulation beside the obvious, that the researchers were curious about their problem-solving abilities in an artificial catastrophe? What happened with those who had left the group? What if they all managed to pass the trial? Why had they lied to them about their schedule for the rest of the day when they clearly had other plans for their candidates? What kind of skills were required to get a contract? Creativity, cooperation, critical thinking? ‘But I’d like to check the whole facility in case they hid some clues on one of their computers,’ he explained, grabbing the handrail as he looked at Namjoon from above his shoulder. ‘You don’t have to follow me, though.’

The older boy furrowed his brows and opened his mouth, ready to protest but the voice that filled the air was definitely more high-pitched and less raspy than what his vocal chord could have ever maintained. Both Jungkook’s and Namjoon’s head turned towards the petite girl, standing right behind the latter, watching her acting all embarrassed because of the faint ‘I’d like to. Sounds like a good idea even if I won’t be much help,’ that had left her mouth. Yerim brushed a tiny mop of hair behind her ear over and over again, unable to stand the younger’s piercing gaze for more than an ephemeral moment. And everything became much worse when Taehyung decided to join their company.

‘Hah! Of course, she thinks that. After all, it’s his idea,’ the lilac-haired boy blurted out, his deep voice heavy with ill will and mockery. The Marketing major’s loud presumption and malicious smile turned the girl into a blushing mess within a blink of an eye and seeing her frightened look, anyone could have told that she wished nothing but to dissolve into thin air.

‘Is there something you want to say?’ Seokjin joined the conversation as well and stepped between Taehyung and Yerim like a human shield as if his presence could have protected the girl from everything that the grumpy boy had been so ready to throw at her face.

Taehyung snorted. Ridiculous.

‘Sure. Your sister isn’t any better than Sooyoung was,’ he claimed, tilting his head to Yerim’s direction as the others walked closer, their figures forming a lame, irregular circle around the epicentrum of their debate. ‘Now that Gangnam girl’s gone, she’s the weakest link,’ Taehyung scoffed matter-of-factly, earning a few deadly glances from their teammates although no one protested, not even Seokjin. The eldest just stood there with tense shoulders and clenched fists, breathing shallow and worried. He hated that the Marketing major wasn’t that far from the truth - considering their abilities in an emergency situation, Joohyun, Hoseok and Yerim seemed to be the less useful members of their group. While the older girl panicked in stressful situations and Hoseok got easily scared even of his own shadow, his sister usually froze when everyone around her was loud and pressing. He had still remembered the first fire alarm test they’d had in primary school since Yerim’s homeroom teacher had made sure, it remained unforgettable as he’d freaked out in front of everyone when he had failed to find the little girl. But it didn’t mean that they couldn’t have surprised them with unexpected, innovative solutions. They had plenty of time to prove Taehyung wrong and Seokjin hoped they would. After all, without Yerim, they would have slept through and have failed the first part of the simulation.

Turning towards Jungkook, Seokjin relaxed his stiff muscles and spoke up in a rather calm voice.

‘Actually, we have plenty of time. Let’s go and check the area,’ he said, encouraging the younger with a firm nod as he took the first steps towards the door. To Taehyung’s dissatisfaction, everyone followed them thus he was the only one who remained in the hallway.

‘It’s useless. It’s not that we’ll find some nasty skeletons in their basement,’ he shouted like a sulky child and his annoyed statement forced Namjoon to stop on the first stair, head snapping at his direction. He looked at Taehyung, confused, lips in a firm line, white like virgin snow. Truth to tell, he didn’t like him - especially not his destructive attitude - but he was a part of their group, just as much as anyone else, and teamwork was the keypoint of their task. The researchers wanted them to work together, in unison, and Namjoon wasn’t that stupid to disobey their will because of Taehyung’s ill-wishing behaviour. He didn’t plan to shut him out since he didn’t plan to lose his chance to get a contract because of him either.

‘Don’t be a dick, man! I’m sure, you don’t want to be their enemy,’ he said, calling for him with a simple wave of his hand. ‘Let’s go!’

A few seconds later, the hallway was as empty as it had been before they would have crossed the threshold of the abandoned hospital - eerie and silent, lack of human souls.

Kim Seokjin was an excellent team player until his little sister wasn’t a part of the said group because then she became more important to him than anything or anybody else and preferences inevitably destroyed the collaboration. It wasn’t his fault though, their parents had raised him to be like this, they had literally planted the protectiveness in his nature from the moment Yerim had been born.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked in a voice so quiet, it was barely above a whisper although he did it out of goodwill rather than being ashamed of the fact that his sister wasn’t as fierce and independent as their mother who had been a zealous activist in Yerim’s age. She and their father had met on a protest against the educational system and its clearly disadvantageous and sometimes sexist rules such as the unsaid privileges that the wealthy students had gotten and the must of mini skirts even in winter. Well, back then they had been on different sides and that was what had made their love a groundbreaking story. Seokjin found it endearing and inspiring at the very same time.

Shaking his head, he put his palm on his sister’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly. His caring touch earned an equally light sigh in return.

‘Yeah. It’s not that I suddenly become useless just because he said so,’ Yerim replied and even though her voice was faint, both her eyes were shining with a reassuring glint, her lips curling up all the way to her ears. She didn’t want her brother to worry to no end nor was willing to give the satisfaction to Taehyung by letting him see her fall apart. So she strengthened her heart and didn’t let anxiety consume her soul.

‘That’s my girl,’ Seokjin smiled and patted the top of his sister’s head, staying by her side as they followed Jungkook who seemed unbothered by the fact that Yerim couldn’t take her eyes off of his back and could have easily burnt a hole in the middle of his bladebone if one had been beared with superpowers. Ah! He would have given everything to be able to turn simple object to gold.

At some point when the first closed door appeared on the hallway, Seokjin started to make mental notes and different theories based on their surroundings and all those things that had happened to them since they had arrived to the artificial city. Although it looked logical that the city was empty considering that it didn’t have any citizens and the food supply in the canteen was also rational, the lack of instructions bugged him as if something had been off, as if the simulation hadn’t gone as planned. They should have found at least a video or audio file by now that could have help them step on the appointed path, shouldn’t have they?

Sharply turning right, Seokjin was so immersed in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice that Jungkook’s firm body stopped dead in front of a glass wall that separated them from a well-equipped laboratory full of huge, white cabinets and tables, papers laying in piles on their titanium surface.

‘Look! There’s a computer,’ Jungkook spoke up, his index-finger pointing at the electrical device in the left corner of the room. He didn’t hesitate, not even for a moment, as he lifted his bracelet in front of the small control panel on the right side of the door with a victorious smile on his face, demanding entrance which he got after a few seconds of complete silence. ‘Cool.’

When the boy stepped inside the lab, Seokjin grabbed his sister’s wrist, looking deep into her eyes, searching for some kind of confirmation in them that she knew what she was doing and she wasn’t so impatient to follow the raven-haired boy inside the room because she was indeed attracted to him as Taehyung had suggested approximately ten minutes ago. Not that he had problems with Jungkook as a person because he seemed like a really nice guy but the fact that he had let Sooyoung stuck inside their dormitory didn’t make him the most reliable fellow. He didn’t want Yerim to be used by some guy who was mostly alluring because of his distant behaviour. He was familiar with young adult books, he knew that these kind of boys always got the shy girl in town.

Yerim pulled her arm out of Seokjin’s grab and walked inside the laboratory soon followed by the rest of the team except Taehyung who refused to play by Jungkook or anyone else’s rules. He leaned against the glass wall from the outside and shot an ill-wishing smile at the eldest when he gave in to her sister’s wishes and crossed the threshold as well.

Since her steps came to a halt a few inches from Jungkook’s back, Seokjin walked to the computer, too, while the others opened the cabinets and the hidden drawers that they couldn’t have seen from the hallway. Joohyun and Namjoon made themselves busy with the printed papers on the tables.

‘Honey, could you take a look at these reports? It’s absolutely Chinese for me but you might be familiar with the ingredients in the right corner. They sound pretty medicine-like,’ he mused, looking at the said girl from above his shoulder, watching her as she put a tiny phial filled with some blue fluid back to its container.

‘Just a sec,’ she replied and slid the glass door back to its frame, paying close attention not to break anything inside.

As she step behind her boyfriend and took the paper out of his hand, Seokjin’s gaze glided back to the computer’s screen. Honestly, he didn’t understand a single thing but Jungkook’s clicks were so firm and confident that he put his trust in his knowledge without thinking. He opened then closed some folders, pushed the keys on the keyboard, furrowed his brows and started everything all over again until a stubborn window blocked him from further investigation and after a careless right click, everything went black.

‘What happened?’ Yerim asked, curious, leaning a tad bit closer to the blank screen and so to Jungkook without thinking twice. As her nostrils got filled with the boy’s characteristic scent that was definitely stronger and manlier than she would have thought, her whole face turned ruby red and she stepped backwards so hastily that she bumped into her brother’s shoulder. Seokjin rolled his eyes but didn’t make a comment on her obviously awkward behaviour. No, he turned towards Jungkook instead, waiting for his reply.

But that answer had never come as the door that allowed them to leave the room started to move, fast.

‘Everyone! Get out of this room! Now!’ Seokjin shouted as soon as he caught a glimpse of the closing exit, waving with his hands towards its direction as if his exaggerated gestures could have fasten everyone’s speed. But it couldn’t.

Since Joohyun couldn’t handle stress and Wendy cared too much, Namjoon couldn’t pull them out of the room on his own because dealing with a mild panic attack and his stubborn girlfriend was simply overwhelming. He needed help and Seokjin was the only one who was willing to give them that extra hand. He ran towards his frozen teammates and grabbed Joohyun by her wrist. The eldest threw her arm over his shoulder casually then lifted her petite figure as he carried her out of the lab, letting Namjoon show him the way.

‘What the…,’ he heard Jungkook swearing as he accidentally crashed his shoulder into the glass wall, trying really hard not to collide with Seulgi who got to the door the same moment as he did. Seokjin rolled his eyes, panting, before he put the girl in his arms down.

‘Where is Yerim?’ he asked when he caught his breath and looked around, anxiety growing in his chest due to the absence of his little sister.

‘Inside,’ Taehyung stated with a flat face while he pointed at the girl who had seemingly frozen a few steps from the blank screen. Her gaze were cloudy, lips slightly parted with fear.

‘I left her with you. You should have grabbed her hand and pull her out, you selfish bastard,’ Seokjin snapped, screaming like a wild animal and the only thing that kept him back from slapping Jungkook’s face was the clinking sound of the closing door. It was already through halfway but he couldn’t stay still.

The boy ran back inside the lab and wrapped his long fingers around his sister’s wrist, pulling her towards the hallway like crazy but Yerim fell into her knees because of the sudden force and hit her head into the table, feeling the bitter taste of her own vomit in the back of her throat. She didn’t move until her brother helped her find her balance and pushed her towards the door. Three. Yerim finally took her first steps on her own, running. Two. Seokjin was so happy that his sister managed to reach the hallway in time that he didn’t notice the report that had slipped out of Wendy’s hand on the floor. One. Glass collided with glass at the same time, the young man’s butt crashed to the floor. Shocked, no one dared to say a word.

The relieved smile soon froze onto Yerim’s lips as she realized what had happened. Her whole body was a shaking mess as she turned on her heels and looked at her brother, stuck inside the lab. She put her palms onto the wall, tears blurring her vision.

‘No,’ she whispered over and over again while her spirit slowly gave up, knees fitting close to the ground. ‘We’ll get you out, don’t worry, okay?’ she promised, not knowing that the room was actually soundproof and all Seokjin could see was her sadness and guilt. So he smiled, crawling to the wall in his own pace. He didn’t have to be fast anymore, there was no need to rush.

Meanwhile Hoseok stepped to the control panel and lifted his own bracelet in front of it in vain. It didn’t work, in fact, it rejected his request more dramatically than he would have ever thought. It shifted red and turned on the security system.

Seokjin’s shoulders tensed as the ventilation system markedly stopped working and the air became heavy with an unfamiliar chemical product, something transparent with no scent yet with something that burnt his veins. He shook his head, leaning his sweaty forehead against the glass, and took a few swallow breathers as if it could have magically solved his breathing problems. It hurt like hell, moving his limbs, keeping his eyes open hence he stayed still, gaze fixed on his clearly panicking sister. She was worried, he knew it. She must have been already screaming for a while, making silly promises that she couldn’t keep. It would have been so typical of her. He laughed and his raspy voice echoed in the sphere as the world turned red.

Red walls, red people, red tears. Even the last memory that popped up in his mind between confusing, fading pictures was red, cherry lips sealing his mellow ones with the untrue promise of infinity.

➼ chapter V.

#code zero #bts scenarios #red velvet scenarios #ssbyme #here's where the roller-coaster begins #thriller #futuristic au #poor seokjin #he was such a good brother

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edream93 · 6 years

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you probably are not taking prompts anymore but if you ever have time and want to write Uma and Harry on pirates of the Caribbean (pirates + Disney)x2!! I think it would be great if it was an Auradon movie and they were called to make a cameo since they are real pirates, but it's up to you 😘

Hi anon! Okay, so this has been in my inbox for awhile and this has also been in my WIP folder for just as long. It’s not the movie idea that you originally wanted but I did have Uma and the crew ride the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. This is just a headcanon list but maybe one day I’ll have time to make it into a oneshot. Hope you enjoy this sporadic ramble of thoughts!

After a tough few months of council meetings, school, and dealing with the relentless press, Ben decides to gift Uma and her crew with a trip to Disney World, the happiest place on Earth (“Sounds like a nightmare.” “Shut it, Harry.”)

(When they had Gil, who had surprisingly taken to using the internet better than anyone else on the crew, Uma had to agree with her first mate that this Disney World did seem like a nightmare.)

When Uma and the crew get there, Uma definitely regrets taking up Ben’s offer.

Unsurprisingly, Gil is ecstatic and gets everyone on the crew mouse ears.

He gives Uma one that has a little crown on it for obvious reasons

Harry gets one with a red and white bow on it with lot of sequins (Either Harry doesn’t know that usually girls get that one or he doesn’t care. Either way, he’s extra enough to make it work.)

Jonas gets a hat that says “It’s my birthday” even though it’s not his birthday but for some reason whenever the stop at a food stand or a restaurant, people always give him some free dessert or something and asking how old he turned (On the Isle they don’t really celebrate birthdays so Jonas has no clue what is going on or why people are giving him free food but he’s not going to stop it.) Winds up with a horrible stomach ache at the end of it but totally worth it.

Desiree and Bonnie get matching Star Wars ears that light up

Gonzo gets a big green hat that says “Goofy” with long black pieces hanging from it looking like ears

And Gil gets the bridal Minnie hat because he was trying it on and Uma (jokingly) said it made him look pretty which Gil instantly believe because in a totally platonic way Gil does think that Uma is super pretty so she would know.

They try all the rides and agree that “It’s A Small World” is a new type of torture because they can’t get the damn song out of their heads and the little doll people creeped them all out.

(“Ye sure this ain’t some sort of cruel and unusual punishment, Captain?” “…I actually have no clue, Hook.”)

Eventually, they find themselves at the “Pirates of the Caribbean” ride.

“This feels like a trap.”

“It’s not a trap, Harry.”

“Nah, Captain. He’s right this feel like a trap.”

-annoyed sigh- “Guys for the last time, this. Is. not. A. tap.”

And Uma was right. It wasn’t a trap. It was much worst.

Harry, sitting next to Uma: “What the hell type of sailing are we supposed to do in these dingy little boats? Where’s the mast? Where’s the wheel?” Gil: “I feel seasick….” Uma: “We haven’t even moved!”

Bonnie, next to Gil: “Why is it so dark?” Jonas, grabbing on to an irritated Desiree as the ride begins: “Yo, I had a dream that began like this. In the end, giant gummy bears ate us. I ain’t going out like that. “You hear me giant gummy bears! I AIN’T GOING OUT LIKE THAT!” Gonzo in the back, too preoccupied with playing with the “ears” of his hat

The crew hearing: “Psst! Avast there! It be too late to alter course, mateys. And there be plundering pirates lurkin’ in ev'ry cove, waitin’ to board. Sit closer together and keep your ruddy hands in board. That be the best way to repel boarders. And mark well me words, mateys: Dead men tell no tales! Ye come seekin’ adventure with salty old pirates, eh? Sure you’ve come to the proper place. But keep a weather eye open, mates, and hold on tight. With both hands, if you please. Thar be squalls ahead, and Davy Jones waiting for them what don’t obey.”

Harry scoffing at the voice over, muttering that that’s not how a real pirate sounds before slipping out an unintentional “argggh!”

Harry leading the crew in singing along to “A pirate life” bringing out the flasks of rum that he managed to hide in his jacket.

Desiree, frowning as she hears something, “Does that sound like a waterfall to anyone else?”

Jonas almost peeing his pants at the unexpected drop

Bonnie looking at all the skeletons: “Well this got very dark, very quickly.” Jonas: “Bet you that’s what they’ll do to us once this is over.”

More skeletons.

Jonas: “What the hell?!?!?! How is this the happiest place on Earth? It’s filled with so much death!”

Uma: “Reminds me of when Harry went through his emo phase.”

Harry, smushing Uma’s face with his hands (gently of course): “We don’t. Speak of that.” he says before giving her a quick peck on the forehead. Uma just rolls her eyes.

They past by the figure of Captain Barbossa who always managed to have the best rum on the Isle for a man who couldn’t actually taste it

Harry: “Why does that old windbag get a giant creepy doll thing and not me dad? All old Barbossa does is drink, shit, and fuck!”

Desiree: “Well can your dad turn into a giant walking skeleton at night time? Because you can’t argue how fucking cool that is!”

Harry: -pouts but doesn’t say anything more-

Someone (Harry) passes around another flask of rum that everyone takes a sip from whenever any of the ride’s pirates say “Arrrr!”, “matey”, or any other stereotypical pirate saying. (Jonas and Gonzo taking extra sips basically any time Harry opens his mouth during the ride.)

The pirate crew simultaneously boo-ing but also applauding the Jack Sparrow figure lounging on the throne of gold surrounded by treasure.

Uma, scowling: He was a traitor and a drunk-

Harry, looking like the definition of a fanboy: -but damn did the man have style.

As they pass the robot Jack Sparrow actually smoothly gets up, snatches the flask from Jonas’s hands and gives the crew a bow, winking at Uma and saying “Captain” before falling back in his chair, going back into the robotic motions of drinking from the flask, drunkenly singing “What’s my name? What’s my name? Jack! Say it louder! Drunk pirates have all the fun! Can’t count cause I’m number one!”

Everyone is speechless before Bonny says: “What. A fucking. Icon.”

Jonas looking at his hands: “I’m never washing these hands again.”

Gonzo: “Like you wash your hands to being with.”

The Crew leaves the park with lots of souvenirs thanks to the King’s credit card that may or may not have been given to them

Harry explained easily: he shouldn’t have just left his wallet out in the open like that!

Uma, pinching the bridge of her nose: It was in his pocket!

Harry, looking at her confused: Like I said, he shouldn’t have just left his wallet out like that around pirates!

They also managed to leave the park, only managing to cause one food fight and one small fire (Bonnie: Don’t give me that look guys! You know I like to see things burn!); managing to get the Beast cast actor to go out of character when Jonas threw up all of the deserts he eaten after on him after Gonzo and Desiree had forced him to go on the spinning teacup ride; to scandalize only a handful of parents and their innocent children when Harry and Uma went into a full out makeout with loud moans and wandering hands as the firework show.

When they get back to school and Ben greets them back at the gates Uma places mouse ears with a little tiara between the ears on Ben’s head as Harry smoothly tucks the “borrowed” credit card back into Ben’s pocket.

Ben: Did you see the Pirates of the Caribbean ride? It’s sad that the the Jack Sparrow robot had to be taken out for repairs. You know, when he was still alive, sometimes Mr. Sparrow would show up and take the place of his robot.

Harry and Uma look at each other before saying: When he was alive?

Ben: Yeah, his ship sunk at sea 15 years ago. No one has seen him since and he’s not the most subtle of men so everyone just assumed he was dead after a few years.

Jonas, once been leaves, staring down at his hands: I’m really never washing these hands again!

Uma rolling her eyes but smiling nonetheless: What did you expect? He’s a pirate.

#edream93 answers #disney descendants #uma descendants #harry hook #girl descendants #bonnie descendants #jonas descendants #desiree descendants #gonzo descendants #pirates of the caribbean #jack sparrow #sorry this took forever

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prettieparker86 · 6 years

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Deliverance || Part 7

Pairings: Donald Pierce x Reader

Warnings: This chapter depicts graphic violence, character death, and sexual content. Guess I really went for it.

Word Count: Mega Frickin Long, sorry or your welcome

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, & Part 6

Gif credit: Thank you to @cat1212 and @littlesati for letting me use their beautiful gifs! You guys rock!

Tagging: @crazyfreckledginger @star-girl-pryde@introvertalien13 @emislayyyy74 @nuvoleincielo @ziambitches99

A/N: This chapter jumps forward in time a little and moves the relationship along. I realized the story was focusing too much on when Donnie and the reader would get together again. And since that’s not the main plot I’m going for, and it was going to happen anyway, I just took it there. Hope you don’t mind. There’s a lot going on in this chapter, so hopefully you like it.

Also, sorry for the long delay. I’m in my final year of graduate school and in case you can’t tell, it’s killin me. Whatever, almost done. This chapter is also ridiculously long, so that’s either a gift or a curse.

After settling you and Danny in, Donnie tells you he has to leave again. You’re not surprised though.

Says he needs to make you disappear for good, you’re not surprised by that either.

He mentions casually something about faking your death, but offers no details, and you both agree it’s probably best if you don’t know.

He warns you he’ll be gone for at least a month. Can’t risk the contact. You know it’ll be hard, especially on Danny, but you’d rather be safe.

The last close call was too close. Donnie gives you his word you’ll be safe there, but makes it clear no one can learn what you really are.

In the month he’s gone you learn a lot about the Donnie you never knew. The man behind the leather jacket, yellow tinted glasses, and gold tooth. The man behind the mask.

His uncle Bill isn’t much for talking, but his aunt Edith won’t shut up. She gets you a job a couple days a week at the antique shop on Main Street where she works. Even talks the owner into letting you bring Danny, because he’s so mild mannered and well behaved.

In the hours spent together you learn where Donnie comes from far more than the handful of stories he shared in the lab.

You learn Donnie’s dad was a career military man. A real hard ass she calls him, before pardoning her foul language.

Says, she always thought he was too rough with Donnie, too heavy handed and quick tempered, but it wasn’t her place to make a fuss about it.

She shared his mama hated the marriage, felt trapped, and spent most of her days numbing her discontentment with long island ice teas, and looking the other way where Donnie was concerned.

Edith shared she and Bill hadn’t seen Donnie since he graduated from high school and joined the marines.

Last she’d heard he was in the special forces. She hadn’t even known about his hand until he called Bill up asking if you and the boy could stay with them.

Edith doesn’t say it, but the way she recalls the night Bill got the call from Donnie, it’s obvious the woman knows you’re hiding out from something, but she doesn’t pry.

In fact, she says she’s happy Donnie met a good girl… If only she knew the half of it.

You help her around the house and she teaches you how to make homemade pies and rolls.

While uncle Bill teaches Danny about the various animals on the farm and you help out where you can.

With the news Edith shares you can’t help but feel like you understand Donnie a little better.

Feel like you understand where all that anger and brutality comes from inside him.

A wrath you’ve been on the receiving end of, but having also seen the depth of his heart, you always wondered how such extremes could reside inside one man… Now you feel you understand a little better.

You tried to pretend you’re ok with all this, as Danny charges as fast as his little legs will go whenever Donnie walks through the door. Try to pretend as you watch Donnie pick your little boy up, tossing him in the air.

The sound of your his’s laughter spilling and filling the room with contagious life that brings a smile to your face, that bubbles up laughter from deep within your gut.

You try to focus on the joy the little moments hold, like when Donnie’s hauled up on the couch, Danny snuggled in the crook of his arm.

You watch as Donnie loses himself in a game of football on the television, teaching Danny everything he knows about the game.

In an old ratty sweatshirt, hair a mess atop his head, Donnie looks like a shadow of the man who storms through Transigen.

That unholy skull on his neck peeking out over the collar of the sweatshirt the only sign that he’s not just another dad watching a game with his son.

Danny takes to having Donnie as a dad faster than you ever would have imagined and you can’t deny the love in Danny’s eyes for his dad, the hero he believes him to be. Anymore than you can deny the love in Donnie’s eyes for his son, how strong but also careful he is with him.

You try to pretend like you moved past what happened at the lab. Try to pretend nothing mattered before this as you feel a low rumbled growl comes up from within Donnie.

His body resting perfectly upon you as you feel his face in the crook of your neck, his facial hair nuzzling your skin as he peppers you with lazy kisses, trying to seduce you.

You try to pretend you aren’t haunted by the past as your hands slide slowly up his arms, over the curve of his muscles, up his neck and into his hair. Your body responding so naturally to the familiar feel of his touch.

You try to remember only him and what you found together as you curve into the feel of him, your leg winding around his hip as you push into him teasingly.

You tell yourself you shouldn’t feel guilty in his arms as you feel a low rumbled groan rattle up through him.

Your breath deepening as his robotic hand grips tight at the back of your thigh, holding your leg around the curve of his body as his mouth finds the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“Do that again.” His thick sexy drawl commands as he presses down into the cradle of your thighs, making your breath catch in the back of your throat.

You almost forget what he does… As your nails rake along his scalp and down the back of his neck, as his name spills off your lips like a prayer.

“Donnie…”

“Yeah, baby?” He teases you as if he doesn’t already know, as he releases the hold of your thigh and his mouth begins to leave a tail of kisses down the front of your body - over your tank top, down between the crevasse of your breasts.

You close your eyes to the horrors just beyond your reach as Donnie nips at your ribs, tugging your tank top up as a surprised gasp lifts off your lips.

You tell yourself you aren’t responsible for what he does at the lab, as your head swims with the feel of his hot mouth and the burn of his scruff dragging across your skin.

His mouth traces the line of your hip as he tugs at your shorts and panties.

“Tell me to stop,” You hear him dare you, his husky breath against your skin as he gives you another nip that makes you shiver.

Your eyes close as your head falls back against the pillow, giving into the way only Donnie can make you feel.

“Don’t stop,” You beg on a breathy sigh, giving into the sickness so familiar between you and your need for release.

As your panties disappear around your ankle and the heat of his mouth drags slowly up your inner thigh, you try to stay blind, try to pretend you’ve made peace with what he’s capable of.

You tried to forget the taste and feel of hell, and the knowledge others are still living it as you follow alongside while Donnie takes Danny on long walks around the field out back behind the house.

Watching the sun beat down on your son’s golden hair as Donnie points out different birds and Danny tries desperately to mimic their call like his dad.

You try to justify his work and the pain he causes as you watch Donnie read to Danny every night in bed.

Try to hold onto the good you see in him as your son hangs on his every word and Donnie traces them on the page for Danny to follow along.

You wonder if anyone ever read to him growing up. Wonder if that’s why it’s so important he reads to Danny now and maybe that’s part of the reason, among so many others, he ended up the way he did.

You try to close your eyes to truths that are too unbearable to face. Truths that would only suck the life right out of the joy you, and especially your little boy have stumbled upon with Donnie.

You try to lose yourself in the rough callused texture of his hands as his touch moves lazily against your bare skin when you find yourselves all alone in the dark.

Holding tightly to the constant rhythm of his breath - lulling and mesmerizing as it fans against the back of your neck, sending tiny frayed strands of hair dancing across your face like whispered tickles.

Focus on the enormous size of his hand as it’s sprawled across your hip, molding and curving around the natural shape of your body as he holds you steady in his grip.

Your back flush against his body. Skin dewy and hot as your body lays positioned like a puzzle piece, connected to his in the most intimate of ways.

Your mind tries to hold onto the strength of his body, the way it feels warm.

His skin soft, but muscles firm and unyielding against the weight of you, as he grips your hip tighter, biting and sucking at your shoulder as he pumps deeper within you.

You tried to pretend…

But you can’t.

Not after what you’ve seen. Not after what you’ve endured. You can’t pretend he isn’t a monster when he’s not by your side.

Can’t pretend others don’t suffer under the weight of his hands and force of his will, while you and your child smile over a movie like some happy patchwork family.

You can’t stop the sound of their cries from echoing into your head in the quiet hours while he’s away.

You can’t pretend their pain is unseen. You can’t pretend they don’t exist, or are forgotten.

Swallowed up in the same hole that nearly took your life.

And you can’t pretend the man who warms your bed… the man who holds your heart and your son’s… isn’t the same man who holds the key to all their suffering.

And that inexplicable truth always finds you, one way or another.

Five Years Earlier

When the government said they needed a national registry for all mutants, a chill ran down your spine, but still you had hope.

This was America, land of the free, home of the brave. You had seen atrocities happening all over the globe, but surely, those things couldn’t happen here.

There was fear among “normal” people. Fear about mutants and what they were capable of, so naturally the government was only trying to reassure people, maintain order.

They said it was a precautionary measure. They said it would help make everyone safer.

But then the rumors and fear began swirling, talk of people being taken from their homes, their places of work, snatched up off the streets while the world stood silent.

You didn’t want to believe it. It wasn’t possible. Something like that couldn’t happen here, people would rise up against such injustice… but they didn’t.

Maybe some agreed with the cause, others held their tongues out of fear, whatever the reasons, people let it happen.

They closed their doors, looked the other way, pretended it wasn’t happening, or worse, cheered it on.

The day you saw a woman snatched right off a crowded street as people continued to pass her by as if nothing was happening, you knew the rumors were true.

It was then that you realized you had been fooling yourself, asleep to the world you now lived in and it was time to wake up.

That’s when you went into hiding like so many others. You didn’t hide with other mutants.

Your greatest weapon in this game of survival was your ability to blend in. Your mutant gene easily disguised, you lived amongst the rest, trying to play the role, and stay alive.

You didn’t lose all hope in humanity though, not even in those dark days. There were helpers. Those who wouldn’t – couldn’t - stand by idly and watch as such atrocities against humanity took place.

Underground networks formed. Those willing to risk everything to hide mutants. Not because they had anything to gain, but because it was the right thing to do.

Because they knew if they did nothing, their silence was as good as complacency.

Those were the people who kept you believing. Those were the people who gave you hope. Who kept you fighting, kept you hiding, kept you hoping this would pass.

That the good and righteous would prevail, and humanity would come to its senses once again.

Until they found you…

You had been working at an art studio. Low end, on the fringe kind of place, for electric souls in need of expression.

You didn’t have their talent, but you were always drawn to the beauty it could bring to an otherwise bleak world.

You worked behind the scenes, an extra set of hands mostly. Keeping inventory of supplies, invoices on orders, restocking shelves.

The pay was shit, barely enough for the room you rented in an apartment on the south side, but you were happy there.

Your friend and roommate, Aster got you the job. You would later learn she and some of the regulars were part of the underground network.

As if all roads were leading here whether you liked it or not.

You never revealed what you were, but the truth got out to a few of them when a little girl got hit by a car just outside the studio.

With her blood smeared on the black pavement, her mother wailing as she cradled her dying daughter in her arms, you couldn’t just sit back and hope help arrived in time.

You couldn’t do nothing and that was your mistake. You never regretted saving that little girl. Even though you’re pretty sure it’s how Donald and his team ended up hot on your tail.

They had blindsided you. You never saw it coming. One minute you were living your simple life, the next you were returning from lunch to find the studio full of heavily armed men and your friends on the ground, held at gun point.

You’re gut response had been to freeze in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening to you, they couldn’t have found you, but Aster wasn’t surprised.

You knew she was brave, but you never knew just how brave until a soldier moved to grab you and out of the corner of your eye, you watched Aster pull the gun off him and fire it without hesitation.

It all happened so fast – The ringing sound of the gun fire. Her voice echoing through the building, “Run!”.

The soldier dropping to the ground in front of you, grabbing wildly at the top of his chest.

You don’t think, you can’t, as you spin in your chucks and start running as fast as you can for the door.

You make it out and you would have gotten away, you’re sure of it, but you look back.

Legs pumping, you glance over your shoulder and watch in slow motion as soldiers swarm the one bleeding out on the floor, two more follow you.

Your eyes shoot to Aster, her protests fill the studio as one of the soldiers drags her to the middle of the room, while another strings a rope over the exposed ceiling beam.

Maybe you should have never looked back, you’ll never know, but watching them drag Aster toward the hanging rope, you knew what you had to do.

Heart pounding hard in your tight chest with fear, you turn back. Dodging the two soldiers hot on your tail, you run back into the room and your own trap.

“No, no, no! Wait!” You yell at the soldiers as you race toward the one bleeding on the floor.

“I can fix it!” You yell as you drop hard to your knees before the man on the floor, pushing your way through the other soldiers trying to help him.

Your heart is pounding, your head feels light as you yank off the Kevlar vest and rip open the soldier’s shirt.

How had she managed to hit him just above the vest? You don’t understand, but it doesn’t matter now as you move your hands over the bloody hole in his chest.

Another soldier grabs forcefully at your arms, trying to pull you away, but you refuse, as you throw an elbow back and connect with something you think might be his face.

“Let me help him!” You holler back as his grip breaks free and you quickly place your open palms down over the bullet wound, pressing your body weight into it.

All the chaos ensuing around you, the flutter of energy, the fear of your own fate and Aster’s, it’s hard to concentrate, but you force yourself to focus harder than you ever have before.

Willing the energy beneath your hands to pull this soldiers body back together.

You can hear boots coming close, but your try to ignore them as you focus all your strength on the work beneath your hands.

“Don’t touch her.” You hear a man order, so close it sends you face whipping up to see a blonde-haired man now crouched beside you.

You hadn’t noticed he was there until that moment. You can’t help but notice how different he looks from the rest - leather jacket, gold chain, skull tattoo on his neck, but it’s his eyes that catch you for a moment.

A deep piercing blue that looks at you in a way that’s hard to read, but maybe, just maybe, there’s surprise in them. Surprised you came back willingly.

Your attention turns back to the soldier beneath you as you feel the tissues mending and closing beneath your hands, the bullet rising up to rest in the center of your palm.

Letting out a heavy shaken breath, a wave of exhaustion washes over you with the amount of energy your work took.

Cupping the bullet in your shaky palm, you flip your hand over and open it to show them it’s out, he’s ok as you steadily pull back from the soldier.

You catch the blonde’s eye as you show him the bullet, sensing by the difference of his appearance and call of orders, he’s somehow in charge of his merry band of bastards.

You swear there’s something close to disbelief in his eyes, something fixed in the way he looks at you, but you can’t be sure before you take a quick blow to the face and slam hard to the floor below.

“Fuckin freak! What’d she do to me! What’d she do to me!” You hear the soldier demand as your head spins, the world flipped on its axis as your eyes scan the studio and your cheek rests against the floor.

You had hoped your sacrifice would stop the chaos and carnage, but you realize how naive you are as you watch the soldiers place the makeshift noose around Aster’s neck.

Screams fill the studio from the others held at gun point down on the ground. Your head is pounding, but still you rise up against the pain, your voice bursting to life.

“No!” You scream, but it’s too late as you watch your friend get strung up, her legs jerking as her hands reach desperately for the rope.

“Stupid bitch.” You hear them callously surmise.

The horror before your eyes lights a fire within you as you push off the floor and charge boldly at the soldier holding the rope.

Jumping onto him - you attack, fists swinging, nails clawing as you try to get him to let go, but he’s stronger than you and you’re not surprised when he manages to fling you off his back.

The wind knocks out of you as your back slams to the ground.

Your gasping for air as your eyes barrel up on the soldier, the butt of his rifle raised and ready to slam down on you, before a halting noise fills your ears, and you spot the blonde again, his finger raised as if to stop whatever that soldier had in mind.

He crouches down next to you, reaching for you as you resist, until he pins your arms down to your sides and stoves a knee deep in your chest. Staring down at you, those piercing blue eyes are all you can see and the way they look at you is like nothing you’ve experienced before.

“You really gonna make the rest of these people die before we drag you outta here, baby?” He asks you tauntingly as his gold tooth shines down on you.

Your eyes glance around and see your friends, your co-workers couched on the floor crying as automatic weapons aim straight for them, soldiers armed and ready.

Staring up into his merciless blue eyes, a shuttered gasp of breath leaves you.

These people you care about – you can’t bare the thought of costing another one of them their life. Not at the hands of these monsters, not for this. But you also know that if they take you, you’ll probably never return.

That’s the first moment you want to cry. Sucking in a sharp gasping breath against the pressure on your chest, you can’t fight the tears that burns in your eyes and then slide down the edges of your face as you shake your head no. Accepting your fate.

“Good girl.” He grins, giving your cheek a playful pat before yanking you off the ground. Gripping your arms tightly behind your back.

You’ve never known fear like you do as this man grips your wrists tight. Your limbs tremble in terror from every cell in your body, your heart racing with unimaginable fear as you glance over at the people you know.

Chancing a glance, you spot Aster off to the side, dangling from a beam.

You can’t stop the next round of tears that slip from your eyes with the sight of her, but then you see it, her leg moves.

She’s still alive! But barely. Without warning, you buck back against the blonde, slamming your head into his chest.

He wasn’t anticipating your sudden fight and his grip lessons for a moment, but that’s all you need to break free.

Racing toward the rope, you rip the knot free and her body crashes hard to the floor below.

Running to her, you barely have a chance to touch her neck before a strong arm wraps around your waist, yanking you swiftly away from her.

“No, I can save her! I can save her!” You scream, fighting against the hold he has on you, but the robotic hand around you is unrelenting as it drags you away.

“Let this be a lesson to all of you. Treason will not be tolerated.” You hear his southern voice holler out.

His breath heavy beside your ear, just before he speaks only for you.

“She’s a lost cause, baby.” His husky voice drawls out smoothly and before you can believe your eyes, one of the soldiers is on her, pointing a gun down at her head and pulling the trigger without hesitation.

“No!” You scream violently through tears.

Your body bucking frantically against his grip, hands desperately clawing at the metal trying to break free as he drags you back toward the darkness.

“Macon, let’s go!” Is the last thing you hear him say, his words echoing in your head…

You can still hear your cries vibrating through you, rattling through the hollows of your chest.

Still see her body as you cry out, your throat sore from the force of it as your eyes shoot wildly open in the dark.

Donnie’s smell engulfs you, suffocates you like the feel of his arms trapped around you.

His hands are on you, grabbing at you, burning into your flesh as you fight to break free, thrashing against the blankets and his strength.

Donnie comes into view - shirtless, hair disheveled, his piercing blue eyes full of so much confusion as he blinks at you.

Your face whips frantically around the room as the four walls of your bedroom fill your eyes, but the line between this world and the past is a thin veil rolling like a wave, unfolding onto itself.

It’s all still so real, so present, as If it’s happening before your very eyes all over again.

A sob rips violently up your throat, clenching at your belly. Gasping you shove at Donnie as hard as you can.

“Don’t touch me!” You yell at him as tears burn and fall rapidly from your eyes.

You pulse pumping frantically, heart racing wildly as you scramble and stumble out of your bed, needing space and room to breathe.

The wooden floors feel cool on your bare feet as you stumble around disoriented, the tears feel warm as they rush down your flushed cheeks, reaching for your chest, you try desperately to catch your breath.

Donnie comes into view again, rounding the side of the bed, moving toward you.

The sight of him sends your panic in full drive as you rapidly move back, arm raised trying to keep him at bay.

“Stay back.” You order.

Your head swirls with images of your dear friend, the sight of her horrible death, the callousness of Donald and his men.

Your back hits the wall and you find yourself sliding down it to the floor below as the tears keep coming.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you bury your face in the hill of your knees as your body trembles violently all over.

You wish this would stop, wish you could tell yourself it was only a dream, but it wasn’t, it was a memory.

A horror show you fear you’ll never make peace with, like so many others buried inside your mind.

The sound of little feet on the floor catches your attention, frantically you fight with yourself, struggling to steady and compose your breath.

You hate your baby to see you like this. Your face rises as the sound of Danny’s feet come close.

“Come ‘ere, Buddy.” You hear Donnie say as he reaches for your son, but unlike any other time Donnie reaches for him, Danny begins to protest this time.

“No, I help mommy.” He insists stubbornly.

Wiping the tears from your face, you smile at your little boy standing before you, his hand gently touching your damp cheek as he tries to hand you the cup of water from his nightstand.

“Here mommy, dwink. Is ok.” He tells you in the softest voice.

And your heart breaks all over again with the sight of him. Breaks, because he knows what this is, even though he shouldn’t, because he’s see you have an episode before, more than once.

Taking the water into you hand, you open your other arm to him and Danny easily snuggles in.

Your heart feels heavy with guilt as he burrows in close. He deserves so much more than you. He deserves a better mom, not a broken one.

And its moments like this you wish he had been born to someone else, someone better.

Snuggling him close, you only realize Donnie is still standing in front of you when Danny addresses him.

“Is ok, Daddy. Mommy jus had bad dweam.” He explains in a voice that makes him sound years older than he truly is as he hugs you tightly around your neck.

Crouching down, Donnie looks at you closely. His eyes a strange mixture of concern and guilt, because you both know his imagine haunts your deepest nightmares.

“You ok, baby?” He asks, his voice heavy and thick, but when you jerk away as he reaches out to touch your face, his breathe nearly dies mid intake.

Staring into his eyes, in that moment you can’t help but wonder who’s dying in a cell he holds the keys to while you play a dysfunctional game of house.

All the time you spent praying and begging for someone to hear your cries, rescue you from your hell at Transigen, and here you are now, blind to another’s.

Rising slowly on your feet, you hold Danny close and shift him to your hip. Your eyes never leaving Donnie’s as your lips hold mute, the tension thick between you.

Staring into his eyes with all your memories and pain so fresh within your veins, you can’t help but wonder, who is this man you love? How can he contain such contrast inside one body? And how come you still love him in spite of it all?

Breaking his gaze, needing time to think, you move for the door.

“Hey,” Donnie drawls out more demandingly, not one to be ignored.

He forcefully grabs your arm, but when you flinch against his grip, his eyes grow wide and his hand slowly let’s go.

“You gotta know by now I’d never hurt you again, baby.” You hear him say, his face a guarded mask, his features set and firm, but his eyes, his eyes hint with shades of pain, rejection.

The sight of it brings tears swelling in your eyes as you hold Danny close, gently smoothing down his hair.

You do know, you can see it, he regrets the pain he caused you and would never willingly do it again.

And you do love this man. God help you, you do. Probably never stopped loving him… probably never will.

But you don’t understand, can’t wrap your mind around how the man who can teach Danny about football and hold you safe at night, is the same man who wishes to wipe your kind off the planet and has gone out of his way to do so.

Looking into his eyes, you fight to hold the tears back.

“I know… I just… I just don’t get it.” You finally say, more to yourself than even him as your voice wavers with emotion.

Donnie eyes you with caution, before his breath dares to ask. Somehow sensing he isn’t going to like this answer.

“What?”

Your head shakes lightly as the thoughts become too much. The game you played with yourself.

The one that lets you believe you could pretend he didn’t do the things he did while he was away as long as he was a good man with you and Danny when he was here.

“How you can go there, do the things you do and then come back to us.” Your voice cracks with the words, a tear breaking free at the end as you quickly wipe it away, hopefully before Danny sees.

You don’t say it - Transigen. But you both know. It’s the canyon standing between you two.

Maybe if you didn’t know what it was like to disappear down the belly of that beast or be locked in a room for hours of unimaginable torture, but you do, and that’s something you can never forget.

“What am I supposed to say to that?” He counters, his face set, his eyes narrowing as if you’ve challenged him to an unwinnable fight.

And perhaps the awful truth is, you have. He’s committed to his job for reasons you don’t understand.

A job that destroyed your world. Nearly destroyed you. And now you’re both just supposed to pretend that doesn’t impact your life together here.

Pretend you can have it all, Transigen and each other. You see now that was ridiculous.

“I just… I need some time to think and figure things out.” You say, turning from him, to go back to Danny’s bed for the night.

You awaken sometime later to the feel of Danny hot and sticky with sweat against you.

Gently lifting your little boy off your chest, you lay him back down against the mattress and pull back the blankets to go back to your bed.

That’s when you spot him – Donnie, asleep against the wall, on the floor by the door. Creeping over to him, you crouch down in front of him and gently shake his arm.

“Donnie,” You whisper, trying not to wake Danny.

Donnie wakes with a start the way he always does when you catch him sleeping somewhere besides his bed, always on guard.

He reaches out for your arm suddenly, gripping it tight until he recognizes you and easily let’s go.

“What are you doing in here?” You ask quietly, not sure when he came in or why he’s down on the ground.

His eyes hold yours, steady and sure as he speaks.

“I’m watchin’ out for you. I’m not gonna let anythin’ happen again.” He tells you simply in a thick southern drawl, heavy from sleep.

But it’s the meaning behind his words that makes your heart swell.

Donnie’s never been good with words, even less when it comes to feelings, but his actions speak loud enough.

Reaching for you, Donnie tries to pull you into his arms, but you resist, easily slipping from his grasp to take a seat on the opposite wall across from him.

Your mind still a swirl of unanswerable dilemmas you’re not sure snuggling can fix.

You hold his eyes, offering him a small smile. Trying to say without words, it isn’t on him, it’s about you.

But Donnie isn’t good with no, so he pushes off the wall and moves to you.

Kneeling over you, your eyes hold steady with his as he gently cups your jaw and brings his lips down to your forehead for a brief kiss.

Resting his head against yours, you hear him let out of a long uneven breath.

“I’m tryin baby.” He drawls out with more raw honesty than he usually expresses. The kind of truth that comes from a man when he’s scared of losing something he loves.

“…I’m tryin.” You hear it in the waiver of his breath, he’s never done this before, he doesn’t know what you need, how to help you, but he’s trying.

“I know,” You try to reassure him as your fingers faintly trace the tattoo on his neck.

Pulling back slowly, Donnie takes a seat beside you, tangling the hand at your side with his.

Drawing your hand to his lips, he softly kisses your knuckles, his eyes holding steady with yours, steady and unwavering against the darkness that surrounds you both.

#boyd holbrook #robert boyd holbrook #boyd holbrook x reader #boyd holbrook fanfic #boyd holbrook imagine #logan imagine #donald pierce fanfic #donald pierce imagine #donald pierce x reader

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tobedeletedwayward · 7 years

Text

Roommates || Suga || Part 11

Summary: A kiss can change everything. Why haven’t you and Yoongi let it?

Word Count: 1,912

A/N: God I love and hate writing this series; I’m going to be so torn when its all over... Whenever that’ll be.

<< Part 10 ||

Soon after the holiday season passed, your life returned to some vague sense of rhyme and reason.

And yet in the midst of that, in the brief moments where your thoughts would escape you, all you could think about was Min Yoongi under a night sky filled with a rainbow of colours fanning behind him like some form of halo, his lips so close to your own and the rhythmic thumping of your heart.

And you wanted to punch yourself in the face because of it.

The middle of January hit you hard and fast, and the once deathly winter winds had begun fading into the cool breeze of spring. But, unlike the changing of seasons, your relationship with Yoongi remained stagnant.

So stagnant, and yet its lack of motion made you sick.

Well, you and a select group of other people.

“So you’ve kissed?!”

You pushed her forehead with your finger. It was times like this that you regretted hanging out with her and, in the current circumstance, agreeing to go shopping for snacks for movie night with her.

“Wanna yell it any louder for me?” You fired back, glancing around at the convenience store to make sure no one had been too disturbed by the outburst. “And yes, we kissed... Well more like he kissed me; and it was on the cheek – which really isn’t a big deal-”

“You’re kidding! A kiss is a kiss, [Y/N]! Do you know what this means?!”

“He picked up some western customs?”

“He likes you back!”

You dropped another pot of instant ramen into your basket before moving away from her, cheeks reddening from her statement.

“Stop assuming things,” you mumbled, “two friends can give each other pecks on the cheek and they mean nothing – you do it all the time to what’s-his-face.”

Your companion rolled her eyes. “Yah, look at me.”

You obliged, pausing mid-step in order to turn and face her. The moment your eyes met, you felt chills run up and down your spine. [Y/F/N] wore a stern look, one you only very rarely saw in moments you spent together. If fire could be cold, then that’s what her look emanated.

“You need to pull your head out of your ass and actually think about what’s going on for once, yeah? Min Yoongi kissed you – initiated intimacy with you of all people – at one of the most romantic parts of the year. Everyone dreams of being kissed on New Years in any form by the person they love and now you’re gonna stand there and act like it was nothing? I don’t know whether you’re stupid or dense.”

Your mouth dropped open ever so slightly before you sighed and turned on your heel, walking towards the counter to purchase your snacks.

“I’m not stupid or dense, thank you very much.” You muttered, glaring at her from the corner of your eye as the cashier scanned your items.

“Oh?” She challenged, looking at you with a raised brow. “Then why haven’t you and Yoongi talked about it?”

It felt as though a bucket of cold water had been dropped onto your body, forcing you to shiver a little more than you thought you could.

The cashier had interrupted your discussion, making you pay and take your plastic bag of goods before exiting the store in a hurry. [Y/F/N] was on your tail, arms folded as she waited in anticipation for your response. You knew she wouldn’t let up and you sighed, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets as you thought about your answer.

“We haven’t talked because we’ve both been busy – and because there isn’t anything to talk about.” You answered after another few moments of thought. Your companion scoffed. “What? It’s true!”

“You can lie to yourself all you want but you can’t lie to me, [Y/N].” She tutted, leading you back to her apartment building up the road. “That’s the oldest excuse in the book and I’m not taking it as an answer.”

You huffed, causing the stray baby hairs that framed your face to be blown away by the sudden breath of air underneath them.

She wasn’t going to let you out of this as easily as you hoped.

Why hadn’t you and Yoongi talked about it?

It was a complex situation – to you at least.

You liked Yoongi, had liked him for years. As of late, different feelings were coming into fruition and you couldn’t help but notice the differences in the way Yoongi looked at you from back in your university days to know. It was strange; the type of strange that made your stomach flip and heart beat as if you were running a marathon.

If in the off chance he liked you back then that was great.

If he didn’t then-

Then what?

What would happen to the friendship you were already rekindling? What would happen to the current routine you had come to know with your roommate? Would things get awkward? Would you get over him, forget him as if your feelings never existed, never mattered in the first place?

Your throat tightened.

“I’m scared, [Y/F/N]...” You answered, words leaving as a faint whisper that dissipated into the air. She looked at you to continue. “There’s too much on the line if we talk about it and I-”

I don’t want things to change.

I don’t want stop being with Yoongi if things go wrong.

Your throat closed up around the words, trapping them deep in your throat. You clutched the handles of the plastic bag tighter, feeling [Y/F/N] nudge your shoulder comfortingly.

“I don’t want to lose him.”

Hearing the words out loud was a cathartic experience, one that lifted the heavy weight of unrequited affection from your shoulders.

But it also heightened your fear, your uncertainty that surrounded the enigma of Min Yoongi.

[Y/F/N] pulled you into a side hug, an arm slung tightly around your shoulder. “People come and go from our lives all the time... But if Yoongi is an actual friend then he’ll stick around even if he doesn’t feel the same way. But he does, because why else would you kiss someone on New Years?”

You fell silent.

“You should try talking to him... You gotta get that closure.” She continued. The stern expression had melted away and was immediately replaced by a kind and supportive smile.

You nodded, but your throat was still clamped shut and the dark thoughts continued to swim around and around in your head

You had to talk to him.

You needed the closure.

You needed something...

Anything.

“So you finally made your move, huh?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and adjusted the wire of his in-ears. “How about you focus on our gig tonight instead of investing yourself in my life?”

Namjoon laughed at him, locking eyes with the older male through the mirror of their dresser. The former knew that it was unconventional of him to ask about his friend’s love life less than half an hour before they had to go out and perform at one of the most popular clubs in Seoul, but if he did it after then the latter would probably run and avoid answering it entirely.

At least now he was cornered, and with enough prodding an answer would be given.

“I’m just curious,” Namjoon answered, ignoring the very obvious glare that Yoongi wore, “that text you sent was pretty out of nowhere.”

Yoongi shrugged and looked away from Namjoon’s reflection, continuing to adjust his clothes.

It had been out of character of him to send him that message. Less than six hours after he had kissed you he had texted Namjoon, as if he was some giddy middle schooler telling his friends about the fact he held hands with a pretty girl. That one text had been the end of the discussion, had been the only thing he had said about the matter and from that point on he had refused to answer any queries on the topic.

“And I mean I’m happy for you Yoongs, really.” Namjoon continued, turning so he could lean against the dresser. Yoongi quirked an eyebrow at him and proceeded to face him as well. “You’ve been pining like a love sick puppy for [Y/N] for years and you’ve finally made a move; I’m stoked.”

Yoongi felt his lips form a frown. “I’m not pining over her,” he retorted, “don’t make it sound like I’m obsessed with her-”

“Then why did you make me tell you every little thing that happened to her while you were gone?” He challenged.

“Am I not allowed to care about my friends?”

“Not when ‘the friend’ you speak of was the reason you wanted to return to Seoul in the first place.”

Yoongi felt his frown deepen, with new wrinkles forming at the top of his forehead and the corners of his mouth. “She wasn’t the reason-”

“You can lie to [Y/N] but you can’t lie to me, hyung.” Namjoon interjected, his own face being pulled into an expression of displeasure. “You’ve had feelings for her since university, there isn’t anything wrong about that... The problem is that you kissed her and then did nothing to follow it up.”

“It’s not like I made it my New Years’ resolution to confess to her, Joon.” Yoongi argued, folding his arms across his chest indignantly.

“S’not the point, Yoongs.” Namjoon sighed. “You like her, she probably likes you too; why haven’t you addressed the giant elephant in the room?”

The look on Namjoon’s face showed he was anticipating an answer, and a good one at that. Yoongi gave in; he knew they weren’t going to go on stage until this conversation was over, until his friend was satisfied with the answer he formulated.

Why hadn’t the two of you talked about this?

He should have talked about it with you the next day; he was an adult and it was his responsibility since he did initiate the exchange.

But every time he tried his throat closed up, his tongue tied itself into knots while his heart dropped and crushed his liver into itty, bitty pieces. It was a terrifying thought to him, to confront years and years of emotions and tension and to invest in a confession that had the power to ruin everything in the fraction of a second.

What if you didn’t like him back? What if, deep down, you wanted to be with that Seokjin guy over him? How much would things change between the two of you if you rejected him? Could he handle being rejected after so long?

No. No he couldn’t. And he didn’t want to even consider that possibility since it meant that he’d be losign you of all people in this world. And there, in a flash of light he felt the answer reach his lips.

He was scared.

“We’ve got to go on.” He responded, finally, shoving his in-ears into his ear drums and walking out of their backstage dressing room.

As quickly as it came, he swallowed it back down. He didn’t want to think about the uncertain future his mind had formed. Instead he decided that he would talk to you, one day. Yoongi needed to man up, to lay everything on the table to you just as he should have on the second day of the year.

He had to. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day. He owed you that much.

#kpop scenarios #bts #bts scenarios #bangtan boys #bangtan boys scenarios #bangtan #bangtan scenarios #suga #suga scenarios #yoongi #yoongi scenarios #min yoongi #min yoongi scenarios #bts fluff #roommates #roommates au #part 10 #wayward scenarios #waywardscenarios

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imagineteamfreewill · 7 years

Text

Home and Prison

Title: Home and Prison

Pairing: Reader x Dean

Word Count: 2,755

Warnings: Angst, yelling, minor injury

Theme Song: Home by Susan Egan and Be Our Guest by the Original Movie Cast

Beta: @lipstickandwhiskey

Summary: The castle is becoming more like a prison for you with each passing day, just as it is for Dean. Several interactions with him reveal both a side of him you don’t want to see and a side you’d never seen before. Nonetheless, you still dream of your freedom every day.

A/N: This is part four of the Beauty and the Beast series. Please let me know what you think! The song “Be Our Guest” isn’t an integral part of this installment, but the scene is mentioned briefly so I thought I would include it. The recording of “Home” is much better on Spotify because since it’s from Broadway, there aren’t quality recordings on YouTube.

Beauty and the Beast Masterlist

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_________________

When Dean finally awoke, it was already midday the next day. He never slept this much; usually, he dozed for an hour and then woke up, well-rested and already needing something to keep himself occupied until he was tired again. The enchantment not only made him into a monster, but it gave him a lifetime of boredom. If he thought not being able to leave the castle grounds was torture at first, it was even worse now that he’d already done everything that could ever be done in his enchanted home.

Sam was nowhere to be found, so Dean stood from the bed, wincing when the bandaged wound on his side shot a sharp pain through his abdomen. He really should thank Y/N for tending to it, he decided. Sam and Cas wouldn’t have been able to help, as they didn’t even have opposable thumbs.

Holding a hand to his side, he headed out into the castle hallway and began to look for his younger brother. The sound of laughter echoed from down the hall and he followed it, hoping that he wouldn’t disrupt whatever was going on. That was another thing that had developed thanks to his curse; besides the boredom, Dean could always count on the room falling silent whenever he walked in, even if it was filled only with those who had been fond of him as a human.

“I know you’ve been stressed by all that’s been going on, Y/N, and I highly suggest you let us serve you,” Sam was saying. Dean crept closer, being careful not to bump into anything, and peeked through the doorway into the dining room.

Y/N sat at the end of the table while Sam practically danced across the shiny mahogany surface, telling her about the different dishes the servants were placing in front of her. It had to have been a long time since the staff had been able to cook for someone, but Dean was surprised that the food looked just as delicious as it had when he was human. That, of course, didn’t surprise him—Jody and the other kitchen workers were always some of his favorite people, and he knew that it was impossible for them to ever grow out of practice.

The delighted look in Y/N’s eyes, along with the stories of her past life in the village that she’d been telling one of the maids earlier, told Dean that she had never been faced with such delectable food. He doubted that she’d be able to try everything before she was full.

He watched as she laughed at something Sam said to her, her head tilting back as she smiled from ear to ear. The look on her face was almost endearing, and the excitement that filled her eyes was contagious. Dean couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight.

Sam turned and caught his brother’s eye through the doorway. He didn’t say anything to acknowledge his presence, but Dean suddenly felt as if he was intruding. There was never any fun to be had when he was around. He didn’t belong in this picturesque scene. Silently, he pulled away from the door and headed back the way he had come. Behind him, Sam’s spiel was winding down.

“Thank you for dinner, Sam,” Y/N said.

Panic filled Dean as the sound of her voice got closer, and he quickly stepped into one of the cavities that lined the hallway, pressing his back to the wall. Y/N passed by without glancing his way while Sam hopped alongside her.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, mademoiselle,” Sam replied.

Dean rolled his eyes; Sam had always been polite, almost to the point where it was annoying. Leaning out into the hall, Dean watched as his brother and Y/N turned the corner, then slipped out to follow them further.

“I haven’t eaten that well in a long time. And I really… I really think that’s the most fun I’ll have in a while,” Y/N trailed off, stopping outside the doors of one of the bedrooms.

Sam stopped in front of her.

“What makes you so sad? There’s plenty to do in the castle!” Sam exclaimed, looking around to find something to hop up on.

When there was nothing in sight, Y/N leaned down and picked him up, holding him so her eyes were level with his metal ones. She sighed, thinking a moment before she replied, “Once your brother is healed, I don’t doubt that he’ll lock me back up again since I tried to escape.”

Dean sucked in a breath. If she knew that he and Sam were brothers, there was no telling what else she knew. She couldn’t find out about the curse and he hated thinking that Sam was telling her every little thing about him behind his back. Irritated, he stormed off, not caring if anyone heard his heavy footsteps. Once upon a time, he’d been able to walk softly, but now that skill was long gone.

Behind him, the door to her room slammed shut and the sound of Sam heading in the opposite direction faded quickly. Dean was once again alone in his prison.

_______________

Living in a castle was every peasant girl’s dream, and you had to admit that some of it was wonderful—like the dinner Sam and his friends had prepared for you—, but somehow you found yourself hating every second you were trapped in your lavish bedroom. It was lonely, and you wished with every fiber of your being that you could be living once more in your tiny little home back in Sainte-Suzanne.

It took you two weeks to get up the nerve to leave your chambers and explore the castle further. The painting almost seemed taboo—you didn’t speak of your discovery of it to any of the animated characters that you encountered each day, and none of them mentioned it to you, either—but surely there were other things in the castle that they could tell you stories about. So, you decided to venture out of your room and try to find something to entertain yourself.

You had been wandering around in the long, winding hallways for what seemed like hours before something finally caught your interest. It was a set of tall doors, one of which had a twisting crack that ran up its side, and you carefully checked to make sure that no one was watching before you tugged them open. They creaked as you pulled on them; it was obvious no one had used them for a long time.

Once they’d swung open enough for you to slip inside, you carefully padded into the adjoining hallway. It was so dark that you had to squint to see, and suddenly you wished that Sam was with you to light the way. You knew that he and Cas would disapprove of your little adventure, however, so you didn’t dare go back to find them.

All around you, more dingy painting hung on the walls, and you could see dust motes floating through the air in the little light that remained. Cautiously, you ventured further down the hall and found yourself entering into a large room. It had been a sitting room at one time, you decided, and you crossed the room, inspecting the wooden antiques as you passed them. Padded chairs littered the space, and a broken chaise lounge was pushed against a wall of empty bookshelves. Although the books were nowhere in sight, you could easily imagine a prince and a dozen charming ladies vying for his attention lounging around the room, all of them dressed opulently as they chatted and laughed. One of them would be reading aloud to the others, providing entertainment as they prepared for a royal ball.

At the far end of the room there was a raised balcony. The doors were long gone, and you climbed the two stone steps with ease. A single, small table stood proudly in the center of the room, and atop it rest a glass cover. Designs of curling vines and leaves were etched into its delicate surface, and somehow it wasn’t covered with dust at all. It looked out of place among the broken and neglected furniture. Curious, you stepped closer and peered inside. You gasped and pulled away at what you saw, then carefully pulled the glass cover away from its contents to make sure you were seeing correctly.

A single red rose floated just above the table’s scratched surface, with several petals lying beneath it. A faint glow radiated from it, and as you reached out to touch it your heart was pounding. Suddenly, the Beast’s paw was wrapped tightly around your wrist and you found yourself being tossed away from the table. You stumbled backward as he replaced the glass dome. Now on the floor, you looked up at him in fear, watching as his immense furry shoulders heaved up and down in anger.

“I—” you stammered, clambering to your feet, ignoring the blood trickling down your shin from the scrape on your knee.

“You were warned not to come here!” he roared, turning around to face you.

The Beast was terrifying once more. Every trace of humanity was gone from his eyes, and you bit down on your lower lip to keep it from trembling.

“You were warned not to come to the West Wing, and you disobeyed my command! How can such an ignorant girl expect to live so long? If it were up to me, you would be dead by now! You should learn to respect authority, Y/N,” he growled.

The sound of his teeth clashing together when he snapped his mouth shut made you flinch and ball your hands into fists.

“I didn’t know!” you shouted. “I didn’t know this was the West Wing, and nobody told me anything about some special rose I’m not supposed to touch!” The Beast seemed furious at your response, but you couldn’t hold your tongue. “How can such a horrible monster expect to ever be respected by anyone? You will never have authority over me, you Beast.”

With that, you turned and stormed out of the room, focused more on holding yourself together than what would happen if your words angered him even more.

Once you were past the cracked doors, you ran to your chambers and slammed the doors behind you. Your back rested against the chipped wood and you slid down, wiping away the tears that were streaming down your cheeks. Hands trembling, you cried and tried to calm down. Your heart still pounded, even though you were now safe, but you couldn’t get the picture of the Beast’s sharp, pointed teeth snapping at you out of your mind.

A heavy knock at your door caused you to flinch.

“Do— Don’t come in!” you cried as you scrambled to your feet and backed away from the door. Slowly, it was pushed open, revealing the Beast, who was standing on the other side.

“I said don’t come in!” you sobbed, shaking your head. Pressing a hand to your mouth, you wrapped your other arm around yourself and backed up until your back was pushed up against a wall. “Please, just go!”

The Beast opened his mouth to speak, and you let out a whimper when you saw his teeth glinting in the flickering lamp on your nightstand. His eyes were unusually soft as he watched you. Slowly, he lifted his paws in a gesture of surrender, then walked backward until he was standing in the tall doorway.

“I came to… To tell you that you are not to stay in your room all the time,” he said, his voice sounding strained. “You are not allowed in the West Wing, but you are not a prisoner of this room, only the castle. I also… Wanted to thank you for tending to my wound. I would have died otherwise.” You watched him warily, unable to move as he leaned forward in a terse bow before backing out and closing the bedroom door.

Your knees gave out beneath you, causing you to collapse into a heap on the floor. It took you a moment to regain control of your muscles, and once you could stand again, you quickly crossed the room and pushed your nightstand in front of the door. You knew it wouldn’t hold off an angry Beast for very long, but you’d rather have some semblance of defense against someone so violent than nothing at all.

Slowly, you sank down on the edge of your bed, watching out the window as the crows outside swooped and called to each other. Your eyes filled with angry tears as you realized that even the birds had more freedom than you. You were trapped in a stone prison and told to call it your home; it wasn’t your home, and it never would be. Someday, you decided, you’d get out of the castle, because even if it held you now, you would one day return home to Father and the tiny village where you longed to be.

_______________

All Dean had wanted to do was apologize. When he’d found Y/N by the rose, he’d panicked. No one had ever touched it, not even him, and he had suddenly had a vision of the castle crumbling around him. He’d lashed out without thinking, and as a result, she now feared him even more. So, he’d gone to her room to try and apologize. It hadn’t gone as planned, and the sound of her sobs was still ringing in his ears hours later. The scrape on her leg was worrying, even more so because he knew it was because of him, but he couldn’t get past the terror that had filled her eyes. He couldn’t bear to think of how horrified she’d looked when he’d opened the door and revealed that it was him. Y/N thought he was a monster—he knew that he was, but a tiny part of him broke inside when he realized that she would never be able to see any other part of him besides his exterior.

Dean swiped at a vase, knocking it onto the floor and ignoring its shatter as he continued on his way to the West Wing. It did nothing to relieve his frustration and a low growl erupted from his throat.

“I am not a monster,” he snarled. “I’m a prince!”

Dean huffed and slammed the door to his wing of the castle, not caring that the walls shook and a shower of dust rained down around the door frame. After a moment, he opened the door again and stuck his head out.

“Cas!” he roared. “Cas!”

The sound echoed throughout the hallways and only minutes passed before his old friend came scurrying into the room.

“Dean, is everything alright?” he asked. “You look distressed.”

The decorative curlicues on the clock’s face curled inward, imitating the way Cas’ eyebrows used to furrow whenever he was worried. The sight made Dean smile for a brief moment, but then he sighed and sat down on the only chaise that remained in his room.

“She thinks I’m a monster. I’m not a monster, Cas. You think that too, right? I haven’t changed too much?” he asked by way of reply.

Castiel remained silent. After a moment, he crossed the room and hopped up to sit on the end of the chaise that was unoccupied by Dean.

“You are only a monster in appearance. She doesn’t know about what happened, and she can never learn, but if you would only spend ti—”

“I can’t spend time with her if she’s too afraid of me to even be in the same room as me!” Dean shouted. “I can’t force her to do anything! She’s too… Too willful!”

He jerked to his feet, causing Cas to lose his balance and tumble to the floor. Before Dean could help him up and make sure he was alright, however, the building shuddered around them. Horrified, Dean sprinted out of his chambers to the West Wing. He arrived just in time to watch another petal of his rose tumble down to the table. A shiver of fear ran through him, and Dean realized that he was tearing up when his eyes began to sting.

With only a few petals left, it was only a matter of time before his form was permanent and his home became a whole new kind of prison.

_______________

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Forever Tags: @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki, @deathtonormalcy56, @purgatoan, @feelmyroarrrr, @shadowgirl077, @mogarukes, @jayankles, @amaranthinecastiel, @jpadjackles, @d-s-winchester, @kickasscas67, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @therebel1967, @supernatural-harrypotter7, @allinhishands, @ultimatecin73, @crystallstaircase, @a-screaming-ghost, @huffleypuffelycas, @procrastinating-fallen-angel, @kittycat-cas, @dracsgirl, @deansleather, @queenindecisive, @wildfirekhaleesi, @fuckyeahfeysand, @sandlee44, @plaidstiel-wormstache, @spontaneousam, @writingbeautifulmen, @kristaparadowski, @adaliamalfoy, @winchesterforever12, @fangirl1802, @supernaturalyobessed, @mamaredd123 , @findingfitnessforme, @a-broken-hunter, @weepingrebelhottub, @notesfromalabprincess, @dustycelt, @becaamm, @riversong-sam, @you-know-whodoesthat-crazypeople, @therewillbeblood, @raylin19, @maddieburcham1, @fangirlwithasweettooth, @ohgodjensen, @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes, @notmoose45, @yvngkinggchristyy, @becs-bunker, @wingsanddarkness, @docharleythegeekqueen

Dean Tags: @bowtiesandapplepie, @itsemmyb, @ezauraemmaline, @beriala, @charliesbackbitches, @crzcorgi, @ellen-reincarnated1967, @gryffindorable713, @walkingencyclopediaoffandom, @growleytria, @thegleegeneration, @samtomydeanwinchester, @i-never-said-a-pilot, @sis-tafics, @fandommaniacx, @meganwinchester1999, @samanddeanwinchester67, @ferferelli, @lilyoflothlorien, @iridianuniverse, @the-morning-star-falls, @ackleslaugh, @fangirling-instead-of-working, @hellbentcrowley, @eyes-of-a-disney-princess, @torn-and-frayed, @spnsimpleman, @faith-in-dean, @mamaimpala, @for-the-love-of-dean, @winchesterfiesta, @zanthiasplace, @pada-ackles-reads, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @gadreelsforbiddenfruit, @jencharlan, @skybinx-blog, @thebunkerismyhome, @beachy2014, @fandom-book-nerd, @shipping-people-writing-things, @tia58, @sams-little-toy, @sunriserose1023, @dr-dean, @saving-things-hunting-family, @winchesterswoonathon, @gbuttry, @a-closet-full-of-skeletons, @ruprecht0420, @thegoodhunterrr5, @jotink78, @lucifer-in-leather, @i-dont-know-how-to-write, @deantbh, @babypieandwhiskey, @waywardjoy, @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname, @fiveleaf, @spn-fan-girl-173, @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave, @samsgoddess, @notnaturalanahi, @thegreatficmaster, @megansescape, @faegal04, @everyday-supernatural-af, @supernatural-jackles, @wevegotworktodo, @deerlululucy, @supermoonpanda, @sleep-silent-angel, @trenchcoats-and-bees, @not-so-natural-spn, @shelovesallthethings, @memariana91, @chelsea-winchester, @revwinchester, @castieltrash1, @supernaturalyobessed, @deals-with-demons, @matteson-crazed, @allonsy-yesiwlill, @akshi8278, @donnaintx

Beauty and the Beast Tags: @jpadjackles, @yvngkinggchristyy, @pureawesomeness001, @beatlesobsessionlove, @xgeekifiedx, @megiestuff, @becs-bunker, @wingsanddarkness, @docharleythegeekqueen

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dong-hyucks · 7 years

Text

Envy ; MJ & Rocky [part!one]

Requested Characters: Myungjun (MJ) / Minhyuk (Rocky) / Astro / Reader Genre: Slight angst, romance Admin: Jade A/N: envy will be a two or three part series, depending on how much time i have to write... also, please note that each chapter will be equivalent to a year. enjoy~ // credit to gif owners

Masterlists

Kim Myungjun was the epitome of amazing. That’s what you thought, anyway. There wasn’t a day that went by when your brother, Bin [otherwise known as Moonbin], didn’t catch you fawning over the older male.

Yes. You, Moon [Y/N], had a crush on Kim Myungjun. He knew; he knew very well that you did. The problem?

You’re seventeen.

You knew that it was wrong for you to like him and that you couldn’t really pursue him as it would be illegal, but you couldn’t help it. Something about him just drew you in. It was as if you were put underneath a spell when he’d meet your eyes or when he’d even smile in your general direction.

It’s love, you claimed.

Smiling, you bounded out of your parent’s café into the night, Moobin not far behind you. “Hey--,” Moonbin hastily locked the café before jogging to catch up with you. “You know, sometimes I think I really shouldn’t bring you along,” he mumbled, running a hand through his brown hair. You narrowed your eyes at him, your smile faltering. “It’s not like I’ll do anything,” you defended yourself, crossing your arms.

Moonbin rolled his eyes, incredulous. “No, but it makes the others uncomfortable when you openly stare at him. I swear; we can see actual hearts coming from your eyes.” Scoffing, you grumbled. “They enjoy my company, thank you very much.”

“I’m not saying they don’t it’s just that you make your crush way too obvious. Tone it down a little, for my sake at least.” Sticking your tongue out at Moonbin, you uncrossed your arms. “I can’t do anything anyway,” you frowned, “he has a girlfriend.”

“That, and you’re six years younger than him.”

“No need to remind me, Binnie.”

Moonbin sighed, putting his arm around your shoulders. “Besides, you really are too young for him, [Y/N]. Don’t you think you should, I don’t know, move on? You’ve had a crush on him for three years.” You sighed again, leaning your head on his shoulder as you walked. “It’s not that easy, Binnie.” Moonbin looked down at you, tapping your nose gently. “It’s not easy because you’re not even trying to move on.”

Groaning, you jabbed his side none too lightly. You smirked to yourself when he recoiled, but stopped to rub the area. “I did try once! It’s just that none of the guys I know are appealing. No offence to your friends, but they are really weird. I once saw Sanha confessing to his pillow.”

Moonbin chuckled at the thought of his friend confessing to an inanimate object, despite not being too surprised at the fact. “Not to mention that time when Jinwoo and Dongmin walked into our house party holding hands and acting all couple-y. They say it was a joke but I swear they’re gay,” you laughed. Moonbin lightly hit your shoulder, “they also have girlfriends, mind you.”

The two of you joked as you walked to Dongmin’s house. He thought it’d be fun to invite everyone over, since the older ones had been busy with college while the younger ones were preoccupied with high school. To say the least, you were excited for the mental break from maths and science.

Upon arriving at his house, the two of you simply walked in. Everyone was already there, chilling in the living room. “You should really lock your door,” Moonbin commented. You bit your lip once you saw Myungjun and his girlfriend cuddling on the couch, but you tried to pay no mind to it.

Tried being the key word. It was hard to keep your attention from him and his hands, which were playing with hers. The way he spoke to her, in such a soft tone, you could tell he loves her. Oh, if only that was you.

“[Y/N]?”

Breaking out of your thoughts, you realized that everyone was staring at you. Including them. Flushing, you smiled awkwardly, “yes?” Beside you, Jinwoo chuckled at your absentmindedness. “We were asking if you wanted to pick the movie we’re watching,” Sanha explained. Nodding your head in understanding, you waved a hand. “It’s fine, as long as it’s PG.” You leaned over, hugging Sanha. “Gotta’ keep my child safe from the dangers that is 18+ movies.”

Sanha turned red, hitting your hands away. “We’re the same age,” he mumbled. Myungjun, smiled briefly at your joke before bringing his girlfriend closer to him.

Ouch.

You ended up watching Jurassic World, a movie to which you gave your approval to. In the middle of the movie, a ding resonated across the room. Everyone turned to Myungjun’s girlfriend, who quickly looked down at her phone.

“Who is it?” Myungjun whispered as the others kept watching the movie. “Jisoo,” she whispered back, her nails tapping against the phone screen. “He’s asking to meet up again.” Myungjun frowned, looking over her shoulder. “Now?” She nodded. “I’m going to say yes, I’ve watched this movie anyway.”

Myungjun’s frown deepened. “I thought you wanted to spend time with me-- us.” She began to frown, raising a brow at Myungjun. “Don’t be jealous, Myungjun. I just want to hang out with Jisoo a bit more, is all.”

“But--” She stood up, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. You bit your lip, looking at Myungjun’s expression. “You’re doing it again, Myungjun. Just because you’re my boyfriend doesn’t mean you can control who I hang out with.” The boys looked at each other, unsure of what to do in the situation.

“God,” she sighed in frustration, “this isn’t even the first time. Whenever I hang out with Jisoo you look like you’re mad at me or something.” Myungjun glanced at the others, his eyes resting on you for a second before they darted back to her. “I don’t want to do this in front of them, let’s--”

“Then let’s not.” Her voice was finalizing, her hands moving to her hips. “Let’s break up.” Your jaw dropped, along with Moonbin and Dongmin’s. “I told you from the start I didn’t want a possessive boyfriend, and yet here you are.”

She shook her head, seemingly disappointed and frustrated, before leaving to the foyer. The room stilled, no one sure of what to do. Myungjun quickly bolted up from the couch, chasing her. Your heart felt heavy; a mixture of happiness and sadness filling your body.

“Wasn’t expecting that,” Jinwoo mumbled. The boys agreed, but you remained silent. You flinched when you heard the door slam shut. “Should we go check on him?” Sanha asked, glancing back to the hallway, where Myungjun still hadn’t returned from. “I’ll go,” you offered, standing up. You glanced at the boys and sighed. “He just broke up with his girlfriend, don’t give me that look. I’m not shallow enough to try something.”

Moonbin frowned as he watched you disappear down the hallway, but said nothing. As your reached the front door, you saw Myungjun just standing there, frozen from shock, you presumed. “Myungjun?” You said, your voice just above a whisper.

“Hey, the movie’s still on if you’re up for it,” your voice grew quieter, realizing how stupid that sounded. He merely looked over his shoulder at you. “Right, sorry-- that wasn’t the right thing to say.” He watched as you fumbled over your words, your hands immediately fidgeting with one another as you grew nervous.

“Um, well, I’m sorry about her,” you tried, your brain searching for the right words. “That was totally uncalled for in my opinion and...” you trailed off when he began to walk toward you, his body giving off an intense aura, one you weren’t used to sensing from the usually upbeat and happy guy. You backed up, wincing when you hit a wall.

You froze when his hand punched the wall beside your head, trapping you between his body and the wall. “Myungjun--” he interrupted you, his eyebrows furrowed together. “You’re not sorry at all, aren’t you?” You gaped at the accusation, but he didn’t let you talk. “I know you like me. It’s a bit pathetic honestly. Don’t you know that we can’t be together? I’m twenty-three, [Y/N], and you’re seventeen.”

You could hear your heart beating, bu-bump, bu-bump, bu-bump. It felt as though it was racing against a car at a hundred miles per hour. “I will never like you the way you like me.”

You hands felt numb, your eyes wide. Your body was frozen; you couldn’t push him away or speak. “What’s taking-- Myungjun what the hell are you doing?!” You saw Moonbin in your peripheral view, but you couldn’t react. Your breathing went ragged as the older male was pulled away from your body. You drowned out their arguing, stuck to the wall.

Moonbin grabbed your arm, guiding you out of the house. He was obviously angry, at you or Myungjun you couldn’t tell. Slowly, tears began to fall. The realization struck you and it hit you hard. You always knew, at the back of your mind, that he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, but being told off by him hurt.

It hurt a lot.

When the two of you reached a street far enough from Dongmin’s house, Moonbin vented at you angrily. “What were you thinking?! What happened to not doing anything? He had you against the wall, [Y/N], and you just stood there!” Moonbin turned around and sighed when he saw the tears cascading down your cheeks.

Pulling you into a hug, he let you sob into his shoulder. “What happened back there, [Y/N]?” He whispered into your hair. You shook your head, holding onto your brother tighter.

“I tried, Bin, I really did,” you cried. “I tried to comfort him and he just--” you cut yourself off, letting go of another wave of tears. You explained what happened through your tears, leaving Moonbin in a state of shock. He would never have expect Myungjun of all people to say such harsh words. “Myungjun’s an asshole,” he mumbled, surprised at his own words. Right now though, the only emotion he felt toward him was anger.

The two of you stayed there, in the dark underneath a streetlight for an hour. When it began to snow, Moonbin quickly ushered you back to the café.

“Go upstairs and dry yourself off,” Moonbin instructed with a gentle tone. “I’ll make you some hot chocolate and popcorn. We can watch some horror movies in the living room.” You smiled weakly at him, extremely grateful. Normally, he refused to watch horror movies with you since they scared the shit out of him, so you could tell he was really trying to comfort you.

“Okay.”

Moonbin watched as you bounded up the stairs to the home adjacent to the café. Sighing, he jumped over the counter and took out two mugs. Before he began to make the drinks, he took out his slightly wet phone and stared at the screen. During the walk home, he had received several messages.

Dongminnie: Hey, is [Y/N] okay?? even Myungjun is shaken up here Jinjin: what happened?? myungjun’s crying?? Beagle: o m g did [y/n] do something?? did myungjun-hyung do something?? no one’s telling me anything ㅜ_ ㅜ MJ: i’m so sorry! i don’t know what happened i just got really angry and [y/n] was just there i swear!

Scoffing at the last text, Moonbin turned off his phone.

A week later, you and Moonbin were put in charge of the café for a week. Your parents were visiting Jeju for their anniversary and had left the two of you to work on your own. Luckily, your winter break had just begun, so you didn’t have school.

“Thank you, come again,” you waved at the customer as she left. Sighing, you idly wiped the counter with a rag. Today had been a slow day due to the crappy weather. It was an hour until closing time and you had only gotten six costumers so far. “Binnie,” you whined, watching as the male cleaned tables. “Can’t we just close up early? No one’s out there.”

Moonbin looked out the window before continuing to clean, “I can see people.”

Groaning, you opened up the cashier and began counting the day’s earning. “Only ₩ 46000 today,” you said, putting the money back. Moonbin let out a low whistle, “that’s not a lot.” You deadpanned, looking up at him. “Makes sense, considering the lack of customers today.”

“Stop sassing me, [Y/N].”

“Too bad, you have to live with it.”

Before Moonbin could give you a reply, the bell above the door sounded. Immediately, you smiled at the customer. You tried not to gawk at him, but he was extremely attractive. The customer smiled back at you, causing you to silently scream [in your head of course] because you probably looked like crap at the moment.

“Hi,” he said. Even his voice is heavenly, you couldn’t help but think. “I’ll have a caramel macchiato.” Giving the boy a timid smile, you entered the order into the register. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you told him that his order would be done soon.

You went to the back to make his drink and took the opportunity to let out a shaky sigh. Don’t get ahead of yourself [Y/N], you thought to yourself, you’ll probably never see him again anyway. Sighing, you raked a hand through your hair in frustration. Besides, you were still thinking about him.

You quickly made the drink and headed back to the counter, surprised to see Moonbin and the male talking as though they were brothers.

“[Y/N]!” Moonbin said happily. “Remember Rocky?” He asked, pointing toward Rocky, who looked back at you with a grin. You racked your brain for any memories containing the name ‘Rocky’, but came up empty. “I’m sorry...?” You shook your head, confused. Rocky quickly came up to the counter and took your hands in his. You let out an odd noise, shocked over the sudden skinship.

“Does Minhyuk ring a bell, then?” You blinked. Rocky looked at you expectantly, as did Moonbin who stood behind him. “You’re Minhyuk?” You gasped, eyes widening. “The same dorky Minhyuk from grade school? The one who had a crush on the most popular girl at school? That Minhyuk?” Rocky, or Minhyuk, nodded before pouting at you. “No need to bring back dark memories, [Y/N]. geez.”

Grinning you raised your hands, which were still in his, and leaned closer. “I also remember watching you fall on your ass when you confessed,” you joked, biting your tongue. Going red, Minhyuk took his hands from yours and covered his face. Moonbin laughed, having witnessed the event.

“So, you’re back from Seoul?” You asked, locking the doors as it was closing time. Minhyuk took a sip from his drink before answering, “yup. And I’m here to stay,” you smiled to yourself. Minhyuk had been your best friend up until eighth grade, when he moved from Jinju to Seoul to pursue a dancing career. “What happened to your group, Fantagio, was it?” Moonbin asked.

“The lead dancer punched one of the newbies for not knowing the dance, which resulted in a very long fight, which then caused our disbandment.” Minhyuk shrugged, seemingly nonchalant about the whole ordeal. You winced at the thought, “sorry, dude. That sucks for you.”

“Not really, I kind of disliked the entire group. They were all jerks.”

Chuckling, you took a seat in front of Moonbin and Minhyuk. “So, tell me,” Minhyuk began. “You developed a crush on some older guy right before I left. Did anything happen?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Moonbin pushed his shoulder, looking at you worriedly. “He practically rejected me last week, but that’s about it.” You said, your voice quiet.

Minhyuk frowned. “Sorry, [Y/N], I didn’t know.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “How could you have known? I haven’t really told anybody and you haven’t been in town either.” Glancing at the two and their concerned expressions, you shook your head. “It’s fine, guys. I just have to move on now.”

You knew, however, that moving on from Kim Myungjun wouldn’t be easy. After all, he was the epitome of amazing.

I actually loved writing this oml-- but //screams\\ I made Myungjun sooo ooc I’m sorry >-< iT wAs FoR tHe PlOt I sWeAr He’S mY bIaS

alsoo the café would look something like this with your (moonbin, you, fam) home above

- ♡ jade ♡

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delkios · 7 years

Text

Something of Your Own (DC TV)

This was something I fought with for two weeks. Couple things of note: I haven't watched the last few episodes so if this contradicts canon then oh well. Second, this was inspired when I remembered the line from season 1 about Mick having to strangle rats to survive and this fic will be partially taking place during that time so mind the warnings. Third, I had intended to pretend the rest of the team was treating Mick better than they had been but that quickly fell to the wayside so there's gonna be some salt in here. Title: Something of Your Own Fandom: Legends of Tomorrow Rating: PG-13 Warnings: animal death/referenced cruelty, trauma induced by isolation and starvation, implied child abuse Word Count: 5411 Characters: Mick, Mick's rat, cameos by other Legends Summary: Mick always had a soft spot for rats though they never ended well before. This time, though, he'll make sure is different. Mick didn't have a pet growing up. Not technically anyway. Their farm had no animals but it wasn't uncommon to see stray cats wandering around, chasing off rodents. They were all feral and would run off if a person tried to get close. They were never given food or water, were never taken to a vet or worried after and as such they were unreliable so traps were set around the farm and house. Mick found a rat in one once, it's tail caught and broken, squealing in pain and fear. He took it and kept it in a box while he made a rough cage out of scrap chicken wire. He named it Miss Bianca after a movie he'd seen once where mice saved a little girl. He kept it under his bed.

He had it for almost two months before his father found out. He cracked Miss Bianca's head with a shovel and boxed Mick's ears, threatening to do worse if the house got infested because of him. Mick snuck out of the house after midnight, combing the field his father had tossed Miss Bianca's body into in hopes he'd be able to give it a burial. He never found it. He chased away every rodent he found in the house after that, unsure if he was trying to protect them from his father or from Mick's occasional impulse to keep them. In the end it was the same thing, really. If his father found them, he'd kill them and Mick's feelings on the matter didn't factor. The impulse to have something of his own, something to look after and take care of came and went but never really stopped. He hadn't expected it to transfer to scrawny, smart-mouthed punks. ~*~*~*~ The crew treats it like an adorable joke. Like just because Mick has a pet rat now, he's no longer scary. Mick sets its cage atop the case to the- still broken -cold gun. A place of honor where Mick can watch and talk to it while laid out in his recliner. Talking to the rat isn't as calming as staring at fire but it's better than arguing with his imaginary partner. There's a knock on the frame of Mick's open door. He rolls his head around, still absently scratching the base of the rat's skull and not caring about the crumbs on his jacket as it stuffs its little face while perched on his shoulder. Nate takes in the scene with a big grin. "Hey, Mick!" He says cheerily. "Just checking in on the little guy." The rat snuffles at Mick's head before continuing to gnaw on its carrot. "Well enough." "You got a name picked out yet?" "No." "Really?" Naming an animal, Mick figures, is like giving them a nickname and to him nicknames are important. They're identifiers, maybe ones that start out isolating a specific feature or trait but has to have enough elasticity in Mick's brain to evolve with his opinion on the person. Nicknames need to fit the person. Or rat, in this case. "One'll come to me." "Have you checked if it's a boy or a girl?" "Does it matter?" Nate gives him that odd look-smile combination. The one that says he's amused that Mick doesn't know something so obvious. "Might help you come up with a name." Mick just raises an eyebrow. "Don't think its parts really matters to anyone but the rat." Nate opens his mouth, then closes it. After a couple repetitions he says, "Yeah, I guess that's true." ~*~*~*~ There were few things Mick liked remembering about growing up on the farm. The hunting trips were a mixed bag though having been stranded in bumfuck nowhere, the occasionally painful survival lessons had paid off. Especially given that Snart had left him here with nothing but the clothes on his back, the knife in his boot and the lighter in his pocket. When he came to in that forest, sun filtering weakly through clouds and leaves, Mick took a moment to sort through his priorities- find a water source, figure out cardinal directions, make note of potential shelters -before looking for signs of civilization or, failing that, food. After all, either he'd been abandoned or Snart could go fuck himself if he expected Mick to stay in one place. He found a thin stream, barely more than a creek, but the water was cold and clear. Snowmelt, he'd wager. He followed its flow. Hopefully it would run into other streams or a river. If anyone lived here, that's where they would be. Along the way he found some berries and nuts he recognized, not a large supply but enough to keep him alive for some time if he portioned them right. Mick filled his pockets and kept trekking. As the sun started to fall, Mick found a clearing a little ways from the creek to settle down for the night. He found some promising looking animals tracks and set up snares using his bootlaces. He went off in the other direction to find sticks and kindling for a fire and pocketed what other bits of food he came across. Eventually, just as hunger was starting to get distracting, there was a squeal. Mick went to check the snares and found a wiry rabbit caught in one. He killed the rodent, skinned it to the best of his memory and hung it over the creek to let it bleed while he started a fire, keeping an eye out for any predators attracted by the smell. He took out the offal he couldn't eat and tossed them a good distance away on the other side of the creek as the rest of it cooked on a make-shift spit. It was gamey and tasteless and Mick longed for even a bit of salt but at least he had some wild berries to help. He didn't have any way to carry leftovers so Mick ate as much of the rabbit as he could, tossed the remains far from his sleeping spot, cleaned his knife, hands and face in the creek, then settled in and watched the fire die down. He fell asleep long after the stars came out, a distant part of him noticing the lack of animals noises around him. When he woke up there was something moving in his jacket pocket, laid over him as a makeshift blanket. Mick shifted, trying to blearily peer at it and the something froze before turning around and peering back at him. It was a rat. Or a mouse, maybe. It was pretty small. It had one of the nuts Mick had picked up the other day in its mouth. "What," Mick rumbled at it. In defiance of being caught, it's little hands wrapped around another nut. "You hungry?" The rat stuffed the second nut in its mouth and scampered off. ~*~*~*~ The Waverider's makeshift lab isn't a place one usually finds Mick. Not that Jax is surprised to see him working on something- he's seen the man wander into the lab to grab some tools on things he tinkers on in his room -it's just he thinks Mick's idea of not working in the lab is smart. Whenever Jax is down there, he seems to have even chances either working in peace or having to deal with Stein- who tends to devolve into a lecture like he's back in a university -or Ray- who's honest 'let me show you a trick' tends to result in his taking over entirely. Jax waits for a pause in Mick's work, the man calling to Gideon for some kind of adjustment, before speaking up. "Hey, Rory. What're you up to?" Whatever it is is tiny. Like a child's bracelet. "A collar." "For your rat? Why so high-tech? Putting a tracking device in it?" Wasn't that stuff a micro-chip inserted under a skin in their time? "It'll create a miniature temporal stasis field so the rat won't die when we time-jump." Jax has to pause to digest that statement. "Wait- what?" "Time travel sucks," Mick says like he's saying any old thing. "Our bodies can barely handle the strain. Something that small, its organs'll rupture." He holds up the collar, peering at it critically. "Why do you think Hunter never worried about bugs getting on board? They can't survive the trip into the timestream." Jax had not, in fact, wondered at the lack of bugs before and now with that knowledge in his head, he tells Mick, "Imma go to my room and be disturbed for a bit." Mick just waves him off absently, instructing Gideon to scan the collar. "Have fun." ~*~*~*~ It wasn't a daily occurrence but it was pretty even odds that Mick would find the rat scrounging for food. Enough times that he designated the easiest accessible pocket its food. And it wasn't alone. It had a small family or herd or whatever a group of rats were called. A rat pack. It took a while for Mick to confirm it was the same group of rats following him on his fruitless journey to find anything. Maybe it was because he only managed to catch one other animals after that rabbit. Or maybe he was lonely and the memory of Miss Bianca was floating around in the back of his head but Mick started dropping nuts behind them, encouraging them to follow. And whenever he thought they might've fallen too far behind, he stopped to let them catch up. There were five all together and Mick started naming them in his mind. The biggest one he named Scarface because its left ear was mangled. Another fairly large one that walked like it had an old injury he called Splinter. The one that had initially snuck inside his pocket, the smallest and the one that tended to get shoved aside in the scramble for food, was Cinderella. The two that bullied Cinderella the most Mick dubbed Scudder and Dillon and, even though one of them had socks and the other didn't, Mick never really assigned them specific names. They were assholes and they hung out together more than not, it was fitting enough to him. At some point the creek he'd been following had joined up with a slightly larger one. Still didn't look like fish lived in it, though, or if they did they were too small and not worth it. Mick had seen a couple frogs which made him wrinkle his nose. His family had to go frog gigging sometimes when money was tight and he'd never really like eating frog. Too much effort for the amount of meat it got and these frog in particular weren't very big. Once, when Mick had been sick during an especially bad month, his mother had brought him a frog stew. He'd gotten violently ill off it- turned out there'd been mildly toxic toad in there as well. The fact that no one else in the family had gotten sick and his mother's relationship to Mick had always been ambiguous made him question if that might have been purposeful. Mick had hated toads- and to a lesser extent frogs due to similarities -since. But, he supposed, he had a last resort if no other food source was found. And if they ended up being toxic then, well, then Mick hoped Snart was coming back so he could find his body dead from bad frog legs. Fuck you, Snart. By the time Mick had coaxed the rats into hanging out next to him whenever he rested, the forest had thinned out and within a week of his abandonment he stepped out of the treeline entirely. The sight was not promising. There was a vast plain that stretched out farther than Mick could see, very little in the way of plantlife outside of the grass that was sparsely populated with hard, craggy rock. There were no towns, no paths, no smoke in the distance and no animals. "If that fucker dropped me off in some pre-history time," he grumbled darkly, "I'm going to kick his ass." Mick went back into the forest to restock on berries and nuts and managed to catch another boney and undersized rabbit while he was at it. He ate some, then stripped the remaining meat into chunks, skewered them on sticks and cooked them through, planning on eating them when he stopped for the night. The offal he wrapped up in the rabbit skin and tied that to another, longer stick. Hopefully a crow or vulture or other scavenger would come to investigate and Mick could catch them. The stream continued off in the distance so Mick didn't worry about water. Preparations complete, Mick went on his way. He made it all of twenty feet before stopping and turning. Clustered together under a wimpy fern, the five rats stared at him as if debating if they were willing to risk the open to follow the guy that had been feeding them the last few days. Mick crouched and pulled a couple of berries from his pocket, holding them on outstretched fingers. "You coming or what?" After some hesitating, they scuttled forward and just like that Mick had himself a rat pack. ~*~*~*~ When Stein finds them in the kitchen he immediately bristles though his rebuke gets way-sided by an incredulous, "What are you doing?" "Training," Mick says shortly before giving a sharp whistle. His rat runs from Mick's shoulder and over his outstretched arm. Mick turns his hand over and opens it, letting the rat get at the treat hidden in his palm. He gives two more whistles and it runs back over his arm and to his shoulder where it climbs into one of the pockets at his chest. It sticks its little head out and makes grabby hands at another treat Mick gives it. Stein boggles momentarily. "I was not aware you knew how to train animals." "Did a stint in Opal. They got a program for inmates to train dogs and it wasn't like I was doing anything else." Another whistle and the rat clambers back on Mick's shoulder, over his arm and, when he inclines it downward, onto the counter. It turns back expectantly and gets another treat. It reminds Stein of his initial outrage. "And why are you doing this in the kitchen? Where we prepare our meals?" Slowly Mick raises his eyes at the older man, hand absently petting the creature. "Rat's clean. Gideon checked." "It's hardly hygienic to have a creature shedding fur on our counter tops." Mick just stares, arms folded. He very slowly, very deliberately sits on the counter. Stein just looks at him in a mixture of confusion and irritation. Eventually Mick asks, "No comments?" "About what?" "Sitting on the counter." He waves a hand out. "Not like you know where my ass has been. Coulda been working on something mechanical and gotten grease or oil on me. Coulda been wading through the septic tank, I could be wearing week old underwear with skid marks for all you know." Stein wrinkles his nose and looks like he's about to attack his own brain with a cleaning spray but Mick goes on. "So why don't you say anything? Maybe you got used to it 'cause you know just about everyone else sits on the counter sometimes- including your partner. Maybe 'cause you know the ship has automatic micro-scrubbing bubbles that activates when germs are around." "All surfaces are coated with a microbial film of smart antibacterial nanites," Stein recites automatically. "Ship kills all those nasty germs which is why no one's gotten sick on this boat or had to dust. So tell me, Professor. You complaining 'cause it's a rat or 'cause it's something I'm doing?" Stein hesitates, not entirely certain what he's being accused of. "All I ask is that you please not let the rat on the counter." Mick sneers and whistles, somehow even sharper than before. "Doubt it." Rat safely perched on his shoulder, Mick storms out. ~*~*~*~ In all honesty Mick never really cared much for animals. They just kind of existed and so long as they didn't cause him problems he didn't really care. He had a soft spot for rats though, even before he was consciously aware of it. But only rats, mice and gerbils and whatnot did nothing for him. Maybe he just related to rats, the way people hated how big and ugly they were, their reputation for being mean and vicious, the way people sneered as they called rats vermin and treated them like dirt. While all a rat wanted- all most things wanted, really -was just to be left alone to do its thing. At least they're easy to carry, especially after a few days when Mick could consolidated his food enough to free up a couple pockets. He managed to catch a bird scoping out the rabbit meat a couple days in, not long before Mick was going to toss it. A hawk of some sort, if Mick had to hazard a guess. He fed bits of the meat to the rats just for the irony of it. No other bird came by before he ended up dumping its remains on his trek. At least wherever he was had some similarities to where he grew up in terms of edible plants. Mick harvested plantain plants, chicory and spatterdock wherever the stream broke off into small pools. They did little to alleviate his hunger. Mick chewed on a spatterdock root, grimacing at the bitterness of it. Cinderella, tucked in between the collar of his jacket and his jaw, pressed her nose up against his ear momentarily. "I'll stop soon," he told it, absently reaching up to give her a scratch, "and then I'll feed you. Promise." It squeaked lightly, then settled in. ~*~*~*~ "Wow!" Mick rolls his eyes but otherwise doesn't turn away from where he's installing an exercise wheel and hammock into the rat cage. Ray steps further into his room, agog at the length of tubes running maze-like all over the walls, zig-zagging around the pin-ups and guitar and whatnot that was already up. There's a couple smaller cages set up with water bottles, food dishes and beds like way stations. The rat is in one sitting on a shelf, digging out snacks stuffed in a small wiffle ball. "You really went all out!" "Not gonna keep it cramped and bored in a tiny cage," Mick grunts. "Can't just let it wander the ship, either." "Yeah but... you gotta admit," Ray grins teasingly, "you're spoiling it." "Not like I got anyone else wanting my attention." That, of course, makes Ray's face fall. "You know the team's here for you, right?" Could've fooled him. Instead, Mick says, "You want my attention, feel free to shrink down and get in a cage." "Or we could do something where one of us isn't treated like a pet." "Nope. In a pet-spoiling mood. Take it or leave it, Haircut." He chuckles. "Later, then. When you won't try to make me drink from a water feeder." Ray pauses, half out the door, before turning around and saying, "I'm really glad you're taking care of the rat." Mick says nothing and eventually Ray leaves. He's extra attentive as he ties off the hammock. Spoiling the rat is the absolute least Mick can do. ~*~*~*~ His lighter ran out of fuel. Mick had been careful about it, keeping from pulling it out and flicking it on no matter how much his hands shook, trying to make it last as long as possible. He reserved staring at flames for when he settled for the night and had a proper fire going. The lack of fuel was hardly anything to be alarmed by. He still had his knife- a Swedish FireKnife that his bastard former partner had gotten Mick on his last birthday -and a striking tool in one of his pockets. Worst came to worst, he also knew how to start fires with various rocks and steel as well as with sticks. Though there really wasn't too much to work with for the latter option. Everything was still empty. Still no sign of civilization and very few creatures that Mick could only find at a distance. He was constantly hungry now and had to take breaks more often because he'd get dizzy. The sun wasn't all that strong but it was enough he could feel the heat through his jacket and could feel his skin beginning to peel along the tops of his ears and head. Mick knew he should stop feeding the rats. They could probably survive on their own and without sacrificing for them, it would probably give him an extra day or two. Not that it would do him much good if he never found actual food. He'd been walking through an unchanging landscape for so long Mick almost didn't realize he was coming up on a steep slope, practically marching in his sleep. It wasn't a cliff by any means but Mick would have to pick and climb his way down, leaning one hand against the ground and let gravity slide him from one outcropping to another. Mick sat on a rock at the top of it for some time, part to catch his breath and part to scan the sprawl below him, hoping to find signs of anything useful. He must have zoned out because the next thing he knew, Scarface bit him hard enough to make Mick gasp. The sky had gone dark and he could no longer make out anything below him. Mick cursed, "Guess we're camping here for the night," and went down to his hands and knees, having to feel out for materials to make a fire. ~*~*~*~ For the hell of it, Mick's teaching the rat how to high five. It takes some time for him to realize he has to do it with a finger because if he angles his hand too much, it thinks he wants it sit in his palm. Which is good because that's a trick Mick had already taught it but not what he's going for now. "I'm surprised how much it likes you." He doesn't look up. He heard Amaya enter the dining area- not the kitchen, since Stein continues to be touchy about that -but didn't say anything as she seemed content to just watch. "I feed it," he says, running the rat through a couple more tricks before doing another high five. It succeeds and gets a treat. "No surprise there." "It's not just about food." She walks in, standing on the far side of the table. The rat's ears twitch, head shifting slightly just enough to keep Amaya in its periphery but otherwise unafraid with Mick nearby. "Also around all the time," he adds with a shrug. "Not that, either." Mick rolls his eyes. He doesn't know why half the crew likes being so damn cryptic. The action makes Amaya smile. "I just mean that it likes you. It's comfortable around you and trusts you. For a prey animal, that is a big thing." Mick eyes her, not exactly mistrusting but not sure if he believes this. "What, you talk to animals?" "No," she admits, slowly reaching out a finger and pausing as the rat hops back slightly, turning its body so it has better sight of her, "but as I'm granted to ability to use various animals' skills, it was in my best interest to study and understand them. Despite what people think, rats aren't dumb. If it thought it had reason to fear you, it wouldn't let you handle it." As if validating her words, the rat crawls under Mick's hand, pressing its back against his fingers in a quiet demand to be tickled. Mick obliges. "I'm not one for pets," he says, as if it's some kind of defense. "You certainly took to it readily enough. And it seems to make you happy." She gives him another smile before sweeping out of the room. "I'm glad you found each other." Happy, he scoffs quietly. Happier maybe but it's not like he could get much lower than he'd been. It was possible- Mick's certainly had enough lows to know it -but just because Mick's been a little better off recently doesn't bring him out of the dark by any means. But it helps. The rat helps and that's more than he can say about anyone else. When Mick looks down, the rat is half asleep under his palm, quietly bruxing its teeth in contentment. ~*~*~*~ He's stuck. About seventy some feet from the foot of the slope, Mick was stuck. He'd hit a patch of loose rock and pitched forward, rolling until he hit a large outcropping. When he came to the rats were scrambling around him, squeaking and nipping at his ears. He checked them over, checked what survived the fall- not a lot though he hadn't had much to begin with -and nearly howled with pain when he tried to get up. A knee was busted, a shoulder dislocated and his back felt like a twisted mess. He lay, panting, and when the pain ebbed, Mick tried again. Slowly and carefully he pushed his way to his feet. He crawled to the rock and found the flattest surface to slam his shoulder down on it, sliding it back into place. He looked around. There was no way he was trusting himself to slide down as he'd been but there was a rough approximation of a path leading vaguely downward. The trail took him away from the stream. His route slow going because of his injuries and slowed even more as hunger and dehydration grew. Days in, still not much closer to the ground, Mick ate his gloves in desperation. He dug into his pockets and pulled out every scrape of food he had left, likely eating more lint and dirt than anything else. He pulled up scraggly bits of grass and ate that, gnawed on the hem of him jacket, anything and everything he could think of. Then, when there was nothing else, not even an ant crawling around at his feet, Mick turned to the rats. They stuck with him, even though he couldn't feed him anymore, and he didn't know why. His breath rattled around his ears and he reached up to his shoulder where Splinter was. It felt like Mick was watching from outside of his body as he grabbed the rat and stuffed its head into his mouth and bit down. His other hand shoved into his pocket to trap the rat inside there- Scarface -and the other three scattered. After Splinter, Mick ate Scarface in the same way, its tiny claws drawing lines across his mouth, struggling so much Mick had to bash it against a rock to kill it first. Minutes after he finished the second, Mick vomited them both up. He curled up on the ground, covered in blood and bile and bits of fur, jaw and teeth aching from crunching down on bone, now completely and utterly alone and he began to cry. ~*~*~*~ The others develop an annoying habit of waltzing into Mick's room whenever they feel like seeing the rat. To be fair, Mick supposes he should start keeping his door closed so they can't get in but still. They don't even pause for an acknowledgment, just come in like it's any other communal room on the ship. It's Sara this time around. Mick's reclined in his chair, watching the rat on its wheel like it's more interesting than television- which, depending on the time period, is accurate -and Sara sits herself down on the edge of Mick's bed. "So how are things in Redwall?" "Well enough." "Gotta admit, I'm impressed. I wasn't actually sure how long you'd keep this up." Mick keeps his focus on the rat. Otherwise he'll have to look at Sara and then he'll start getting mad. The only reason anyone comes to see him is to make sure the rat's okay. Unbothered by the silence, she says warmly, "I'm glad you're looking after it." That gets a noncommittal grunt and Sara watches him watching the rat and comes to the wrong conclusion, voice softening, "If anything happens to you, we'll take care of it. I promise." His jaw clenches tight, biting back the sudden flare of anger. They'll take care of it, huh? Watch out for it and soothe it if Mick can't? Does that mean Mick rates lower than a rat to them? Because they sure as hell haven't been doing that for him, haven't even tried to talk him out of getting himself killed. And what does that make Len if they're willing to take care of a rat in Mick's memory but will let Mick wallow in depression in his partner's? Mick's long gotten used to the knowledge that few people will ever care for him, that he's next to nothing to anyone. That he's just a tool people only bother with if he screws up. It still hurts, though, from people that's supposed to be his crew. To make it worse, Mick wouldn't have actually minded warming up to this particular group. But Ray, Sara, Amaya- all of them -are so quick to turn their backs on him after a brief showing of kindness. No, he thinks privately, he can't trust them to look after his rat if he dies. Not the way they should. Paying just enough attention to ensure it stays alive isn't nearly good enough and it deserves so much better than what any of them can give it. He closes his eyes and settles in like he's about to take a nap. "Let's not find out if you'll make good on that promise." ~*~*~*~ Mick had stopped moving. He was hungry, hurt, exhausted and dehydrated. He had no shade from the sun, his pockets had run empty, his throat dry and didn't have the strength to make fire to help ease the slowly creeping panic and despair that was clawing at his mind. Fuck, he didn't want to die. At least not like this. He laid there, limbs trembling and weak, and wished so damn hard for Len to come back to him. He sniffled, pitiful in his misery, dry eyed only because he didn't have any water to spare. He wanted Len. Wanted to see him so fucking bad. Beg him for forgiveness just so he wouldn't die like this. There was a squeak and when Mick's eyes focused he saw a tiny rat- just barely larger than a mouse -peeking out from under his hand. Cinderella, he thought. He didn't know for sure, might've been making it up except he could feel its fur and heat when he grabbed it. Felt it struggle in his hand, squeaking louder. He didn't want to but he couldn't stop himself. "I'm sorry," he told it in a broken whisper, bringing the frantic creature to his face, "I'm sorry." ~*~*~*~ Mick stretches out on his bed, the rat a curled ball in the center of his chest, contently dozing as Mick strokes a finger down its back. He'd gone through a litany of names- Ratigan, who was among Mick's favorite Disney villains, Remy because Lisa would have laughed, Templeton, just to see if someone would comment, and dozens of others just to keep from even considering some sort of reference to Len. He eventually settled on Newt. Amaya hadn't gotten the reference- she's forty years early for that -but the others either looked at him like he was a simpleton naming the creature after a completely different animal or like he'd gotten bored of thinking of a name and picked whatever word first came to mind. Len would've gotten the reference and the reasoning behind it. Newt, the little girl from Aliens- one of the few movies both Mick and Len love -who managed to break through Ripley's caustic shell. Newt stretches out so it can lay flat, soaking in Mick's heat and Mick watches as Newt blinks, long and slow a couple times, nose giving a final twitch before finally falling asleep. Mick thinks of Miss Bianca, of Cinderella, Scarface, Splinter, even Dillon and Scudder. "No one's gonna hurt you," he swears quietly and Newt just gives a tiny sigh. "Not me. Not anyone. I promise."

#fic 2017 #dc tv #mick rory #mick's rat

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