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crazyyanderefangirlfan · 3 years

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The Rabbit Of Night Raven. Chapter 2: Bring on the Mania!

Chapter 2: Bring on the Mania! Part 1

Sunlight filtered through the windows of Ramshackle and creating a mini spotlight for the two figures on the bed. Grim yawned and nuzzling against the pillow, having the most blissful dream.

"I will become the greatest *yawn* tuna wizard ever."

Valerie peeked inside the room, gushing at the sight of her adorable sleeping companios. She was already dressed and decided for those two sleep in a bit. She took out her phone and snapped a quick pic. Once she placed it back, time for more pressing matters.

"Grim, time to wake up. We have class."

Howegroaned and turned away from her. The girl pouted, but luckily she had a backup plan.

"Fine, since you won't wake up. I'll just have to eat that premium tuna sandwich that I made for breakfast. I was gonna give it to you, but it looks like I have to eat all four sandwiches."

"NO!" Like a bolt of lightning, he ran downstairs and to the kitchen. Valerie chuckled. She idly made her way downstairs and found Grim hastily stuffing his face.

"Your gonna choke." She commented, he sent her a glare and snapped back a retort, but he ended up choking a bit. She quickly ran to his side and patted his back. Eventually, he swallowed the rest of his sandwich. He panted heavily and gave the girl a dirty look. She responded with a sheepish smile.

"Eheh. Sorry, Grim."

"You better be! As an apology, you shall buy whatever I want at lunch!"

"Yes. Boss baby."

Grim jumped up and draped himself around her shoulders. She grabbed her stuff, bid the ghosts goodbye, and made her way to school. It's been a week since Valerie last saw Amane. She hoped he was okay and didn't get into trouble.

Finally, she made her way to Main street where her first-year squad was waiting for her. Ace and Deuce were in the middle of another heated argument, with Jack trying and failing to break them apart. Epel looked like he wanted to join in but restrained himself. Sebek appeared to be looking for someone. He finally spotted her.

"GOOD MORNING, VALERIE!" The other boys winced at his volume but saw her too.

"Fuck Sebek, could you tone it down? My eardrums almost burst." Ace complained as he rubbed his ears.

"Good morning Valerie." Deuce offered her a sweet smile, which she returned.

"Morning, guys."

"You came just in time. I was about to smack their heads." Jack huffed, re-adjusting his bag. Epel waved at her. He blushed when she pecked his cheek, to which the other boys glared at him.

"Let's just go." Ace grumbled as he pulled Valerie away from the lavender haired boy. Lisha flew back to her head. As they walked through the halls, a random student walked up to them, specifically Valerie.

"The headmaster wants you in his office."

Valerie bit back a sigh. It was early in the morning, and the crow had another job for her. Her friends must have sensed her exasperation and offered to go with her.

"You sure? You guys might miss class."

"It's fine, princess, don't worry. Besides, we gotta hold you back in case you kill him." Ace teased. She smiled at that.

They stood in front of Crowley's office. Valerie took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for whatever bullshit Crowley has in store for her. She knocked. There was a muffled reply but took it as confirmation. Although this is not what she expected...

_____________________________

"What's up, Sugar tits!"

There stood Amane in all his glory. Dressed in a hot pink off-shoulder pleated blouse with white skinny jeans and a pair of beige suede ankle boots. Around his neck is a black choker with a gold heart and wearing a familiar smirk on his face. On his shoulder was a rusty-barred owl with a black ribbon around it.

Ace and Deuce paled at the sight of him.

"Amane!" She ran to him for a hug, who staggered from the impact but returned the hug.

"The weirdo is back." Grim groaned.

“Who’s this.” Pointing at the bird.

“Its Lisha, the ribbon around her keeps her on that form.” The incubi answered.

"Okay, but what are you doing here?" She asked.

"I believe I have the answer to your question Ms. Kemonihito" Crowley spoke up. Oh yeah, she forgot about him.

"Mr. Mania, please wait outside with the rest of the first years."

Ace and Deuce, trying to blend into the background as much a possible, stared bug-eyed at the headmaster. While the rest of their friends were confused about their behavior.

"He can't be THAT bad, can he?" Epel whispered to Jack, who shrugged. They all stiffen when Amane's eyes fixate on them, and they could see why the Heartslabyul duo is scared of him.

His stare is fierce. Filled with uncontrollable hunger as he stared at their bodies, his gaze lingered at Jack and Sebek. Both were on high alert when they noticed his eyes on them.

Epel trembled. His gaze was far more intense than Rook's, and honestly, he would prefer his Rook's stare over Amane's any day.

However, Ace and Deuce were praying to the great seven to give them the strength to survive another one of his 'flirtations.'

The heterochromia male gave them a lascivious smile. "Of course. I'm eager to meet her beloved friends." He strutted past them, not before giving them a flirty wink. The boys shuddered but followed him.

As soon as the door shut, Valerie faced Crowley.

"Now, to answer your previous question, Valerie. Mr. Mania would like to spend two days with you." She opened her mouth, but he cut her off.

"Normally, I would not allow this. But Mr. Mania has offered a generous sum of money, as well as advertising for the school to ensure more students enroll next year. So all I ask of you is to keep an eye on him, make sure he stays out of trouble, and not to harass others."

"Considering I never have a say in anything you ask me, I'll do it."

"Fantastic! I have already informed the rest of the teachers of Amane's presence. Aren't I gracious?"

'Graciously annoying.' But she'll keep that tidbit for herself. She excused herself and walked out of the deadbeat's office. However, she didn't expect the state of her friends when she left them with Amane.

Ace, Deuce, and Epel were behind Jack and Sebek. The three of them were shaking, clearly traumatized. Jack and Sebek's faces were red as apples, and their expressions were a mixture of embarrassment and indignance.

"Ehhh... What did we miss?" The boys snapped to attention. Never in their lives that they would be so relieved to hear Grim's voice.

"Valerie! He!... Never in my life that I have met someone so controlled by lust! How do you even manage with him!?" Sebek, at this point, was ready to pull out his pen and blast Amane to the farthest side of the school.

"Awww~ Poor little baby is shy~" Amane giggled, relishing Sebek's flustered face.

"So, what happened? Is he leaving?" Deuce didn't even bother to hide his hopeful expression. The rest of them perk up, silently praying for that to be true. Alas, fate is cruel.

"Oh, no. Actually, Amane will be with me for two days."

Valerie failed to perceive the look of pure terror on her friends' faces, nor Amane's sadistic delight upon seeing them.

"What? Is that even allowed?" Jack narrowed his eyes, his ears were pulled back, and his tail is pointed straight outwards parallel to the ground.

"It sure is, you fluffy hunk." The wolf recoiled. Amane had another flirtatious smile as he eyed Jack.

"All I had to do is to give that crow some money, a bit of advertising, and I'm good to go."

Uhh. Of course.

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foxtophat · 4 years

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hello hello!!! it’s your friendly bi-weekly update here, telling you that this dumbass fic has updated and you can now read it! mbmbam-style talking points: Springtime, Intimate Haircuts, Children Rebellions, and Grace Under Pressure!

i had a lot of fun putting this one together, mostly b/c the entire chapter changed when i went to work on it. carmina is surprisingly fun to write, although i try to stay away from her dialogue as i can’t write children at all, and john is increasingly more frustrating for nick, which is always a blast. i think we’ll probably check in with kim next chapter and see how things are holding up on her end. i’m sure it’s fine!

as usual, if you enjoy what i’m doing, feel free to leave a comment, or reblog, or send me anonymous asks telling me i’m not thinking about xyz deeply enough and should be ashamed!!!! i won’t be ashamed but i will appreciate you taking the time to tell me i should be :)

for real though, thank you guys so much for being so supportive, and i hope that i continue to provide some good, engaging “nick and kim adopt an asshole” content!!! i appreciate each and every one of you. below the cut is the text for this chapter, in case you don’t wanna leave tumblr!

The seasons seem to roll over without Nick ever really realizing it. The last snowfall was a week ago, and although the nights are still bitterly cold and long, the sun burns bright enough in the morning to chase the chills and frost away before noon. The vines that cover everything have begun to bud again, although it'll be a little while yet before they turn pink and blossom.

Nick is glad that spring is back, but coming out of semi-hibernation is a struggle. He wants to stay in bed, to pull on a few jackets and sit around the campfire, to work on the random DIY projects that kept him busy while they were partially snowed in. Now, it's time for Kim to start talking about planting again, and Carmina has started begging to go hunting with Aunt Grace, and the radio is coming to life every evening with people checking in after their own long winter rests. Hurk and Sharky are trying to peddle something they call party liquor over their own channel, suspiciously refusing to outright call it moonshine, and Fall's End has begun broadcasting about retaking the farmland that's become home to monstrous bison and two-headed cows.

Sometimes, Nick thinks he's stuck going ten miles-per-hour while everyone else can switch gears at the drop of a hat. Adaptability is the second name of survival out here, but damn it, Nick needs a couple of days before he can start thinking about trading with other survivors, much less making the long-needed visits he's been putting off since they climbed out of the ground. He needs to go into Fall's End proper, to pay his respects to Mary May and visit Jerome. He also needs to go out and finally trade out for some hens, so they can have eggs more often, and so they have their own supply to barter with. He's got a list a mile long of things he has to do; so does Kim, for that matter, although she handles it better than he does.

At least they can use John to pick up the extra slack. John's the reason why Nick was able to clear junk out of the hangar, and why all of the trash from Carmina's old room has been taken outside and burned. Ever since Nick fixed the window in his room, John's been quicker to work and easier to instruct, and his weird habits have mostly died off. He still gets distracted during long, monotonous tasks, and he doesn't speak unless spoken to most of the time, but at least he's stopped pacing around and muttering all night, and he's starting to remember what table manners are.

The first unofficial day of spring is family haircut day. Carmina demands that Kim lop all of her long hair off, leaving her with a see-your-manager bob that Nick hopes she'll get tired of. Kim helps Nick out too, trimming up the back for him as he cuts his bushy beard down to just off his chin. Getting a clean shave is more trouble than it's worth these days, and Nick has long since gotten used to wearing a beard. Besides, Kim doesn't seem to mind the Kenny Loggins look one bit, pulling gently on his whiskers to steal a kiss once he's done.

After Nick, Kim cuts John's hair. Nick doesn't know how he feels about John being included in a family affair, but the guy needs it more than any of them. There's only so many bucket-baths one man can take, and John's hair seems to have absorbed more dirt than water could remove. Nick's not sure if it's actually eight years worth of grime that he's keeping in his tangled hair, but it's bad enough to need serious attention.

They do it upstairs in John's room with the door locked, while Carmina reads downstairs — Nick really doesn't need her asking questions about why John's being included on family haircut day, thanks. He stands by the door just in case Carmina tries to interrupt, or in the unlikely event that John tries to bolt, unhappily watching ask Kim sits John down in a chair borrowed from downstairs.

John keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes as Kim assesses the damage, hands clasped tightly in his lap. When Kim huffs unhappily at the rat's nest she's facing, he drops his head so the hair can curtain his face.

Kim hacks off as much hair as she can, careful not to cut one side too much shorter than the other until she knows what she's got left to work with. She orbits slowly around John as she quietly trims away dreaded knots and grime-caked tangles, more focused on her work than on the dangerous psychopath who could grab her kitchen shears at any moment. As she trims his bangs back, John closes his eyes, and he keeps them that way even as she moves on, leaving his face exposed.

She wrinkles her nose as she clears enough hair to reveal John's destroyed ear, heavily scarred and torn from where the deputy shot him. She says nothing about it, but Nick can see from John's expression that it's all he's thinking about. Nick wonders if he can still hear out of it, or if his eardrum never recovered. He's never even thought about it before.

The space between the three of them starts to fill with the heaviness of unintentional silence, but Nick can't bring himself to break the quiet. He doesn't want to distract Kim or trigger some fighting instinct from John. And anyway, he doesn't know what he could say that would make this whole thing feel less weird.

"Well," Kim says, once she's stepped back to get a look at her handiwork, "I mean, it's... better."

It's a shaggier, poor man's version of what John's hair used to look like, but Nick can at least tell the hair that's left is clean. There's not enough hair for him to hide behind anymore, much less hide his busted ear. For the first time, Nick notices an old scar across John's forehead and the dark gray hair that's grown in at his temples. It's... jarring. All at once, Nick is looking at the man he'd sworn to destroy as if he'd only just now removed some kind of disguise. An older, more exhausted version of his sworn enemy is sitting right there, leaving Nick to wonder if cleaning him up was even such a good idea to begin with.

"Damn," Nick says as realization dawns on him, "There's no hiding who he is now, huh."

John's jaw clenches. Nick wonders if he'd been hedging his bets on being indistinguishable from any other survivor.

"We aren't hiding him," Kim huffs.

This is news to Nick, who's been operating with as much secrecy as possible. They'd even stopped having Grace come pick up Carmina, going out to meet her instead. "Yeah, well, we aren't exactly banging pots and pans to draw attention to him, either," he points out.

" You're the one who said he needed a haircut."

"And he did! Just... I didn't realize the difference it'd make, is all." Nick tries to catch John's attention, but he seems to be just fine blending into the surroundings while Nick and Kim argue about his stupid hair. "Anyone with a scope is gonna spot him half a mile away."

"People are going to find out about this eventually, Nick," Kim tells him. She goes so far as to rest a hand on John's shoulder to emphasize her point, saying, "We can't keep his survival a secret forever."

Nick frowns, but Kim's right. Eventually, they're going to have to make a case for letting John live. So far, it's been alright, but... well, is John really worth staking their reputations on? Even if he was, has he done enough to prove that Nick hadn't made a dumb, sympathetic mistake? And if not, is Nick going to have to step aside and let somebody else do what he should have done months ago?

"Well, we've got time to figure it out," Nick admits at last, mostly because he doesn't want to think about it right now. Since it feels weird having a conversation about John right in front of him without addressing him at all , Nick offers him some direct commentary. "I guess you better just keep working on that good karma, huh?" he asks, aiming for smug but falling somewhat short.

"Yeah," John rasps. "I guess so."

The haircut does something for John's attitude, although it takes a few days before Nick notices. After a couple months of strange demureness, he begins to react to things like a goddamn human again. He can meet Nick's eyes now, although he struggles to hold the contact for more than a few seconds. When Nick or Kim tell him to do something, there's no more mute nodding. Instead, John will say, "Okay," or, "I understand." Sometimes, he'll even ask questions about the things they tell him to do, like where to move things or if he's doing something right. Once, after a few solid hours in too-bright-for-February sunlight, John asks Nick for a break, and it doesn't feel like selling out to let him sit down and have some lunch.

Of course, Nick never forgets that John is a manipulative user. He's got a way of seeming reasonable at first, going from pleasantries to stealing your land out from under you before anyone realizes he's dropped the kind and charitable act. Nick can't afford to forget that. There's nobody left in the world who could help him if John decides to toy with him this time around. Before the bombs, there had been laws and regulations and an entire justice system that he could get help from, but now? Now, if John decides he wants Nick's property more than he wants to make amends, all he's gotta do is take it.

Nick would like to believe that John isn't planning some sort of coup, that he's not just acting pitiable to drop their guard, but he's already taking so many risks with the guy. It's not safe to think John is playing along with Nick and Kim because he feels bad about what happened. That kind of low-ball expectation is exactly what caused Hope County to underestimate the Seeds before, and Nick isn't going to do that again.

John always seems tense whenever Carmina is around. She knows better than to directly address him, of course, since Kim and Nick have told her multiple times not to, but somehow she manages to work around the rules. She'll pretend he isn't around when she asks about his tattoos or scars or how his ear looks weird, and no amount of scolding manages to stop her. She asks for specifics about what he did to get in so much trouble, and why they're always watching him, and why he's not allowed to handle guns or knives or anything bigger than a hammerhead missing its handle. The healthier John looks, the more she asks about him, and now that he's got a haircut and clothes that hide most of his scars and tattoos, Carmina's fascination has started full force.

The only thing that keeps her from turning to John outright for her answers is his avoidance of her entirely. John goes out of his way to avoid looking at her, and if there's any distance to be gained between them, he's the one looking to gain it. Nick can't tell if he just isn't fond of kids, or if he has something personal against Carmina. The latter concept probably shouldn't irritate him so much, but — well, that's his daughter, man! He's obligated to be irritated when someone doesn't like her, even if that someone is his oldest enemy.

Thankfully, now that it's nicer out, Carmina has better things to do than sit around speculating on the guy living in the spare room. Nick takes her on an unsuccessful fishing trip, Kim takes her to visit Grace, and on days when nothing special is planned, she gets to run pretty much free, as long as she's within earshot.

One morning, as Kim and Carmina get ready to go meet up with Grace, Carmina asks, "Does dad always have to watch John?"

Nick thinks she waited specifically until Nick had brought John downstairs to ask, which is a little too cunning for his liking. "I'm not always watching him," Nick replies. "Sometimes it's your mom."

"We've told you," Kim chides gently. "John needs supervision."

John doesn't look up from his customary spot on the bottom stair, chewing through his breakfast. His shoulders are held tight, but otherwise, it's as if he can't even hear the conversation happening around him. Nick has to admit, he's impressed that John doesn't get more worked up when they talk about him like he's not there. It'd piss the hell out of Nick if he were in the other's shoes.

"We could take him with us," Carmina suggests. Since she's standing in front of her mom, she can't see the horrified expression that Kim directs Nick's way.

"Uh, I don't think that'd be a good idea," Nick says, which is usually what he says whenever he wants the conversation to end.

Apparently, that's not going to fly this time around, as Carmina pouts and asks, "But why not ?"

Kim puts her hands gently on Carmina's shoulders, sighing and saying, "It's complicated, honey."

Well, great, they just used both of their canned responses to her back-to-back. Carmina is a good kid — patient, kind, tolerant — but she knows when she's being given the runaround and she won't put up with any of it.

"That's what you always say," she complains. "I want to know why! I'm complicated too, I can handle it!"

"Carmina, it's not that easy —"

"I don't care!" Carmina exclaims. Her frustration is about to boil over as she whirls to face John. "I'm talking to you, now!" she demands, downright offended that she has to declare it. Carmina hasn't worked herself up into a riot for a while now, but she certainly hasn't lost her touch. "You're supposed to be a bad guy, but all you do is hang around all day! Don't you want to go outside? Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

Nick has definitely told John not to address Carmina, but this feels like extenuating circumstances. It was bound to happen — there's only so many times you can write off the prisoner in your house as a disagreeable weirdo before your daughter demands answers. He just isn't sure that there's anything John can say that won't raise more questions, each one harder to answer than the last.

John finally looks up from his breakfast to offer Carmina an unimpressed stare. "I have no interest in speaking to you," he tells her. His voice is downright chilly, with a tone best reserved for dismissing an incompetent secretary with an NDA. It's borderline offensive to have John talk to his little girl that way, but the ice freezes Carmina's escalating tantrum in its tracks.

"O-Oh," she says, deflating almost immediately. It's only going to dissuade her for a couple of days, tops, but by then they'll have figured something to say. Something that will paper over history that Nick can't afford to hide from her forever — eventually, they're going to have to tell her just how big John's role was in their suffering. But it's going to require nuance, and a better explanation than, Daddy's just going with his gut, sweetie .

"I'll try to explain," Kim tells her, turning her away from John's visible disinterest and facing her towards the door. "You just have to be patient. We're doing our best."

" He's not," Carmina sulks. She pulls on her coat, offering Nick a gloomy, "Bye, dad," before Kim ushers her out of the house.

Nick turns to John as soon as they leave, ready to lecture him on how to talk to children, but John doesn't look remotely up for it. Just the one interaction has left him wiped, and there's a distant glaze to his eyes as he gets caught up in his own thoughts. He keeps getting trapped in his own head; it used to irritate Nick, but lately, it's just worrisome behavior that he's got to keep an eye on. Like Carmina having nightmares, or Kim taking out her stress on firewood.

"You sure know how to handle kids," Nick winds up saying, which isn't exactly the fight he'd wanted to start.

John closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do you have something else for me to do today other than talk?" he sighs. He's trying for irritation, but he only manages to sound exhausted.

Nick can't help but think he's hit a nerve. Worse, he feels bad about it. He tries to brush it off, asking, "Well, what do you wanna do — pull siding or chop firewood?"

"Does it matter what I want?" John replies.

Damn, but John has perfected that cool dismissal, leaving Nick feeling chastised. "I guess not," he grouses.

Nick is definitely sulking as he sets John to removing some rotten siding. Thankfully, he has a whole bunch of wood to take his frustration out on. He's got John right in view, and he knows how to throw an ax and sometimes even hit things with one, so he should be fine. Anyway, John only ever has eyes for his work — Nick's not sure if escaping is really on his mind anymore. Sort of like feeding raccoons. You do it because you don't want them to go hungry, like any decent person, and the next thing you know they've stopped foraging and come by like clockwork every Wednesday night until the apocalypse.

Actually, maybe that's Stockholm syndrome? Nick isn't sure. He sure hopes not.

The day goes by as uneventfully as any other. It's not particularly hot out, but the sun is out and the birds are singing in true springtime fashion. It's actually a pretty nice day when all's said and done; Nick takes a minute or two after he finishes chopping wood to enjoy the blue sky and the tall, somewhat decimated trees swaying in the breeze. It's quiet all around, feeling like the edge of the world for a second or two before distant gunshots remind him that they aren't truly alone out here. He doubts it's anything to worry about, and he's sure that it has nothing to do with Kim and Carmina meeting Grace, but he still worries about it enough to chop down a few more logs.

Afterward, Nick definitely could use a break, sweaty and tired and a little hungry. John looks mostly done, too, having taken off nearly all of the section Nick had outlined for him. There's enough scrap to make plenty of shingles to finish the roof, even if it means leaving some of the house exposed. The nails will be useful, too, and Kim can probably figure out what to make with the unusable bits of wood.

"C'mon," he calls, shaking his canteen in John's direction, "Get some water. Then, you can start pulling any nails out of the boards that managed to survive. We can't afford to run out of those if we're gonna fix up the hangar."

John takes a gratefully large drink before he asks, "What's the point? You don't have a plane."

Nick rolls his eyes. Great, now he's got another petulant child asking dumb questions to deal with. "No, asshole, I don't. But I figure the house isn't really big enough for all the supplies we're gonna need. Wood, siding, sheet metal, not to mention the generator that's been sitting in the closet for longer than you've been here. There's that old chest freezer in there, maybe it'll still work." He waves towards the building, which is missing a good deal of its roof, RYE & SON faded across the front. "I'm not just gonna leave it like that."

John doesn't have anything to say to that — if he does, he keeps it to himself. Which is good. Fine! Nick doesn't need, or want , John to argue with him about the damn hangar.

Together, they drag long strips of old siding to the porch, where Nick has John sit while he gets to work on dinner, which is going to be classic, leftover-meat-and-potato stew. By the time Carmina and Kim get back, Nick will have everything taken care of and under control here. Kim will have probably figured out what to tell Carmina to keep her from putting too much trust in John, without telling her the gruesome, not-safe-for-children details. They'll sit down and talk about going fishing, and hopefully this time Nick won't ruin the stew with too much salt.

Carmina comes running towards the house a good hour before Nick expected her to be back. His heart immediately leaps into his throat as he imagines why she's alone, why she's towards him looking so upset. Thankfully, Kim is following right behind, which stops him from blocking Carmina as she bolts up the back porch and inside without a backward glance. The relief Nick feels at seeing Kim is short-lived as he realizes she isn't alone — Grace is standing there beside her, rifle in hand, staring across the backyard at John Seed sitting on the porch with a pile of nails at his feet.

"Ah, shit," is the first thing that Nick manages to say. He turns to John, with a fresh haircut and his sleeves rolled up to show off his tattoos, and he knows there's no mistaking him for anybody else. Grace is going to take one look at him through her scope and pop his head clean off his shoulders. "Don't move, don't speak, don't do anything ," Nick warns him. "Just... sit there, okay? Carmina's just upstairs. I don't want her to hear you get your brains blown out because you decided now was the time to bolt."

John doesn't respond, but he also doesn't move, frozen with a piece of wood clutched loosely in his hands. That should count for something. Nick turns back to Kim and Grace, who still haven't come any closer. Kim is talking to Grace, who may or may not be listening to whatever she's trying to say. All Nick knows is that Grace has him pinned dead to rights with an immeasurably pissed off glare.

He should be worrying less about John getting shot and more about Grace shooting him . Shit, should he go over to them and try to patch things up? That would be leaving John unattended. That would look bad for them, right?

Finally, Grace begins an approach. She's got her rifle clutched against her chest, her stony gaze sliding from Nick to John. Kim hovers behind her, anxiously giving Grace some distance as she tries to explain everything to Nick through frantic hand gestures alone.

Grace reaches the fire pit before she stops. She looks at the stew, bubbling in the pot, then to John, and finally to Nick.

"So it's true," she says.

"I know you're probably angry," Nick begins. From Grace's sharp glare, it's the wrong way to start the conversation.

"Angry doesn't begin to describe how I feel right now, Nick," she replies flatly. Nick starts to suspect that she's only holding on to her gun to keep herself from wailing on him. "You're harboring a goddamn cult leader in your home! You've been hiding John Seed in your home for months — what the hell are you thinking? Have you two forgotten what this maniac did to all of us?" She points accusingly at his chest, "Did you forget what he did to you ?"

"Of course I haven't!" Nick struggles not to raise his voice, trying desperately to maintain some kind of diplomacy with one of his oldest and closest friends. But he doesn't have any defense prepared for John, and he's not all that willing to defend him to begin with, so being backed into a corner isn't helping. "How could I? That's the reason he's here — he owes us!"

Kim jumps in to plead with Grace. "It's like I told you," she insists. "Nick gave him an ultimatum. He's been sticking by it."

Grace is overwhelmed enough that she spits in disgust. "You made a deal with a devil to mend fences and pull nails?" she asks. "You think that's what he owes Hope County? Some housework ? Is that really worth rekindling the god-damned cult?"

"Hey, there's none of that bullshit around here. John," Nick instructs, "Tell her."

"It's true," John rasps. He's pale and trembling, looking like he might faint. "Eden's Gate is dead."

"What makes you think I'd believe a word you'd say?" Grace snaps. "You're nothing but a murderous conman. Don't you dare speak to me."

"You don't need to believe him," Kim says, moving in to distract Grace's lethal glare from John. "You can believe us. The cult destroyed everything, and then it destroyed itself. All we're trying to do is put the pieces back together the best we can. For everyone ."

"You can't possibly think this is a good idea," Grace says, a distinct accusation buried in her words. "He's lying to you. He's using you two. And you're just going to let him?" When neither of them immediately respond, she scoffs loudly. "Unbelievable. If Rook were here..."

"You know exactly what they would do," Kim says.

Grace taps an irritated beat against her rifle, scowling first at Kim, then at John. She's probably trying to stare him to death. Nick's just glad she isn't directing that lethal glare his way. "And what do you expect me to do?" she asks.

Nick is sure that if Grace chooses to shoot John, he'll let it happen. He worries about the aftermath, about his relationship with Grace, about Carmina's wellbeing, about the kind of post-apocalyptic world they'd finally be living in, but he's sure that he won't try to stop her. Mostly sure. Pretty sure.

Lord , Nick prays, Please do not test me on this one today.

"I'm hoping you'll trust us to do what's right," Kim says, concluding what sounds like a defense she's been building since this whole mess started. Nick can only imagine what the walk back home must have been like.

For a moment, Grace doesn't move, her jaw clenching as she considers the stakes. Nick doesn't know what makes the decision for her, but finally, she eases up on her gun. "I must be an idiot," she mutters to herself, before addressing the two of them directly. "The minute he reveals his true colors, you tell me."

"Yeah," Nick says, surprised at how breathless he sounds. Had he been holding his breath? "Yeah, obviously."

"You're making me take a huge risk that I don't want to take," she informs them grimly, ignoring John as if her life depends on it. " Don't make me regret it."

Grace storms away with such righteous anger that Nick almost doesn't catch the retreat for what it is. He can hardly believe that she's leaving, still tensed for the gunshot he'd thought was inevitable. As soon as Grace disappears from view, John lurches from his seat, sweaty face going gray. He barely manages to stagger to the corner of the house before he throws up, clutching the wall for support.

Nick will handle that in a minute. First, though, he turns to ask his wife, "What the hell happened?"

"God, Nick, it was a disaster," Kim sighs, looking pale and trembly herself. "Carmina was still upset when we met Grace, and she spilled everything. I tried to soften the blow, to, you know, explain, but Grace didn't believe any of it at first, and then Carmina was talking about him being in our room all night..."

"Jesus." Nick rubs his eyes, then wraps his arms around Kim, feeling her melt into the hug. "I should've been there. I should've told Grace before Carmina could get the chance." He groans quietly, "Damn it, she's probably still freaking out up there."

"She was convinced Grace was going to kill him," Kim tells him. "She thought it was all her fault."

Nick sighs. "This was a big mistake. I should've taken him to Grace when I found him. Carmina doesn't deserve any of this."

Gently breaking away from the hug, Kim looks briefly towards John before gesturing towards the house. "I should go check on her. She needs to know everything is... well, stable. For now, anyway."

"Yeah, you do that. I'll, uh... I'll deal with this mess."

Nick watches Kim go inside, and then turns to watch the pathway Grace had disappeared down. He half expects to see her lurking in the bushes, but he knows Grace better than that. She would never let him see her coming if that were the case.

John sits down heavily against the side of the house, pale and wracked with uncontrollable tremors. It's not the reaction that Nick is used to — whenever he waved his gun around, John always seemed patiently resigned, waiting for the time when Nick would finally make good on his hollow threats. Grace hadn't even pointed her rifle at him, and he's losing his damned lunch.

Nick catches John muttering to himself as he approaches, but he doesn't hear the words, and John shuts up when he gets too close. He stands over John for a minute, but the move seems too aggressive when John looks up at him with saucer-wide eyes. Reluctantly, he crouches down, his knee popping in complaint.

"Well," Nick says, when John just stares at him, "Looks like you're still in one piece." When that doesn't get a reaction, he scrubs his beard and tries another approach. "I guess Carmina doesn't take the cold shoulder very well, huh?"

John takes a shaking breath. "She should have killed me," he rasps. "Why didn't she kill me?"

"Honestly, I've got no idea. I guess she probably didn't want Carmina to think it was her fault or something. I mean, she might've decided Kim and I know what we're doing, but..." Well, considering that Nick isn't too sure what he's doing, he doubts that's the case. All Nick knows is that he's glad he doesn't have to clean John's brain matter out of the wood. "Well, either way, you're still here."

"I am," John agrees, soundly deeply unsure about it. He takes a breath, then another, although neither seems to calm him down much. "I'll get back to work, I just need... I need a minute."

Nick had completely forgotten about the siding. He'd forgotten about the food on the fire, too, although it's bound to be fine, it's stew . He finds himself wanting to give John the rest of the night off, to... who knows, process what happened? Give him a chance to get his head on straight, to figure out what he might say the next time someone comes waving a gun at him? Nick's not sure what John's free time would even entail. Nick really hasn't been giving him any.

"Stop looking at me like that," John rasps. "I'm fine. I can still work."

Nick's not sure how to change his expression, but he can at least try not to openly pity the guy. "Fine, whatever. Look — take a break for now. I'll tell you when you can get back to it."

John nods, dropping his head back against the wall with a dull thud. He closes his eyes almost immediately, like he might just pass out then and there, and Nick knows that he's got to be finished for the day. Since Nick is the one timing the break, John won't notice if Nick lets him rest, and if he wants to complain, he can go eat a boot.

The stew is ready inside of an hour, although Nick had planned to let it sit for a while to thicken. Kim comes downstairs at some point with her cheeks blotchy red from tears, but she gives Nick an immediate smile to let him know everything is alright. She looks John's direction, but the guy hasn't moved for the last thirty minutes, so he isn't much to look at.

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?" Nick asks her, unable to help himself.

"I want to think so," Kim replies, rubbing his back gently. "We'll see."

Kim calls Carmina down for dinner, but who knows how long it will take before she actually drags herself downstairs. It's been a pretty heavy day, so Nick doesn't blame her for wanting to hide for a little while longer.

He doesn't know if it would be better or worse to let John sleep through dinner, but the guy did throw up half of his lunch, so he probably needs the food. Going to John's side, Nick almost kicks him awake, but that feels too aggressive after everything that's happened. Tomorrow, Nick can go back to being a dick to him. For now, he settles on nudging John's shoulder until he seems to come to.

"C'mon," Nick says, "It's time to eat."

Maybe John hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. He looks around as though he's never seen the backyard before, not quite comprehending the hazy late-afternoon glow that showed up while he was out. "What happened?" he asks, visibly dreading the answer.

Nick can't help but roll his eyes. "You fell asleep," he says. "It's a real shocker. Told you, even a kid can do it."

John frowns. He looks towards the pile of siding, ready to calculate how much work he's missed, but Nick nudges him with his foot to distract him.

"I figure, if you sit here and don't move, maybe you can stay down here to eat. At least that way, Carmina will know you didn't get shot at on her account."

There's something in John's expression that implies he might want to argue the point, but he doesn't. He nods, remaining seated as Nick goes back to the fire. He doesn't move when Kim comes out of the house with four bowls and spoons, although he watches her like he's expecting a bomb to go off in her hand.

"Is he okay?" Kim asks Nick over the pot, keeping her voice low as she watches John out of the corner of her eye. "He's staying down here?"

"Bad idea?" Nick asks. "I can move him, I just figured..."

"No, it's okay." She pats his arm. "Good work with dinner."

Carmina comes downstairs with all the reluctance of a girl with a straight-D report card. She trudges down the porch steps with her head down, looking at her parents briefly through her hair before she swivels her unhappy gaze towards John.

"Hey, honey," Nick calls as she solemnly makes her way over to where John is sitting, trying in vain to reel her back. She ignores him, coming to a stop some five feet in front of John, well out of his reach by instinct alone. Nick can't see her face, but he can hear her teary voice.

"I'm sorry, John," she apologizes, her hands clasped in front of her and her head bowed like she might never look anyone in the eye again. Nick has to clamp down on the visceral reaction he has to his own daughter apologizing to John Seed , but he manages to choke it down even if it risks souring his dinner.

For his part, John looks more ready to bolt now than he did when Grace had been actively threatening him. His heels dig into the dirt as he presses himself against the wall, eyes darting as he calculates an escape route. When neither Nick nor Kim attempt to pull Carmina away, he flings a wild glance their way, but there's no avoiding the little girl's apology.

"It's okay," he tells her, his throat almost dry enough to strangle the words. Carmina must not seem convinced, because he continues uneasily, "You didn't do anything wrong."

Thankfully, Carmina accepts the sentiment readily. Nick doesn't know if he could handle her insisting he take her apology. "Dad," she says, apparently satisfied enough to rise out of her morose mood, "Are we going fishing tomorrow still?"

"I don't see why not."

Nick's glad for the subject change. It's fun to tease Carmina, who keeps insisting she's good at fishing even though she's never caught anything, and it keeps her distracted from John. John doesn't seem to mind being left alone to eat. He seems miles away from the house and the conversation, distracted by the darkening path that Grace had disappeared down. He eats slowly, waiting for something to happen. Probably waiting for Grace to come back and finish what Nick started months ago.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #fcnd #new dawn #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #far cry fanfic #my fic

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mclennonlover · 4 years

Text

IS IT TRUE LOVE?

CHAPTER 1

A/N: omg i’m so proud to show you my creation what i call ‘is it true love’! i really have to thank @39-badgers for giving me the idea of doing this after all! have fun reading this!

pairing: john lennon x fem!timetravel!reader

words: 1,2k+

summary: after a conflict with her parents, YN falls asleep in her room and awakes in 1962. throughout her journey through time, she meets young john lennon and his band ‘the beatles’. for all the years that will come, she’ll have to ask herself one question.

yln - your last name

YN`s POV

Another boring day at college. As usual. But this time, it was different. Not better, but worse. I got detention for nothing, well…because I got distracted. And I couldn`t even argue with the teacher. Oh well, all I had to do was to write down some rules on how to behave during class. I`d better listen to one of my most favorite bands…The Beatles.

Back at home, Mom and Dad were already angry. „Do you have any idea why you got detention?“, my mother spoke up first. „Because the teacher is an idiot and he said that `I got distracted`!“, I replied harshly and a big argument between me and my parents rose up. „ALL YOU CARE ABOUT IS THESE STUPID BUGS!“, my father snapped at me. „Your dad is right, YN! You’re 21 years old already! You should really think about your future!“, Mom supported my dad. I got so angry at them, I snapped. „WHY SHOULD YOU CARE?! SURE, I’M 21 AND I CAN DO WHAT I WANT! I DON’T CARE ABOUT STUPID COLLEGE! AND DAD, HOW MANY TIMES I HAVE TOLD YOU, THEY’RE CALLED `THE BEATLES´!“, after I said these words, I stomped all the way to my room and slammed the door shut.

My room. It is decorated with all kinds of Beatles stuff. From posters to drawings of their years working together. Sgt. Pepper’s, Revolver…Magical Mystery Tour…and so on. I fell on my bed and…I sobbed. I started to cry and I kept crying and crying….and I did not know why. After a while, I felt pretty heard and I could swear I have heard a sweet and a bit raspy voice telling me „You need some rest…“ which most likely made my drift off to a peaceful slumber..

______________________

YN`s POV

Something around me feels oddly…familiar. I could hear screams which mostly felt like a crowd of fans screaming. At any moment I could be deaf..whatever. But there I catched it. Out from somewhere, I had heard music playing, a pretty nice and catchy tune. But where have I heard it before? Why does it feel so familiar?

`She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah

She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah

She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah…..`

Why can’t I remember this song? What even is this feeling?! And right then and there, I had heard a faint voice calling my name. „YN…? YN. YN!!!“, the voice keeps screaming for my name. Another voice greeted my ears, but I could not immediately recognize it. „Mr. Lennon!“, the other voice said and then…five gunshots were heard. They were so loud, they could have definitely rip my eardrums. And so, I finally got what was happening. I could only scream. Scream as loud as I could. „JOHN!!!“ This name came out of my mouth right after the gunshots.

My eyes opened with such speed, they could not process yet what was to come. My body sat up on the bed, with my eyes slowly adapting to the situation. I realized this was not my room. My eyes studied the walls, which had a red, white and yellow stripe pattern while to the right of the bed stood a bedside drawer and on top of it were standing a small radio box and a bright yellow telephone with a rotary dial, it seemed it`s something out of the 1960’s. „Well, this seems pretty interesting..“, I have thought to myself. As I finally encouraged myself to turn on the radio, a voice blasted through it. „Good morning, Liverpool!Today is 22nd August, 1962! We are currently at 8:30 a.m., so here is our morning programme.“ I decide not to give much attention to the radio, but when I have heard that the year is 1962, I have fallen out of the bed. „1962?! H-How is that possible?This has to be a dream…wait. 22nd August? Liverpool? Today, The Beatles should be performing tonight at the Cavern Club! I have to be there!“, as I said that aloud to myself, I got up properly and decided to get ready for the day. The concert at the Cavern was only at 8 p.m. So, there I am. A 21-year old girl who somehow, under some ‘magical circumstances‘ travelled back in time, to the 1960’s.

__________________________

John’s POV

22nd August 1962.

Dear Diary,

one of the bigger days has finally come. We’re playin‘ at the Cavern. ‘S nuthin‘ new, actually, but it’s live for sum Granada television or somethin‘. Also, the new guy, his name’s Richard..he not too bad for a drummer. Not the same as Pete, but we’ll see how this lad’ll do. He keeps wearing rings. Maybe I should call ‘im Ringo, eh? Richard ‘Ringo‘ …Starkey? ‘S not right, innit? Maybe call ‘im „Starr“? Jus‘ imagine. Ringo Starr. Sounds nice. …yeh’re the only one I can talk to..about some things..Mimi won’t get me anyway and me mam’s dead and I don’t want to worry the lads, I jus‘ want for them to stay as tha „bad boy“. He he. Well, Paul’s callin‘ meh to rehearse for the show tonight. Talk to yeh later. -John.

Paul’s POV

John often gets stuck in his own world called ‘his diary‘. Just always wearing those thick-framed Buddy Holly styled glasses. As long somebody sees him wearing them, he immediately takes them off. „I’m not wearing them in public, feeling too embarrassed..“, that’s what he would always say. Let’s see how you’ll feel embarrassed if you would see someone charming in the audience..

_______________________

YN’s POV

Once I got outside after closing the door to apparently my own house now, I started to think about if it’s all real or just a big dream. „Why would I scream for John? Why was he screaming my name? Did he know me? Why did that song feel so familiar yet so strange?“, so many questions were running through my head, I wasn’t even noticing where I was walking and so I suddenly have stopped walking as I fell on my bottom. I have realized I bumped into somebody. „O-Oh, I’m very s-sorry!“, I had said quickly, not even looking at the person. „‘S alrigh‘, luv. I can get used to it sometimes.“, the person next to me replied with a sweet and raspy voice. I swear I know it, which also made think to myself: „John..i-it’s you! You’re so young…“ As he got up, he lends a hand. „Need help? Ye won’t look god if you’ll stay like this.“, he asks politely. I took his offer and he helped me getting up. Hes’s actually known for being the „bad guy“ in his youth, but I have never ever seen or heard about him being so kind. „I-I…suppose you’re John, right?“, I asked shyly as I wiped off the dust and dirt from my clothes.

„Well, yeh’re right, luv. And who’re yeh?“, he had asked me in his scouse accent. „I’m..YN. YN YLN.“, I reply. Before our conversation could really start, a voice called for John. „JOHN! Where are yeh, yeh liverpudlian bastard?!“, I could definitely recognize it was Paul’s voice. „Well, I have to go now. Or else somebody’ll have me head. Goodbye, YN!“, and with that, John rushed off in Paul’s direction. „Bye, John…“, that was the last thing I could say before John was gone. He’s probably thinking I don’t know him. Oh god…what have I gotten myself into? I just talked to John Lennon himself.

______________________

taglist: @maccachild

please dm me if you want to be added to the taglist!

#is it true love #fanfic #john lennon x reader #the beatles

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winsister91 · 6 years

Text

Make Amends

Part Ten - Betsy and the King

This series is a sequel to Breaking A Promise.

Summary: Y/N and the boys set out to investigate the bar and find Crowley, but the King is also looking for them.

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam, Charlie, Crowley and....Betsy.

Warnings: Language, flangst, canon-typical violence

Word Count: 2300~

A/N: We got some Crowley pov going on here! I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing....thanks to my wifey @sofreddie for being a wonderfully supportive beta <3

Series Masterlist Full Masterlist

~ Series and forever tags are open! ~

You’d took the rear seat of the Impala, stretching your legs out across the bench - shoes off of course - Dean demanded it. You rest your head back on the window, cold and slightly steamed up on the inside whilst a flurry of rain gusts outside. You stare at your phone, furiously tapping on the messenger app on-screen whilst the heavy guitars of Motorhead blast through the headphones you’re wearing.

C’moooon, answer me woman.

You click again, sending another “wave” trying to get the recipient’s attention. You must have been in double figures now.

Charlie_Queen_B: Heeey! Calm down over there!

Y/N-AssKicker: Finally! Sup bitch ;)

Charlie_Queen_B: Sup ;) Now what are you blowing my phone up for?

Y/N-AssKicker: I need you to check into something for me

Charlie_Queen_B: Go on

Y/N-AssKicker: Long story short, it’s about The Mark of Cain. Found this link about something called the “Book of the Damned”

Charlie_Queen_B: That sounds pleasant :/

Y/N-AssKicker: I know right? It’s apparently full of ridiculously old magic, but that’s about as far as I got with it. Long story short, something’s come up and I’d feel a lot better if someone awesome was following up on it for meeee? :) :)

Charlie_Queen_B: You don’t need to creep to me, of course I will! Is everything OK though? Don’t be leaving me in the dark here.

You look up briefly from your phone to glance at the brothers in the front seats. You can see them talking, but are unable to hear what about because of Lady GaGa now booming in your eardrums. They were smiling, laughing and joking about something. Just seeing them made you smile too. It almost felt normal, and you felt confident. No need to worry Charlie.

Y/N-AssKicker: Nothing we can’t handle :) I’ll fill you in when it’s all over. Am I good to send you the link?

Charlie_Queen_B: Good to know :) and yeah, hit me!

Y/N-AssKicker: You’re amazing (as ever). Ty.

Charlie_Queen_B: Anytime!

You smile gratefully, copying and pasting the link to her. You felt a bit cheeky, but you promised Dean your one-hundred-percent focus on this. You weren’t lying when you said it’d make you feel better knowing someone was still looking into it, and you trusted Charlie to the ends of the Earth.

Suddenly, you feel your headphones yanked away from your ears.

“Hey!” you squeak in surprise.

“Welcome back to Earth,” Sam teases, “What’s with the headphones?”

“Oh…” you laugh nervously, “I’ve found they...help blot out the angel radio crap.”

A slight awkward silence follows, so Sam chipped in to try and break it quickly, “I was just wondering…”

You spot that he’s holding the spellbook Harper wrote, it’s laid open on his lap on the final pages.

“Hey!” you squeal, jolting up into a sitting position, “Who said you could look at that!”

“I was just curious!” Sam held his hands up in protest, “It's...interesting trying to work out all the different languages that are in it…”

“You are such a nerd, you know that right?” Dean scoffs, shaking his head.

“Look I was just wondering,” Sam ignores his brother, eyes still fixed on you, “What this in the back is?”

Sam holds the book up and there are words scrawled on the back of the book’s cover. Two sets of handwriting, one of them being yours.

“It looks like a half finished spell?” Sam questions, “Something about...creating a livable dimension in someone’s mind?”

“Yeah,” your eyes break a little upon seeing the spell, “It was something me and Jenny worked on.”

“Jenny?” Dean asks curiously, “Harper’s sister?”

“Yup,” you lean forward and take the book from Sam’s grasp, tracing your finger over Jenny’s handwriting, “She used to come down and hang with me some nights in the coven, this was just a silly side project we started.”

“What does the spell actually do?” Sam questions further.

“In layman's terms,” you sigh, “It was to allow the spell caster to transfer their conscience into their own personal fantasy world in their head.”

“That’s…” Dean mutters, “different.”

“So effectively the user would go into a dream-like, almost trance state,” you elaborate, “Completely free to do what they want in that world in their mind.”

“Escape into it…” Sam narrows his eyes, “It was so you could escape into there wasn’t it?”

“Bingo,” you answer with a sigh, “She was trying to help me make things… more bearable I guess… we abandoned it eventually though as we couldn’t find out a way to give it...an off switch so to say.”

“Meaning?” Sam raises an eyebrow.

“Meaning there’s a risk that if someone cast that spell, they would probably never wake up,” you fold your arms and answer bluntly, “I was fine with that at the time but Jenny was stubborn.”

You look again at her perfectly neat penmanship, smiling to yourself briefly. Back then she was the only shining light in your life.

“But anyways,” you snap the book closed and toss it onto the seat next to you. You sense a thick tension has grown in the air, a common occurence whenever times from the coven entered conversation. You felt some childish behaviour would cut right through that, “Are we there yet?”

“About thirty minutes out,” Sam rolls his eyes at you.

“Yesssss!” you hiss in excitement, “There are no words for how much demon ass I could kick right now.”

“That’s if we even find any,” Sam shrugs, “Hopefully someone at the bar saw something that’ll help.”

“Nah,” you sit up and lean forward so your head is directly between the Winchester brothers, “I got a good feeling about this, and we’ll kick ‘em in the ass like always.”

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

“Listen, Love,” Crowley rolls his eyes as he speaks into the phone’s receiver, “Just shut up and let me handle the Winchesters and their precious princess.”

“I’ve been holding my tongue for a long time now,” the woman on the other side sneers impatiently, “And so far your supposed efforts are yielding me miniscule results.”

“Who got you your last batch of feathery grace goodness?” the King of Hell asks threateningly, “Wouldn’t get very far without that now would we?”

“A mere convenience,” the woman scoffs, “We could easily get a hold of as much grace as we need. Just using you so we can focus on our research and conduct further experimentation.”

“S’not getting you far is it?” Crowley chuckles, “Still in the dark aren’t we, Love?”

“You said you would bring us the girl. Without her all we can achieve are more failures.”

“Do you know who you’re talking to?” Crowley stands as he projects his voice, “I’m the bloody King of Hell, bitch!”

He receives no response from the other end but the line doesn’t drop. He breathes in deeply, “And you wouldn’t even be able to do what you’re doing without me, remember that.”

“I will hand her over to you,” he continues with a devious smirk, “And I’ll even do one better. Because I think I have a theory on your little problem.”

“Is that so?” The voice finally replies.

“Oh, found our tongue have we?” Crowley huffs, “Yes, I just need to confirm what I think. So you’ll just have to sit back, relax, and find some fucking patience!”

“Fine.”

“Good, and you’ll do well to remember your side of the deal.”

The line drops and Crowley slips the phone back into his pocket.

“No manners some people,” he mutters.

He sits back down, alone in his self-proclaimed throne room. Things were moving slowly, and he understood the Witches’ impatience. He scowls as he ponders. He did promise them Y/N afterall. Since the conversation on the phone, she and the boys had evidently stayed cooped up in that bunker.

Bastards. They even stepped up the warding to stop me getting in.

He rubs his temple, thinking back to that call and what he said to Y/N. He fears he may have let his mouth run off a bit too much. He can’t resist most of the time though. But he’d told them she was the only one to have survived the effects of this potion. He gave away that they need her and that she’s unique.

Bollocks.

It’s why she’s unique that’s the question. No human can survive that much angel grace in their system, that was clear with the amount of failures they’d had. There was nothing different about her, she’s a regular human being. Crowley smirks as his latest revelation comes back to him.

But Dean Winchester isn’t.

He couldn’t drop the thought once it first hit him. The Mark brought Dean back from death, albeit as a demon. Crowley knew that Y/N should have died in that explosion back at the Red Dragon Inn, just like all the others who go into meltdown like that. But Dean, in his full blown demon attire, was in there with her when it started to go down.

Something happened. Squirrel is the key. I know it.

The King of Hell kicks himself, he knew he shouldn’t have bailed out on the situation so quickly last year.

“Crowley!” the door bursts open and one of Crowley’s lackeys enters, “We’ve spotted the Winchesters, we believe they’re headed for the bar.”

“Excellent,” Crowley smiles gleefully, “Isn’t the internet a marvellous thing? Viral videos and all that nonsense. I knew it would get their attention eventually, they can’t resist.”

“Sir...um…” the messenger demon shuffles on the spot awkwardly, “The guys out there have reported that...there’s something odd about the girl.”

“Well there’s bound to be,” Crowley shrugs without a care, “If my suspicions are correct she’s got angel grace growing inside her because of that potion. She’ll no doubt be feeling the effects of such.”

"A-are we to proceed?”

“Scared?” Crowley chuckles patronisingly, “No need to be, Uncle Crowley’s joining in for this one!”

He laughs to himself, drawing his phone back out and swiftly redials.

“You’ll have Y/N tonight.”

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

The bar was now a boarded up shell of a building. Crowley had made it so, all the more to catch the Winchester’s curiosity. They were never ones to turn down snooping in an abandoned building.

Just as the King of Hell’s patience grew thin, the trio made their usual grand entrance as he watched in the shadows up in the rafters. The whole place was in darkness, empty, echoey, accentuating the rumbles of thunder that came from the now raging storm outside.

“You ever taking those damn headphones off?” Dean barks at you once you felt you were alone.

“It’s like being in a movie!” you shout back too loudly, “My own personal soundtrack!”

“Why would the place shut down?” Sam ponders aloud,“You’d have thought it’d get more business after being in a viral video.”

“Bars go out of business all the time Sammy, lighten up,” Dean yanks the headphones out of your ears and scolds you with a look.

“Party pooper,” you pout, gazing around the abandoned bar “D’ya think we’ll find anything in here?”

“Some leftover beers hopefully,” Dean smirks.

They all grab flashlights and branch out. The Scooby Gang splitting up in search of clues… minus their talking dog. You wander out of sight, Dean makes a beeline for the bar and Sam scopes out the sitting area.

Lets have some fun.

With a mere blink, Crowley vanishes and reappears in the rafters of the next room. A large empty space with a built-in stage at the front for live bands. You stroll in, yawning to yourself and flashing the light around.

Stroke of luck we’ve got her alone. She’s the one to be wary of.

Crowley executes a silent whistle. A summon for one of his favorite pets. Specially trained not to kill, but maul deliciously violently.

C’mon Betsy my darling, do your thing.

For a hulking beast of a Hellhound, Betsy is very light on her feet. She knows not to disturb the environment around her too much to avoid detection. Crowley grins maniacally as he watches his pet slink silently through a set of swing doors behind you, as you absentmindedly twirled on your heels while looking around.

Easy. One down.

Your eyeline moves over where Betsy prowled. This was no problem to the beast with them being invisible...

...to humans… bugger.

“Dean!” you cry in horror, disgusted at the sight of the vile creature before you, “Sam!”

The Winchesters charge to her aid, but not quick enough compared to Betsy’s attack. The Hellhound pounces, narrowly missing you as you promptly roll away. Hastily, you withdraw an angel blade from your belt, holding it up defensively whilst sporting wide, terrified eyes.

“Hellhound!” you shriek as the boys finally enter, the blood instantly draining from their faces.

“It’s coming to your left!” you wail again, prompting them of Betsy’s attack.

They both dive away in your direction. Once reaching you, they form a defensive back-to-back position.

How adorable.

“You can see it?” Dean gasps at you in shock.

“Yeah well I think that plays to our advantage right now don’t you?” you snap at him.

“Do you know where it is now?” Sam asks nervously.

“Pacing around over there,” you point to the rear of the room, “I think it’s deciding when to pounce again.”

She’s scared...bloody thing hasn’t fought anything that can SEE her before.

The Hellhound picks its moment, charging along the edge of the room, choosing a random moment to lunge in and attack again.

You circle with Betsy, keeping yourself the centre of the hound’s radar.

“Oh shit!” you yell when Betsy jumps. You throw your hand up and expose your palm. A blue ball of light blasts from it, colliding face first with the beast. It yelps and hurdles back, crashing devastatingly into the wall behind.

“Hadouken!” you gasp, a broad grin of surprise spreading on your face, “That was awesome!”

“Holy crap…” Dean murmurs. He couldn’t see the hound, but he could see the blatant crater that had suddenly formed in the wall.

“Bloody hell…” Crowley mumbles to himself, slightly taken aback at the scene.

This is NOT what was supposed to happen!

“Get in here you idiots!” Crowley bellows and you are suddenly surrounded by a group of demons, plus a seriously pissed off Betsy.

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 6 years

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I sent this on mobile so sorry if it's a duplicate, but I haven't seen it yet so I think it might not've gone through. Drabble request: TWW, post-series, domesticity preferably with kids, but also some career stuff, ship/character pairing of your choice

Okay, this is so not a drabble :) but it was fun to write! Borrows from these headcanons I accidentally created that one time.

1,500 words of Josh/Donna fluff, with an appearance from Zoey Bartlet and references to several other characters. Also on AO3.

He’d learned long ago to pick his battles, though, with two little girls who had inherited their mother’s fighting spirit. When their favorite bedtime story became “the time Mommy blew up” he knew he was in for trouble.

Fighting with his tie as he came downstairs, Josh found his daughters sprawled on the couch.

“Remember, Zoey’s coming over to babysit today.”

“Yes!” Jo high-fived her little sister, beaming at Josh. “She promised next time she was gonna teach us how to flip a grown man over our shoulder.”

He paused on his way into the kitchen, turning slowly to face them. “Seriously? That’s not just a funny joke you guys are practicing to scare your mom with?”

“Dad.” Charlotte rolled her eyes at his lameness. “It’s totally safe. She learned it from her bodyguards.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He’d learned long ago to pick his battles, though, with two little girls who had inherited their mother’s fighting spirit. When their favorite bedtime story became “the time Mommy blew up” he knew he was in for trouble.

Or maybe he’d already figured that out, the moment Brianna Joan first blinked up at him with her pale eyelashes and deep brown eyes. A world of trouble–realizing that he was a father now, that nothing would ever be the same.

“Mom,” Jo yelled, making him wince at the assault on his eardrums. She had her mother’s lungs. “You want us to be able to kick butt, right?”

Donna stood in the kitchen doorway, half-dressed for her morning meetings but still in her pajama shirt while she cooked. “I feel like that’s a trick question,” she answered, regarding the three of them. “Come eat your waffles, girls.”

“What about me? Don’t I get waffles?”

“That depends,” she replied. “Are you going to be able to make our lunch date today?”

“Come on, it’s not like I make a habit of missing–”

“The last three, Joshua,” she argued, cutting him off. “You had to reschedule the last three.”

He held up his hands in defense. “I know, I know. I’m sorry! I would’ve much rather met you for lunch than gotten stuck with lawyers from K Street.”

“Yeah, well, CJ and I are meeting with senators today and the Belgian ambassador. If I can make lunch, so can you.”

He crossed to the doorway and kissed her. “I’ll be there.”

“Good. Then you get waffles.” She grinned at him when he leaned in for another kiss, and there was a chorus of booing from the kitchen table.

“Some of us are trying to eat,” Charlotte said.

“Anyway,” he told Donna, taking his seat and ignoring the peanut gallery, “I have a light day. Toby’s coming in, so I cleared most of my morning.”

“Well, that’s something, then. He won’t let you stand me up.” Donna brought over the last of the waffles and finally dug into her own breakfast. “What’s he up to?”

“He’s bringing Huck by.”

“Because fifteen-year-olds are really into campaign finance reform these days?”

Josh laughed. “No…apparently he told Andy that he’s aiming to go to Harvard. Toby wants me to talk him out of it.”

“Is Molly coming too?” Jo asked between bites. Toby’s daughter was the softball-playing, video-game-killing hero of their twelve-year old tomboy. While Charlie was artistic, with her mom’s dancer form, their eldest wouldn’t be caught dead in a tutu or at the piano.

“Sorry, kiddo, just her brother.”

No longer interested, Jo dropped her silverware onto her plate with a clatter. “Done. Thanks for breakfast, Mom.”

Donna swallowed and nodded. “Dishes in the sink, Jo.”

She was out and up the stairs before her sister had the chance to finish her own meal. Charlotte habitually moved at her own pace, daydreaming over her butter-drenched waffles as her parents talked around her.

“Which senators are you and CJ talking to today?”

“Texas and Arizona.”

“Fun…and Belgium?”

“Clean energy.”

“Right. How’s that going?”

She dipped the last of her waffle in syrup, keeping one eye on the clock. “About as well as can be expected. Looking at European models has been helpful, but it’s not like that gains us much traction in the South.”

“Well, I’m not sure anything would,” Josh pointed out. “They’ve dug their heels in pretty good against climate change.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“Daddy?” Charlotte interjected. “Can I come with you to work?”

Donna raised her eyebrows at Josh, as surprised as he looked.

“Don’t you want to stay here and play with Zoey?”

“Not today…at school, they said Take Your Daughter to Work Day is next week.”

“Oh.” He stared blankly at Donna. Wasn’t that one of those made-up holidays, like the kind the President proclaimed that he used to mock? “Are you sure…I mean, wouldn’t you have more fun going with your mom?”

She beamed at Donna, all careless sweetness and light. “Nope. I wanna go with you. Can I?”

“Sure you can,” her mom answered. “Can’t she?”

Trapped, Josh tried not to panic at the idea of keeping his dreamy-eyed daughter entertained for an entire day full of politics. “Of course. Sounds great, honey.”

“Charlie, you’ve got ten more minutes until Zoey gets here,” Donna pointed out, now that that was settled. “If you don’t get going, Jo will have a head start at learning how to knock people unconscious.”

“Oh!” Rushing through her second waffle, their blue-eyed sprite leapt out of her chair. Charlotte’s pale ringlets bounced behind her as she ran back to the living room, forgetting to soak her dishes or properly be excused.

Donna sighed, and Josh smiled at her. Maybe manners were a work-in-progress, but just look at the beautiful little people they were raising.

“You know what this means, don’t you?”

She blinked. “What?”

“You’re gonna have to take Jo.”

“Good,” she replied, pointing her fork at him. “She’ll have a lot more fun with me than doing whatever Charlotte gets stuck with at your office.”

“Hey! My office is nonstop fun. Just last week, the President sent balloons to surprise Bram on his birthday.”

“Wow, balloons. I stand corrected.”

“I’m just saying, I can give our budding Warhol a painting app to play with and she’ll sit in a corner all day. Meanwhile, you’ll have a tiny lightning bolt on your hands while you talk to the Attorney General.”

“And I’m sure she’ll enjoy our daughter’s energy.”

“There’s about a fifty percent chance our daughter’s energy will end up setting something on fire.”

Donna took her plate to the sink. “She gets that from you.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I know.”

The door buzzed, and Donna went to answer it. Josh cleared the rest of the table while he listed to the clatter of feet racing back downstairs, and the commotion of the girls greeting their favorite sitter.

“You’ll teach us the flip, right, Zoey?”

“I drew you a horse! Come see.”

Donna’s laugh carried to where he stood. “Girls, let her breathe.”

Dishes soaking, he joined them in the living room. “Hey, Zoey. What’s on today’s agenda?”

“Oh, you know. Running with scissors, ice cream for lunch…the usual.”

“Right.” He smirked at President Bartlet’s youngest, now a rising star at the NGO his wife was running with CJ. “Well, just try to keep them in one piece, would you? They’ve got delusions of badass.”

“No delusions here,” she argued, tossing her hair back. “They are badass.”

“That, they get from me,” Donna told him, grinning. “Thanks for this,” she added in Zoey’s direction. “I’ll buy you lunch tomorrow after the conference.”

“No worries. You know I love your baby feminists.” Zoey wrapped an arm around Charlotte when the girl sidled up to her. “We’ll have a blast. Go focus on your world leaders–and tell CJ I’ll be in early tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Will do.” Donna turned toward Josh as the girls led Zoey upstairs. “Josh, your tie is a mess.”

“I wasn’t fully awake yet,” he protested, holding still as she leaned in to fix it.

“Yes, but you’ve been wearing a tie for decades,” she pointed out. “Shouldn’t you have the hang of it by now?”

“Why would I bother?” He asked with a smile. “If I could fix my own tie, you might stop doing it for me.” Josh took her hands in his and kissed the fingers that had successfully tidied it up.

“I’ve gotta head out,” he said reluctantly, catching a look at the clock behind her. “See you at lunch, Donnatella.”

“You better.” Her lips meeting his in farewell lingered just a little longer than necessary.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there. Really. After all, I got waffles.”

“Make it on time,” Donna told him with a sly grin, “and you’ll get something even better tonight.”

His eyes widened. “I’ll be early,” Josh promised, kissing her again before he left.

She headed upstairs to finish getting ready, humming happily to herself. There was still only one way to render Josh Lyman speechless, and it was her favorite thing in the world.

When he got a good look at the teddy and garters she’d picked up over the weekend, he was going to forget his own name.

Then he would make her forget hers.

#i know i said i'd post this tomorrow but it's technically tomorrow and when i tried to sleep all i could do was cough so here :)#other characters will get their own OC kids and career details in future #it's super fun to play with future fic i must say #tww #josh x donna #the west wing #tww fic #josh x donna fanfic #josh x donna fic #tww fanfic #tww fanfiction #the west wing fanfic #the west wing fanfiction #my fic

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