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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 3 years

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A World-- Certain

dabi / f.reader

genre: real world to parallel world au? (is that an au? it’ll make sense dw), angst, romance, pinning, fools to lovers? (or dabi is stubborn/scared as all get out), longing/yearning (teehee)

warning(s): uhh, dabi hits a point where he’s determined to find a way back home or burn the city to the ground trying (is that a warning?), cursing, violence (or dabi punches one cop and sets another on fire- as he should), touya spoilers included? (like kinda minor ones, but you know, just in case), guns/dabi gets shot, sickly-sweet ending don’t worry, tiny mention of death

w.count: 9.8k

synopsis: the last thing he remembers, dabi had stepped in to join a rather nasty bar brawl that erupted at your pub one night. he along with a group of other villains who sided with you against a group of villains who weren’t exactly fans of your unground work. when he woke up, he wasn’t in the medical basement like he expected, nor was he at his apartment or yours. he was in a room he hadn’t seen before. when he leaves to your pub to get some answers, you’re not there. in fact, the entire building was abandoned and rotting. just what the fuck happened and where was he exactly, because this wasn’t exactly the city he knew anymore.

a/n: this is the second part to my two parter series, A World--, so be sure to read the first part A World-- Unsure, or else this really won’t make sense LOL. The concept can be kinda confusing already, but trust me- it’ll make sense aldfkasd. Enjoy!

also! since @lildockel asked to be tagged when part two went up, here is it!!

After seeing his white hair, and feeling how healthy the strands felt between his fingers, instead of the damaged, overly dyed black mess it all used to be, Dabi raced back into the bar. Rushing up the steps into the abandoned apartment as he looked around. Rushing to a mirror still hanging just barely on a nail, he used the sleeve of his jacket to wipe it of dust and cobwebs before ripping off his jacket entirely and tossing it to his feet.

He hadn’t realized it before since he never kept a habit of looking at his scarred and damaged body, but now as he stood in front of the mirror in the shirt he woke up in, he noticed the scars that he knew crawled over almost every inch of his body had changed.

The scars didn’t run up his whole right arm and stopped just at his elbow. His entire left side wasn’t engulfed in purple and staples, but instead ran up his forearm and then just around his shoulder and a patch on his neck. He reached up over his head and behind his shoulders to grab the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head and off to join his jacket on the floor before he looked at his chest. The scars that wrapped around his chest before weren’t nearly as bad and turning around to his back, he could see more skin than scars now.

He could feel the draft of the empty apartment on his skin, something he hadn’t been able to do in a long time.

He knew that each time he over used his quirk he would cause himself harm. His tolerance to the cold took a harsh toll on him since his quirk was heat based- he wasn’t built to handle heat as well as he should be with a quirk like his father’s.

He brushed his hand through his hair again as he stumbled around, head spinning to keep up with what the hell could be happening. The world was almost the same, but everything just felt different because of things that weren’t supposed to be. He snatched his phone from the pocket of his discarded jacket, trying again to call your number. It was there, clearly imputed with his information and call history, but just as before he was met with an automated message.

Your apartment wasn’t here, your bar wasn’t either and your phone number was nonexistent. It was like you didn’t exist at all.

Dabi moved back to sit against the wall that was across the room from the mirror, just so he could keep an eye on his reflection to help process exactly what was happening. He was no fool, and he could figure out that the world he knew was different from this one.

He sat on the ground as he thought. His hand came to rest over his neck, thinking back to the dart that was shot into him back at the bar. It was too convenient that he got shot with it then woke up in some weird- what he can only assume is- parallel world. A world exactly like the other, with just a few things altered.

Rather, the longer he sat in thought, the longer he thought that maybe it wasn’t a parallel world he was in, but actually a dream. The last thing he remembered was passing out covering you, so maybe the needle he was shot with put him into a dream.

He tested out his quirk, letting his hand be engulfed in fire before diminishing it, finding it worked exactly like it had before; so, he was in a world where quirks still existed at the very least. He wondered if the him he had become was still a villain, and if he was, then was he with the league? What was the actual year he woke up in? Was it parallel to the original timeline, or was it ahead? Delayed maybe?

The date on his phone lined up to the next day after the bar fight, but his phone also still had your number in it that didn’t seem to exist, so he didn’t trust his phone as much as he wanted to be able to.

Thumbing through his phone’s contacts, he wondered if he should try calling a different number. There was always a league member, but which one. He wouldn’t be caught dead calling Twice for answers and he didn’t really trust Toga’s tendency to go off on a tangent to get a straight answer out of her. Spinner wouldn’t have been a bad idea since he kept shit short, but he didn’t answer his phone for fuck. Maybe Magne? Though, he didn’t really want to call her, felt like if he did, he’d be imposing on her ‘me’ time.

By the end of his mental checklist, he was stuck between Shigaraki or Compress. He didn’t think Kurogiri even owned a phone, or else he’d dial him first. Sighing, he pushed his thumb against Compress’s contact. He didn’t want to deal with Shigaraki if he could avoid it- at least not yet.

The line rang out loud when Dabi put the phone on speaker and with a few more rings, the line picked up. It was a strange wave of relief when he heard the man with a thing for theatrics address Dabi by name when he picked up.

“Oh, thank fuck,” he sighed. There was an air of silence before Dabi spoke again, hearing Compress on the other line clear his throat in anticipation. “Okay, this may sound like complete bullshit, but hear me out for a second.”

Dabi unloaded the entire situation he suddenly found himself in to Compress as well as asked any questions he felt he needed to know the answers to, to get up to speed on exactly what kind of dream he ended up in. He was on the phone with the masked villain for almost an hour before the call ended with Dabi understanding things just a bit more.

In this world, he was still indeed a villain, but his face was kept under wraps. Dabi wasn’t presumed dead as Touya Todoroki, but rather disregarded his birth name for the alias just because he wanted to. His real name wasn’t a secret like it was in reality, that was why he didn’t have black hair- because if his identity wasn’t a secret, there was no point in dying it to stay hidden. But, he wasn’t as flashy a villain here, so no one really know who he was anyway.

In this dreamscape, Touya Todoroki never died, but ran from his home and betrayed his family after finally having enough of his father. Working now as a criminal, he stayed on the downlow side of society.

Things were more or less still the same otherwise. It was just his background and you that was truly different. Dabi sat and stared at his reflection wondering if you really existed here- and if you didn’t he wondered if that was partially his fault.

When he was at the bar, he had previously resolved himself into drifting away from you and the feelings you had towards him. Was it his stubbornness to get away from you what caused you to not be here? Or were you here in this world, but as someone completely different than the Y/n he knew? Could you exist with a whole different personality? Were you a hero? A villain? Or maybe still just a regular citizen?

Dabi immediately wanted to start looking for you, but with everything linked to you not even existing, he didn’t know where to start. Typing your name into his phone’s searching engine did nothing to help as nothing about you was listed anywhere. Okay, so you weren’t famous, or infamous in any sense so you had to be just a regular, everyday person? Right?

Sighing, he dropped his head back and closed his eyes, trying to think. He could always ask one of his connections to start looking for you in his stead. Then, his eyes opened again as he scowled- once again growing irritated. Why was he putting your whereabouts above trying to figure out how to get back- or wake up? He had unconsciously put you above how to get out of this dream.

Bringing a curled fist to rest against the side of his head, he hissed through his teeth.

“God dammit.”

-x-x-x-

It was Dabi’s second day in this dreamscape he started calling it. It was a strange feeling, being inside of a dream yet still having the ability to fall asleep and wake up again. He sat on his bed of his apartment he owned in this dreamscape and sighed. It was a far cry from his place in reality, tucked and hidden away from main streets and curious eyes. This place was just off a busy street and when he hung out the window to smoke, people were walking two stories below- just minding their day.

Puffing out a plume of cigarette smoke, he heard his phone ping from inside on the desk sat in the bedroom. He would always mentally correct himself into saying ‘his’ instead of acting like this place was some random hole in the wall. It was his- as far as he knew. He left his cigarette perched on the window sill, going to his phone and yanking it off the charger to see a text from Shigaraki.

Compress had blabbed to the leader of this dream’s League of Villains about Dabi’s little breakdown of what he believed was a dream. Seeing the text of ‘you still high, or you coming to work or not?’ made his lips twitch. He wasn’t high and he hadn’t been high; then again, it wouldn’t be any version of Shigaraki unless he was mocking Dabi for something. In this case, it was Dabi’s die hard claim of this dreamscape being a false reality.

When Dabi stopped to think about it, he could understand where everyone was coming from. For all he knew, this body- the body of Touya- was a completely different person in this reality and Dabi’s personality just manifested into it. He ran his fingers through his white hair and groaned, annoyed at the situation.

“Fucking parallel universes and their stupid ass rules.”

He sent a reply back to the leader- well, it was just a middle finger emoji- and abandoned his phone to go finish his cigarette before it burned away on its own, unattended.

Once he burned through the toxic stick, he snuffed it out on a glass ashtray he kept on the small balcony just outside the window and retreated back inside his room. Reaching up and over his head behind him, he gripped the back of his shirt and tugged it off, shaking his already messy hair out before he started to change.

It was odd seeing a full closet of clothes instead of like the five whole outfits he would interchange on a day-to-day basis before cleaning them and repeating the process. In reality, he had no use for everyday clothes since he was always wearing his villain gear or lounging around in close to nothing at his apartment. Though, he did remember that you had bought him clothes to keep at your place, so he did have more- just never wore them because he thought it was weird you were buying clothes for him.

You claimed it was so he would stop walking around in nothing but boxers or tank tops in your house, but he didn’t buy that excuse. He saw it as something to intimate; too close to a bond he was too afraid to acknowledge.

Pulling on a grey shirt and black pants- him being the most comfortable in his safe feeling monochromatic wardrobe- he tugged on a jacket and flipped the hood up. At this point it was a habit to try and conceal himself now- even if he probably didn’t need to in this dreamscape reality.

Leaving the room and soon the apartment, he was soon pulling his phone from his jacket pocket and seeing an incoming call from the hand-freak himself. Groaning, he contemplated denying the call, but if this Shigaraki was anything like the one he knew, he'd just blow up his phone in retaliation. So, reluctantly, he picked up.

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. Where are you?” His tone was impatient and gruff. “You need to get to the bar, we have work to do, dammit.”

“I’m workin’ on it, calm the hell down.” The low murmurs of the daily street this early in the morning with people making their daily commute to wherever the hell they were on their way too was just enough to make Dabi’s scarred skin crawl. He always tried to avoid crowded areas in the past for numerous reasons, not just for the sake of his identity.

However, it was easy to navigate the streets since they were exactly the same as he remembered from his reality. The more he was here, the more he came to the realization that everything was the same besides him and you- or lack thereof.

Hearing Shigaraki bitch and moan on the other end of the line, Dabi sighed and pulled the phone from his ear and promptly hung up the call before he shoved his phone back into his pocket- but not before putting it on ‘do not disturb’, so even if the annoyance he calls a boss calls him back, he wouldn’t know.

Not too long later, the pyro was walking into the bar, seeing the leader annoyingly tapping his fingers on the bar one at a time in succession as he seemed to be calming down from a temper tantrum. A temper tantrum that Dabi was most certainly the cause of.

“It’s about time,” the leader hissed as Dabi promptly ignored him, only giving him a tut in response to his neediness. Flipping off his hood and messing around his hair to feel less matted from the hood’s previous pressure, he moved to the back of the bar and plopped himself down into a booth. “I said we need to get to work,” Shigaraki started complaining, “not take a breather because you couldn’t show up on time.”

“Spare me the bitching, oh-so-fearsome-leader,” Dabi waved off lazily with his hand flopping back and forth on his wrist. If Shigaraki hadn’t had his father’s hand on his face, Dabi probably would have seen the scowl painted beneath it.

It was silent for a beat, with the two of them and Kurogiri only being present in the bar at the moment.

“Is your attitude still shitty because you’re convinced this is one big fever dream? Because, if you’re stoned or drunk, I’d really rather you not mess up our jobs and go away.”

“If this is your form of concern, you’re shitty at it,” Dabi rebutted. “I already told you, I’m as sober as a rock, so hop off. If you were in my place, you wouldn’t be slap-happy either.”

All day long, Dabi had to deal with orders being barked at him before he eventually went out on his own to look for possible new villains to recruit for the cause. He was hardly being mindful, low-level thugs weren’t cut out to join the ranks and anyone else just annoyed him. When he finally had enough and called Shigaraki that he was finishing up for the day, he just hung up without getting a proper ‘okay’ and stared at himself in the reflection of a window in an alleyway.

He raised his lip in annoyance as his reflection that he wasn’t familiar with anymore. Who he was looking at wasn’t Dabi, but Touya. The Touya who was dead until he decided otherwise, the Touya who looked too much like his parents. His previous red hair that faded to match his mother and his eyes that were copies of his fathers.

On his way back to the apartment he stopped by a general store and picked up two boxes of hair dye. That evening, when he finished showering, he ran his hand across the width of his steam fogged mirror and looked at his new reflection. He let an awkward smile breach his face as he looked at his pitch-dyed hair.

“That’s better,” he mused, walking out of the bathroom to just put on a pair of boxers, lay in bed and think. Think more about how he could leave this dreamscape all before he passed out, closing his eyes on his second day in a dream. Maybe he’d ask the league members to keep their eyes and ears out tomorrow for you, since the sooner he can figure out what’s happened with you in this place, the sooner he’ll be to a solution… probably?

-x-x-x-

Day after day passed and Dabi found himself less and less sure of anything. When he first came here, he was aware that everything was fabricated and fake- nothing was truly real since he distinctly remembered his life before all this happened.

Now, a month has passed and everyday when he wakes up, he feels more fussy than the day before. His mind and memories feel like their blurring and he started waking up and writing down small memos on post-it notes just to try and get a semblance of reality again. He wondered if one day he’d wake up and see all his notes, just to throw them away because they would have no meaning to that ‘him’.

The thought irked him. He was himself, Dabi knew that, but he felt like he was losing it.

He had woken up today with his head pounding. Leaning over the side of his bed, he held his forehead in his palms as he squeezed his eyes shut. Pushing the heels of his palm into his eyes, he could see the splotches of darkness coat his closed eyes from the presssure. He groaned, head even more hazier than the day before.

Dabi felt like he was forgetting something.

Getting up, he threw on whatever was hanging on the back of his chair in his room and flipped on the hood of whatever jacket he grabbed and left. He wasn’t called to the league just yet, so who knows if he even needed to go today, but maybe being at the bar would jog his memory. Just maybe it would clear his mind- somehow.

When he walked into the bar, he immediately made a beeline to the booth in the back as he laid down, sprawling out across the red velvet booth and covered his eyes with his forearm. One of his legs propped up on the booth while the old hung lazily to the floor, his other arm rest on his chest, feeling his stomach rise and fall with each breath.

If he just lay here long enough, something was bound to spark something in him, right? After all, he was in a bar.

A bar? What does a bar have to do with anything?

He grit his teeth when he heard the door to the bar open, someone walking in. Whoever it was, they had decided to waltz over to Dab and sit themselves on the short coffee table in front of the booth.

“The fuck do you want?” He growled, a small whistle and the smell of smoke greeted him in the form of a hearty chuckle, one that made him irk.

“My, someone’s grumpy today, isn’t he?” Hearing Giran’s smoke laden voice first thing after laying down really wasn’t how Dabi wanted to start his day. Moving his arm just enough to peer over his arm with a glare, the villain broker raised his hands in mock surrender, a half smoked cigarette between his lips. “Easy there, I’m not looking for a scuffle this early in the morning.”

“Yeah? Then leave me alone or else I’m going to set you on fire.” With another chuckle from the broker and no movement of him leaving his place on the table, Dabi groaned. Moving his arm, he ran his hand over his face before he reluctantly sat up and rubbed the back of his head, his tangles of unbrushed black hair snagging between his fingers. He glared at the tooth-gapped man with a smoking habit worse than his own. “What?” He growled.

Giran dug around in the inside pocket of his tacky blazer before he presented Dabi with a pocketbook. The scarred pyro looked at the blank book before looking back up to Giran’s face, his brows turned up in questioning.

“The fuck is that for?”

“That, my dear Touya,” hearing the broker sing-song Dabi’s real name made him bark at him in warning to never do it again, one that Giran promptly ignored, “is everything I could dig up on that little lady you asked me about a couple weeks ago.”

“Lady?” Dabi’s brows furrowed, his headache spiking again.

“I gotta say, I’m not usually one for such slow work, but with the villain count spiking, I’m a busy man. I got a lot on my plate, so I had to put your little search on the back burner.” Tossing the pocketbook onto Dabi’s lap, one of his scarred hands immediately held it to his leg to keep it from bouncing off his leg onto the floor. Giran then stood, stuffing his hands into his equally tacky trousers. “A man as busy as me has things to do, so I’ve gotta bounce. Talk to me again if you need anything else.” Giran turned but stopped short, swiveling to look at Dabi once more. ”Oh and as for that woman’s whereabouts, don’t be so bummed when you read about it.”

Dabi watched Giran leave the bar about as quickly as he came in, the smell of smoke the only lingering thing indicating that he was even there to begin with Well, that and the pocketbook Dabi held in his hands. He eyed it with narrow eyes and knit brows.

“Lady? What lady was I-?” He cut himself off as he just shut his eyes and tossed the book onto the coffee table where Giran had previously sat.

All morning, Dabi kept to himself on his booth, just lounging and laying around. Every time someone went towards him he’d growl at them, not like it did anything to deter them away regardless. However, if someone even though about touching the pocketbook, he’d sit up and snatch it away and stuff it under his legs or his back or his head- just away from their grabby hands. Whatever info was in there, they didn’t need to pry into his business.

It was well into the afternoon when Dabi had his fill of the noise that only got louder over time in the bar and dismissed himself, leaving as he heard Toga calling out behind him before going back to whatever the hell she had been doing.

The pocketbook was in his hands folded to rest against the inside of his wrist as he walked around the streets, not wanting to go home, but not wanting to be nowhere. His desire to be somewhere, along with his annoyance accompanying that desire- but, not having any idea on where to be- unconsciously lead him down roads and through alleys to a run down, abandoned building.

“A bar?” He questioned himself out loud, not knowing why this place seemed familiar to him. He felt like he should know this place, but it felt like the way it was right now- run down and in shambles- was wrong. His head ached and he found himself climbing through a busted window to get inside.

Dust plumed under his boots when he landed inside the place. He began to wander around, dragging his hands along walls, kicking rubble with the toes of his boots, scanning the falling apart shelves that barely hung on the walls. Moving to the back room past the vacant kitchen covered in dust and smelling like the inside of a mechanical pencil, he placed his hand on a wall next to a staircase that led upwards away from the other empty rooms.

“This wall,” his eyes narrowed in both pain from his pounding head and his fuzzy recollection, “shouldn’t be here. Isn’t there supposed to be a door?” His palm that was flat against the wall curled into a fist, his knuckles pushing against the cold stone. “A door? Why would I-”

Dabi silenced himself as he snatched his hand away from the wall as if the structure was suddenly covered in some sort of burning acid.

“Fuck this,” he growled. He turned his back to the wall, ready to leave and clear his head, but stopped as soon as he went to take a step out. He glanced up the stairs before his feet started taking him up them, entering the would-be apartment through the rotting, crooked door.

He stood in the middle of the space that would be a small living room, his headache dulling, but just faintly. The feeling in the pit of his stomach clawed and deep in his head screamed that he was forgetting something; something important.

He pushed the pad of his thumb into the crease of his forehead, between his furrowed brows. Something was missing, wrong, just not fucking right here. Pushing his thumb harder against his skull, he tried blocking everything out and picking at every corner of his brain he could to think for a moment.

‘You keep doing that, you’ll put a dent in your head’

Dabi’s eyes shot open, breath catching in his throat as he swallowed back a cough from the sudden intake of breath. His hands dropped from his head to hover in front of him, elbows tucked by his sides. His senses were alert as he whipped around, looking around the empty apartment space.

“Who’s there?!” He shouted, his echoing voice bouncing back to him as he listened for any sounds to give away who he may have heard.

He heard someone- a woman- as clear as day. It seemed to echo- but given the empty room, it wouldn’t be shocking for voices to carry and bounce like that, after all his did. Standing in silence, he heard absolutely nothing. No breathing, no sounds of movement, no more voices. Just silence surrounded him- and a slight ringing in his ears.

The moment he started to settle down, thinking it was all in his head- which thrilled him- again, the same voice echoed around the room.

‘Don’t just take up space you- actually, take up as much space as you want if you heat the place up. My heater just went out, so come on Space-Heater, hop to it’

He started to think a league member was toying with him. Did someone from the bar follow him? Was this a quirk to dick him around for a lark? Then, he remembered the pocketbook.

It had been in his free hand the whole time, but he had forgotten about it. He quickly flipped it open and inside were small clippings and photos of a woman taped inside. Like some cryptid profile in a recluses dairy; much like Giran’s shady, handiwork to be expected.

The more he flipped through the pages and read, the more his head pounded.

‘Dabi’

The voice called him by name as he dropped the pocketbook. Spinning around with a waft of blue fire coming out of his arm in sheer instinct to protect himself from whatever may be around him. The voice ignited his fight or flight and Dabi was never one to run, ever a fighter. Fleeing wasn’t in his nature- not even when he was a child.

‘Was it too trouble to keep remembering?’

“Who the fuck are you? Where are you hiding?!”

‘You rejected me to this extent? That you forgot me entirely? Is this really your dream?’

… Dream?

His eyes widened before he looked back down to the open pocketbook at his feet. It lay pages facing up, open on a page he hadn’t yet read. His fire simmered and he starred down at the open spread. Slowly kneeling, he gently ran his fingers over the clippings and the single picture on the opposing page.

It was a photo of a gravestone.

The date of death wasn’t that far back; rather, it was pretty damn recent. This person, this woman, was dead?

Dabi felt small flames lick at the scars under his eyes as he stared down unblinking.

“Y/n?”

It all hit him like a bus. The memories he had slowly forgotten about came back to him and it knocked the breath from his chest. He stood to his feet and rushed downstairs, leaving the pocketbook in the empty apartment he finally remembered was supposed to be yours. On the way down to the bar, he nearly tripped on the stairs before he stood behind the bar top and looked out into the room.

Was it always this hard to breath?

Was all this his fault?

He remembered the emotions he used to push all the way down into his gut. Did his want to put distance between the two of you kill you in this dreamscape? This fake reality?

For a time, he forgot about time itself as he sat on the floors of the once lively bar he remembered. He ran you- your name, your face, your voice, your stupidly good heart, everything- on repeat in his head to ensure his memory wouldn’t slip away from him again. He was just a breathing corpse, or so he felt like. He didn’t even feel like smoking for once, even if his stress was through the roof.

His eyes flicked up when the rusted, busted doors of the trashed building opened to see two figures enter. The sun had long since set and the only light in the room now was two bright flashlights searching and finding his slouched body under the bar, facing the door.

From the shadows casted by the flashlights and the figures outlines, he could see two policemen in front of him. His eyes traveled away from them down to his palms, irritation flooding his head at their intrudance to his safe space.

“Hey!” One cop called to him, making their way towards his floor-slumped body, careful not to trip.

Was it his fault?

“This is private property.”

Did you end up a dead stranger because he kept pushing you away?

“Sir, you need to leave immediately.”

Why was this bothering him so fucking much?

“Can you hear me?”

He was brought out of his self pity when the cop who now stood next to him had gripped his arm and hauled him to his feet. Dabi’s body was still slack, not putting in too much effort to keep himself upright. He felt his back dig into the bar behind him, the only thing beside the cop tightly gripping his arm, holding him up.

Had he ever felt his miserable before, beside back when-

“Sir!” Dabi winced when the cop damn near shouted in his ear. He wasn’t some old man. He could hear perfectly fine. His scarring on his ears hadn’t made him deaf.

“-off me,” Dabi muttered. The cop not hearing him, asked him to repeat himself. Dabi’s lethargic face tensed in fury as he ripped his arm out of the policeman’s grasp and brought his other arm up to knock his fist into the cop’s jaw. “Get the fuck off me!” He yelled.

The cop dropped his flashlight as he fell to the ground, half out of it from the way Dabi punched his jaw- nearly knocking him completely out. The other was quick to draw his gun and point it at the villain, but it wasn’t quick enough.

Dabi was no fool. The moment he knocked the first cop on his ass, he knew the second would act. Grabbing the wrist of the second one as he tried pointing his gun towards him, Dabi twisted the policeman's wrist, disarming him and shoving his head through the small window in the front entrance.

He didn’t need light to see that the cop he held against the door, head just barely through a window, was bleeding. Dabi had turned him around, keeping one of his hands on one of the cop’s arms behind his back and the other on his head, keeping him uncomfortably pushed against the glass frame, nou doubt cutting up his skin further.

“You think you scumbags can just waltz in here and disrupt me? I happened to be in the middle of fuckin’ something.”

“B-but,” the cop he held captive began to try and argue, “this is private property!” He gasped.

Dabi’s eyes rolled in annoyance. “I don’t give a shit,” he seethed before his palms ignited. The policeman’s head was soon engulfed in blue fire as well as his wrist before his clothes ignited as well and the entire man was on the ground, a dead, burning mess.

The smell was familiar to him- the first familiar thing he’s felt in a while. He left the bar behind him, the space being intruded by law enforcement made it feel different. It wasn’t his space anymore. As he made his way down the street at the dead of night, he soon heard sirens and screeching of tires making their way down streets. Looking behind him, in the dark, clouded night sky, he saw outlines of smoke and fire in the distance.

“Looks like the building is gonna burn down,” he spoke to himself before he made his way further down the street. Passing a random building he didn’t even know, he reached his hand out and ignited it, setting drapes and signs on fire.

As he made his way down roads, he set building after building, house after house on fire. Soon, he stood at the end of the main street, blue on either side of the road and screaming from inside the buildings. People scrambling to get into the open, the panic of being in the middle of a blazing area with no idea on how the fire started.

It was pure hysteria.

People ran past him standing still on the sidewalk. Everyone was terrified and panicked as he didn’t seem at all bothered by anything happening. He stared blankly, uninterested with his hands in his pockets as he just gazed at his flames that ate everything it touched and spread like a plague.

As he stared, losing track of time once more, he felt something push against the back of his neck. He smiled, knowing the feel of a gun all too well.

“I guess not knocking you out worked in your favor, huh?” He knew it was the cop he clocked in the jaw at your bar.

By the time the firey lump of his coworker started eating the building, he probably regained enough sense to leave the building and chase him down. Not in time to spare the buildings and homes being eaten alive by his fire, but in time to threaten him just when he was ready to start enjoying the show.

“Sorry about your pal,” Dabi chided, “but he said a lot of shit that just pissed me off? I mean, private property? Come on.” The villain didn’t turn to look at the cop, just felt the man push the gun’s tip against his scarred neck further. “Don’t tell me you’re gun shy? Come on, pull the trigger.”

His self-destructive words were absolutely insane, urging the man with a gun at his neck to shoot him? It wasn’t like Dabi expected the cop to not have the balls, he knew cops and they didn’t care what they had to do to keep villains at bay. Dabi had just set fire to everything, the entire world in his vision burning as he spoke- that only was enough proof to the cop he was indeed a villainous man.

“It’s not my place to judge-”

“The fuck it isn’t!” Dabi laughed, whirling around and taking hold of the front of the gun and pushing it against his chest. “Pull the trigger you pathetic excess of a protector of the public!”

Maybe it was his words, his temptation to espcae this fake reality oozing out, his insane smile that pulled at the staples across his face or maybe it was just the policeman’s sudden decision- but the trigger was pulled and Dabi, felt for just a moment, a bullet tear through his chest.

-x-x-x-

Dabi’s eyes cracked open, vision blurry as he stared at a ceiling. His mind was fuzzy and his head pounded with a headache he immediately took to noticing, even if he had just opened his eyes moments ago.

He felt something behind his head, something covering his body and heard noises of machines humming besides where he was laying. Annoyed he was on his back, he groaned, but found his throat drier than desert sand and grumbled to clear it. His body felt heavy and weak as he started to slowly move around on the bed he rested on.

His knees lifted, feet moving as his heels dug into the mattress to push his weak feeling legs up and his arms moved to brace into the mattress to try and lever his body up. After a bit of a fight with his own body, he managed to sit up and his eyes finally focused from their blurriness.

He looked around seeing equipment attached to his arm and patches on his chest that linked to a machine that showed his heartbeat. His chest was bare as he wasn’t wearing his normal jeans, but grey sweats that he didn’t remember actually owning before.

He groaned, his hand coming to push against his head. The headache combined with his confusion was making him feel nauseous. What happened? Had he been somewhere before this? Where was he?

Looking around the small room he was in by himself again, he started to slowly remember. He remembered the dream- his dream- and the dream he had forgotten wasn’t actual reality. Dabi remembered being shot. His heartbeat started to quicken when he started to finally take in the familiarity of the room and it’s concrete walls.

Pulling the patches off his chest, he fumbled with whatever was in his arm and took it out. The scars he was familiar with ran across his body in large proportions and the bangs that hung in front of his eyes were a dark, dyed black.

He felt around his staples on the back of his hands and felt around his stomach and chest, tracing the large scars he knew were the real ones. He pushed his hand through his hair and felt the strands just as he truly remembered.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, moving to swing his legs over the bed and lean into his knees, hunching over as he brought his hands to his forehead- relieved. “I’m back.”

He sat in his own silence and relief to be in a world that finally felt right as he tried regaining himself. He remembered the dream he was stuck in and remembered the lack of your presence- your death in that place. His eyes widened as he stared at the ground before he lifted his head up.

You.

He stood to his feet quickly, but immediately teetered and fell to his ass on the floor. He hissed, angry at how weak his legs felt. He must’ve been sleeping for way too long if his damn legs didn’t want to work.

Dabi growled as he used the bed to get back to his feet and took more cautious steps towards the door to leave the room he was in. The open basement waiting area was empty and dim, not currently being in use.

Using the wall, he ambled the perimeter of the room to come to the stairs that lead to the bar- the bar he was sure was there. The bar that he missed and that bar that didn’t exist in his previous dream without you.

It took Dabi far longer than he’d like to admit to get his legs to climb the stairs, even if they were starting to gather more strength the longer he was awake and the longer he forced them to move and do as he commanded. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t as hard as when he originally woke up.

Getting up to the door, he unlocked it before he practically fell through the frame when it opened. Stumbling in, he shut it behind him and leaned his back against it to catch his breath. He stopped and stood still, seeing the doorway into the bar’s kitchen and beyond it. He had to make sure, he had to confirm this was real.

Ambling his way through the space he knew so well, he came out of the back and smirked when he leaned against the doorframe and looked out into your bar. The tables were empty and polished, chairs pushed in neatly and booths clean. He saw the rec room beyond its own doorway and sighed.

“It’s here,” laughed weakly to himself. “It’s all back.” His legs felt tired as he moved around the bar to slide into the barstool he always sat in. Letting his legs rest, he rested his elbow on the bar top and pushed one hand into his hair to hold his head and the other arm stayed on the bar. He began to replay all the memories he had here that he almost completely forgot in his dream.

What would happen if he let that dream consume him? What if he eventually accepted that dream as reality? Would he have forgotten about you like he almost did? would he had died or just slept until he was old and grey? He didn’t know and he didn’t honestly want to think about it.

He missed the polished scent of your pub instead of the dusty, rotten one of the abandoned building in his dream. He felt his shoulder tense when he heard the pub entrance open behind his back. Swiveling just a bit to view the door under his hand that partially covered his vision and his black bangs, his eyes widened at seeing you enter.

You were carrying bags in your arms, head down as you worked on shutting the door and relocking it. You hadn’t even seen him yet, eyes focusing on other things and the task of shutting your door and relieving your arms of the weight of whatever you had just gone out and bought.

He heard you sigh and he mimicked the sound silently. It felt like it had been so long since he heard you. You dropped the bags to your feet, rotating your shoulders to give your arms a break from how long you were carrying them. Dabi could tell from the way you stretched and rolled your neck that you were tired.

His breath stuttered when you turned and your chin came up, eyes finally finding the body sitting at your bar. It took you just a beat to realize that it wasn’t just some stranger who had broken into your closed pub in broad daylight.

You were about as frozen as he was as your jaw dropped, making your mouth go slightly agape. He couldn’t blame you, he guessed. He lifted his head from his hand and gave you a weak, tired smirk.

“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?”

You were soon tripping over your bags and rushing to his place at the bar, your hands grabbing his shoulders and pushing him from his slouched position into one that was straighter. You twisted his stool and made him face you as you leaned him back to rest on the bar and inspected him.

Dabi inspected you in the same manner.

He watched as you silently, but frantically pushed your hands across his body. His bare chest was warm and every touch of your fingers made him feel hot. it was like you were confirming that he was real and not some delusion you had made up from stress. He would do that same after the you-less dream he had been succumbed to for fuck-knows how long now, but your warm touch was too comforting- too real to be a just another dream.

Dabi could see your eyes slick over as you just kept trying to silently convince yourself he was in front of you. He furrowed his brows- you hadn’t looked at his face since you saw him and you weren’t saying anything. It irritated him.

The pyro snatched your roaming wrists in his hands as you jolted and went completely still.

“Fuckin’ look at me,” he demanded, his impatience getting the best of him. Slowly, your head lifted and you did. He could see the tears brimming your eyes and he briefly wondered if you could even see him clearly with all those tears in the way of your vision. “Now, talk to me.”

Your mouth fell open, but snapped shut again. Only small sounds coming out. What could you say? You had no idea how to form words in the given situation. What should you say? Ask him how he feels, ask him how he woke up and if he was okay? Ask him why the hell the first thing he did was get up out of bed and come to the bar?

“Let me make this easy,” he told you, a scowl still on his scarred face. He brought one of his hands up to the cup under your jaw, his thumb and fingers pushing your cheeks to make your lips purse , your chin rest in his palm. “Can’t talk? Fine; then just say my name, it should be easy.”

You swallowed. One word, just two short syllables long, that’s it. It really should be easy. Opening your mouth, you did your best to force your locked up voice out.

“Dabi?” You questioned, your brows quirking up as he chuckled, smirking down at you.

“Atta girl,” he whispered before he brought his lips down onto the ones he had pushed out so invitingly to himself. You found your head spinning when Dabi’s hand that held your cheeks and under your jaw, pulled your mouth open so he could push his tongue inside to tangle around yours.

The entire time he roamed your mouth, his eyes stayed open and on yours. Your small huffs of shock dwindled as your wide eyes started to narrow and drop to a lid as your tense body finally slackened.

This is what woke him up- what had him remember, not being shot. His want to be around you, to taste you for the first time and to smell your scene again. Drawing his tongue out of your mouth, he peppered your flushed cheeks and the corner of your lips with small pecks, before greedily taking your lips again. Every time you tried pulling away from him- to get some answers no doubt- he didn’t let you get far as he kept chasing after your lips.

Your taste was so fuckin’ addicting, he almost growled.

Lifting himself up from his barstool, he had forgotten that his legs were weak and he found himself immediately releasing your lips and losing his balance. Grabbing your shoulder and arm to try and keep his balance, you squawked, not ready to hold his weight and you both tumbled to the tile.

You groaned as the man lay on top of you, his arms laying outstretched on either side of your head with his chin next to your neck. When he didn’t move, you brought one of your hands to his back and tapped him gently.

“Uh, Dabi?” You felt his breathing against your own as he just hummed signally that he didn’t just pass out.. “Think you can get off me?” Your voice was weak and without even looking at you, Dabi could imagine the flush that most definitely painted your cheeks a vibrant red.

“No, I don’t think I can,” he chuckled. He felt you fight under him, your arms pushing against his side before you lifted him just a bit before pushing him and sliding yourself out from under him. He groaned. “Fuck, you should treat a patient with more care.”

“Oh, sorry,” you panicked as you were soon grabbing his arm and throwing it over your shoulder and heaving him up. You looked back to your bags of groceries before deeming Dabi’s overall health top priority. You were ready to take him back downstairs to the basement when he stopped you, his free hand shooting out to grab a door frame and keep you from proceeding.

“No,” he denied. “Upstairs. I want to be in your place instead.”

“What? But, Dabi, you’re-”

“I’m fine,” he bit. He couldn’t just outright say that he missed your apartment, especially right to your face. “Just, take me up there instead.” In the end, that stupidly good heart of yours relented and obeyed his request.

Dabi felt like he just reached nirvana when you helped sit him down on your couch. His arms lifted to the back of the couch instinctive and he dropped his head back and shut his eyes, taking in the newfound comfort. He could feel you stand in front of him before he felt the cushion next to him dip, informing him that you had just sat next to him. He could feel your concerned eyes burn into the side of his face.

“You don’t need to stare.”

“Well, you still need to answer some questions.”

Dabi peeled his eyes open, as he tilted his head that still rested back on the cushions to look at you. “Ask away.”

“Okay,” you breathed, not expecting him to be as cooperative. “Well, how do you feel?”

“Better than ever,” your pointed look at his legs made him clear his throat with a chuckle. “Better than ever with a bit of a balance problem.”

“And your neck? Does that hurt?”

“Nope.”

“What about your head, any headaches or eye strain?”

“Had a headache when I woke up, pretty much gone now.”

You ran him back and forth about questions of if he was in pain or any discomfort, and while he normally would have found the entire process annoying, he couldn't help but smile through it. Listening to you talk so much made him feel remarkably better.

“Alright, now for unprofessional questions,” you told him. “Why the hell did you think it was a good idea to go up to the bar as soon as you woke up? I was gone no more than 20 minutes and you somehow climbed your way up there. What if you fell back down the stairs or something?”

“I don’t know about you, sweetheart, but when I wake up in a basement, I’d like to get out of it,” he joked. “I wanted to see the bar anyway.”

“It’s the same as it’s always been.”

“Not to me.”

“What?” Your twisted face that had been chewing him out the past several minutes had softened at his tone. His joking smirk fell as he looked back at the ceiling and his mouth pressed into a line. Just remembering that awful dream really pissed him off.

“What was the quirk I was under?”

“You,” you started, “you knew you were under the effects of a quirk?”

“Of course I did, I’m not stupid.”

“Well, the guy with the needle fingertips is the one who got you in the neck during that brawl, remember?” Dabi nodded. “His needles contain a type of sedative that sends the affected body to sleep and their mind into a created reality of their dreams. I guess you had a dream, huh?”

“Yeah. A fucking stupid dream where everything was the same expect the important stuff.”

“Important stuff? Like what exactly?”

Glancing at you from the corner of his eye, he decided not to tell you about his identity. To you he was still just plain Dabi- the Dabi who took Stain’s words to heart and hated this hero-praised society. If he told you who he really was, what if you looked at him differently? So, he kept it to himself.

“You weren’t there.” You were silent at his side, his gaze moving to focus back on the light fixtures that were turned off above him since the sun was bright enough through the windows to light the living room up. “When I woke up in that dream, you weren’t there. The bar wasn’t there either, it was just some run down building owned by the city. You didn’t know me in that dream, and you died as a stranger to me in that dream too.” His eyes lidded as a grim shadow cast over his face.

“I died? But how-”

“I really don’t want to get into the details.”

“Oh,” you pushed yourself. “That makes sense. Sorry for prying.” It was silent for a beat. You looked away from Dabi, glancing around your living room as he watched you from the corner of his vision. You had stood up from the couch, making him twitch. “I’m going to get you something to drink, you’re probably thirsty. Since you’re recovering though, I’m gonna make you drink a lot of water.”

He was content on letting you do what you wanted, but the thought of you leaving his sight for just a moment made his skin crawl. If you went to the kitchen, you’d be going around a corner and behind a wall, he couldn’t see through walls.

You got one step from the couch when he snatched your wrist and yanked you over. Falling back on the cushions, your back was against Dabi’s side where he had snaked his arm around you, keeping you hostage.

“What are you-?!” Your voice stopped when he dropped his forehead to your shoulder and squeezed you.

“Don’t leave my sight yet.”

“Did my disappearance in your dream really bother you that much?” He cursed you for being so perceptive on why he was suddenly so handsy with you. In the past, he tried to be as mindful of your feelings as possible. He didn’t want to take advantage of your emotions back then, but now it wasn’t quite like before.

“Yeah, it did.” His honesty shocked you. There was no joking undertone and no sound of a smirk on his lips. It was sincere and it was sad.

You relaxed against him, raising one of your hands to push through his hair that tickled your neck and cheek. You wished you had a book or your phone to keep you busy at the very least, but you didn’t. You just traced the design of your apartment’s wallpaper with your eyes, sitting in silence for a while.

“Hey,” you softly called after a while to test if he had fallen asleep. You heard him hum behind you. “Is the reason you did what you did in the bar, because I didn’t exist in your dream?”

Oh fuck.

He had nearly forgotten that he practically shoved his tongue down your throat not that long ago. In the past, maybe he would’ve felt bad about doing that; to you in particular- you being his best friend and the same friend who patched him up on the regular and the friend who got rejected by him. But now, he didn’t feel any regret looking back on the deed.

In fact, the only regret he felt int his moment was the memory of his rejection.

“Can I take it back?”

“The kiss?” You croak? “Well, of course you can. I-”

“Not that, you idiot.”

“What?”

“That time I told you that I didn’t do relationships, when I rejected you. Can I take that back?” Your silence made his stomach churn. God, this is why he hated relationships, why he hated fuckin’ feelings. This is the sole reason he squashed what he felt towards you down into the pit of his stomach. Now it’s all coming back up to burn his throat like a case horrible heartburn.

“Dabi, this isn’t a joke to me.”

“I know, I’m not that much of a prick.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Not to you, I’m not.” The moment you opened your mouth to argue against him again, he bit into your neck, making you squawk and kick your legs out before bopping the top of his head with your hand that had been previously brushing through his hair. Which didn’t help your case, since all it did was knock his teeth into your skin more before he unlatched from you. “Hey,” he spoke as he moved to push his cheek against the top of your head so there was no way you could even get a glance at his face. “If you think you still like me, then I think I like you too.”

Dabi felt you start laughing before he heard it. He felt like he was going to burst into flames as you squirmed around in his arms, laughing like he just told the world's worst dad joke. He pinched into your sides, making you yelp between laughs. When you settled down, you just rested against him willingly and hummed.

“That’s not how you ask a someone out, Dabi.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

“Neither is that.”

“That’s it,” he finalized with himself as he planted his chin on top of your head with enough force to make you whine in dull pain. “Just for that, I’m not taking you on any good dates. It’s just concrete basements and empty fridges for you.”

Yu gasp. “That is not how you treat your girlfriend!”

“I don’t remember asking you to be that to me?”

“You son of a-”

He pushed a hand over your mouth, muffling you as he felt you smile against his palm. Tiling your head back to look up and back at him, he pulled his hand away from your lips and pushed a finger in front of his own, shushing you.

“You sure you want me?” He asked. “Last chance to back out of it.”

“Well,” you answered, “do really you want me?”

Dabi rolled his eyes. Like he would flake out after all this, you should know better than to ask him something like that. He was meticulous, he wouldn’t be so certain of something like this if he hadn’t thought it over first. He’s had his time without you and now he’s gonna make certain that it never happens again.

“Oh, baby, I only want you.” Your face flushed and he kissed the end of your nose- since your lips were too far away from this angle to reach. “Now turn around dammit, I want to kiss you properly.”

That stupidly good heart of yours never fails to listen.

-END-

87 notes · View notes

pinkykitten · 5 years

Text

The Move

Stranger Things

Jim Hopper x black plus size! female reader

Warning: cursing

Specifics: fluff, comedy, romance, one-shot, plus size reader, poc reader, black reader, woc reader

People: jim hopper, mrs. and mr. sinclair, lucas sinclair, erica sinclair, flo

Words: 2,411

Requested: By @malasxlenguas (cannot tag) Hi! I'm hype you're puertorican, me too! I wanna request a Hopper x black plus size. Lucas's aunt that moved to Hawkins to be close to her famiky and Hopper saw her and he fell HARD and wanted to ask ber out but didn't know how to and one day he just blurted it out and reader yelled yes lol. Just fluff all over lol thank you!!

Authors Note: honestly i loved this frickin prompt it was so unique and i love delving deeper into the sinclair fam and having something based off of that like what a different prompt! this is really fluffy and just beautiful i love hopper so much and i dont know if i ever told you this but my mom loves hopper she finds him super sexy and she loves how thick he is and masculine yet sweet she even has his face on the netflix profile and my dad was like girl who da h*ll is this??? my dad is old schooled and doesnt watch modern shows. any who hope you guys like this!

“Why is she staying with us?” Lucas asked as he followed his mother around the dinner table as she was setting it up for their guest.

“Because, she is starting her new life here. She starts working at the police station soon and she doesn’t have a house. She is your aunt for crying out loud, Lucas. And she is supporting all our cause by being the first thing people see as they enter the police station, a black woman. Remember that Lucas.”

Lucas rolled his eyes as he gave a groan. “But mom its weird being with her.”

“Aw why is that? You used to love being with her when you were younger. What happened?” Mrs. Sinclair shook her head as she changed the napkins out for another color.

“I used to but every time I walk with her all these guys stare at her. They’re like undressing her with their eyes. Its disgusting mom.”

“Well baby that ain’t your aunt’s fault. Those are all those nasty men that can’t control when they see such a beautiful lady. Plus remember your aunt is on the bigger side and she has got her curves.” Mrs. Sinclair started to shake her butt as Lucas made a disgusted face.

“That’s the thing. She walks around, people look at us and then the attention is on us like I just want to go to the mall but no can’t go there either without the stares.” Lucas felt like even saying these things his mother was not going to change her mind.

“Lucas Sinclair I expect you to be nice and kind to your aunt. She loves you a whole lot and watch soon she’ll be out of here and who knows maybe you’ll miss her.”

The door knocked and Mrs. Sinclair took her apron off excitedly and sprinted to the door. “Who is it?” She bit her lip.

“Who do you think crazy? Its your d*mn sister!” You joked.

Mrs. Sinclair opened up and you and her gave a loving embrace. “I missed my baby sister.”

“I missed you too. Your house is always beautiful. And you? Look at you girl you are gorgeous!” You spun your older sister around. “You sure you had two kids?”

“Hello there y/n,” Mr. Sinclair came down the stairs, smiling. He gave you a handshake.

“Excuse me, we family. We hug,” you brought him into a tight hug. “Now where are the children? Kids!”

Erica screamed as she ran to you and jumped in your arms. You picked her up and spun her around. “Oh my God! I can’t believe you’re here! You can totally sleep in my room if you want!”

“Idiot she already got a room. She’s sleeping in the guest room.” Lucas said.

You raised your brow as Erica plopped down onto the ground and raised a finger in front of Lucas’s face, “excuse me! I didn’t know I was talking to you fool.”

“Hey both of y’all stop it!” You smacked them both in the head. “I am sleeping in the guest room but since I’m gonna be staying here for a while I can always have sleepovers with you Erica. Now Lucas where’s my hug?”

Lucas sighed as he gave you a hug.

“There we go. Now, I got you something.” You wipped out behind your back a game that Lucas wanted really bad.

Lucas squealed as he took hold of the precious item.

“Now you better share with your sister. Any who I feel way better now but I’ma need y’all’s help with the truck. I know I couldn’t keep everything so I just kept some stuff.” You said as you led them outside to the moving truck. “You guys got all your arms and you all are healthy then you all can help.”

“Of course we are all going to help. Right kids?” Mrs. Sinclair asked, giving Lucas a glare.

“Yeah of course,” Lucas said.

Everyone started to help you unloading all your boxes and items. You felt a little homesick having to leave your life back out of town. You had to leave your apartment, friends your whole life. You told your sister that you had to leave because you wanted the job here along with it was closer to the family but in reality where you worked they fired you and no other place would hire you. It made you feel depressed and like you weren’t good enough. People got one look at your size and color and that was it, they saw you as not good enough. But you tried to see your situation half full and realize that you were with family and they were going to help you through this.

You picked up a heavy box and because it had been raining earlier and was such a gloomy day you slipped on the side of the road with a squeal. Good thing you didn’t hurt yourself but you dropped all your items that were in the box. “Oh sh*t!” You grumbled picking each little thing up.

You heard a car drive beside you and the car door close. You looked up to see a cop. You hastily stood up and wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans to get your wallet out. “Sorry I just slipped and I was trying to pick this up in time.” You finally looked up at him and he was very tall.

The man gulped as he saw your beauty. The sun had just peeked through the clouds and landed on your beautiful skin making it shine. Your eyes captivated him and he felt speechless.

“Are you okay?” You asked, waving your hand to him.

“Yeah sorry. And don’t worry about this mess. I actually saw you slip that’s why I came here to offer my help.” The man bent down and helped pick up each little thing. “So are you new? Cause I’ve never seen you here before?”

“Yeah I just moved in here obviously today.” You chuckle. “I’m y/n l/n. My sister is married to Mr. Sinclair.”

“Oh so you’re the aunt of Lucas.”

“I’m afraid as to why a cop knows and remembers Lucas.”

“He was just involved a little bit with a missing case we had. A few years back one of his friends went missing.”

“Oh I remember my sister telling me that. I heard you guys found him. That’s awesome saving peoples lives like that.”

“Well it is my job.” The man smiled. “I haven’t introduced myself I’m Chief Hopper, Jim Hopper.” He gave his hand out and you shook it.

“Oh I know you! I think we spoke on the phone. I’m gonna work at the police station tomorrow at one of the desks I think y’all said next to Flo?”

“Yeah our secretary.” Hopper wanted to start dancing right there and then. He was excited to have someone like you in the police station. He wanted to get closer to you, know your story. He thought you were extremely beautiful and very kind. “So do you have kids? Maybe a husband?”

“No and no. My kids are Lucas and Erica but I would love to have my own kids someday just gotta find the right man.” She picked up the box but almost fell again with how heavy it was.

“Here let me help you with that.” Hopper picked up the box. It was attractive. He was tall and very manly but a sweetheart. He was like a big teddy bear.

Hopper walked in the Sinclair��s house, greeting them all.

“What are you doing here?” Lucas asked.

“I was in the neighborhood and saw your aunt slipped and helped her out.”

“So you were gawking at my aunt huh?”

“What? No kid I was-”

Lucas shook his head, “say no more say no more. Every man does it, you are not the first and frankly you are not gonna be the last.”

Hopper was weirded out by Lucas but walked up stairs to your room.

“Sorry about the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it. You just moved in you should of seen my cabin when I put all my stuff in there. It was packed.”

“Really? Well I appreciate your help. So what about you Jim Hopper, do you have a wife and kids?”

“Kid yes wife no.”

“Oh really? Boy or girl?”

“Girl, her names Jane.”

You grinned, “how sweet. Well she has a good daddy. She should be really proud of you, especially how you found that kid.”

“Well it wasn’t just me who found Will. I had help but I’m more proud of her.” Hopper smiled just thinking about Eleven. “I was thinking if you’re free tomorrow night how about me and you go,” Hopper was going to say a date but he chickened out. “Go, go on a how about you stay and help me organize my desk?”

You were hoping he was going to ask you on a date. Feeling disappointed you nodded, “yeah I will. Thanks.”

“Well its getting late. I’m going to go home, you have a good night.”

“You too Hopper,” you said as he left and you felt self conscious. Maybe he wasn’t with you because you didn’t look like the other women. You were thick, chunky, plus size and black. Maybe he didn’t find you attractive.

As Hopper walked out of the house he felt like hitting himself. He wasted an opportunity because he was sacred. “I’m such a da*n idiot.”

It was your first day of work and you were nervous. Rubbing your hands on your floral dress you realized they were drenched in sweat. You had your lunchbox tight beside you as you walked inside.

There were only a few people there so it was not an overwhelming setting.

“Hello. You must be Flo,” you gave Flo, the secretary a hand shake.

“Yes, yes I am. And you must be y/n. Nice to meet you sweetheart. There are some papers on your desk that need some checking, think you can do it?”

“Of course yes.” As you sat down in your desk you caught Chief Hopper staring at you. You thought maybe he was worried you wouldn’t do your job right. The other police men there gawked at you. Hopper came out of his office to go for some donuts by the coffee machine.

“Hello y/n.”

“Hi there Chief.” You went to the copy machine and noticed it was down. “Does this copy machine work?”

“Its just broke down all of a sudden but there’s one in Hopper’s office.” Flo said.

You became more nervous! Going into the Chief’s office was no joke. It was his personal space.

“Alright,” you stated quietly. “Chief, may I go copy these papers?”

“Of course, sure.” He took a sip of his just brewed coffee.

As you walked inside it smelled of cigarettes and faint cologne.

“Its right there in the corner.” Hopper sat down in his chair and lit up another one of his cigarettes.

The copy machine was stuck between two cabinets there was a small gap between the two. Noticing the papers had a staple on them you tried taking the staple out carefully, without damaging the paper. Unfortunately all the papers fell in that little gap. You bent down and kneeling in that small gap to pick the papers up. The problem was you became stuck. Your butt was too big!

You tried not making a scene or noticeable. It was embarrassing to get your butt stuck between a copy machine and cabinets, especially in Chief’s office. You tugged and tugged but it was no use. Your grunts were heard and Chief looked in your direction only to be greeted by your a*s.

“You okay there?” He put his cigarette down and walked to you.

“Yeah just fine,” you again pushed and budged but nothing. “Actually no, I’m stuck.”

“Oh really?” Hopper breathed harshly as his eyes couldn’t help but land on your butt. To be honest you were the perfect woman for him. He loved women who were big and luscious. He bit his fist to stop him from drooling. “Da*n.”

“I’m sorry to ask you this but can you help me?”

Hopper chuckled a bit,” sure thing sweetheart.” He grabbed a hold of your chub and honestly in different circumstances his hands on your most insecure part would bother you but you were tired of being stuck and you had work to do.

“This is not how I would imagine my first day would go.”

“How did you even get stuck in here?” Hopper tried to pull you out.

“Well I tried to take a staple out of the paper but then all the papers fell on the floor and I tried to pick them up but I got my mama’s body and there is a whole lotta junk in the trunk.” It made you feel awkward to have his fingers gripping your flesh. It almost felt sexual in a way and you were bashful about it. His strong fingers held you in a way you wish it were more.

“I think I almost got you.”

You felt yourself getting looser and looser as you finally popped out. You fell back onto Hopper as he fell on his back and you landed on your stomach on top of his chest. Your faces only a few inches apart.

“Oh my God. I am so sorry for all of this,” you pointed your finger to yourself.

“No don’t be sorry. You’re beautiful. I actually like my women thick,” he growled, trailing his hands from your waist to your butt.

“Really? I assumed you thought I was ugly.”

“What? Who told you that?”

“Nobody but usually everyone does. That’s actually the reason I came over here,” you leaned on your elbow above him. Your face being cascaded with the morning light. “I was fired from my previous job and nobody wanted to hire me. You guys were the only ones to give me a chance.”

Hopper touched your cheek as you melted into it, “I thought about you all night. Do you want to go on a date with me-”

“YES!” You blurted out quickly and loud.

Hopper giggled and he kissed your sweet lips. You two laughed at the silly position and leaned your forehead against his.

“I’ll take you later tonight, deal?”

You kissed Hopper again and in a way was very thankful you got fired and that you moved. “Deal.”

Tag list: @harrington-lover, @angelgl16, @perfectlybeautifulsuit, @hyehoney, @haven-prelude (wont let me tag), @leasly, @totally-alexa21, @creamy-pasta-boi, @multireese, @fanfictionrecommendations-com, @prentisskelley, @malereaderforkpop (wont let me tag), @guardian-of-cookies, @justafangirl-97, @teenageshitposts (wont let me tag), @dippergravity (wont let me tag), @some-booty, @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople, @collectiveyou, @wtfisalltherandoms, @dirbel, @eastcoasthaven, @fangirl-4-life415 (wont let me tag), @idontknowwhattocallthisworld (wont let me tag)

wanna be tagged in my crap? comment!

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quinzzelx · 5 years

Text

Bruises // Billy Hargrove

Request : “ Hi! I saw your post about requesting Billy imagines so, if you're able to and if you have the time, could you maybe do a fic where Billy finds out that the reader is being abused and kind of helps her out because he went through this but like the reader is very fragile and weak and Billy really loves her and maybe the tiniest bit of angst with a fluffy ending. And if you will do it, could you tag me in it? Thank you so much :)) “

A/N : Hey, so I hope you'll enjoy this - I personally feel like the first half is good and after that, it just turns out to be shitty? lol, so not one of the things I’ve written that I’m too proud of. But still- I had fun writing it and am still so hyped about Billy. (My heart still hurts) I really really hope you’ll enjoy it and feedback is appreciated!

Warnings: VIOLENCE / BLOOD & SWEARING

Wordcount: 2.122

Summer in Hawkins, unfortunately, turned out to be one of the hottest since years. As the days got longer and clothes got shorter (Y/N) grew more and more uncomfortable. She hated canceling plans with her friends and even though she’d love to go swim with them or go to the mall, she wasn’t able to. The long sleeves she wore to hide the dark blue and purple secret lying beneath, made the radiating heat even more unbearable.

(Y/N) decided to spend another day studying in the comfortable silence in the library of Hawkins High. Due to having off from school ‘on account of excessively hot weather’ like Mr. Mundy had said, not a single soul was even near the school. Everyone was lingering either at the Pool, the mall or at home. Immediately after the teachers announced that there won’t be any classes, (Y/N) rushed out of the classroom. While trying to kindly avoid her friends' invitations to join them, she wasn’t really paying too much attention to her surroundings. As she rounded one of the corners, she bumped headfirst into a half-covered and sweaty chest.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” she said, looking up and into none other than Billy Hargrove’s eyes. Before he could answer her though, she brushed past him and out of school. Back when they moved to Hawkins, (Y/N) was the first person he saw in this shithole of a town. They arrived early in the morning around 5 am. Billy was unloading the truck and placed some of the boxes in front of their new ‘home’. After unloading five more boxes he leaned against his 79’ Camaro and fumbled around in one of his pockets looking for his lighter. With a loud groan, he accepted the fact that he probably tossed it in one of the moving boxes. But faith seemed to be on his good side when he spotted a girl sitting on the front porch of the house opposite from him.

“Hey!” he had called out and jogged over to where the girl was sitting. (Y/N) inhaled the deathly smoke sharply into her burning lungs as she saw the boy approaching. With a shaking hand, she pressed the remaining cigarette butt into the ashtray she had placed on her thighs. As the boy stopped right in front of her she shifted a bit, covering the forming bruise on her arm. She wasn’t expecting someone so early, so she didn’t bother to change into something that provided more coverage. “Can I help you?” She said, barely audible. He didn’t question the dark circles under her eyes back then, the signs of missing sleep clearly visible on her face. All he wanted was to light his cigarette anyways. From that day on he was intrigued.

(Y/N) was home in no time. Her parents were still at work so she was able to relax a bit when she entered her house. Since no one would be at the library, she stuffed one of her dresses in her bag and rushed back out. She was sweating like crazy on her way back to school, deciding to pick up her pace she suddenly winced, totally having forgotten her sprained ankle. It was healing well and she barely felt anything anymore, but she decided against straining it too much and slowed down again. As soon as she entered Hawkins High the air around her felt at least a little bit cooler.

Slowly walking towards the girls' locker room, she took in her surroundings to assure that no one else was there. She quickly got rid of her clothes and slipped her dress back on even quicker. Glancing at her reflection she checked the faint, nearly healed and barely visible bruises on her arm and thigh. Give it another three days and the bruises would probably be gone completely and if her father won’t give her new ones by then, she could actually meet up with her friends again. A small smile spread over her lips as soon as she entered the library. The air was a bit chilly and the complete opposite of the burning heat outside. Grabbing one of the books she sat on one of the chairs and started reading.

“(Y/N).. ” she groaned, shifting a bit in her position. A second soft shake on her arm “(Y/N) we are closing up the school now, you should go home” the words hit her hard as she realized what exactly they meant. “Thank you! I’m sorry, I’ll be on my way now!” the girl said under her breath while grabbing her bag and hurrying to the door. She felt cold sweat run down her neck as she walked home as fast as she could. (Y/N) stopped dead in her tracks when she saw her father's car pulling up in the driveway. Shit. Ducking behind the fence she climbed over it, hitting her knee while doing so and quietly limping towards her window. As fast as she could she hauled herself in her room and scrambled to her feet just in time. Her door swung open not even a second after, hitting the wall with a loud thud. Taking a swig of the already opened bottle of beer the man entered her room. As soon as he laid eyes on his daughter his eyes narrowed. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

Billy was currently working out with his dumbbells when he saw (Y/N) clumsily crawling through her window while her father came back from work. He chuckled loudly and put his weights back down, closely watching her. “You’re a creep Billy” with narrowed eyes he whipped his head around. “What do you want Max?” he said, walking towards her. “Can you drive me to Mike’s ?” Groaning he sat down on his bed and rolled his eyes. “Wheeler? It’s 10 pm, Max, what the fuck?” Standing up he clicked his tongue, letting one of his hands slick back his hair. Sensing his father's presence he nodded towards the redhead and grabbed his car keys.

She was afraid, frozen in place. When she hurried home, she totally forgot to change. “Didn’t I tell you to cover up the bruises and not walk around like a slut?!” He raised his voice, stepping closer. “Dad, I’m sorry, It was just at home, I promise!” (Y/N) whimpered, backing away slowly. “I don’t fucking care! No more excuses” With that, he grabbed her wrist squeezing tightly and tugging on it. “No Dad, please” she begged, tears forming at the brim of her eyes, threatening to spill over and running down her cheeks like a wild river. “I beg you, please don’t-” She was interrupted by the sharp pain in her cheek, spreading like a wildfire from the place where her father's hand had collided with her face. The impact had her gasping and stumbling a bit backward. “Shut the fuck up” He snarled, the stench of alcohol burning her nostrils. Harshly he tugged her out of the room and into the floor, pressing her into the wall with his left arm and pulling at her hair with his right hand. “I’m gonna teach you how to obey and pay respect to your father!” The enraged man spat in her reddened face. “And if you don’t listen, I’m gonna do it over and over again!” a cruel smile spread over his face. She sobbed loudly when she put all her strength in her arms and shoved her father off her body. Quickly she stumbled towards the front door. “You fucking Bitch!” He yelled, his voice filled with anger as he tossed the still half-filled bottle after her, hitting her shoulder while doing so. The bottle bursts into hundreds of sharp shards, some of them cutting deeply into her skin and breaking it. The crimson liquid spilling down her back and soaking the baby blue dress. She let out a loud scream, falling into one of the drawers and knocking over several framed pictures and a vase.

A loud ear-piercing scream could be heard followed by a loud crash. Billy was about to start the engine when he looked out of the window over to the house. “Billy, go it’s okay,” Max said, her eyes wide and filled with worry. The mullet-wearing boy quickly got out of his car and over to her house. “(Y/N) !” He called over his harsh knocks. When he heard shifting and a loud thud, Billy forced the door open with his shoulder. What he saw sparked a burning fire of rage and hatred within him. He strode toward her father brutally pushing him to the ground before he could even notice him. Raising his fist and clenching them in anger he let it forcefully collide with the man's face. There was a gut-wrenching cracking sound as soon as his fist met his nose. Another crack when he punched him for the second time. Blood gushed out of the cranky man's nose. There was a deep cut along his cheekbone and his lip was split open. Right as he was about to punch him again, he felt a soft small hand on his shoulder. “Billy…?”

He let go of the knocked out man's collar immediately and turned to look at her beat-up face. “Oh doll, what did he do to your pretty face?” Billy said softly, flinching slightly when she whimpered as soon as he cupped her face. “Come on, we’ll take care of you” Helping her and lifting her up, Billy walked back to his car with (Y/N) in his arms. She felt dizzy, closing her eyes softly and leaning her head against Billy's chest. “Max I need your help. Get the first aid” Max gasped when she saw you and what state you were in. Grabbing the first aid kit she fumbled with the bandages and gave them to her brother. (Y/N) was completely out of it. She passed out halfway through Billy’s and his sister's treatment. The last time Billy felt this enraged and hurt for another person was back then with his mom. Max had helped him sneak (Y/N) in his room and after that time just didn’t seem to pass. He watched her the whole time, looking for any signs of her being in pain. She didn’t seem to have any serious injuries. With that in mind, Billy soon fell asleep on his chair.

The next morning came fast. Sun kissing her skin and waking her up. She groaned a little when she opened her eyes. Her body hurt all over. A blush crept over her cheeks when she saw Billy sleeping on his chair next to her. He looked so peaceful. “Billy?” (Y/N) softly whispered. The boy slowly opened his eyes, rubbing them with his left hand and stretching a little. “Thank you” She spoke quietly fumbling with the blanked. His eyes softened upon hearing her shy barely audible voice. “Princess, is that the reason you cover up all the time?” He asked, pointing to the fresh bruises on her skin. (Y/N) nodded slowly letting a deep sigh escaped her bruised lips. With slow steps Billy made his way towards his bed and sat beside her, lifting one of his hands up to her none injured cheek. “Listen, I know how that feels and you’re not alone princess.” Tears formed in her (Y/E/C) eyes as he spoke. “Billy I don’t deserve this.” (Y/N) sobbed, shaking her head but was abruptly stopped by his hand. “Don’t say that ever again!” He said sternly, inching closer to her and lifting his other hand to softly cup her bruised cheek as well. “I’m not letting that piece of shit near you ever again” Pulling her closer, she hugged him and sniffled slightly. “I promise (Y/N)” Billy whispered while pulling back again. “Billy?” (Y/N) said, her heart beating faster in her chest. “Yes princess?” the boy muttered leaning a bit closer so that their noses were touching. “Kiss me”

A smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned forward, both of their lips colliding in a soft wet kiss. Both of them moving in unison, lips moving in sync as he pulled her closer to his chest. He would never let anyone hurt her ever again. Every emotion was flowing and put into that kiss by both of them. Her hand wandering to his hair, letting it slip through his soft curls. Their bodies were moving together, her fragile body fitting perfectly into his strong arms. Sharing these experiences tightened their bond. Parting to get some air and breathe they looked at each other, (Y/N)’s breathing heavy and a genuine smile on her flushed lips. “Billy Hargrove just kissed me?” a small chuckle crawled up Billy's throat. “And another thousand times if you want me to”

tagging: @ just-some-imagines

#billy x reader #Billy Hargrove #billy hargove x reader #stranger things #stranger things season 3 #billy #dacre montgomery #x reader #stranger things imagine #11 #mike wheeler #jim hopper #reader insert

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phancystuff · 7 years

Text

Trying to Remember How it Feels (To Have a Heartbeat) 1/7

Pairing: Dan/ Phil (Phan) Summary: Dan moves into a new apartment in London and, though it’s a step up from his old apartment, his landlord gives him strange warnings while he’s touring the place-- something about the last renters leaving because of ghost sightings. But, Dan doesn’t believe in the supernatural. He quickly changes his tune when he meets Phil Lester, the ghost haunting his apartment. Well, if haunting means quickly becoming the best friend he’s ever had. (Title from Harry Styles’ song Two Ghosts) Notes: This is the first part of my Spooky Week Special! This fic is almost 100% already written and I plan on updating it every day until Halloween. Please note that, although this fic has the warning of major character death, it is not in any way graphic. Tags/ Warnings: ghost au, Halloween, major character death (obv. it’s a ghost au lol), depictions of panic attacks, angst, fluff, HAPPY ENDING, mentions of suicide (it happens in a movie they watch)

Read it on A03 Completed fic masterlist here

Dan woke up that morning in a mood, which is never a good thing when you’re supposed to do something particularly adult-y. Something like tour a new apartment because the one you’re currently living in is literally falling apart at the seams and your neighbors drill ridiculous DIY projects at all hours of the day. Dan’s YouTube channel had been doing pretty well lately, too, and he could finally afford a better apartment. He had made it hard on himself in the beginning by refusing to get a roommate, but he liked his space. It didn’t matter, anyway, it was finally time for him to move up in the world and trade his current hamster cage for a slightly bigger one. And yet, there Dan was, the morning of an apartment tour, on his third coffee, and still feeling like someone had hit him over the head and shoulders while he was sleeping. Sickly sweet Starbucks lattes weren’t even touching his exhaustion; it was that serious. So maybe that’s why, later when Dan was touring this potential apartment, he couldn’t be bothered with the stupid things that were coming out of the landlord’s mouth.

The white, middle aged man, who had introduced himself as Paul, had just closed the door to the master bedroom and was leading Dan to the kitchen when he glanced back at Dan. “Yeah, I just want to give you full, fair warning. The last renters left because they kept seeing a ghost.”

“You don’t say?” Dan hid his eye roll, answering uninterestedly. He didn’t know what the landlord was playing at, but ghosts didn’t exist and this was a nice apartment. He couldn’t be scared away from it. It was an old building, but it had recently been renovated and featured new, shiny appliances. The space wasn’t huge, but it would work perfectly for a 26 year old, single YouTuber. It had a great view of the city and an elevator to aid in the moving process.

“Yeah, ghosts! I mean, I never saw any ghosts, but I do get a weird feeling when I walk around here.” Paul rambled on and Dan leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at him. “From what I hear, the last landlord that owned this property didn’t carefully inspect the place and it ended in some poor bloke dying. Not really sure how; it was back in 2010. But, obviously, everything’s ship shape now.” The man trailed off, gazing around at nothing in particular.

“Uh huh,” Dan answered politely, but distractedly, crouching down to look at the controls on the impressive-looking stove. He wasn’t really listening.

“Oh, yeah! The stove is new and state-of-the-art--” as the landlord barreled into more information about the admittedly nice stove, Dan totally forgot about the weirdo’s ghost comments.

***

A week later, Dan was moving into his new apartment. He had spent a few days weighing his options, but had ultimately decided to apply for the flat that Paul had showed him. The application had been accepted quickly and now Dan was staring at his new home with a large, heavy cardboard box in his arms. Thankfully, his parents and younger brother were kind enough to give up their Saturday to help Dan out. They were hoping to get it all done in a day. Dan glanced back toward the street and felt overwhelmed by all of the boxes, furniture, and stuff in the moving van. As he made trip after trip from moving van to apartment, he felt increasingly thankful for the elevator in the building.

Dan, his parents, and younger brother were in and out of the apartment all morning with boxes and furniture. “Fuck, Dan, when did you get so much shit?” Alex collapsed on the sofa that the four of them had finally fit it into the far corner of the lounge. He glared at Dan, who just rolled his eyes at his moody teenaged brother. Dan couldn’t really say much; he was moody too when he was sixteen. Dan was just glad that he didn’t start his YouTube channel until later in his life. Less cringe-worthy stuff on the internet, that way.

“Sorry Lexy,” Dan put emphasis on his little brother’s childhood nickname, “How about you let me know what I don’t need and I’ll bin it. Would that make you happy?”

Alex puffed out a breath, “Yeah, start with the shoes. You have enough to make the average girl jealous.”

Dan crossed his arms, “sexist little punk.”

“Self-absorbed twat.”

“Wanker.”

“Assho--”

“Boys! Enough.” Their mum suddenly appeared at the opening to the lounge, looking at her offspring disappointedly. “Daniel, you’re 26, you should know better.” Dan looked down at his toes, feeling more remorseful that he was 26 and was still being disciplined by his mum. Alex just looked smug, until their mum turned to him and crossed her arms. “Alex, Daniel is your older brother and he needed our help today. So don’t complain. We’re family, we help each other. That’s what family does.” Alex rolled his eyes in response.

Dan collapsed next to Alex, letting a sigh escape his lips. “Thanks for helping me, you guys. Even though some of us are annoying little pillocks who should be locked in a room until their bodies are no longer being ravaged by hormones--” he looked pointedly at Alex-- “I really appreciate the help.”

“Well, of course you need help, it’s not like you can afford movers on a YouTuber’s salary.” Alex snipped, shoving his shoulder against Dan.

Their mum looked between them with exasperation, throwing her hands up. “I give up! Brothers! So nasty to each other!” She turned around, exiting the flat to get more boxes. Alex giggled.

Dan looked at him unbelievingly. “Did you really just giggle?”

Alex met his stare with furrowed brows, “No, I didn’t fucking giggle. Why would I giggle? The only funny thing here is your career path.” Alex shoved himself off the couch, “come on, you lazy fuck. You aren’t gonna pass all the work off on us.”

“Will you stop being such a prick?” Dan also pushed himself off the couch, already forgetting about the giggle that he had very clearly heard. Instead, he was thinking about offering to order pizza for everyone so they could have a much-deserved lunch break.

***

Later that night, Dan worked in his new bedroom, making his bed and unloading the boxes that had been haphazardly stacked about. The whole process of bringing in his stuff had taken the better part of the day and then his family stuck around to help Dan start to unpack. They didn’t really get far with it, before Dan was insisting that he could handle the unpacking part and that his family had done enough for him. Of course, Alex had made a relieved sassy comment that Dan had ignored and Dan’s mum checked and double-checked that Dan was ok to do it alone. Dan’s dad suggested going out to dinner and everyone had been more than happy to comply.

His family left long ago and Dan was alone in the apartment. It seemed so big and empty. Every footstep seemed to echo. Dan hated new places. It would get better when his stuff was unpacked and arranged. Until then, Dan just blasted some Vampire Weekend and rifled around in the boxes marked ‘bedroom.’ Whenever Dan moved somewhere new, he set his bedroom up first. The bed was the most important thing, especially since it was pushing 10:00 PM and Dan had gotten up disgustingly early that morning. After the bed was made, Dan went through the process of setting up his computer. Connecting to the internet was blessedly easy, but that was because the internet provider had already been in a couple days ago to install the router and ethernet jacks. Dan had stressed to them how important it was to get everything sorted and they had complied.

Fixing up his bedroom also included building his video background, which was always one of his favorite spaces to decorate. Of course, the iconic butt chair was there. He hung fairy lights around his bed frame and delicately put various knick knacks on display on his bedside table. Posters were hung, clothes were folded and stuffed into his chest of drawers, books were fitted into his new bookshelf, bedsheets were smoothed down, and slowly the boxes disappeared. Dan broke them down and slid them in the hallway, promising himself to take care of the pile rather than trip on it for the next two weeks. Before Dan knew it, it was 1:30 AM and he was crashing, quickly.

Dan silenced Ezra Koenig and tore off his clothes, changing into soft pajama bottoms. He lay down on his bed, groaning at the feeling of his aching body sinking into a blessedly comfy memory foam mattress. Dan had paid a small fortune for the bed, but it had been so worth it. He slept like a baby in it. Dan got out his phone, checking his social media accounts for any important updates. He reblogged some fanart on tumblr, watched some of his friends new YouTube videos, and liked some tweets. Dan himself tweeted, ‘of course the first thing i set up in the new flat is my bed. it’s where all the magic happens and by magic i mean sleep.’ Dan spent a few minutes replying with sassy comments to fans, before feeling his eyelids start to drift closed.

“Ugh, the lights. Gotta get the lights.” Dan murmured to himself, forcing his eyes open. He rolled to the left, aiming to get out of the bed, when the lights were suddenly off. Dan perked his head up, looking around in the room that had just been plunged in darkness. He couldn’t see a thing. He groaned, thinking about how he would already have to contact the landlord about electricity problems. “Stupid faulty electricity,” Dan pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. “Whatever, it can wait until morning.” Dan pushed the bedcovers down, wiggling under them. They were barely over his body when sleep overtook him.

Dan slept late and when his eyes finally cracked open, the sun was obnoxiously brightening the room. Dan put ‘dark curtains’ on his mental shopping list and pushed the covers off his body. He lay there for a second, observing the ceiling (and praising the lack of cracks in it).

Moments later, his feet touched the floor and he remembered the electricity the previous night. Curious, Dan pushed himself out of bed and padded over to the light switch on the wall. He flicked it experimentally and watched the overhead lights come on and off, on and off. They were working perfectly. There must have been a brief, scarily coincidental, power outage the previous night.

Dan went into the kitchen and made a coffee and popped some toast into the toaster, thanking both his past self for packing some food to sustain him as he moved in, and his mother for unpacking the food immediately. Dan got out his phone as he waited for his breakfast and sent a quick text to his mum. ‘Bless you for unpacking my food.’ She sent him a heart emoji without hesitation and asked him about his first night. He made light conversation about unpacking and sleeping, but quickly said goodbye to her in favor of breakfast.

Dan opened up the notes app in his iPhone, looking at the list of video ideas he had going. Although he had tons of unpacking to do, he was due for a new video soon. He didn’t want to spend a lot of time with a script or with editing, so he figured it was time for another video in his “Quick and Dirty with Dan” series. For these videos, he would essentially set up a camera and rant/ philosophize about a subject for five minutes. He only edited out the “um’s.” They were fun. People cared about his opinions on things, surprisingly. Dan composed a quick tweet: ‘any requests for a quick n dirty?’ and he watched the responses flood in. Of course, plenty of his fans suggested lewd things, inspired by the name of the series. Several tweets said ‘Donald Trump’ and there was no way that Dan was going to fall down that hole. Dan scrolled through his replies, munching on a bite of buttered toast. One tweet jumped out at him and he thumbed the text, liking it. ‘Talk about your experience with/ opinion about the supernatural! Like ghosts, not the show lolol.’ Immediately, Dan recalled the weird conversation he had with Paul the landlord about the ghost that apparently haunted this apartment. It would be a perfect story to include in his video.

When his toast was eaten and cup of coffee was drained, Dan tottered back to his bedroom, maneuvering around boxes. Dan made his bed and changed into his signature black outfit. He set up his camera and lighting equipment and sat down in his chair, checking the viewfinder to make sure that his video background looked agreeable. Dan pressed record, speaking his regular greeting of “Hello internet!” and barreling into the topic of the supernatural.

Three or four hours later, the video was being uploaded onto YouTube. Dan’s more scripted videos took much longer to create, which was why he really liked this series. Dan left the video to do its thing and went to unpack the kitchen, blasting Britney Spears and singing along badly. “Toxic” came on and Dan picked up a wooden spoon, holding it to his mouth and purring out the first words of the song, “baby, can’t you see?” He danced around the kitchen. About halfway through the song, Dan noticed that he was hearing double. There was another voice under Britney’s that wasn’t his own. It wasn’t a particularly good voice, either. It missed some of the notes entirely. Dan furrowed his brow and picked up his phone, checking that Spotify hadn’t accidentally given him a weird, cover version of the song. It hadn’t. Dan paused it and silence enveloped the kitchen. He pressed play again and the song was back to normal, Britney back to her sensual self. Dan felt a little unnerved, thinking about the electricity and the weird mystery voice. He considered exploring the apartment a little, checking closets and corners for possible squatters. In the end, he didn’t do anything of the sort, laughing at himself instead. He needed to get the place set up, then maybe Dan wouldn’t feel so jumpy.

Dan paused Britney and checked the status of his video. He was surprised to find that it had already uploaded successfully. He was impressed with the internet speed. He scrolled through YouTube comments, liking a few clever ones. He rarely replied to YouTube comments, unless one was especially funny. He didn’t find any funny ones, but did notice quite a few that looked exactly identical.

‘Umm wtf ghost at 1:33??????’

‘YOU BETTER BELIEVE IN GHOST STORIES, DANIEL, YOU’RE IN ONE!!!11! 1:33’

‘1:33 Ghost. Ghost. Ghost.’

‘Seriously, what the fuck is that at 1:33??’

Dan rolled his eyes at the comments. These weren’t new on the world of YouTube. People loved creepy things and once one person commented a timestamp and a ghost sighting, it was like a disease. Dan clicked the timestamp on one of the comments, fully expecting a shadow or stuffed animal falling over.

Instead, Dan felt like his heart stopped.

He paused the video. He suddenly felt hot, heat prickling across every inch of his skin. In the video, in the dark doorway of his bedroom, there was an unmistakable figure. A man. He was barely a glimmer, but, boy, was he there.

Dan stared at the screen, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. There was literally no fucking reasonable explanation for what he was seeing. Dan tried to rationalize it, but was coming up with nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Instead, he was thinking about the landlord’s comments, the mysterious giggle that he thought was Alex, the electricity problem, the strange voice he heard while singing “Toxic.” Dan started shaking. He was afraid to play the video and watch what the figure would do. But he had to. Curiosity ate at him. Slowly, shakily, Dan pressed play and watched the entryway. The man looked up at Dan in the video. Dan blanched at the man’s pale skin, dark hair, and piercing eyes. He didn’t look unfriendly, watching Dan with curiosity. In the video, Dan was saying something about “the idea of ghosts scaring the diddly heck out of him,” and Dan saw the ghost’s mouth quirk up in a smile, before he was simply phasing out of frame.

Dan paused the video and released a breath that he had been holding.

“Sorry for intruding on your video.” Dan screamed, actually screamed, jerking violently in his chair. It pitched back and he crashed to the floor. The room echoed with the sound of the loud crash and Dan felt momentarily dazed. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering if someone had slipped him hallucinogenic drugs without him knowing. Alex would probably get a kick out of doing something like that. Suddenly, a figure came into Dan’s view, looking at Dan upside down. It was the figure from the video. The ghost? The hallucination? Dan’s eyes widened at the man. He looked… concerned. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Are you all right?” Dan noticed the voice had a Northern tinge, and now was really not the time to notice such a fucking stupid detail.

“Me? I-I-- well, I-I. Are y-you? Ghost? Who, who, who are you?” Dan stuttered pathetically, trembling all over. He felt cold and hot at the same time. He wondered briefly if he had a fever. Maybe he hadn’t woken up yet and this was a dream.

The figure covered his translucent face in equally translucent hands. “Oh god, I’ve really muffed this up. Of course you would be frightened.” He removed his hands from his face and stared down at Dan. “Won’t you get up? We could go to the lounge? I’ll introduce myself properly!”

Dan just lay there, trembling. He blinked his eyes over and over, willing the ghost to disappear. He wasn’t awake. He was asleep. This was a dream. He pinched himself. It didn’t work. He slapped himself in the face. Nothing happened.

“Hey! Don’t hit yourself!” Dan jumped again. He stared into a pair of ghosts eyes a moment longer and decided that he should at least pick himself off the floor. He did so, probing the back of his head and wincing at the tender spot that was definitely bruised. Methodically, he picked the chair up off the ground and tucked it under the desk, trying to breathe evenly. It was a losing battle. Finally, Dan snapped, and the floodgates opened. He began breathing harder, the unmistakable feeling of panic sweeping over his body. He felt lightheaded and numb. Dan sat down on the floor, hard, breath coming faster and faster. He pushed himself against the wall of his bedroom, trying to get as far away from the ghost as possible. His breath wheezed out of him, specks of spit flying out of his mouth. Dan pressed his head in between his knees as he lost feeling in his fingers. He didn’t feel real. He was terrified. What was happening to him? “Hey, hey, now. It’s ok. God, I’m so sorry, Dan. It’s ok. Breathe. Slowly, slowly now.” Dan knew that the voice was coming from the object of his fears, but it was good advice. He tried his best to take it, trying to control his lungs. He used every trick he had learned throughout his life of living with anxiety. He imagined that his lungs had legs and were running away and he imagined himself running after them, catching them in his hands. He listened to the soothing repetition of “it’s ok, shh, slowly now” coming from the mouth of the fucking ghost across from him. Dan picked up his heavy hands and brought them up to his own neck, dragging his fingers along the sensitive skin there. Anything to ground him. Anything to make him feel real again. Minutes later, Dan’s breathing began to slow. He focused hard on forcing it to stay slow. “There ya go, good. I’m not a bad guy. I couldn’t hurt a fly, I promise.”

Dan looked up at the ghost who had crouched down in front of Dan’s crumpled form. He would have looked like a completely normal guy, if not for the see-through skin and the slightly hovering body. This was the first time Dan was getting a good look at him and he was surprised, to say the least. The man in front of him was more like a boy. He had long, black hair that was cut into a style resembling cool 2007 emo myspace kids. Interestingly enough, he was sporting a worn, blue shirt and grey sweatpants. He had piercing blue eyes. “You’re a ghost.” Dan’s voice was shaky and monotone. He felt exhausted. Dan realized that his face was wet with tears. When he had a panic attack, he often couldn’t tell the difference between hyperventilating and sobbing. It all blended into one disastrous experience.

The figure looked embarrassed and Dan thought he saw the ghost’s face turn red. “I am a ghost. I’m sorry.” The ghost scratched at the back of his head. “Dan, I feel terribly. I should have realized that you would have reacted like this. I accidentally drove the last renters out and I never even purposefully revealed myself to them. God, I’m just an idiot. I just couldn’t believe that you were a YouTuber and I got so excited to see the camera and--”

“--Ok, ok. It’s, um, ok, I guess.” Dan cut the ghost off. He blew out a shaky breath. “How do you, um, know my name?”

The ghost looked embarrassed again. “Oh, I heard your family call you Dan. That sounds so creepy. Sheesh,” he refused to meet Dan’s eyes. “I wish I could leave you alone forever, but I-- uh-- am kinda tethered to this place. Can’t leave.”

Dan nodded slowly, deciding that, if this was happening and this was reality, he might as well be cordial. “Oh. Well, do you have a name?”

Phil clapped his hand over his face and Dan couldn’t help but jump a little, body still on edge. “I’m really cocking this up. Yes of course I have a name, I’m so rude. Phil Lester, at your service!” Phil stuck his hand out at Dan who just stared at it. Phil slowly retracted it, “sorry, habit.” The ghost coughed, “sorry.”

“Right. Um.” Dan chewed his lip and stared at Phil with wide eyes. What was the proper etiquette when it came to ghosts? He couldn’t offer Phil some tea and cakes, for chrissakes. Dan suddenly remembered something Phil had said only seconds before. “You know YouTube? How?”

Phil smiled a sad smile and crossed his legs. He looked like a monk who had achieved enlightenment with his hovering. “I had a channel back in the day. I had a lot of fun with it.” Phil stared at his legs, picking at the fabric covering his knee.

“Oh! Wow, you were a YouTuber?” Dan couldn’t hide his disbelief. What were the odds that the ghost tethered to his new apartment had also been a YouTube when he was alive? Dan wasn’t even going to dwell on how weird that sentence was. “What was your username?”

Phil met his eyes and smiled shyly, “oh, um, it was amazingphil.” Dan raised his eyebrows. “I know, I know. I made it in 2006.”

“That’s fair; everyone had quirky usernames back in the day.” Dan remembered his first youtube channel name and was briefly thankful that he never made a single video on it. He couldn’t imagine what kind of professional life he could have with a name like ‘danisnotonfire.’

“Yeah, I guess. But mine was particularly silly, huh?”

“Not as bad as danisnotonfire,” Dan said, laughing a little.

“That’s your channel name?!”

“Oh no, no. But it was the account I made when I was 16. I never used it to make videos, thank god.” Silence followed Dan’s comment and he was struck by the sudden realization that he was having a fucking conversation with a ghost. “Hey-- did you turn off the lights last night?” Dan tilted his head to the side slightly and Phil looked abashed.

“Um, ah, yeah. You had just worked so hard and looked so comfy. I just flicked them off for you, it wasn’t hard.” Phil cleared his throat, “electricity is one those things that I can manipulate.”

Dan hummed to himself. “So you were watching me last night?”

Phil’s eyes widened. “Sorry! Sorry! Bad habit! I don’t see many people. It’s just nice to--” He cut himself off. “I think it’s about time for me to leave you alone. You need some space,” Phil nodded to himself, “I need to get out of your space.”

“Phil! Phil, wait! I still have--” and then the ghost was gone, as quick as he had appeared. “--questions.” Dan finished lamely.

Dan looked around his bedroom, almost surprised to find that it hadn’t changed; only Dan’s perception of it had. Everything was too bright and crystal clear, like he had been swimming underwater with his eyes open until that moment. Dan shakily got up off the floor and made his way to the bed, collapsing on it. He didn’t bother to put on different clothes or get under the covers. So, a ghost was haunting his new apartment. What was he supposed to do about that? Let the landlord know? The landlord already knew; he had bloody warned Dan. Tell his parents? His subscribers? Well, his subscribers had already seen it. Curious, Dan pulled his phone out of his back pocket and scrolled through his replies on Twitter. The ghost was literally the only thing that any of them were talking about. Dan checked the views on his video and his mouth dropped open. It was almost to one million views, which was pretty normal for him, but it always took a couple of days for the views to add up to a million. His video was going viral. Dan locked his phone and placed it on the bedside table. What was he supposed to do about this? He began to drift asleep, the exhaustion of his panic attack weighing him down into the mattress. Phil had been a YouTuber when he was alive; maybe Dan would ask him his opinion. Before Dan could consider how odd of a concept it was, he was asleep.

Chapter two

#phan #phanfiction #phanfic #ghost au #halloween #spooky week #spooky week special

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aingealcethlenn-archive · 7 years

Text

Pureblood vs Mutts

Characters - Dean, Sam, Female Reader

Summary - Sam and Dean saved the reader from what they thought was a simple werewolf attack, little did they know, she herself was a wolf. They taught her to be a hunter, and she managed to keep her secret from them. Until a new case forced her hand that is.

Word Count - 3048

Warnings - Little angsty, mentions of attack/ambush, very light language, and an attempt at humor (thanks to Wren ;) hehe).

A/N - This is for Ana’s Crack 600 Celebration. It is my first ever challenge, and though it was fun, it was challenging as all get out! Lol Anyway! I hope I did okay! I’m not a “crack” fic writer, so it was tough to put together. My prompt was “That's not silver, it's fake.”/“How would you know?”/“Easy, it doesn't burn me.”

A/N 2 - I could not have done this without the help of my AMAZING co-writer @i-stare-sometimes! Thank you sooooo much dear! I owe you big time! <3 This may have a 2nd part...If enough people want to see what happens when they confront the pack...Let me know!

Tags - @notnaturalanahi @charliesxora @amantedelcalcio @i-stole-rudolphs-nose @withwordslikeweapons @hushothermuses @thepalaceofmelanie @jpadjackles @deathtonormalcy56 @impala-dreamer

Story:

It had been an uneventful couple weeks so far, which was welcomed wholeheartedly by all of us. We had the chance to unwind a little, and relax for the first time in a long time. It was short lived though when Sam walked into the WAR room with his laptop in hand.

“I think I found a new case. Looks like there's a werewolf pack attacking locals in southern Texas.”

“Sam, I doubt there's werewolves in Texas. Are you sure it's not just an actual animal?” I questioned, looking up from my book.

“Hearts missing? Sounds like a dead give away to me.”

“I don't know Sam.”

I knew wolves. They usually didn't hunt in climates that warm or areas that open. They prefered the mountains, or somewhere with lots of places to hide.

“Well, monsters have been popping up in all kinds of new places we wouldn't normally find them.” Dean's gruff voice could be heard from the kitchen.

“Maybe.” I sighed in response.

“Bags are packed and loaded in the car already. You two just need to get ready to go.” Sam smiled, closing his laptop.

“Eager to hunt there Sammy?” Dean smiled at his brother as he walked by.

“We haven't had a case in while. I figured you'd both be excited to go?”

He threw his arms in the air, in defeated disbelief, as he watched his brother and I walk to our rooms.

Fifteen minutes later, we were all in the car and ready to go. It was at least a twelve hour drive from the bunker to Elmendorf, Texas. The trip was long, and mostly silent aside from Dean's music and the random arguments over it.

It felt like forever, but we finally found a motel just outside of town and set up in a room. Unloading the necessary bags, it didn't take long for planning to begin.

“So, I figure, we rest tonight and question some folks in the morning. Maybe we can figure out where the pack stays, and catch 'em off guard during the day?” Dean suggested as he tossed his duffel on one of the beds.

“If they're smart, they'd have a look out watching. I'm sure they're expecting hunters to show up sometime soon.” I stated as I sat on the other bed.

“Well fine. Then let’s focus on tonight first. Who's sleeping where?” Dean asked.

“One of you are taking the couch. Like hell if I'm not getting a bed for once.” I retorted.

“You can share with me sweetheart?” Dean suggested with a waggle of his eyebrows and his signature smirk. “Then no one needs to sleep on the couch.” I took the opportunity to appreciate one of his most attractive features…that smirk wasn’t leaving.

“Dean,” came Sam’s voice. He was looking over at his brother with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” Dean chuckled smugly, his smirk still firmly in place.

“If she shares a bed with either of us, you know it'd be me.” Sam flashed his own smug smirk.

“Is that so?” Dean retorted sarcastically, his face morphing from humorous and suave, to a cold and stony glare.

I couldn’t help but just sit back and watch the brothers with a small smirk of my own. Why was this so amusing when it should be insulting? I mean, I was right there, sitting between them…

They should notice this, too, since they keep glancing my damn direction! I snort as Dean’s eyes flicker my way again.

“Okay,” I finally say, trying my hardest not to laugh. “Now just wait a minute. Shouldn't I have a say in this?” I looked up at both men, unable to keep the wide grin off my face.

It’s always fun and games with these two teenagers.

“Nope.” They retorted petulantly and simultaneously before going right back at it, as if I hadn’t even spoken at all!

“(Y/N) and I get along way better than she does with you,” Sam continued where he left off, standing there calmly and casually. I didn’t miss the humorous gleam in his eye.

“Maybe,” Dean scoffed. With a practically slimy grin, he added: “But I'm sexier.”

I burst out a single laugh at his facial expression alone, earning a quick and positively proud glance from the eldest Winchester.

Waving my hands back and forth in a ‘no more!’ motion, I couldn’t help but start laughing harder.

“Okay, I'm gonna say what I was gonna say anyway,” I giggled, amusedly glaring at both brothers standing in front of me. “Dean, you are not sexier.” I smirk at his face falling slightly.

“What!” Dean exclaimed abruptly, having expected to hear Sam’s name, I bet... “That's a lie!” Dean shouted, a smile being smothered upon his lips. At least he was attempting to sound slightly hurt.

“Ha-Ha!” Sam threw his head back a little, petulantly laughing at his brother’s pain.

“Sam, don’t you start!” I playfully scold, pointing a finger his way. “You aren’t any sexier!”

“Whaaat?” Sam retorted with an over-exaggerated pout, looking down at me with those hazel puppy dog eyes of his - the bastard.

“Will you two shut up and just listen?” I plea, looking away from Sam’s protruding lip.

“Both of you,” I begin, blushing despite my sudden confidence. “Are extremely sexy in your own rights.”

I clear my throat, as it seemed dry at the moment…

“I will not discuss the details with you two at this time…”

I started giggling again.

“But trust me, I'm not sharing a bed with either of you.”

Laughing at their ‘crestfallen’ faces, I laughed harder.

“Now, I'm going to sleep. You two bicker over who sleeps on the couch.”

The next morning, we got up and dressed for the day. I let the boys interview people in town, while I went on a hunt for the pack's lair.I had to be careful, watch the winds and my surroundings, as it didn't take long to find the old abandoned farm house that they were calling home for the time being. It maybe took me a few minutes to recognize anyone...Almost got caught when I realized, too. But I recognized them alright, sight and smell... The bastards It would need to be tonight. Tonight I'd get 'em with the help of my boys. Finally. I made my way back to the motel and met up with Sam and Dean.

“So you found it already?” Dean seemed surprised.

“Yep. It's out on the edge of town. Just an old abandoned house they found to use for the time being. I'll say this though boys, if we don't move tonight, we'll lose 'em.”

“What do you mean?” His brows furrowed in confusion.

“These aren't wolves that stay in one spot and hunt what they need. This is a nomad pack.”

“Nomad?” Dean still wasn't catching on.

“It means they kill while they can, as much as they can, and then they move on to the next town.” I said rather, matter of factly.

“Well, let's go check this place out then and plan our next move.”

The three of us loaded into the car and I lead the way to the lair. It wasn’t a far drive, and the place looked silent as we pulled in. Dean parked the car and we all got out, carefully walking around the perimeter to find the best place to enter from. Just as we came back around to where the car was, we were ambushed by the pack. They seemingly came from nowhere. Two of them went after me, while the other four focused on Dean and Sam. I knew I couldn’t over power two wolves, so I instead kept them following me until I knew it was safe enough to go back toward the car.

Sam and Dean did their best to fight off the four wolves that were attacking them. Dean made it to the car the first chance he got. Grabbing his gun from the seat, he tried to fire at the creatures. Hitting two of them, he thought for sure they’d go down, but neither one seemed all too affected by the shots. This didn’t deter Dean though, and he kept firing until his magazine was empty. It didn’t buy much time, but it was enough to give Sam a chance to get into the car.

I heard Sam yelling for me, causing me to pivot quickly and take off for the front of the house again. Dean changed his magazine, and started firing at the two wolves that were behind me. Reaching the car, I slid in as quickly as I could. Once I was in and the door shut, we took off and headed back to the motel. As we pulled in, it was clear that Dean was frustrated. He slammed the car door as he made his way to our room.

“That silver didn't even phase them! What are those things? Some kind of mutant?!” Dean yelled out at he slammed the room door open.

“I doubt it Dean. We've never heard of a mutant werewolf before.” Sam tried to calm his brother as they walked into the room, still a little shaken himself.

“Well then I don't know what to tell you Sammy. But that silver didn't even slow 'em down.”

He threw his gun on the table and started taking off his jacket. My mind raced over the events that took place. There was no way that silver bullets would have had zero effect on werewolves, even if they were somehow mutant versions. It still should have slowed them down if nothing else. Truth was, there was only one way to tell for sure.

“Give me one of the bullets.” I nodded toward his gun as I took a seat on the bed.

“What? Why (Y/N)?”

“Just give me one of the bullets Dean.”

He ejects one at me. Catching it with ease, I expected it to burn, but it doesn't.

“That’s why. That's not silver, it's fake.”

“What?” Dean looks at me confused.

“It's not real silver.”

“How would you know?”

I’ve kept my secret from them for so long, is this really the best way for them to find out? Letting out a sigh, I knew it had to be done, or we were never going to take out this pack that was going around terrorizing towns.

“Easy, it doesn't burn me.” I said.

“Wait, what?” Dean’s eyes widen.

“For hunters, you two don't catch on real quick to things, do you?” I raised a brow.

“What do you mean it doesn't burn you? It's not supposed to-”

“Yes Dean, it is.” I interrupted. “Sam, hand me your knife. I'll show you.”

Sam hesitates a moment, before handing me his silver knife. I stand up and take the handle, taking in a deep breath. This is the moment of truth. The moment that could ruin the life I have. Looking down at the knife, I can feel the a knot forming in my stomach, but I know it’s something that has to be done. I press the blade to the exposed skin on my arm. Taking in a harsh breath as the silver leaves a burn mark on my arm, I remove it and hand the knife back to Sam.

“See?”

“Son of a bitch! Wh-wha-”

“Relax Dean. It's still (Y/N).” Sam’s voice remains calm still.

“No! No it's not! Why did that burn you? What are you?”

“Dean. Just relax. Please?”

“What. Are. You?” His face hardens as he glares at me with his piercing green eyes.

I close my eyes tight, and take a deep breath. A part of me not wanting to say the words, but knowing I can’t turn back now.

“I'm a werewolf Dean.” The statement falls out in an almost matter of fact way.

“That's impossible. You've been with us for years, we would have seen you turn -”

“No, you wouldn't. Unlike the mutts you hunt, I'm not forced to turn on a full moon.”

“Why not?” Sam looked at me curiously.

“I'm a pureblood Sam. I have a few extra abilities compared to the common werewolf.” I sit back down on the bed.

“Is that why you know so much about them?” His head cocked to the side ever so slightly.

“Yes.”

“And here I thought it was just because werewolves killed your family.” Sam ran his hand through his hair.

"Oh. They did," I said. "This pack actually.”

I looked down at my hands, thinking back. “We were one of the last pureblood families. The last family closest to the alpha, actually. My family was too barbaric to recognize the scent of their own kind though, and took out anyone and anything that crossed their path." I offered a mirthless laugh. "Better the mutts did it, though - instead of me.” I smile a little. “Imagine the alpha vampire you boys met?" I pause to see them nod distastefully. "That personality in everyone in my family? It was getting hard to stand their arrogant bigotry." I shook my head, remembering my childhood.

“So, why help us? We destroy your kind.” Dean looked at me confused again.

“My kind? There are no others of my kind left Dean. That's all in the past though, and has nothing to do with right now. Right now, we need to focus on taking this pack down before they ruin more lives here.”

“She's right Dean.” Sam was still trying to defuse the situation.

“Oh no. I refuse to let this go that easily. You’ve been lying to us. For years.”

“I haven’t been lying Dean. My family was killed, you two saved me, everything I’ve ever told you about myself is true. I just failed to mention the fact that I was a werewolf. That’s not lying, that’s hiding the truth.” I smirk at him a little, giving him a little wink, using his own usual tactic of 'nonchalant-defense' against him.

“It’s the same damn thing.” He grumbled.

“Whatever. Are we going to go after this pack, or are we going to sit around arguing all night?”

“I’m not hunting with you. Not until you answer some questions.”

“As fair as that sounds, if we don’t move fast, we’ll lose them. Do you want to take that risk?”

I could hear him sigh. He knew I was right, but he wouldn’t admit it and say the words.

“We don't have any silver.” Dean stated. I could hear the attitude in his voice though.

“I'll bet they took it.” I sigh. “Damn mutts.” I grumble.

“What do you mean took it? How would they know where to look?”

“They aren’t stupid Dean. Besides, I told you they’d probably have a look out in place. All they had to do was wait for us to leave the car unattended and they slithered in, replacing our bullets with fakes so we would go in, basically blind.” I stood up from my spot and walked toward the door.

“We still have our blades though?”

“There's too many of them Dean.” Sam shook his head at his brother. “We encountered six, but who knows how many others weren’t there.”

“To my knowledge, it’s a pack of about twelve. Though, they may have gained or lost members over time.” I added, looking over my shoulder as I continued on my mission.

“Can't you just use your wolfy tricks to get us out of there if it gets too rough?” Dean looked to me.

“Wolfy tricks?” I turned to face them again “Really?” I raised an eyebrow, letting out a sigh and rolling my eyes. “No, I can't just use my 'wolfy tricks' to save you. Once they know what I am, I'm going to be the first one they'll go after. Not only am I turning on my own kind, I’m the last of my family. Don’t forget the fact I'm working with the enemy here too.” I turned back and opened the door.

“So what do you propose then?” Dean just stared at me.

“I have a feeling they didn’t take all the silver bullets. Just the ones they could find easily.” I looked over my shoulder at the confused brothers.

“It’s not like I have any hidden -”

“You don’t Dean, but I do.” I smiled.

I walk outside, and head over to the car. Opening the front passenger door, I peel off my shirt so I have something to set the silver on before I kneel down on the ground and reach under the seat. Glancing toward the room, I see both brothers standing in the doorway just watching me. I wince a little as I pull out some loose bullets I had stuck to the underside of the seat where no one would think to look, since most people just reached under the seat and felt the floor.

“Shit, that stings,” I heard myself mutter.

Standing up, I close the door and walk to the drivers side, doing the same thing. Grabbing more loose bullets from under Dean’s side of the seat. Closing the door, I walk up to the room, the loose silver resting in my shirt so I don’t have to touch it directly anymore.

“It’s not much, but it’ll take out enough of them that the blades will actually be of use.” I said as I handed Sam my shirt.

“Why were there loose silver bullets stuck under Baby’s seat?” Dean growled.

“In case of emergencies like this.” I raised my brow as I turned to look at him.

“What he means to say, is thank you Y/N.” Sam smiled, taking the ammo and loading the guns.

“I know Sam.” I chuckled a little. “He’s just mad he never thought of it.” I smiled at Dean.

“Can we just take these things out and be done here please?” Dean rolled his eyes.

“There’s only 12 rounds here, but it’ll do enough damage. Let’s grab our blades from the trunk before we go so we’re ready incase they try to ambush us again, but otherwise we’re good to go.” Sam smiled as he finished loading his and Dean’s guns. “Y/N, you good with just your blade?”

“Yep. I’d rather you and Dean have the extra protection.”

“Alright, let’s get going then.”

#ana’s crack 600 celebration #SPN #SPN FANDOM #spn fanfic #SPN Family #SPNFamily #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fandom #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #Winchester brothers #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert

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