#his brother runs a whole grocery store by himself so i think its safe to say he didn't need papyrus to push him into it like in ut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

enchantedblackrose · 3 years

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Flesh Wounds & Somedays

Flesh Wounds & Somedays

Jay Halstead/Reader

¡!Warnings: Infant abduction/kidnapping. SIDS. Violence against women. Swearing. Fluffy ending.

Still unedited, hoping to have the nice version up soon. Sorry in advance! Happy New Year's Eve, everyone! Please be safe ❤

Upon exiting the very stereotypical "mom van" you're greeted with harsh Chicago air stinging your face and it instantly makes your eyes water. You hastily blink back the tears though it's fruitless. Instead you pull the knit hat you're wearing further down your head and pull your scarf tighter. You keep the door open, huddling near the inside of the vehicle. Anything to stay warm. You scan the parking lot for any sign of your suspect. Anxiety starts setting in. It doesn't matter how long you've been doing this. The moments leading up to a confrontation always send your stomach plummeting

"Easy now," Jay, sporting the store employee smock, whispers as he rolls a grocery cart by, indicating to your foot mindlessly tapping against the cement. Immediately you stop. You give him a small smile. He winks in response. You pretend to dig around in your purse, anything to give the impression you're distracted when in reality all your senses are in overdrive.

Voight's voice barks your last name through your strategically placed com. "Suspect approaching from the east. You know what to do. Everyone else, stand down for now! We don't wanna spook him."

You open the back passenger door before closing the driver's. Your fingers work quickly at unfastening the baby from the seat. You then drape a blanket over the baby for protection against the cruel elements.

It's subtle, but you cannot ignore the feeling you're being watched. The reality is you are. Your whole team is looking out for you. But this is something different entirely, something sinister. You suppress a shudder. Securing the blanket once more, you hoist the baby from the carseat and hold the infant against your chest. With a push of a button, the passenger door slides shut. You fiddle with the keys, making sure the van locks before tossing them in your purse.

You coo at the little bundle snuggled against your chest. Your steps deliberately appear hurried.

And that's when he emerges from a dark blue conversion van parked one whole row over. You spot him out of the corner of your eye and he is unmistakably walking towards you. But you stick to the plan. Your pace slows just barely, not wanting your target to sense the change. You also don't want to actually reach the store entrance and potentially bring harm to the public even with Al and Ruzek inside.

He suddenly appears in front of you, eyes frantically dart around before resting on you. He's disheveled. clothes are wrinkled and slightly stained. His greasy, unwashed black hair is plastered to his head. He smiles which unnerves you. But you return it anyway. His grin disappears. "Give me that baby. And you won't get hurt...much" He removes his right hand from his coat pocket and you notice the blade he's gripping. That's new, you think to yourself. He's growing desperate. Still, you have to get him to attempt an attack or abduction.

"No!" You pull the baby impossibly closer to you. "Leave or I'm gonna yell for help." The threat is feeble on purpose but still seems to evoke rage inside the man.

He lunges at you. His body weight sends you stumbling but you remain on your feet. He wildly pulls at your arms and at the baby, trying to break your grasp. He swings his left arm and his fist perfectly catches your eye.

"Son of a bitch!" You cry. Your foot slams onto one of his and you use that moment to headbutt him square on his chin. He lets out a primal scream before sticking the blade into your upper thigh and you can't help but yelp in pain. He tugs the baby out of your arms. The blanket drops to the ground.

You watch the changing expressions dance across his ugly face: anger, elation at his success, confusion.

"What the hell?"

It's the opening you need. Your weapon is drawn on him. "That's right, you stupid son of a bitch. The baby's fake. Chicago PD! Get down, face down."

Still in his stupor, he obeys. You kick the blade away just as Antonio and Jay come running from opposite directions. Antonio searches and mirandizes him. You return your gun to its inside waistband holster.

As your adrenaline begins to slow, you feel exactly how much pain you're in. It's evident that your eye has started to swell and there's a throbbing sensation in your thigh. You stagger a bit, but a pair of strong arms steady you.

He sighs and you look at Jay. "Don't start," you warn.

"I should have been there. I ended up carrying groceries for this old lady..." Guilt is written all of his handsome features.

"Did she tip you?" You joke, but he stares at you. "Stop. We knew this might happen. He had to attack me." The rest of the team appears and Jay drops his voice to a whisper.

"Yeah, attack like come at you, not actually harm you." He looks as if he's about to argue more when the sound of tires squealing interrupts.

You flash concern. "He wasn't alone." Your eyes meet those of your colleagues.

Voight breaks the silence. "Antonio, get that piece of garbage out of here.Halstead, get her to Med. The rest of you let's head back." You open your mouth to protest, but Hank won't even let you get a word in. "That leg's gonna need stitches. Now go." He stares at you until you move. Jay lends his support as you gently lean into him. It's not as needed as it is comforting.

You were seen and stitched in no time; the wound to your thigh was mostly superficial. Your swollen eye, which was now bruising, was being iced. You would have left Med sooner if your weirdly overcautious boyfriend hadn't insisted that his own brother see you before checking out. It took Will saying it, but Jay finally seemed to accept you were, in fact, fine.

You want in that interview room more than you've wanted anything in a long time.

"Absolutely not," Voight answers when you ask. "This guy doesn't respect women. I don't need you going in there so he can admire his handiwork." He waves a hand indicating to your black eye you're still icing. Hank returns to the observation window to watch Antonio and Atwater interrogate a very non talkative perp.

You remain in the bullpen with Adam, Jay, Mouse and Alvin to stare at that damn board some more.

Alvin recaps; all of you hoping to discover something, anything at all, that could help solve the case.

"Here's what we know. 2 or more suspects working to abduct infants. 1 in custody. Greg Jones. Couple of parking tickets, nothing too serious. Attempted three abductions, not including today's, in broad daylight, over the course of two weeks. Only one was he successful, if you call it that, but the infant was later abandoned at Firehouse 51."

You interrupt. "That baby left at 51, was a boy, right?"

Al double checks before answering, "Yeah."

"The other two attempts were on baby girls," Jay adds, possibly sensing where your mind is going.

You nod. "And today, I had a lavender blanket to cover the doll. One would probably assume it was for a baby girl. Just hold on a sec. Mouse," you holler over to him, knowing he'll pull up what you want faster than anyone. "Check hospital records and obituaries, plesse! Any infant deaths in the last month? Can you look into Jones' social media, too? Girlfriends and such." You've hardly finished the request and Mouse has the information for you. "How many of the babies that died were girls?"

"Two."

"Do you have the mothers' names? Any link to Jones?"

Mouse 's eyes scan the screen in front of him. "Tiffany Young...girlfriend of Jones according to Facebook, lost her baby girl last month."

You nearly hop up from your seat. "Text us her last known." You nod to Jay, asking without words if he's ready. Before you can walk away, Mouse calls your name.

"She was reported missing three days ago."

The whole team exchanges uneasy glances.

In a bizarre turn of events, Tiffany Young had reported herself missing. Jones and Young had been working together to abduct a baby girl with a plan to then flee the state. You and the team discovered that Young was conspiring against Jones going as far as plotting his murder to take place after a successful kidnapping. He would look responsible for her disappearance and his death would appear as a suicide. At least in theory.

It wasn't the best thought out plan, but in these situations they seldom were.

"I still don't understand," said Adam. You were all gathered around a large table at Molly's trying to relax after a long day. Well not all, Antonio made arrangements to see his kids. Al had also rushed off. "Why plan to off Jones?"

"She blames him for their daughter dying." You say taking a sip of your drink. "I read the report, even though it was SIDS, he was the only one there at the time." Everyone is quiet for a moment, presumably lost in their own thoughts. It takes Herrmann coming around, asking who wants another round for the conversation to resume.

Thanks to the refills and a few well timed jokes, the mood of the night has drastically shifted to a much happier one. An hour or so goes by when Jay lightly squeezes your knee under the table. You understand the gesture, surprised that he's waited this long to signal his want to leave. Jay hadn't really wanted to go out in the first place. "I'm gonna head out," you tell the group standing only when you've finished the last of your drink. There's a chorus of goodbyes. As you walk away, you hear Jay excuse himself to use the bathroom. You know he'll leave for your place afterwards. Neither of you know exactly why you keep the fact you're dating from your friends. Maybe the sneaking around is thrilling. Maybe it's just nice having something of your own. Regardless, it's the worst kept secret of the precinct, though no one has any proof and they ultimately leave you alone about it.

You've only changed into a tee shirt when a knock beckons you. You let Jay in. The door has just closed and he's ordered you to take your pants off.

"We need to work on your foreplay," you quip, but Jay's not laughing.

"I'm serious. I need to see again that you're okay."

You sigh, but shimmy out of your jeans. His genuine concern for you was slightly overwhelming in the best way, never having experienced anything like it before. Carefully, you pull back the adhesive bandage exposing your fresh flesh wound, still very bright pink and aggravated.

"I'm so sorry," he murmurs.

"It's not your fault," you say, trying to reassure him.

"I hate that you were hurting and I couldn't do anything." He pulls you for a tight embrace while mindful of your thigh. He's completely still for a moment, breathing you in and finding peace in your arms.

Suddenly, he picks you up off your feet. It catches you off guard and you giggle. "What are you doing?"

He doesn't answer. Instead he takes you to the bathroom and sets you on the counter near the sink. He starts rummaging through your medicine cabinet, pulling out gauze, bandages, and rubbing alcohol. He grabs a clean washcloth from the towel rack.

You raise one eyebrow in question. "I thought I had Detective Halstead, not Doctor."

"Tonight you have both." You bit down on your lip to keep from laughing, but the misconstruction of his words hit him. "That came out wrong. That's not at all what I meant." Laughter escapes from you and Jay joins in, shaking his head and telling you to keep your mind out of the gutter.

"Mm, it's difficult when you're around." You give him a quick peck on the lips.

He turns the warm water on, letting it run for a minute. He tests it, making sure it's not too hot before soaking the wash cloth. He rings it out and looks you in the eyes. "I'm not sure this is going to feel all that great.'

You nod your understanding and Jay very gingerly begins to clean your wound. You talk to keep yourself distracted. "I can't stop thinking about the case. Clearly, they're competent for trial and I'm not justifying what they did, or tried to do. But I can't imagine losing a baby. Just the thought…" Your voice drops off. You wish you could leave work at work, and sometimes you can, but tonight when you're struggling to do so, you feel extra fortunate to have someone who truly understands.

Jay has almost finished cleaning your wound, allowing it time to breathe before covering it with a fresh bandage. "I know," he says. "I kept thinking about if that had been us and our baby, what would stop me from going crazy."

Your heart flutters a little faster, "Our baby?" It's the first time he's ever said anything like this.

He suddenly avoids eye contact with you. "Yeah? I mean someday...down the road if we are still...and that's something we...you want...maybe?" His cheeks are flushed and he glances at you, his green eyes full of hope.

"Jay Halstead," you offer him a big smile, "have you been thinking about our someday?" He nods, giving you a smile of his own. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him close to you. One of his hands rests on the countertop, the other lovingly brushes your cheek before you nuzzle into the spot just below his neck. You plant a kiss there. "Tell me more about your plans."

"Well they definitely don't include you getting stabbed again," he pulls away just enough to cover your thigh with the new bandage. A slight pout plays at your lips having not gotten the answer you wanted. Jay, seeing this, chuckles. "C'mon." He lifts you off the counter, carrying to the bedroom.

Gently, he places you onto the bed. You watch as he kicks off his shoes and strips down to his boxers. He catches you admiring his physique and shoots you a wink. But you pretend to still pout and cross you arms. It causes Jay to shake his head, bemused by you.

Pulling the covers back, he slides into bed and brings you to his side. He kisses the top of your head, fingers tracing a nonsensical pattern along your arm. "I see lots for us, love. So many ways things could play out, but it's always with you at my side."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah, definitely," and with that Jay launches into different versions of the future he's envisioned. Some are improbable, others imaginative, many seem possible, but all include you, just as he said.

#chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x you

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

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A Place To Call Home: Oh Baby

Summary: The reader and TJ decide to have their first baby together and the experience is anything but simple...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x foster daughter!reader

Word Count: 3,600ish

Warnings: language, pregnancy, pregnancy/delivery scare

A/N: Enjoy!

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“Hey,” you said, rubbing TJ’s bare back in bed after he’d gotten Allie down for bed. He groaned happily as you gave him a massage, sinking further into the mattress. “You’re rocking this dad thing you know.”

“Back at ya mom,” he laughed. “You really think so? Cause I’m scared shitless half the time.”

“Same. But she’s happy and healthy and safe. We must be doing something right,” you said. He patted your leg and you slid off of him, TJ rolling to his side and wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you down. “What are you thinking, handsome?”

“I noticed you haven’t taken any birth control this week,” he said.

“We said we’d talk tonight about it. I wanted to be prepared,” you said. He brushed his hand over your cheek and your whole body felt warm at the touch. “This is way off base of our plan for kids. We can totally wait if you want to.”

“We could. But we said way back when we talked about this that when we had kids, we wanted to keep them not too many years apart. Allie will be more than two by the time we have one. I know our plans got changed completely when she came into the picture.”

“Well, the original plan was two of our own and then when they were in their teens, we’d look at adoption for number three. What do you think?” you asked.

“I think it doesn’t matter what our plan is today. It’ll probably change in some way. It already did,” he said.

“Do you want to make a baby?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said softly, sliding his hand down to your stomach. “I can’t imagine how adorable of a child you would make. Let’s start trying. Allie deserves a brother or sister.”

“Are you sure? We could wait until your student loan is paid off,” you said.

“Did I not tell you?” he asked. You shook your head and he smirked. “Work pays off my loan for me as long as I stay there.”

“Where’s the money in the budget for your loan going then?” you asked.

“It’s still student loan but it’s for Allie or kids to use. We got plenty and you got your raise and-”

“Raise? I didn’t get a raise.”

“Jensen said just the other night…oh I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” he said.

“I’m getting a raise?” you asked.

“Yeah. Like a big one. For how you’ve been stepping up lately,” he said. “Don’t let it out that I said something.”

“I won’t. So we can afford another kid, we have the time, the energy, Allie’s a good age...sounds like we got our ducks in a row,” you said.

“Wanna make a baby?” he smirked. “And then love it forever and ever?”

“Fuck yes I do,” you said. “Now get naked and let’s have some fun.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Six Weeks Later

“Want me to write down anything else for the grocery store?” asked TJ as you sipped on some coffee while Allie ate part of a waffle at the breakfast table. “I haven’t bought pads or tampons in a while. You’re probably running low.”

“Yeah, you can…” you said, staring at him. “I haven’t had my period TJ. I’m two weeks late.”

“I’ll get a pregnancy test,” he said, a cautious smile on his face.

“Yeah. I’ll call the doctor, see if I can get an appointment in soon,” you said.

“I’ll be back as quick as I can,” he said.

“Momma, waffle,” asked Allie from her high seat, opening her hand up, her plate wiped clean.

“Sure thing, honey,” you said, TJ flashing you a quick smile before he was gone.

“Hey babe,” you said half an hour later into the phone. “You still at the store?”

“Heading for checkout now. Want me to pick up-”

“I just got my period,” you said. “Just now.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you said. “We can do the test to make sure, like triple make sure and I still have an appointment for the afternoon.”

“Okay,” he said, sounding a little off.

“We only tried that one night,” you said. “And we weren’t really even trying. We were having more fun with not using a condom for the first time than actively trying really.”

“True. We got a little carried away,” he said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck and his cheeks sporting a light blush if you had to guess. “Do you want to like, really try?”

You turned your head and saw Allie sticking some pads to herself where she sat on the bathroom floor and you smiled.

“For some crazy reason, yes, yes I do. Also, I need more pads. Allie’s playing with them,” you said.

“Alright. I’ll pick up something special for dinner,” he said. “Love you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

Three Months Later

“Another beer?” asked your dad as he stood up from your back patio.

“I can get it,” you said, TJ handing you his empty, Allie passed out on his chest from where the three of you sat around the fire. “I want a snack anyways.”

You ruffled his head and wandered inside, your dad following you in to use the bathroom. You took out a beer and set it on the counter before you opened the freezer and pulled out a pint of ice cream.

“Someone’s got a sweet tooth lately,” he said. He took out a beer for himself and cracked it open, smiling at you. “Been awhile since I’ve seen you have a drink. Not that you did a lot but the empty calories line doesn’t seem so convincing at the moment considering the tub of cookie dough in your hand.”

“You think I’m pregnant?” you laughed. He shrugged and you shook your head. “No way. Just been trying to eat healthier. TJ ate most of this anyways.”

“You’re really not?” he asked.

“No. When’s mom and everybody come home again? Tomorrow? TJ and I wanted to have everybody over for dinner,” you said.

“Sounds good,” he said. You stuck your head around him, looking at TJ outside. “What’s up?”

“Okay I kinda want your opinion on something. I got a present for TJ’s birthday but I’m not sure if he’ll like it,” you said.

“What is it?” he asked. You left and ducked into your office, smiling to yourself but wiping it off your face by the time you returned. You held out a box to him, your dad opening it up. He looked confused as he held up a pair of blue sneakers.

Very small blue sneakers.

It took him a second but soon he was staring at you, a funny look on his face you remembered seeing on your wedding day.

“Liar,” he grinned.

“I know,” you said, getting a big hug from him.

“You’re gonna have a little boy,” he said, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“That’s what the sonogram said. You’re the first person we’ve told. We wanted to wait a few months to make sure everything was okay before we said something.”

“How far along are you?” he asked as he peeled away, staring at your stomach.

“About three months. We found out the sex earlier this week,” you said. “You can touch, it’s okay.”

“I didn’t realize you guys were trying,” he said. He put a careful hand on your stomach, smiling to himself. “You made a baby.”

“We wanted Allie’s sibling to be close in age. We only like actually tried once. We were kind of surprised it happened so fast,” you said.

“Does it feel any different than Allie? It’s not like you’re a parent for the first time again but I imagine it’s got to be a little different,” he said, pulling his hand away.

“Obviously this time I’m actually going to be the one having him but I don’t know, it doesn’t feel that different.”

“Good,” he said, smiling still. “These two are gonna grow up and not even think about who was adopted and who wasn’t.”

“TJ thinks he’s gonna have his black hair.”

“He could. Boys are a spitting image of their fathers sometimes,” he said. “A little boy. He’s gonna grow up just fine with you and TJ.”

“Do you have any advice for boys?” you asked.

“Love him the same as you love Allie. Teach him boys can love and cry and feel their feelings and to help others and he’ll turn out to be just as good a man as TJ.”

“You’re not half bad either,” you said with a smirk.

“I could have been better, especially when I was younger.”

“Dad, you were shy. Mom’s told me stories. You’ve always been good. I know you feel stuff, you just like to process it inside and on your own sometimes, like me. Look at Zepp. What other boy do you know that talks to his dad about stuff the way you guys do?”

“Oh I could name a few,” he said.

“You’re doing good is all I’m saying cause you’re good. We just hope he’s kind and good too,” you said.

“Love ‘em and the rest of it pretty much works out on its own,” he said. “Oh. Changing diapers? Cover them at all times. Like every single time. You’re gonna get pissed on a lot more with a boy, especially in the face.”

“Oh god, dad,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Just being honest,” he chuckled. “Not much difference though.”

“As long as he’s happy, I’m good,” you said. “Are you...surprised? Happy? None of the above?”

“You are a kickass mom. I can’t quite describe it but yeah, let’s just say I’m happy,” he said. “I’m so happy for you both and to have another munchkin around. I’m proud of you, kiddo.”

“Thanks,” you said. “Second one should be easier, right?”

“Should. It’s your first time pregnant though. I’m sure we’re gonna run into some fun things for sure.”

Five Months Later

“Hey dad,” you said, giving him a wave in the parking lot. He smiled and you walked over before you headed off into the park with him.

“How’s work going?” he asked. “All ready to go out next week?”

“You know most people don’t take the month off before their due date,” you said.

“Most people don’t work for mom and dad,” he chuckled. “You’re covered. I see you back at that brewery for anything more than a beer run and we’re gonna have problems.”

“I know, grumpy. I’m good. Well, I was until I was driving over here to walk and my stomach started killing me,” you said. He stopped and you walked ahead of him. “What? You forget your phone or something? We can-”

“Fucking shit,” he said. He grabbed you and you made a face as he walked you quickly back over to his car.

“Dad, what-”

“There’s blood dripping down your leg,” he said, not even bothering with his seat belt before he was backing out and speeding away. You glanced down, a small thin streak drying on your skin. You reached under your shorts and felt more wetness, a pit forming in your stomach. “Y/N, are you listening to me?”

“What?” you said as he ran through a red light.

“I said you need to call TJ right now and tell him to meet us at County West. You’re having the baby right now.”

“S’not supposed to be bleeding,” you said quietly.

“I know. On the bright side, it could just be a little tear and that’s what it is and you and the baby are perfectly fine.”

“When has my life ever been on the fucking bright side,” you said. “Something’s wrong isn’t it.”

Your dad hit a few buttons on the wheel before the sound of ringing filled the air.

“Sup, Jensen?” said TJ.

“County West. The baby is coming. Move your ass now,” said your dad before he hung up.

“Oh, I’m completely not worried now,” you said. You shut your eyes and by the time you opened them, you were parked and the drivers door was open. Your dad ran over to the entrance and said something, somebody coming out with a stretcher. You rolled your eyes but let a few nurses and a doctor you were guessing move you on top of it.

“How far along?” asked the doctor.

“I’m-” you said, throwing your head back when pain shot across your abdomen. You screamed, a bit surprised at yourself honestly and suddenly were inside, your dad talking a mile a minute to the people that were rushing you down the hall.

“Y/N, I’m Dr. Astle. Are you having contractions?” she asked.

“I don’t…” you said, shouting again when pain hit you. “Gah, it’s not supposed to hurt that bad, right?”

“No, it’s not,” she said. You kicked when you felt it happening again, your dad grabbing your hand and using his other to run over your head.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “The doctor’s are gonna fix you and the baby up like that.”

“We need to do an emergency C-section,” said Dr. Astle as you realized your shorts had been cut off.

“Dad don’t look that way,” you said.

“You and me right here,” he said with a smile. “You’ll be fine. You’ll be just fine. Just breathe.”

“TJ needs to be here,” you said.

“Tall munchkin I don’t think they can wait,” he said.

“They’re gonna wait over my-” you said, a flop of sweaty black hair running past the room. “TJ!”

“Hey!” he said as he jogged back to the doorway. “Are-holy shit. That’s a lot of blood.”

“TJ, up here,” said your dad.

“We need somebody from maternity, Dr. Astle,” said a nurse.

“Baby and mom do not have the time. You’re the husband?” asked the doctor, TJ nodding. “If mom passes out, you’re calling the shots.”

“Please don’t pass out,” said TJ.

“I’ll try…” you said, something tearing inside and you were out before you could even register the pain.

You woke up in a quiet room, your dad sitting in a chair and bouncing his leg like crazy. You tried to stretch and felt your abdomen was flatter, hand instantly shooting to it. You looked around but saw no sign of TJ or a baby and swallowed.

“Dad,” you said quietly. His head shot up and he was out of his chair like that.

“Hey. How you feeling?” he asked.

“Is the baby…” you swallowed.

“He is a perfectly healthy boy. Big boy. Your due date was off by a couple weeks they think. You were over nine months. He got a little too big for ya. The placenta started to tear and he was kicking at it they think which is why you were in so much pain,” he said.

“Okay,” you said with a big smile. “As long as he’s good, I’m good.”

“He’s up in the nursery with TJ, just letting him get some rest while you got some. You had some pain but you’re okay. Perfectly capable of more kids. Maybe we use a different doctor next time is all,” he said.

“Can I go see him?” you asked, surprised to not feel a bandage across your stomach. “I thought they did a C-section?”

“Well, you passed out pushing him out in one go. Doc said you’d be sore for awhile,” he said. “Let me go see if I can find your boys.”

“Dad,” you said as he turned to go. “Did I do that?”

You nodded to his bruised hand and he shrugged.

“Let’s just say in labor you is kind of terrifying,” he said.

“Dad,” you said and he sat on the edge of the bed. “Thank you. I was freaking out before.”

“Little secret, I was freaking out more,” he said with a chuckle. “You, you were just thinking about the baby. Me, me I was thinking about the baby and you. Understand?”

“Yeah. Go get me my son, old timer,” you said, shutting your eyes again.

“Yes mam,” he said, rubbing your arm. “You did real good today, kiddo.”

“I’m getting a letter later, aren’t I,” you said. He laughed and felt him ruffle your hair.

“I’ll save it for when you guys head home. Nothing’s gonna top this,” he said. You heard the door open and opened your eyes, TJ walking inside with a bundle of blankets in his arms.

“You’re kind of a badass, you know that right?” he said.

“It’s why you married me, isn’t it?” you teased. “I want to meet him.”

“I told you I’d bring you back around to see mommy,” he said. Your dad slipped out as TJ sat on the edge of the bed and handed you over your son. You giggled when you saw the black head of hair under his blue cap. “Told you he’d have my hair.”

“It’s a good thing your daddy is pretty,” you said, booping his little nose. “How’d you get here so fast?”

“I was at work. I took the stairs and then sprinted over. The hospital’s only a few blocks away,” he said.

“Why are you in scrubs?” you laughed.

“May or may not have ripped my pants in the said sprinting. Your mom is gonna bring me some clothes when she comes up. Somebody had to go and be all dramatic with his entrance,” he said.

“Dad said the doctor got my due date wrong,” you said.

“Based on my math, you actually did get pregnant that first night we fooled around. Your period was super light when you had it and the doctor did say some people can have them during pregnancy, especially at the beginning if…”

“Dude. I know how it works,” you said. “He’s cute.”

“I know. There’s a couple of really ugly babies down the hall. We got lucky,” he said. You laughed and the baby looked up at you, quickly shutting his eyes. “Someone’s smitten.”

“He’s not the only one,” you said. “You ever decide on a boy’s name?”

“What do you think about Colin? I know it wasn’t on the list but-”

“It’s perfect,” you said, giving the baby a kiss. “Just like you, aren’t you Colin.”

One Week Later

“Dad,” you said when you caught him peeking over the back of the couch again. “He didn’t wake up in the span of the last three seconds you weren’t looking at him.”

“Your father’s in love,” laughed your mom as she set a bag of takeout down in front of you. “I got tacos, burritos, quesadillas, nachos and brisket per your request.”

“Mmm,” you said, TJ reaching his hand into the bag. You stared up at him and he slowly backed away. “That’s what I thought.”

“TJ, yours is in with the other containers,” she said, setting a few containers down on the counter. Your siblings all grabbed one and took off to the movie room, JJ taking Allie up with them and your mom and TJ wandering into the kitchen and talking quietly. Your dad was still looking over the back of the couch and smiling down into the crib.

“He awake?” you asked.

“No. Just adorable,” he said.

“Well get dinner grandpa,” you said, reaching over to the end table for your drink and pausing. You shut your eyes and felt it pass, your dad suddenly right there and helping you to your feet. “Thanks.”

“Still sore?”

“Oh yeah,” you said. You sat up at the counter, grabbing a taco first and taking a big bite. “I’ve been dying for one of these for months.”

“Hopefully the spice doesn’t bother you too much,” he said, stealing a nacho from your bag. He looked over at the crib, Colin making a half-giggle sound. “Kiddo. Do me a favor.”

“What?” you asked.

“Enjoy it. They grow up faster than you think,” he said.

“I know,” you said. He nodded and you saw him look sad for a split second. “Dad?”

“Hm?”

“Just cause I made a baby doesn’t mean I’m not your kid anymore,” you said. “Based on how you are, I’ll never grow up so win-win for you.”

“Loser,” he said, ruffling your hair with a smile before he took your burrito. “Speaking of which, I was gonna prank the trio once they start watching scary movies later. You in?”

“Duh,” you said.

“That’s my girl.”

___________

A/N: Read the Jensen’s Day timestamp here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen x daughter!reader #rpf #au #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #reader insert #spn fanfiction #jensen x

285 notes · View notes

dumdumsun · 3 years

Text

Forever and Never

A/N: I did it again, @moatsnow! I’m vvv sorry hun 🥺❤️

Warnings: ⚠️rape⚠️, mentions of alcohol and marijuana

Word Count: 5014

—————————————

Four: Good For Me

“So, Richard seemed to have been this… distraction. Because being around Stanley made you feel less than, but Richard admired you. You had no faults when you were with him. So, what made you end it? Did something else happen?”

“Yeah… The next day was his birthday.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’d been texting me all morning. From the moment I opened my eyes, all throughout breakfast, as I took a shower and got dressed. Wasn’t it his birthday? Didn’t he have preparations to go through for his party that night? Of course, I wished him a happy birthday and assured him that I would attend his party. I figured I might as well buy him a present, since most people would only show up to eat food and get drunk. He probably wouldn’t have been receiving many gifts.

As I descended the stairs, I heard Pam and David rushing around the house. “We’re gonna be late, David!”

“I’m aware!”

“Where are the keys?!”

“In your hand!”

I chuckled and leaned against the railing. “What’s going on?”

David turned towards me and sighed. “It’s Jacob’s presentation today, remember? He’s doing that sort of TED Talk thing at school?”

“Oh, yeah… Well, I’m not gonna be able to go, I’d be late to Ricky’s party by the time we got back.”

“Shit, that’s right… I completely forgot about errands as well. It’s our only free day.” He ran his hands through his hair. I perked up and walked the rest of the way down.

“I can do it. I’ll already be out, buying a present for Ricky.”

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” Pam joined the conversation as she and David approached the front door. I nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, it’ll… give me something to do today.”

Pam gave me that same bittersweet smile she usually did before enveloping me in a hug. “You’re so perfect, (Y/N)...”

“Uh… thanks.” My brows furrowed as she pulled away. I looked to my uncle for any clue as to why she suddenly became so sentimental, but he avoided my gaze, muttering something about wanting me to be safe before walking out of the house. “Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, baby, we’re fine. You be safe today. Don’t get so drunk that you can’t walk straight. And stay the night at Dina’s, if you can!” She called out as she left out the door. I only nodded my head in response, slowly closing the door after her. My phone vibrated in my pocket, so I fished it out to see yet another text.

Ricky: Do you wanna come over and spend the day with me?

I cringed and rolled my eyes. Wasn’t me coming to his party enough? Shaking my head, I replied to him.

Me: I’m actually booked until the party. Lots of errands to run for my aunt and uncle

To be truthfully honest, I just needed to go grocery shopping and stop by the bookstore to pick up Pam’s order. It would only have taken me about an hour at most to complete my tasks. Did Ricky need to know this? Not at all. Tucking my phone back into my pocket, I snatched the grocery list from the fridge and began my quest for the day.

It hadn’t actually registered in my mind that I would need a car for the day. Our list was pretty long, which left me with armfulls of paper grocery bags, my aunt’s book tucked into my jacket pocket located on the inside. I could hardly see over the tops of the bags, but navigated myself all the way towards the diner before I heard a car pull up beside me. I turned my head to see Stan, giving me a goofy grin, eyes shielded by his sunglasses. He reached over to open the passenger door from the inside. “Hey, there, lovely.”

“Good morning there, beautiful.” I chuckled, opening his back door to store my bags in his seats before climbing into the passenger seat beside him. “Thanks so much.”

“It’s my pleasure,” He tilted his head as if he just winked, but it wasn’t like I could’ve seen it. “So, you’re shopping for Aunt Pam?”

“Uh, yeah. Jake had a presentation at his school today and I… had things to do already. So, why not? Might as well do something for them,” I explained as he began driving again. Down the road, I spotted two familiar figures exiting the diner. “Oh, is that Sydney? And her brother?”

“Indeed, it is.” Stan grinned as he turned the corner. His car pulled over towards them, Sydney’s brother excitedly pointing us out. She turned to the car with pursed lips. I turned down the music as Stan reached over to roll down the window, the glass creaking at its usual agonizingly slow pace. I visibly cringed as Sydney gave a painful smile. Once it was down just enough, Stan nodded towards her. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Her smile turned a bit more genuine. Her brother, who introduced himself as Liam, greeted both Stan and I before we all shifted into an awkward silence. Thankfully, Stan broke it after a couple of beats.

“So, it’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah,” Sydney giggled, and I detected a hint of anxiety. “Yeah, you, too.”

“So, do you wanna,” Stan pushed his sunglasses to sit in his curls. “Do you wanna, like, do somethin’ later tonight or somethin’?”

Sydney opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again, all while Stan held his glowing smile. What the hell was going on? “You know, I would, but Dina and I are going to Ricky Berry’s party.”

“No shit? I’ll be there, too.” Stan excitedly sat up.

“Oh, you will?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah. Okay, right,” She chuckled. Anyone around could tell that Sydney was clearly uncomfortable, except for Stan. He was on top of the world, it seemed. “So, I guess I’ll see you there. And we gotta go. Right now.” She quickly ushered her brother down the road. I leaned towards my window and giggled into my hand. Stan slowly slipped his sunglasses back on, muttering a ‘cool’, which only caused me to laugh harder.

“Okay, what the hell is going on between you two?”

Stan gave me a look, or what I assumed was a look, as he continued towards our houses. “What? What are you talking about?”

“What’s going on with you and Syd? And don’t say nothing. You’re literally glowing right now.”

“Okay, okay,” He cleared his throat. “So, last night… we, um… Well, we may or may not have had sex.”

I hoped he hadn’t noticed me hesitate. My brain short circuited and my throat constricted. “O-Oh, really? Like, last night-last night?”

“Yeah, last night-last night.”

“Gross.” I lightly joked and Stan rolled his head towards me with a sly smirk. Chuckling, he looked back towards the road.

“Anyway, I assume you’re going to the party, too? Since you’re Ricky’s little homecoming date now.”

My eyes widened. “You saw it, too?!”

“Everyone saw it, Nugget. ‘The Power Couple’ or whatever they said.” He shook his head.

“Ugh, we are not a couple and I do not want to go to homecoming with him!”

“Then why’d you say yes?!”

“Because everyone was there! They planned the whole thing and my brain just thought to say yes!” I buried my head in my hands. I heard Stan coo from beside me with a small tut.

“My poor little Nugget. I should’ve asked you out before Ricky could.”

I peeked up at him with a warm smile. “Nah, it’s okay. It’s just homecoming, I’m not marrying him. Besides you should ask out Sydney, anyway.”

“Oh, that is the plan.” He grinned.

When we arrived at my house, I got out to carry in the bags, but I heard Stan turn off the car and exit as well. He joined me in retrieving the bags from the seats and waited patiently for me to unlock the front door. Once we were inside, we headed straight for the kitchen and set the bags on the table.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been inside here,” He commented, looking around the house with a soft smile. I hummed in agreement before our gazes met. “Does your bedroom still look the same?”

The feeling that swept through my soul as I watched Stan excitedly explore my bedroom was a feeling I’d never felt before, but never wanted to leave. He marveled at all of the little trinkets displayed on my shelves, my organized bookshelf, the board above my desk filled with every pin I’ve ever collected. But what had him giddy and pumping his fist in the air was the Bloodwitch poster on my door. “Ah, I knew it! You knew all of the words to Hey Little Girl! You used to hate that song!”

“I don’t have to like the song to know all the words, all you play is Bloodwitch!” I laughed. He pointed towards me as if to say ‘don’t deny it’. I deflated. “Okay, yeah, I finally got into Bloodwitch. I guess it was… just something to remind me of you.”

I nervously stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jeans as Stan slowly lowered his arm, his expression softening. His stance stuttered, like he had stopped himself from doing or saying something instinctive, before scoffing.

“Yeah, well, the school’s horrible plays are what reminded me of you.” He rolled his eyes, receiving a light slap to the arm from me. Once Stan left for his own home, I returned to the kitchen to put the food away in their respective places. I made sure to put David’s cookies in his ‘secret’ compartment within the pantry. I knew he’d appreciate it since Jacob always found them if they weren’t stored correctly. I quietly giggled to myself, thinking back to a time when Jacob swore up and down that he hadn’t eaten the cookies. In fact, I remember correctly that we both had eaten them and he was just trying to cover for the both of us. We were caught the next day and forced to sit through a fifteen minute lecture on respecting our elders and the importance of privacy.

I nearly forgot about Pam’s book, but I remembered as I passed her bedroom door. Slipping it out of my pocket, I entered her room. There were shoes scattered across the floor and the bed was unmade, no doubt from her rushing around earlier. Knowing that she’d check her dresser, I set her book just there. However, I noticed a small, rectangular beige box already sitting there. I would have left it alone until I saw my name written on it. My hand reached out to pick up the box, but I stopped. It’s probably a present, I thought. I shouldn’t open it until it’s given to me. So, with a small hum of uncertainty, I left the bedroom.

Contrary to popular belief, I actually have a pretty simplistic fashion sense. It was nowhere near as bold as Stan’s, and I suppose that’s why we were seen as an odd pair, but I had just a bit more flare than my fellow peers. Everyone was just a copy-and-paste version of each other. They wore the same skinny jeans, the same fitted shirts, the same sneakers. While I never wore bright yellows and greens, I still hadn’t conformed to the everyday go-to fashion line that was their “hot” or “cute”. Besides, Brownsville was so boring, everything and everyone there was so one-dimensional. It only made sense that their choice in clothing was the same. What I’m trying to say is that people thought I had a bold fashion sense because I simply dressed differently, but it was simply how we dressed in my hometown in Kansas. I think Stan would have fit in at home.

I was a back-and-forth routine from my dresser to my bed, texting Dina as I readied myself for Ricky’s party that night. Apparently, she had Sydney over at her house, the two getting ready together. I didn’t have a problem with it, as long as Dina was still picking me up. She informed me that she had just gotten Syd into a cute top that would show more skin than she usually did. Despite not really being her friend, knowing that Sydney was leaving her comfort zone, as small of a step as it was, had me smiling at my phone, However, that smile dropped at the next text Dina sent.

Dina: Omg you HAVE to look cute for Ricky tonight

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt.

Me: I don’t get dressed up for boys anymore. I do it for myself

And it was true. When Ricky and I dated, I felt as though I had to look the part of the trophy he presented to everyone. I wore clothes I normally didn’t, I wore more makeup, smiled more. Even if they were faked. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like pretending, but Ricky didn’t seem to mind. He’d simply point out that he “liked the new look”. Well, I’ve changed. My half year solitude in Kansas taught me self-awareness, and I became aware that I am fucking hot. So, I did look cute that night, but not for Ricky. I did it for my own pleasure. And I hoped they all liked the new look.

Of course, my go-to bottoms were black high-waisted jeans that stopped just above my navel, paired with a red long-sleeved crop top. To match, I added in little black and red clips in my hair and dusted black eyeshadow on my lids. Afterwards, I stepped in front of my mirror to admire my work. I remember my mom telling me when I was young that looking in the mirror will tell you everything you hope to see in yourself, and I agree with that to some extent. But looking at myself in that moment told me that, despite how shitty I felt on a daily basis, I was more than deserving of reveling in my new adaptation. I wasn’t at my happiest, and lord knows I’m still screwed up, but at least I knew who I was. I wasn’t some angry, emotional ball of anxiety, deprived of parental love. Yes, I was turned away from my father more than ever at that point, but I had realized where all the love for me resided. I was someone’s daughter, someone’s sister, someone’s best friend.

Someone’s girlfriend.

Or whatever the hell we were supposed to be.

Hearing my phone ping, I picked it up and read the text from Dina.

Dina: We’re here

Tucking my phone into my pocket, I slipped on some white sneakers and grabbed Ricky’s present off my vanity before dashing downstairs. I opened the door to find Dina and Sydney standing together on my doorstep. Upon seeing me, their jaws dropped. “Whoa, you look… hot.” Syd raised her brows, and I couldn’t help but smile at her approval. Dina chuckled and nodded.

“Yeah, (Y/N), you always seem to surprise us…”

“I try my best.” I stepped out of the house and locked the front door before facing the two. “Let’s party, shall we?”

-------------------------------------------------

Music thumped from the inside of the house as we approached the driveway, some party goers trickling inside. Sydney, Dina and I all stopped in the middle of the driveway, staring up at Ricky’s house. The two seemed excitedly anxious, but I felt as if I was going to hurl my guts up. The last time I had been in that house wasn’t the most pleasurable experience.

He can’t and won’t do that to you again, (Y/N).

What I would give to go back in time to warn her.

“Shit…” Sydney breathed.

“Okay, I’m scared, but fun scared,” Dina nodded, glancing between me and Syd. “Like we’re about to skydive for the first time or something.”

“Well, I’m not fun scared.” Syd turned her gaze back to the house.

“Me neither…” My voice was just above a whisper.

“Feels like we’re about to be eaten by wolves, like… really drunk, judgemental wolves.”

A moment of silence for all confidence lost.

“We’re gonna be fine,” Dina decided. “I just wish I could inject vodka directly into my veins first.”

“I do have this.” Syd smiled and pulled out a flask. Dina and I grinned before the former took it from her best friend. She took a hearty gulp from the flask before handing it over to me. Not wanting to get too drunk just yet, I took a few sips and handed the flask back to its owner. Once we were fueled up, we headed inside. I’d spent so many hours in Ricky’s house, but so few of those hours were spent partying. The most people I’d seen in his home were about six, including me. That was when he brought me over for dinner the first time and both his older brothers attended. What a waste that dinner was. I led the two up the stairs, kindly waving at my peers who called out to me. Most of them complimented my outfit, to which I quietly thanked. As we entered the main room, the volume of the music and the voices increased so that I was swimming in my surroundings.

“Dina!” I heard Ricky call out. The three of us turned to the birthday boy as he approached us. “Welcome to the madness!”

“Hey.” Dina smiled. His eyes then slid over to me, his own smile brightening.

“And Zip… God, you look great. Really great.”

“Thanks, Ricky. Happy birthday.” I nodded before letting him pull me into his side. I placed a hand on his chest to steady myself as his head turned to Sydney, as if she’d just walked in and didn’t appear with us.

“Hey. Hey. Oh, gosh, don’t tell me. I know it. I know this one.” He acted as if he were trying so hard to remember his own classmate’s name. I rolled my eyes and removed my hand from his chest. Sydney slowly nodded her head, giving him just a bit more time to “think” before answering.

“Sydney.”

“Right! I thought it started with an S, yeah. Well, you guys go enjoy, alright? Zip, why don’t you come and party with me?”

“Oh, well, um…,” My gaze shifted from Ricky’s smile to Dina’s slight frown. Sighing, I gestured for the two to go. “I’ll find you guys later. Have fun.”

“You, too.” They replied simultaneously before Ricky pulled me away to a group of friends. As we walked, I handed the little box over to him.

“Got you something.”

“Awe, babe, you shouldn’t have.” He lightly laughed and took the box into his hands. His eyes widened when he opened it to reveal a gold watch he’d been talking about for awhile. He claimed his father wouldn’t let him buy it because Ricky needed to stop spending so much money on himself. It wasn’t very expensive, so I thought it’d be as good a present as any. With child-like giddiness, he slapped the watch onto his wrist before kissing my cheek. “(Y/N), you are the most thoughtful girl in this world.”

Why did my heart skip a beat? “It was nothing, Ricky… You always go all-out for me, so…” There was no part of me that actually liked Ricky. Remember that. I think the liquor from earlier had just gotten to me. With a soft sigh, he hugged me from behind and walked me to a nearby table where boxes of pizza were displayed.

“You hungry?”

“I am, actually…”

My time spent at Ricky’s party felt as if I were on a mission. Mission Ignore Ricky. He was attached to me the whole time, arm around the bare of my waist, around my shoulders. It was like he needed to be certain that I was still there. That he could still look at me. Everytime I tried to go and find Syd and Dina, he pulled me right back into his side. My only solution was to drink heavily. Whenever someone offered to refill my cup, I accepted. If someone handed over a can of beer, I took it. A shot? Hell yes, count me in! Anything to drown out the sound of his voice in my ears. I’m not a lightweight, so it takes awhile for my haze to kick in. When it did, I was a smiling mess, nodding along to everything everyone said. In my underwater state, I could faintly make out Ricky referring to me as his girlfriend in conversations with his friends. With a grunt, I lazily slapped his shoulder, eliciting laughter amongst them. Within ten minutes, a Rick Springfield song that everyone collectively liked started up in the speakers. We all cheered and began dancing. I happily laughed as Ricky rested his hands on my hips, the two of us grooving to the music. He shook his head as he marveled at my drunken state.

“I’ve missed this…”

“Getting drunk?”

“No. Your smile. Your laugh,” He leaned forward. “I’ve missed you.”

“That’s so… poetic.” I whispered, causing a quiet laugh to escape his throat. My eyes slid to the right to find Stan. My breathing quickened at the sight of him in a baby blue suit, sitting alone on a couch with Dina and Syd dancing together in front of him. How I wished to be over there… Especially when he looked up and locked eyes with mine. All of the air in my lungs was kicked out at the relieved smile he gave me, and I breathed out in the same emotion. He’s here…

Ricky suddenly looked up over my head, an even wider smile stretching across his face. “Bra-a-ad! You made it!” He exclaimed and walked the both of us over to his best friend. The two high-fived as I blinked rapidly, as if I’d sober up from it.

“Dude, I had to come,” Brad smiled before his attention moved to me. “Zip, hey!”

“Hey.”

“Did you come here with Dina?”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s… um, dancing or something.” I giggled. Brad nodded with a raised brow.

“Someone’s been havin’ fun, huh?” He chuckled before I felt Ricky turn away.

“Hey, everyone! Bradley Lewis in the house!” He announced, cheers erupting from the party participants. They all cheered for a speech, which I found unnecessary, but leaned my head on Ricky’s shoulder as I listened to Brad quiet everyone.

“Eighteen years and nine months ago today, George Reginald Berry and his sweet wife Carol-”

“That’s not their names.” Ricky shook his head in amusement, everyone quietly laughing with him.

“They were drinkin’ a little bit of pinot grig’, and they were blastin’ some Neil Diamond. And then nine months later, Richard “Dickwad” Berry was born. And thank god for that because the Berrys’ birthday parties are the fucking best! To Ricky, everybody!”

With the cheers that followed, I found it to be my perfect time for escape. I slipped away from Ricky and squeezed through countless bodies to reach the back door. Stumbling outside, I caught myself on the railing towards the stairs that led off the deck. With difficulty, my wobbly legs took me down to the side of the house, where my hero was leaning against, readying a joint. There was no doubt my ceaseless giggling was what attracted his attention. He chuckled and watched as I stumbled towards him, falling into his side. Stan wrapped an arm around me as I laughed.

“Hey, there, lovely.”

“Hi, beautiful.” I grinned up at him, eyes half lidded. His brows drew down for a moment before he remembered his occupied hand. Removing his arm from around me, he took out his lighter, setting a flame to the end of his joint. I watched in fascination as he inhaled the smoke with closed eyes. His curls sat on his forehead, his lips pursed around the joint, his other arm made its way around my shoulders again. I rested my chin on his shoulder before he passed the smoke to me. I happily took a hit and let the peaceful silence fall between us for the five seconds that it lasted.

“So, you and Ricky… How’s that going?”

“How’s what going?” I mumbled.

“You know, you guys dating. It’s what he’s telling everyone.”

“Oh, my god, I knew he was telling everyone!” I groaned and ran a hand over my face. “I’m so sick of that. He can’t just... f-fucking, um… fucking lie to everyone like that! We are not dating, we’ve never even talked about it! What the hell, dude… I don’t even get why he’s so in love with me, Stan…”

He didn’t reply at first, but when I looked up, I realized it was because he was smoking. When he pulled the joint from his lips, he stared forward. “I mean, he’s got someone amazing, if you guys were actually dating. Believe it or not, (Y/N), you’re the coolest person I’ve ever met. And you’re fun and humorous and so driven. You’ve got these huge dreams and you’ll follow every single one of them… I’d be pretty proud if you were my girlfriend,” The second he looked down at me, I giggled loudly. He blushed and moved his eyes to the side. “I-I’m- I’m serious!”

Elevating myself with my toes, I closed the gap between us in a sloppy kiss. I could taste the alcohol on his lips and I was sure he could taste the same on mine. My hands reached up and placed themselves on his cheeks. I felt him lean more into the kiss for a second before he quickly ripped himself away, as if he were just burned. He blinked over and over as I tried to settle my blurry vision on him. Shaking his head, he sighed.

“(Y/N), you’re drunk.”

“I’m drunk.”

“Yeah, we can’t do this.” He seemed to be telling himself more than to me. I pouted and loosely wrapped my arms around him.

“I love you, Stan…”

“I love you, too, but I think you should get inside and find Dina.” He ushered me to the stairs and watched as I carefully planted my foot on the first step.

“Okay… I’m sorry, Stan.”

“You’re fine, I promise.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go inside, okay? You’re gonna be okay out here by yourself, okay? Okay?” I widened my eyes when he didn’t immediately answer. He let out a short laugh and turned me around again.

“Alright, go inside and find Dina.”

“‘Kay. I love you, Stan.”

“I love you, too. I’m gonna stand here and watch you go.”

“Have fun.” I sang and ungracefully made my way up the stairs and back inside the house.

Apologizing to the many people I bumped into, I found myself in the hallway, in between the bedrooms. My head felt like it weighed tons, my eyes wanted to close so badly. I felt a hand on my shoulder and leaned into the body behind me.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

My head whirled around to find Ricky behind me. I felt myself deflate in disappointment. “Hey, Ricky…”

“Where’ve you been, babe?”

“Oh, I was talking to my friend outside.” I grinned at the thought of Stan. Ricky raised a brow in amusement and I quickly covered my mouth as to not let the moment between Stan and I slip out. His dark brown orbs flickered between me and the door behind me before he gently took hold of my arm.

“Let’s go somewhere private, okay?”

“Okay.” I whispered, allowing him to guide me wherever. Before I knew it, we were in a room. I heard the click of a lock from behind before Ricky was suddenly in front of me. My head swam as I surveyed my surroundings, quickly realizing we were in his bedroom. “Oh, what are we doing?”

“Shh, shh, don’t worry about it.” He whispered. I hummed a little tune as I felt his hands move to my exposed skin, tracing little shapes. He littered my jaw in small kisses as he discarded my top. I shivered and wrapped my arms around my torso for warmth.

“Ricky, what are we doing?” I repeated as he popped the button of my jeans loose. Gasping, I moved his hands away. “No, no… I don’t want to…” I weakly protested.

“No, it’s okay, babe, it’s okay.” He shushed me. I felt myself fall back into his cool bed sheets. I blinked slowly. Once, his ceiling. Twice, his ceiling. Thrice, him. He was on top of me, my pants were gone, and his hands were travelling places I never wanted them to be. I let out a whine of protest, but he clearly took it as pleasure.

“Ricky…” I sighed out as his finger hooked under my bra strap. “Don’t… Stop…” I squirmed under him, both my stupor and high clouding my consciousness.

I don’t remember it. I don’t remember how it felt. I just didn’t like it. I didn’t like Ricky.

Sunlight pierced my eyelids as I felt warm lips on my forehead. I opened my eyes to find Ricky, fully dressed in different clothing than I last saw him in. He was holding out a glass of water and a couple pills. “For your head.”

“My head?” I whined, but hissed right when a splitting headache spread across my skull. I sat up, holding my head. My body was suddenly freezing cold and when I went to wrap my arms around myself, I saw that I was bare. Gasping, I clutched Ricky’s covers over me. “Oh, my god…”

“Yeah,” Ricky chuckled and set the medicine down. “We were so drunk last night… Anyway, I wanna take you out for brunch, so you should start getting ready. You can wear my clothes, babe.” He spoke as he headed out of the room, closing the door behind him. My eyes travelled to my undergarments on the floor not too far from the bed.

Fuck.

—————————————

Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit @juliet-does-not-give-a-fuck @moatsnow

#i am not okay with this #ianowt #ianowt x reader #stanley barber #stanley barber x reader #wyatt oleff #wyatt oleff x reader #i am not okay with this x reader #ianowt fanfic #ianowt stanley barber #forever and never

96 notes · View notes

qqueenofhades · 3 years

Note

i noticed that you like to write a lot of heartrender husbands from fedyor’s side of things (which makes sense cause fedyor is fun!) but i have to ask in the modern au, what was ivan thinking the whole first two months 😂??

like was he carrying the joke the whole time? did his brain short circuit around fedyor?? was he worried about what fedyor was thinking or did he just think he was shy? Did he think the first date went well ☠️?

This was supposed to be lighthearted, but then there came Feels. So here is Ivan's backstory in Phantomverse. Content warning for mentions of an abusive relationship, familial homophobia, implied sexual manipulation, and dark themes. Nothing graphic, but duly noted.

Also on AO3.

Brighton Beach, 2015

It’s safe to say that Ivan Ivanovich Sakharov Kaminsky did not ever, not in a thousand years, not in a million, imagine himself ending up here. At one point, even Moscow would have been a stretch, and that was obviously still Russia. The fact that he would be walking down a sidewalk in Brooklyn, under the elevated tracks of the Q train that rattles and bangs overhead, on a cool spring morning to do his shopping at the Brighton Bazaar – in, should this somehow not be clear, America – and then returning to his apartment and his husband is, quite frankly, something out of an alternate-Ivan timeline. One from the Twilight Zone, or whatever they are calling that kind of thing these days. Sometimes when he thinks about it too much, he gets afraid that it is in fact a dream. That no matter how long it has gone on and how good it has been, it will suddenly and inevitably end. After all, he is Russian. Sunny optimism has never been accused of forming a notable facet of the national character, and Ivan himself would never be described as the hopeful type. But God, for this, he does.

He reaches the bazaar – a bustling blue-awninged international supermarket with three-quarters of its signs written in Cyrillic – and steps inside, grabbing a basket and pulling a scrap of paper from his pocket to double-check his list. He knows what he needs, but he likes the tidiness of writing it down, and he proceeds into the crammed aisles, passing customers speaking English, Russian, Ukrainian, Uzbek, Yiddish, and several other languages he can’t identify by ear. Brighton Bazaar stocks all the Russian products necessary to satisfy even a homesick expat like Ivan, and he enjoys being able to navigate the store with ease and read all the labels at first glance. He can get by in English, if he’s pressed, but it’s easier to leave it to Fedyor, who is fluent, and in here, he can conjure the illusion that he will walk out on the street and be back where he truly belongs. He likes Brighton Beach a great deal more than he ever expected to, but it’s no replacement for the real thing.

Ivan collects his purchases, along with a few special extras, and takes them to the counter. He is greeted in Russian by the checkout clerk, who knows him well for always turning up at the same time every Saturday morning with military precision. As Semyon Pavlovich Kuznetsov (who is called Syoma by his friends, but he has not clearly stated that Ivan can use the diminutive and therefore Ivan does not) scans his items, Ivan consents to exchange a few gruff words of small talk on the weather (nice) how the Mets did last night (badly) and the old guy who apparently died of a heart attack two days ago in the Russian bathhouse on Neck Road (making Ivan glad he did not choose said day to attend). It’s this weird Russian-American hybrid of things, since Semyon is the teenage grandson of a Red Army veteran who fought at Stalingrad, but he was born and raised in Brooklyn, loves American video games, and is fully fluent in American pop culture. It startles Ivan to realize that while this kid speaks Russian perfectly, he has probably never done so in Russia outside of a few visits back to the old country when his family can afford it. That is a very personal question to ask one’s grocery clerk, however, and he does not.

And then there’s that other thing, which he would definitely never be asked in Russia, especially not these days. Semyon hits the button to tally up Ivan’s bill, informs him that he owes $56.77, and then says cheerily, “How is Fedyor?”

Ivan concentrates on digging the exact amount out of his wallet in cash, since he never had a credit card when he lived in Russia and is still somewhat leery of them. “Fedyor is fine,” he says curtly, in the tone that makes it clear that he understands this question is an expected part of an American social interaction, but that is all the information he is willing to venture. “Here is the money.”

Semyon accepts it, counts it into the till, and rings the transaction through, handing Ivan his bags and his receipt. “Have a nice day, Mr. Kaminsky!”

“Thank you, Semyon Pavlovich.” Ivan accepts his purchases and leaves the store, taking a deep breath of the salty, sunny air and the wind whipping off the seafront. It’s still a little too early in the year for there to be many bathers on the beach, though there are always people strolling on the boardwalk. It’s only a few minutes to the apartment, which is just off Brighton Beach Avenue and overlooks the Atlantic Ocean. Ivan buzzes into the old brownstone, takes the stairs to the third floor, and as he unlocks his front door and lets himself in, wonders, yet again, at the sheer impossibility that his life has led him here.

Ivan is the third of five boys, but he was the one who was named after his father. It was not, of course, because they had some special hope for him to be the great inheritor of paternal pride, but a simple matter of logistics. His oldest brother, Roman, was named after their paternal grandfather. His second-oldest brother, Oleg, was named after their maternal grandfather. When Ivan arrived, only then was it proper to name him after Ivan Romanovich, Ivan Sakharov senior, since rushing too fast to glorify yourself as an individual, rather than your community and your ancestors, could be seen as running contrary to the collectivist ideals of the great Soviet Union. By the time his two younger brothers arrived, his parents were hard pressed for ideas; Yuri (for Gagarin) and Vladimir (originally for Lenin, though that has obviously acquired a different connotation those days) were clearly obtained by putting the names of national heroes into a hat and picking.

Five children was quite a lot for a Soviet-generation family, and Ivan doesn’t know anyone else his age with that number of siblings. After all, more children meant more time standing in line at Municipal Grocery Store #5 for food that has to be shared among more mouths, more worries about how to clothe and educate and accommodate them, more chances for one of them to go terminally astray and betray the family honor. Ivan wonders sometimes if his parents only really wanted Roman and Oleg, but decided to keep going as a matter of gaming the system, so much as it was able to be gamed.

By the early 1980s, the aging, decrepit, dying USSR, run by aging, decrepit, dying men, was in the grip of a demographic crisis so extreme that it was a contest between worrying about which one would end them faster: crazy President Reagan with his finger on the nuclear button, or the whole country just keeling over of old age. The idea of what a family even meant had been under constant challenge since the heady days of the Bolsheviks, who denounced marriage as a construct of bourgeoisie oppression and preached for free love and sexual liberation. Then it went hard back in the other direction during Stalin and the Great Patriotic War, holding up the traditional nuclear family as the highest ideal and offering rewards to mothers who had multiple children. Then it lurched away again. Abortion and contraception had been legal and freely available since the days of the revolution and most Soviet women made good use of them. Plus, of course, the obvious difficulties of maintaining a sizeable family when it was increasingly impossible to obtain even basic supplies and foodstuffs. It just made no sense.

Desperately trying to counter this slide toward self-inflicted obsolescence, the late-stage USSR came up with a number of incentives to boost the birth rate by any means necessary. They allowed mothers to refuse to list fathers on the birth certificate, to avoid social shame if he was married, foreign, a drunkard, or otherwise unsuitable, and beefed up programs to support single women with children. They also went back to the old-school plan of granting extra stipends, housing privileges, and state recognition to families that had more than two children, and Ivan himself was the third of his. It doesn’t take a genius to deduce that he was almost surely conceived for the tax benefits.

Not, that is, that it didn’t work. When Ivan was born in 1984, the family lived in a tiny apartment on the tenth floor of a building with no elevator (or rather it did have an elevator, but it was always broken), crowded in with three single young men who were at the very bottom of the list for being assigned housing. By the time his youngest brother, Vladimir, was born in 1987, they had been moved to a small house of their own on the outskirts of Krasnoyarsk, not far from the bus that his father took two hours a day out to the mine. The cynical old joke in the USSR was that the people pretended to work and the government pretended to pay them, though in Ivan Romanovich’s case, the work was backbreakingly real, even if the money wasn’t. He would come home exhausted and filthy after a sixteen-hour shift and yell at Galina Sakharova to feed him, bark at his sons, and then fall asleep in front of the television, only to get up the next morning and shuffle off again.

Ivan Ivanovich has spent a lot of time after he left home trying to understand what that kind of life would do to a man, mostly because he didn’t do it while he was there. Of course he didn’t. He was a child, and it was simply what he was used to, the only way the world could possibly be. On the night of December 26, 1991, as Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev signed the United Soviet Socialist Republics out of existence with a single stroke of the pen, Ivan remembers his father crying and swearing and throwing things at the wall, the heavy yellow-glass ashtray that always seemed unbreakable, perched on the kitchen table to collect the detritus of his constant cigarettes, smashed to bits just like their country, their sense of self, their security. It wasn’t as if life in the USSR was so wonderful. It was just the only thing they knew. Beyond that, there was nothing but the terror of the utterly unknown.

At any rate, the world didn’t end. The oligarchs moved in and began snapping up Russia’s newly privatized economy. Ivan Ivanovich, of course, had no goddamn clue about this either, aside from overhearing his father curse about it some more. He trudged through secondary school and left at eighteen, without even trying to proceed onto university. Those weren’t for someone like him, he knew that. Instead he got a job at the ever-troubled Krasnoyarsk Aluminum Plant, and went straight to work on the factory floor.

It was around this time that the one disruption in his otherwise humdrum life, the one thing that stopped him from just settling into the same miserable existence as his father and going on like that forever, became too impossible to ignore. And that was the fact that no matter how much Ivan tried to squash it down, push it aside, or otherwise pretend it didn’t exist, he could no longer deny the fact that he was attracted to men, and only to men. He bought some of the cheap porn magazines from the tabak, tried to flip through them and get something out of the girls in heavy eyeliner and bleached-blonde hair, spilling out of their scanty lingerie, and just… didn’t. He wasn’t even interested enough to try a conversation with a real flesh-and-blood woman (not that Ivan had ever gotten through a conversation with another human being, especially a woman, without disaster) and see if it was different in the flesh. Nothing about the experience, even imagining it, appealed to him at all. But men…

He knew it wasn’t right, just because – well, you knew that sort of thing, you didn’t have to ask about it, you didn’t let on. But nonetheless, something, somehow, must have given him away, because one evening after the end of his shift, one of his coworkers cornered him in the back. His name was Konstantin and he was a few years older, big and bluff and constantly smelling like machine oil. He stood there, folded his arms, and said, “I will give you five hundred rubles if you suck my dick, Ivan Ivanovich.”

Ivan didn’t know how to answer. He had never spoken to Konstantin about anything aside from the job. He didn’t like him, he wasn’t attracted to him, and he didn’t want his filthy fucking rubles. He wanted to go home and take a shower.

And yet. He wanted to know. So when he went home, it was with five hundred rubles in his pocket, and a strange, indefinable feeling of something both excitement and shame. He looked it up later and found that it was barely seven American dollars, barely enough to buy a sandwich in this place he now lives. Then after that it became – not a relationship, not exactly. But he had done it once and Konstantin knew that he was at least theoretically willing, and there was no getting away from it now. Soon enough it became something of a regular thing, and then Konstantin wanted to try other stuff and not always pay, and if Ivan ever protested, Konstantin would threaten to get him fired from the factory or tell his family what they were doing. Ivan knew that he couldn’t let this happen, and besides, this was a relationship, or so he would tell himself. It was rough and it wasn’t very enjoyable and he didn’t like the way it made him feel, but it was probably the best he was going to get, here in this place, so he had no choice but to put up with it.

Until one night when his older brother came to pick him up from work, which he didn’t usually do. Something about it set off Ivan’s alarm bells, but he got into Roman’s battered old Zhiguli anyway. They didn’t head back toward the house. Instead they headed for the country, the narrow, crumbling road that led into the vast forests of Krasnoyarsk Krai. The city was often voted one of the most beautiful in Siberia, surviving even its long periods of grim industrialization with something of its soul intact. It wasn’t as cold as Yakutsk or Oymyakon, the places where it stayed at sixty below zero all winter long and boiling water froze when you tossed it out the window. Winters only got down to a few degrees below, and in Russia, that was par for the course. Ivan loved his hometown, and he was used to the outdoors. He was a sportsman, a natural athlete. He played hockey, bandy, football, rugby, and basketball (surprisingly popular in Russia). He swam and boxed. He was tall and tough and muscled and most people never bothered him. But when the car coasted to a halt in the middle of nowhere and Roman turned off the headlights, he was still terrified.

His brother said, “I hear you’re doing things, Vanya.”

Ivan didn’t answer.

“I hear you’re doing things with men.” Roman reached over and grabbed him violently by the shoulders, pinning him against the seat. “Disgusting things. I will not have one of those in the family, do you hear me? Do you hear me? If I find out that you have done it ever again, even once, I will make sure that you pay the price. Are you listening? Say that you understand.”

“Yes,” Ivan said. “I understand.”

What he really understood was that he was going to leave, when he had barely been out of Krasnoyarsk Krai in his life. Going as far as Novosibirsk for a shopping trip was unusual, and once, in school, he went to Georgia, which was the first time he had left the country (though of course, it used to be the country). But he knew that he could not stay here anymore, and in a moment of welcome serendipity, that was also when his conscription notice arrived. At the time, every Russian man over the age of eighteen had to serve two obligatory years in the armed forces (though it has since been lowered to one, of which Ivan does not necessarily approve), and his number had come up. So he quit his job, did not say goodbye to Konstantin or tell him where he was going, packed his few boxes of things, and moved four thousand kilometers and four time zones west to Moscow.

Ivan arrived in the capital trying not to present himself as a wet-behind-the-ears country boy, to act like he knew what he was doing, to show he was much tougher and meaner than any of these spoiled, pampered little children whining about how hard it was when they trudged into headquarters and presented their army notices. In that, he had a genuine advantage; he had worked hard for his whole life, he had already been through whatever could possibly endured with a father and four brothers, and he found the strict routines, harsh discipline, and predictable tasks of the army comforting. Everyone was scared of him, he didn’t need to try (though he did), and that was also gratifying. He worked hard and pleased his commanders, who tried to entice him to stay on as a full-time professional serviceman. There were many opportunities for a man of his talents, and more money than Ivan had ever dreamed of. As for his personal life, as long as he was scrupulously discreet and kept turning in good results, they would not trouble to enquire too closely. That was already better than from what he had expected with Konstantin. Once again, he thought it would be the best he got.

That was where, therefore, he met Aleksander Ilyich Morozov.

Morozov was his opposite in many ways – rich, well-spoken, well-educated, the son of a legendary KGB commander and the inheritor of comfort and privilege even in the lean last days of the USSR. He was about Ivan’s own age, but he had a self-possession and a gravitas that made him seem older. He had started training for a career in the Russian security services practically from childhood, and he had pegged Ivan as a particularly promising recruit. “You should come with me,” he said. “We would find an excellent career for you.”

Ivan was never sure how to respond when Morozov started talking like this. He admired the man and was admittedly attracted to him – not just the dark, elegant handsomeness, but the manifest air of being a person who mattered, who made the rest of the world sit up and take notice and play by his rules – and while he knew that Morozov was ruthless, he wasn’t bothered by that and was willing to do the same when it was called for. Ivan didn’t see the world as some nice candy fairy place where good deeds were always rewarded and violence was always wrong, not least since he knew full well that it didn’t work like that. He didn’t have time for these idiots who thought they would get out there and hold hands and change the world with the power of sunshine and kisses or whatever it was. He didn’t.

Then there was one night when Morozov was at Ivan’s apartment, and they had been drinking and making big plans for ruling the world behind the scenes, and Ivan forgot himself entirely and leaned over the table and kissed him. He tried to pull back almost at once, but Morozov didn’t resist. In fact, he leaned in and put a hand behind Ivan’s head and kept him there, and in that moment, Ivan knew that while this might not be personally objectionable for Sasha (his sexuality was undiscussed but evidently fluid), that wasn’t the reason he was going along with it. It was because he knew instinctively that it was a perfect way to control Ivan, to harness his attraction and his weakness and his willingness to go along with whatever Sasha wanted, and in that, despite all the big plans they had put together and the way Ivan had dreamed of his life changing, it was just Konstantin all over again, and Ivan was straight back at the factory on his knees, small and cornered and powerless. It was visceral and it was wrong and it wasn’t the best he would ever do and he wasn’t, he wasn’t taking that.

They pulled back and Sasha made an enquiring noise, like he wanted to know if Ivan was interested in sealing the deal, and instead Ivan ordered him to leave right now, get out. That was the end of their friendship; they never spoke to each other again, and when his third year in the army ran out, which he had already taken voluntarily, he left. He got a job at some Moscow industrial plant and it was there, through the friend of a friend, he met Nadia Zhabina. And it turned out that she was queer (the first time he had ever heard the word spoken in a good way, something he wanted to be, something he didn’t mind accepting, rather than as an attack), and it turned out after that that she had a friend she wanted him to meet, only it clearly meant that she thought they should go out. Like. On a date.

Ivan flatly shut her down. He did not date, he did not want to date, he did not think he would be good at dating, he did not want to meet some pansy city boy from Nizhny Novgorod who he would immediately dislike, and he was not going to do it, the end. Only Nadia really seemed disappointed, and maybe it was not the worst thing to try a little. This would backfire terribly, he would get over it, and move on with his life.

In Ivan’s opinion, the first date with Fedyor Mikhailovich Kaminsky was, at least on his own behalf, a modest success. He was unavoidably late, thanks to the bus running behind schedule, but he introduced himself, his hobbies, and made it clear what sort of person he was and what he was interested in. He even sent a polite follow-up text with an invitation to meet again. There. No questions, no confusion, everything very straightforward and clear. Nothing to complain about. That was how you did a date, yes?

It turned out, however, that Fedyor Mikhailovich was either very reticent, or perhaps confused, or maybe he did not even know that they had been on a date and Nadia had not clearly explained to him. Burned by his experiences at home, knowing how easily word could get out to the wrong people, Ivan did not want to bring up the subject explicitly, but he had to admit to a considerable confusion. Maybe Fedyor actually liked to just mince around Moscow city parks together, like something out of a Tolstoy novel, or to sit on his couch and watch bad American action movies together. (Later, Ivan learned that Die Hard is actually something of a cult classic, but it’s still slightly lost on him.) That wasn’t bad, because Ivan – to his great bafflement and wariness – liked spending time with him. Fedyor wasn’t like him at all, but they clicked nonetheless. He was the exact kind of idealistic activist that Ivan had long disdained, but it was different with him. When Fedya talked, he liked to listen, to dream about a world that really did work that way. It didn’t, but it felt closer.

Besides that, he was cute. He was well-put together. He was charming and vivacious and could talk to people that they met, while Ivan stood scowling with his hands in his pockets and wondered how long this was going to take. He really desperately wanted to kiss Fedya (and for that matter, do other things to him), and he found himself thinking about it a lot. But what if it was like with Sasha again, and it was either Ivan opportunistically taking it for himself, or Fedya selfishly trying to keep him there, to use him for his own purposes? Maybe Fedya was the idiot. He had to know they were together, right? Or were they together? Ivan suddenly wasn’t sure. Damn it! Why didn’t Fedyor subscribe to the school of just being clear about things? Ivan himself had nothing to do with the problem.

But then there came that night, and Fedya cooking dinner and stumbling through trying to ask him if they were maybe something, and in that moment, Ivan found it all so hilarious that the only thing he could do was sit there and let the whole thing play out. Then it turned out, of course, that they were together, and that Fedyor kissed him just as deliciously as Ivan had imagined, and maybe Nadia Zhabina was not so wrong after all.

Maybe she was not wrong in the least.

Ivan takes his supermarket bags to the sunny kitchen of the mostly-remodeled apartment and sets them down. Fedya has picked out all the colors and wallpapers and furniture and paint, and Ivan has done most of the work, since he is gainfully employed as a handyman and repair-person and he doesn’t want to pay some American to half-ass a job that he can do better. The apartment is really quite lovely now. The living room has been done in a pale, springy green, the white plaster moldings washed and repaired, all the junk of the previous owner finally cleared out except for one or two collectibles that they decided to keep. There’s a bookshelf and a desk filled with Fedya’s work things, a couch and a television and a coffee table and new curtains. The bedroom is big and airy, with a ceiling fan and new carpets. Framed pictures and art pieces hang on the wall. It looks like a place where real people live.

Ivan makes breakfast, cooking and stirring and brewing the coffee, and puts it all on a tray. It’s Saturday, so of course Fedya is still asleep, and Ivan pads through the apartment to the closed bedroom door, balancing the tray on his hip long enough to open it and cast a strip of light inside. It takes a moment, but Fedyor rolls over, groggy and tousled and very, very cute with his bed-headed dark hair and squinting eyes. “Vanya? What smells so good?”

“Happy birthday, my love.” Ivan sets the tray on the bedside table and leans down to kiss him, as Fedyor makes a happy humming sound and throws his arms around Ivan’s neck, cuddling against him like a barnacle. “I have made you breakfast.”

(His younger self was wrong, and he has never been so glad of it.)

(This was the best, this is the best, this was waiting for him, this kind of happiness could happen for him, and he is grateful beyond all words that he fought for it and believed it until it did.)

#ivan x fedyor #heartrender husbands #fivan #ivan kaminsky #a phantom in enchanting light #pel asks #anonymous #ask #fivan ff

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hood-ex · 4 years

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Could you do a fic where Dick is sick and vomiting and Jason gets stuck taking care of him and he is reluctant but also really good at it?

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Jason looked outside the window and scowled at the fresh blanket of snow that was piled up outside the cabin. He was so fucking tired of waking up in Norway. It was like living in a non-stop snow wonderland that stretched on for miles and miles around the forest. Jason was mostly miffed because it covered up the pathway he had cleared yesterday for Dick’s drive to the grocery store.

The other thing Jason was annoyed about—other than how much of a pain in the ass it was to try and go anywhere in this kind of weather—was the fact that it was unbearably cold. The cabin that Bruce had gotten for them had a crappy heater that barely did its job. It left a persistent chill inside the cabin that made Jason wake up a lot earlier than usual. His ice-cold toes usually roused him awake, and after he took a hot shower, he always bundled up and started a fire in the fireplace.

The fire he had already started this morning was roaring away and slowly spreading heat throughout the house. Jason turned away from the window and stepped in front of the flames, holding his hands near the fire to warm them.

It was about that time that Jason heard Dick rustling around in his bedroom, finally awake for the day. Jason wouldn’t admit it, but ever since they’d been forced to stay in this cabin, he’d actually preferred Dick’s company rather than being stuck with his own thoughts. It had been a long time since he’d lived with someone else, and he’d come to find some comfort in the morning routine that he and Dick had fallen into.

Jason would wake up and shower first, start the fire, and make them cups of tea. Dick would wake up a little later since he liked to shower at night, and then he would make them both breakfast. After they cleaned up their dishes, they would usually put on their heavy coats and boots before going outside to explore the area. It was one of their only options to get in some exercise in their current situation. After they got back, they would rekindle the fire and sit by it to warm up. Jason would read his book while Dick would slowly strum his guitar, trying to relearn many of the songs he hadn’t played since he was still living at the manor.

The consistency was nice if a little boring at times. But, hey, it was all just temporary. As soon as they got the message from Bruce that it was safe for them to go back home, they would kiss their routine goodbye and go back to their normal lives.

Jason turned away from the fire at the sound of Dick’s door opening. He yelled out his usual, “About time, Sleeping Beauty. I’m starving.”

He turned towards the hallway just in time to see Dick stumble into the bathroom, the door slamming behind him. Jason barely had time to register what was happening before he heard Dick retching into the toilet. It wasn’t just a one and done ordeal either. He heard Dick heave and gag multiple times before the toilet was flushed.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Jason muttered under his breath. “You good?” he called out loudly, not wanting to get anywhere near the bathroom and all its smells.

“No,” Dick said, voice sounding shaky even though it was muffled by the door. He only managed to get out, “I’m gonna—” before throwing up again.

There was a lot more going on in there than just throwing up. Jason crinkled his nose and turned on the TV to drown out all the sounds. The TV, a small flat screen that looked like the only newly updated appliance in the entire cabin, started playing some Norwegian show called Dag. Jason kept an eye on it while he sunk down onto the arm of the couch with a heavy sigh.

Dick getting sick all of a sudden was just their shitty luck. Of course it would happen when Jason was the only one around to take care of him. He wasn’t sure how Dick had even gotten sick in the first place. They were pretty isolated and hadn’t been around other people except for when they went to the grocery store.

The grocery store… which Dick had just gone to… yesterday.

Fuck.

Jason heard Dick start dry heaving, and he shuddered in both sympathy and disgust. He really wasn’t feeling all that hungry anymore now, and he knew Dick definitely wouldn’t be eating anything for a few hours at least.

Since food was out of the question, Jason tried to think of anything he had on hand that would make Dick feel better. The problem was that they really hadn’t come here with much other than clothes, some electronics, weapons, and a first aid kit. Jason knew for a fact that there wasn’t a thermometer in the first aid kid, and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t find a random hot water bottle or heating pad lying around the cabin.

He was running through his options when the bathroom door finally opened up, revealing Dick in nothing but his black sweatpants. Jason looked him over from head to toe, and he frowned when he noticed that Dick’s arms were loosely crossed over his stomach. He also looked a lot paler than normal. Kind of clammy. His arms were shaking slightly like he was cold. Jason wasn’t sure if that was because he had a fever or if it was because the cabin was still a little frosty from the morning air.

“It’s a stomach bug,” Dick said like he was delivering some kind of progress report. “‘M not feeling too good.”

Yeah, no shit, Jason thought.

“C’mere and let me check your head,” he demanded, beckoning Dick forward with a finger. “And try not to fuckin breathe on me. The last thing we need is both of us getting sick.”

Dick must have been feeling pretty bad because he didn’t bother responding with one of his normal quips. He just nodded his head and dragged his feet forward until he was only a foot away.

Jason placed the back of his hand against Dick’s forehead and watched how Dick’s eyes fluttered at the temperature differences between their skin. He tried to be thorough in his examination by cupping both of Dick’s cheeks, feeling his forehead again, and then feeling his cheeks one last time. The skin underneath was hot. Too hot. Fever level kind of hot.

“Congrats,” Jason said, dropping his hands. “You’ve won yourself a fever, a shitty stomach, and a day of bed rest.”

“I—fuck!”

One second Dick was standing in front of him, and the next, he was back in the bathroom throwing up again. This time the door was wide open. Jason hurried over and used his foot to kick it closed.

This became a pattern over the next two hours. At first, Dick kept going to the bathroom to throw up. The more he did it, the weaker and more uncomfortable he got. Jason quickly noticed this after Dick had left the bathroom door wide open once again. He’d seen Dick’s arms shaking as he tried to brace himself against the toilet, and it was at that point that Jason knew he had to make this easier for Dick somehow.

He ended up moving the couch further away from the fireplace since the last thing Dick needed right now was to overheat his body. He did grab one of Dick’s hoodies though just because Dick wasn’t even wearing a shirt and because the cabin was colder than the average home. He also got Dick’s pillow from his bedroom and put it on the couch since it would be way more comfortable than the couch’s decorative pillows. The last thing he dragged in next to the couch was the big trash can from the kitchen so Dick could throw up in it.

“Hey, Barf Wonder, your sickbed awaits,” Jason said as soon as Dick emerged from the bathroom looking even more clammy and wrung out than before.

Dick eyed the trash can next to the couch, looking relieved. He quickly pulled on the light blue hoodie that Jason tossed to him, and then he eased himself down onto the couch in a curled up position. It made him look smaller than usual. More… fragile.

“Thirsty,” Dick mumbled with his eyes closed. “Need to stay hydrated.”

“I know,” Jason sighed, scratching the back of his head. “I’ll get you some ice to suck on if you don’t throw up in the next hour.”

Dick scrunched up his face, clearly unhappy about that.

“You feeling any better?” Jason asked while heading towards the closet for his big coat, gloves, boots, and hat. He needed to go chop some more firewood up and put it away to dry. Might as well do something useful while Dick wasted away on the couch for the rest of the day.

Dick hummed and signed, “Sort of,” with his hands.

Jason slid his red beanie over his head, hoping it didn’t fuck up his hair too much. “Done throwing up?”

“No sé,” Dick yawned. “Hopefully.”

“Got any more diarrhea cha, cha, cha?” Jason smirked.

Dick gave him an unimpressed look. “Beavis and Butt-Head? Really?”

“You’re just lucky I wasn’t yelling, ‘Mama mia, papa pia, Dickie’s gotta diarrhea!’ while you were running around,” Jason said, shoulders shaking with laughter at the idea of it. He ended up laughing so hard that he nearly fell into the closet. He could tell Dick was trying not to laugh with him, probably not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“You’re the fuckin worst,” Dick said instead. He shoved his face into his pillow, and Jason just knew he was smiling into it.

“Hey! I get points for all of this!” Jason said while gesticulating from Dick to the bathroom. “And you owe me for taking care of your sick ass!”

“Owe you what? A bottle of Mr. Clean?” Dick asked once his face wasn’t mashed into his pillow anymore. His eyebrows were all screwed up from it, and because Jason was the best brother in the whole world, he was just going to let Dick live with it.

Jason couldn’t resist when he said, “You mean you're just gonna hand Lex Luthor over to me on a silver platter?”

This time Dick barked out a laugh before he could cover it up, and Jason wouldn’t admit it, but it was nice to see Dick feeling good enough to laugh like that. It felt even better to have proof that he was funny and that Dick couldn’t deny it in front of anyone from now on.

Jason was going to make it very clear that what happened in the cabin in Norway definitely wasn’t going to stay in the cabin in Norway.

Dick would just have to deal with it.

#Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #my fic #anon #ngl writing this story about vomit made me want to throw up while i was writing it LMAO

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misterewrites · 3 years

Text

Threads of Fate 2: Electric Boogaloo (Jason Todd X reader)

Hello everyone, E here with another story! this time it’s part 2 for the story i wrote for my good friend @hains-mae last year for her birthday! so naturally it’s her birthday again cuz that’s how they work! Red Hoodie X reader. I hope you all have an amazing week. I will be trying to write my original story and post it sometime this/next week but we’ll see what happens. Stay safe, take care of yourself, for the love of all that is holy stay inside! wear masks! PLEASE! GET THE FLIPPING VACCINE IF YOU CAN!

E out, byeeeeeee! HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAE!

Here’s both parts conveniently in one place for you (cuz tumblr hates me and my tags)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29955270/chapters/73737858

“Romeo and Juliet? You’re so cliché that troupes are rolling their eyes at you.”

I shoot him a dirty glare “Says the guy that has Pride and Prejudice in his jacket pocket. Yeah yeah” I cut him off before he begins to throw out excuses “I know you say it’s thick enough to stop bullets but you’re not fooling me. You love some classic romance.”

“You’re no Lizzy Bennet” he grumbles behind his mask.

“And you no Mr. Darcy yet I tolerate you all the same.”

“It’s for my charming personality.”

“Certainly not for your face.” I playfully throw back “Smooth, featureless and red isn’t exactly my type.”

“I’m surprise you have a type given your lack of taste in books.”

I roll my eyes “Oh great now the former crime lord is giving me crap about my tastes in book.”

He rose his hands in surrender “Hey, that was my edgy phase.”

“Was? You’re still dressing like a goon from indie action film.”

“You kidding? Goons wish they looked this good.”

“I don’t think any respectable goon would shop at the thrift store.”

“Low blow. Low blow.”

I give the costumed vigilante a sideways smile as we settle into a comfortable silence.

It’s been about two years since Red Hood decided to intrude my quiet life (well as quiet as life could be in Gotham) and we have developed this strange friendship.

Every moment he wasn’t on patrol or at a briefing (coughfamilymeetingcough) he spent here. At first, I thought it was just him checking up on me like some overburdening mother worried their child couldn’t handle a minute in the backyard but I soon realized this became some sort of haven for him, a place for him to just exist. Not quite relax and let his guard down but just to be. No appearances of brutality to keep up, no disappointed glances from his estranged father figure. Just him picking on me because he’s a jerk.

But then again so am I.

I nervously glance at the red string tied snugly around my finger. It pulled off to the side though not too much further from me as its other end was wrapped around Red’s finger.

Strings of fate mom used to call it. My power to see the threads of destiny tying two people deeply together. At first I thought it was love or something junk like that but now I’m thinking maybe it just leads you to someone you need and someone that needs you back.

Or maybe it is love, what do I know? All I know about my power is it makes walking the streets harder than it needs to be. Ever see those old pictures of cities with powerlines just in every freaking direction? The strings are at least ten times worse than that! Luckily they’re not real? Well more an abstract concept that I see and not physical and you know what don’t worry about it.

“So” Red spoke up after a moment “Hungry?”

“After you insulting my taste in books?” I gave a fake pout “Starving. Oh shoot, I forgot to go to the store.”

Red chuckled “You didn’t forget, Penguin decided to try to extort it for protection money.”

“Oh” I blush in embarrassment “Right.”

“And you fell back asleep.”

I waved him off “Sometimes you just wake up, see the news and decide it’s not worth it.”

“I never get to sleep in.” Red rose to his feet “but honestly I’ve always had trouble sleeping.”

The nightmares. He mentioned it once in an off hand comment when he asked me why I toss and turn at loud noises. Gotham just does that too you. Eventually you learn to get ready to bolt at any loud noises over 190 decibels. Fun fact, that’s the noise level of a shotgun fired by your ear or a rocket taking off.

Or Joker laughing on the roof of your apartment building. Let me tell you, nothing’s louder than that madman. Thunder sounds like cats and dogs once you hear the Joker’s manic chuckle just a few feet away from you. One time years ago and I can still feel the chills run down my back whenever I think of it.

“So are you going to order pizza or what?” I asked quizzically “Since you’re aware I don’t have any in the fridge.”

I could practically hear the sarcasm dripping in every word out of his mouth as he held a bag of groceries aloft “I was trained by Batman. I’m always prepared.”

Batman. Whatever his relationship with the dark knight currently is, he always spoke of him with a soft, gentle voice. A quiet pride that out of everyone in the world, the Bat chose him. But with that pride was a hint of shame. Everyone knew Red Hood hadn’t exactly made it easy on the old bat and while Hoodie was changing his ways, there was still some friction between them.

I didn’t say anything though. No point. He knew where he stood with his father figure and bringing it up would just make him sully. Besides I was way too curious to know how good of a cook he was.

I marveled in an awe silence as he expertly placed the various ingredients across my messy counter. He chuckled to himself as he cleared it to make space for dinner. I could feel my cheeks burn.

Watching him was oddly mesmerizing: His movements were precise yet graceful for someone with his build. He glided across the floor effortlessly, smoothly dicing whatever he brought one moment then by the time I blinked, he was warming up the frying pan by the stove.

Soon an incredible smell filled the air while the sizzling of meat practically had me drooling.

“Your chin.” Red motioned to my lip with a spatula. I brought up my hand and flinched at how moist it was. Okay so it was drool. Sue me! You’d be drooling too if you had to deal with waiting for whatever heavenly meal he was cooking, okay?

Desperate to change the subject, I piped up “Should be I concern how well you handle that knife?”

He gave a casual wave with said instrument “I hold the power of destruction and creation in my hand.”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

Red coughed loudly “I’ve trained with various weapons knives included. You’d be surprised how much overlap happens between cooking and weapons handling.”

“Right. Sure. That’s a totally normal statement.”

“What about me” He gestured to himself “Is normal?”

“Fair point.” I conceded.

-----

“Am I forgiven?”

I grumbled a half answer as I tried not to let on how delicious this meal was. I don’t make the best money and let me tell you before this the fanciest thing I ever ate was some overpriced pasta from some restaurant chain. This easily beat anything I have ever tasted except mom’s cooking but I hadn’t had that in years.

Red snorted, his voice smooth and melodic not filtered through some robotic alternation. I didn’t really had a dining room or a dinner table so we sat comfortably on my couch, tv playing some nonsense in the background as we both took in the sight of the city beyond my modest window. The lower part of his mask retracted backwards via some kind of high tech witchcraft and allowed him to eat his food without needing to show the rest of his handsome face.

I mean I think it was handsome. I assumed it was handsome given I accidentally figured out who was under the whole persona he set up for himself. I never told him that I knew though I suspect he knew that I figured it out. He was smart even if he acted like an idiot and it really was for the best. Plausible deniability. If I never asked, he never needed to answer.

“You know if you want me to cook again, you need to forgive me. Otherwise I’m not gonna waste my time anymore.” Red threatened with a tease.

I let out an exasperated groan “Fine, fine! It’s good. It’s the best food I’ve ever had! Is that what you want to hear?”

“Naturally. Though I could never compete with Alfred. He has no equal in the kitchen. Better than my brothers though. They can’t cook to save their lives. Tim practically lives on fast food.”

I stopped shoving food into my maw as an icy chill ran through my body. The comfy silence that filled my humble apartment turned tense.

One of those names I could pretend away: Tim? Alfred? Every day common names. But together? Tim AND Alfred. Everyone knew every member of the Wayne family because they were the only rich family in Gotham who didn’t want to screw everyone else over. And he brought up his brothers. That was the final nail in the coffin.

I put down my fork slowly. I could feel myself breath heavily but I refused to see him. I refused to meet his mask with nothing but my own shocked reflection to look back at me.

“I know you know who I am.” He said simply.

I could feel the syrupy urge to look at him ebbing at my resolve.

I swallowed uneasily “What now? What happens to me?”

‘Us’ I left unasked.

Silence.

“I don’t know”

I tried to calm my breathing but I could feel panic grip at me: Does this mean he’s not going to come anymore? Does this mean I have to go into witness protection? Is Batman going to scold me?!

“But I want to.”

I couldn’t help myself. I turned to him and for one of the few times in my life I was left speechless.

I was not staring at Red Hood. I found myself not looking at the smooth, featureless mask I had grown accustom to these last two years but Jason Todd.

Out of all of Bruce Wayne’s children, Jason was the one who seemed to just fall off the face of the Earth. There was a rumor he had died a few years back but those were debunked when he appeared without warning, just walking the streets of Gotham like he went on an extended vacation.

There wasn’t too many pictures of the enigmatic Mister Todd but that quick glance I had gotten forever ago did not do him justice: He was my age. His eyes were a piercing blue that I did not know could be that shade. I know it’s cliché but I felt like he was staring directly into my soul. His face was rugged, rough but still handsome. His hair was a messy jet black but there was few streaks of white that looked too natural to be dyed.

“I….didn’t see anything?” I offered helpfully, giving him a chance to put the mask on and pretend this none of this ever happened.

His nose wrinkled as he gave me a playful scoff. I could feel my heartbeat roaring in my ears.

“I’m not that ugly. Better looking than Dick.” he joked playfully.

“I dunno. Dick’s got the better ass.” I mumbled out, still too caught guard from the whole reveal.

“But I got the muscles.”

“Yes you do.” I eyed his body carefully then flushed a bright pink.

That knocked me out of my stupor.

“Are you sure you want me to know?” I whispered, unable to keep the fear out of my voice “I mean I didn’t mind pretending I didn’t know.”

“I do.”

His face soften and for a moment he didn’t look like Jason Todd, wayward son of Bruce Wayne or the Red Hood, moral gray compress of the batfam.

He just look like a regular guy who needed someone.

Evidently me it seemed.

I took a calming breath and offered my hand. He stared at me like I’m crazy but I kept it outstretched.

He took it gingerly and shook carefully, still unsure what was going on.

“Hello Jason Todd.” I beamed cheerfully “It’s nice to meet you!”

He said nothing, instead opting to smile softly.

“Nice to meet you too.”

I stared at the metaphysical string that tied us so neatly together.

I have never seen it that red before. And has it always been that thick?

I wonder what that means.

Eh, it’s probably nothing. I had other things to worry about.

#My story #Red Hood #Reader #Red Hood x Reader #Birthday!

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samwritesforyou · 3 years

Text

Booked (pt.2)

Summary: you decided to go grocery shopping since the amount of people in your house significantly grew and diego keeps you company. after that crazy hargreeves family prompts you for a beach trip?

Warnings: gender-neutral reader

Wordcount: 2.1k

A/N: this fic is making me feel things, i cant quite place it. like... whenever i write it i feel weirdly at home?? idk :D feel free to share your thoughts either in tags or comments! its Very appreciated and motivating, actually! have a lovely day! <3

part one can be found here!

“Okay but if we kill them, nobody will have any questions, will they? We just bought a house and they moved somewhere far away!” was the first thing you heard, as you have awakened from your “nap”, deciding to keep your eyes shut just for a moment longer, not to lose it again.

“Five!” seems like everyone else said that in unison, grunting and groaning.

Okay, they don’t want to kill you. That’s great. You think it’s safe to open your eyes now.

You were laying on the king-sized bed upstairs, all siblings huddled up around you, watching intensely.

All the chatter between them came to a stop when they noticed that you woke up.

“So.. you’re like all superheroes or something?” you said tiredly, despite feeling rested.

Your mind still felt fuzzy from that info, hearing about such thing only from the tv series or sci-fi genres.

“Guess so,” Luther piped up, shrugging his massive shoulders and offering you a small smile.

Your eyes slowly drifted towards the kid standing by the frame of the bed, wearing a serious expression.

He sighed and frowned at you.

“To be clear, I’m not a kid and I’m actually older than all of you here. I’m a time traveller and I witnessed more in my life than any of you,” his passive-aggressiveness was directed at you, but by the choice of words it felt like he was talking to everyone who was present in the room, “There’s going to be an apocalypse by the end of the summer and our job is to stop it. We failed once, but we won’t fail twice. We rented this house, thinking it would be a good place where we can practise our powers without anyone interfering with us, so please,” his face turned into an exaggerated, wide smile, “don’t get in our way nor mention it to anybody. Thank you,” and as he finished his angry monologue, the blue colour filled the space around him as he disappeared in the thin air, right in front of your eyes.

Hm. Okay?

Only two seconds passed after that, when another sibling started talking to you.

“And I can talk with the dead!” he said happily, spreading his hands in the air like so monk preaching.

“We have a dead brother who’s named Ben and one day I will definitely let you two meet once I learn how to properly conjure him,” he concluded, very pleased with himself.

“Hi, Ben,” you just said with a warm smile on your face, somewhere into the air next to Klaus.

He literally cooed at your action, coming over to you and giving you a quick hug with a pat on the back.

“Okay, maybe we can reveal all our powers later, but let’s leave (y/n) to rest a bit, alright?” Allison proposed, rushing everyone out of the room and then just sparing you a wave and an apologetic smile, closing the doors and leaving you alone.

Maybe you can get used to all this madness. To this family.

You really rested after that.

A room had a roof-window, so laying on that bed allowed you to look up at the sky and lazy, white clouds that every so often rolled along with the blue background.

Soon enough you heard muffled chatter downstairs, this old house being absolutely the worst in being soundproof.

It all reminded you of simpler times, actually, no matter the crazy circumstances.

But enough was enough, and closer to the middle of the day you managed to get out of the bed and descend to the first floor by the wooden stairs, looking around.

Suddenly it seemed quiet.

You shrugged at that and just made your way towards the door, energetically jumping down the few stairs from the veranda and felt your feet hit the hard tartan surface.

Since it was six (plus one spiritually) more people than you were used to having in your home, you decided it was only logical for you to go and buy more food into the local store.

You almost reached the gate to go outside of your property as you heard some fast steps behind you, catching up to you.

When you turned around, you saw a man with longer hair and almost expression on his face.

“Uh... hey, you’re going somewhere?” he asked, brushing the back of his neck.

“To the market, why?” you asked, tilting your head sideways at him.

“Well.. don’t laugh, but I wanted to jog a little, but got concerned that I might get lost..” the end of his sentence was almost inaudible already as he lowered his voice, “so.. mind keeping me company?”

That kind of surprised you and as you slowly realised the meaning of the said words that came out of his mouth you bit the inside of your right cheek *hard*, just not to laugh.

What a silly guy. Getting lost in this hole?

But sure, why not keep him company.

“Be sure to catch up with me though,” you teased as you basically broke into the run, opening the gate and hopping straight onto your bike and starting pedalling really hard to get as far away from him, finally bursting out laughing at the significant distance.

“What?!” was the only thing you heard from him and then you felt the breeze from the hot summer air caressing your cheeks as you were passing your neighbours in the well-known road.

“You seem happier than usual today, darling!” some granny said to you from her garden and you just waved in reply with a huge grin plastered on your face.

After spending last years of your youth more or less alone, you couldn’t even phantom the thought of people your age living with you for the eternity of one summer.

You could never complain about a life you had here, it was all you ever wanted, but the connection with the people of the similar age to you was really lacking sometimes.

And the absolute joy that was washing over you right now was the witness.

You slowed your pace after some time, pretty soon being followed by jogging Diego, beads of sweat rolling down his muscular hands.

Your gaze lingered for a second longer than necessary and you quickly tore it away from him, a slight blush creeping on your cheeks as you now looked straight ahead of you at the road.

“I’m not the best runner, but also not the worst, hun,” he said between the breaths as you continued your ride/walk and you just smiled.

“Pretty decent, I’d say,” you finally stopped at the market’s “parking lot” where there were two spaces for cars and at least a dozen of handles for bikes.

You put yours into one of them, not even bothering to lock it. Everyone knows each other here and everyone knows you.

A young person in the village mostly consisted of people in retirement.

“Alright, what do we have here,” said Diego as he followed you into the store that reminded him of something out of the 70s, really old school design and brands that he never heard of before.

“Everything is mostly homemade here,” you answered, making your way towards the fridge with cold drinks, opening it and throwing him a cola can, “except these bad boys.”

“Hell yeah,” he smirked and then looked around, but his gaze kind of kept wandering back at you, while you were too busy picking the right type and amount of groceries.

Why would you live here all by your lonesome?

“So..” you finally heard him say, as you checked out and we’re both putting the groceries into the deep basket on your bike, “you seem pretty chill with us being.. abnormal.”

You briefly looked up at him when your fingers accidentally touched between the cans of soda and glasses of milk and then your hand moved the other way, eyes too.

“Well.. who’s to say what’s normal and what’s not in this world, honestly?” you jumped on your seat when you were done with loading and started your ride back.

“I know,” he agreed, jogging way less intensely now as your pace appeared much slower, “but seven siblings all having some weird shit powers is... kind of crazy, don’t you think?”

That made you nod, “Yes, of course. But still, I’m not too baffled about this. What are the odds that a village person like me would even get into a situation like this?” you asked rhetorically, gaze fixed on the rocky-sandy road ahead, “You should accept life as it is! Confusion and denial are a waste of time,” you concluded and extended your left hand as you were driving past an apple tree and managed to rip two fruits at the same time, offering one to Diego - all while still riding a bike.

“I have my superpowers too,” you laughed a little and winked at him, making him flustered as he tried to hide it by biting into his apple.

“What do we have here?” Klaus welcomed both of you at the entrance to the summer house, topless and in a skirt.

“We just bought some groceries since we’re capable of eating the whole fridge out in a day,” Diego deadpanned as he - despite your protests - unloaded your bike storage and went into the house to put the bags there, his arms showing extra muscle that’s normally hidden when his body is relaxed.

Your stare lingered for longer than necessary and Klaus *definitely* picked upon that.

“Darling, if you want to get Diego, be a bit more straightforward with him. He’s a dum-dum,” with the last word he knocked on his own head with a finger and rolled his eyes, giggling playfully afterwards and smacking you on the shoulder.

You defensively did the same, blushing and looking anywhere but at Diego nor Klaus.

Hmmmm, such interesting trees you’re having at your own garden all of the sudden.

“But hey, we’ve all decided that before we start training for the inevitable doom of us all, we would take a break for at least a few days and just go to the beach. When we were coming up we noticed the sea behind all the forests, like.. four kilometres from here?” he looked at you with question, “Have you ever been to the beaches there? Could you guide us?”

You gave it thought only for a brief second and then nodded with a confident smile.

“Sure! I haven’t been there in a year or two but the beaches are still the same, I bet,” you answered and put your hands on hips in a cool posture.

“Thank god!” he impulsively hugged you and let go that instant, “otherwise Five said he wouldn’t let you go with us,” he pouted and then sighed, making his way towards their rusty turquoise-ish car.

You followed him, his words piquing your interest.

“Why does he hate me so much? And why is his name Five?” you narrowed your eyes, plopping yourself on the front seat and sat sideways so you could look at Klaus while talking to him.

“Well, darling...” he started, animatedly throwing his arms in the air, “Five was always a strict man, especially after he came from the future, where he spent like billion years and now he’s 50 year old and always shoves this fact into our young baby faces,” he clearly complained and with annoyed expression continued, “and he’s Five because my name is “officially” Four, but Five was the only one of us who disappeared from the house before our dad even bothered to give us names instead of numbers,” he finished but then remembered and continued, “Actually, it was our AI robotic mom Grace who gave us names,” now he was finished, from somewhere materialising a bottle in his hand and taking a sip from it.

“Anyways, beach trip, babeyyyy!”

“Huh..” you just blinked a few times at him as you heard a hoard of different voices going your way.

You wanted to get out of the car to let them sit however they wanted - you were the odd one out after all - but then they all hoarded in there so quickly that you couldn’t even react, being left in the front seat.

Driver’s seat next to you was empty for now.

As you looked back, Klaus was sitting right behind you, next to him Vanya and on the other side Diego, looking out the window.

Behind them was supposed to be a storage area but they apparently turned it into some diy seats as well, Luther and Allison sitting there, not minding the small space.

Soon the blue sort-of-teleport appeared next to you at the driver’s place and Five briefly threw his gaze at you, swiftly starting the car.

The whole inside of the vehicle roared and you were on your way towards the beach, with you as a main gps they had.

Lovely taglist: @radcloudenthusiast @spacenerdpascal @white-wolf-buckaroo @a-girl-who-loves-disney @undead--ghost

NEXT PART→

#diego x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #tua diego #diego reader insert #the umbrella academy #tua fanfic #umbrella academy x reader #diego hargreeves #number two #number two x reader

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pinnithin-writes · 3 years

Text

The Valley

The beginning of an original horror I submitted for grad school. 4503 words.

A thin howl stretched lean across the New Mexico dusk. The desert was sleepy, its hot sand settling into a gentle cool like the ticking shutoff of a pickup engine. Porch lights flicked on in time with the stars as the town of Lonely Valley drew inside for the night. This was the hour of dogs.

Lonely Valley was a small town, a generational town, circulating bloodlines and traditions and ghost stories like the pinwheel of stars overhead, and its residents knew not to travel the old dirt roads late at night. Stay inside, leave a light on, let the tumbleweeds pass by, and sweep the paw prints off the porch when the sun comes up.

Jude Garcia knew the whispers, the stories that passed from mouth to ear to mouth across grocery lines and over glasses of whiskey. He was born here, had grown up here, and would likely die here, with Guadalupe County clay permanently under his fingernails. It was later than comfortable to be out walking. The scent of sagebrush sighed in on the cool wind as he crunched down the road toward his house.

He was safe, probably. Safe for now. Even with the distant sound of dogs wailing from the desert beyond, he knew how to avoid them. He remembered his mother’s advice, and her mother’s advice, and so on. Don’t look over your shoulder. Don’t shine a light in the dark. Don’t worry, don’t worry, don’t worry.

And, if all else failed, run to the inn.

Jude didn’t have much to worry about. At least, not much more than the average resident of Lonely Valley did—stuck in the middle of nowhere, living in a rut of habit so deep it was impossible to climb out of. Shitty cell signal. Shittier roads. He jammed his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans, using the emerging moonlight to guide him as he trudged home.

No, he wasn’t worried, just frustrated. He’d already settled in for the night, kicking his feet up on the ottoman to watch Seinfeld reruns when he remembered he’d left his phone at his workstation. A couple beers in, he didn’t feel up to drive, and the thrift store was only a few blocks away, as everything was in Lonely Valley. So he walked, kicking up dry, dusty clay all over his jeans, goatheads embedding in the soles of his sneakers.

Darkness gathered quickly. He was almost home.

He wasn’t worried. He wasn’t. Concerned, perhaps, since he’d gotten the news of his sister’s condition earlier that week, but she was going to be fine. She was folded into the practiced hands of the Santa Rosa hospital staff, and she had a real job with real money in a real town, so she could afford it. Her heart was stronger than his, even with a hole in its tissues.

It was easy not to worry in the daylight, when the eggwhite sun burned hot on their heads. When the nearest beast was the toothy, painted dog sign at the visitor’s center. It was much more difficult now, with the cool air lifting his collar and his worrying forbidden through bloodlines.

A shift of dry sand, a panted breath behind him, and suddenly Jude was no longer thinking about his wallet or his job or his sister. He froze mid-stride on the dirt road, hair on his neck prickling. In the absence of his footfalls, only the sigh of wind and the chirrup of night creatures could be heard, but his heart rate climbed all the same. Don’t worry, he told himself, don’t worry.

Still, nothing came, so he kept walking, alert now to his surroundings. Straining to catch a long black tail, a reflected pupil in the dark. He stopped and started and stopped again, hearing the quiet snick of claws on gravel, or maybe imagining he heard it. His hand found the iron cross in his pocket, and he gripped it tight.

They were following him now. How could they not be, with the emotional racket he had been making? Jude worked his stride up to a faster clip, shoving away the cold pit of dread in his stomach. Squares of yellow melted out into the streets from the houses he passed, banding him with light and agitating the animals that pursued him.

The dogs didn’t like the light, didn’t like to be seen, sticking like tar to the shadows as their breath condensed on his heels. Jude Garcia whispered a prayer under his breath, guessing too late his faith made them hungrier.

There. His house. Leaning wearily in the darkness up ahead. A rush of air left him, and he fished in his jeans for his keys. A fumbled jingle rang out in the night, stopped short by the pair of eyes that met him on the front porch steps.

The black dogs of Lonely Valley weren’t necessarily dogs but something like them, with long legs and long ears and long red tongues hanging from their pointed jaws. They kept to the shadows so their limbs could not be counted, and one could never quite be sure of how many eyes they had, twin rings blinking white and watchful from the dark.

Snarls and snaps came from the surrounding night, and he realized he was encircled by a whole pack of them.

He ran.

---

Ramona used to tell people she knew the desert better than she knew her own mind. Growing up, this had always been the case—she’d spent hours in the sagebrush and sand, learning the names of the wildlife, the sound of the wind, and the smell of an infrequent storm rolling in from the west. She knew every rock in Guadalupe County and every creature that lived underneath them, and she did not know herself.

At eighteen, she’d since stopped saying this, as it was no longer an impressive boast but a sad fact.

This was because she was a Lopez, and every Lopez knew Lonely Valley intimately but were strangers to themselves. This was so with her two brothers, father, and her mother, she assumed, though she never knew her. The four of them lived and worked at the Black Dog Inn, hub of Lonely Valley—or, at least, that was what the sign said. The red and blue neon still worked even after seventy years, flickering and humming out hope in the canine darkness.

On most mornings, Ramona would sweep up the dust in the front lobby and knock the spiderwebs from the corners of the rooms, but today was unusual because they had a guest. This was heralded by a pounding on their door around ten o’clock last night, when the moon was thin and the night was close and purple, and Jude Garcia had come tumbling in their front door. Ramona and Luca, her younger brother, had been working the front desk—if chucking a stress ball back and forth over the counter qualified as working—when it happened.

It wasn’t the first or last time the desert dogs had hunted someone all the way to the inn. Their family had a reputation for protecting the townspeople and the secrets they ran from. Luca handled the guest—the patient, really—and Ramona handled the dogs. This was how they always did it, because Ramona was bad with people and Luca was bad with dogs, not necessarily because either of them preferred their respective duties.

She’d swung open the screen door and rang the old iron bell the animals hated so much until they melted back into the darkness. They’d be back, but not for a while. When morning broke, safe and silent, Ramona made herself scarce while her father checked on the guest. Most often when they had visitors, they’d stay a night, recover in the morning, and return home safely that day, trusting the Lopez family to keep their secrets as they always did. Sometimes, when the dogs were especially hungry, the person they fed on would have to stay for weeks or months, remembering who they were, but that hadn’t happened since Ramona was twelve.

Sometimes, they never remembered who they were and wandered into the desert to never return. But that hadn’t happened in Ramona’s lifetime.

The town of Lonely Valley was nine square miles of nothing, cupped by shallow mesas furred up and down with juniper and pinyon pine. A train track cut through the landscape like a spinal column, whistling in the night in a mournful way that haunted visitors and comforted residents. Ramona and her brothers used to stack pennies on the rails and wait for the locomotives to come chugging through, fishing the flattened copper out of the wells between the tracks after they’d passed. Luca liked to claim these were luckier than regular pennies, while Ramona argued that luck didn’t exist and it was all science. When pressed, Dominic would say luck was something you made yourself, revealing a mysterious smile before pocketing his coin.

Dominic didn’t go down by the train tracks much anymore. He was busy trying to make his own luck by applying to jobs in places far away from the valley. His smile was reserved only for interviews, and it was no longer mysterious.

Places like the railroad were where Ramona tended to hang out in the summer, because adults didn’t feel much like picking their way through the briars and camelthorn just for a couple of parallel lines and occasional passing freight. Adults needed more reward for their efforts, like a fantastic view after a mindless, exhausting hike, or a business deal after a mindless, exhausting meeting. It wasn’t enough to just dwell amongst the larkspur in your sunhat and listen to the approaching chuggachuggachugga while a jay screamed. It wasn’t enough to just sit and be.

Ramona liked the railroad, and she liked the dump site on the outskirts of town with its overturned, out-of-tune baby grand, and she liked the Dollar General parking lot and its sun-buckled blacktop. She liked haunting odd, undesirable places, because no place was really undesirable once she got to know it. Ramona spent a lot of time getting to know places nobody wanted anything to do with, and often she found herself falling in love with them.

She was down by the tracks right now, in the shade of a pathetic, scraggly spruce, throwing pieces of gravel at the steel beams from a few yards away to make a ting sound. It was a few hours past noon, and her cuffed jeans were dusted with clay after digging around in the rail wells, nearly washing them the same color as her red-brown hotel T-shirt. It was originally a bright, cheerful scarlet, but the sand and sun had bleached it out to a fine dirt color, as it did with most things here.

Inez Ferro’s arrival was announced only by her shadow falling across Ramona’s line of sight. Ramona threw another rock, missed, and frowned. She watched the shadow curl against itself as Inez bent to pick up a pebble of her own. A flick of a wrist in her periphery, and it went sailing past Ramona to ping solidly against the rail.

Some people, when they said they were born in Lonely Valley, really meant they were born at the hospital in Santa Rosa forty miles away. When Inez Ferro said she was born in Lonely Valley, she meant the bathtub in her parents’ double wide, because her mother didn’t believe in hospitals or medicine or anything else that wasn’t mentioned in the fat leatherbound Bible she kept on her nightstand. Inez had come screaming into existence seventeen years ago and hadn’t stopped screaming since, meeting the world with knives in her boots and sharpened knuckles. Her mother called Inez her prickly pear. Her father called Inez dead weight.

Inez didn’t much care what others called her, so long as they kept out of her business. What Inez did with her spare time only made sense to Inez, and the people who got along with her best were those who had given up trying to understand her. Once, Inez told Ramona she was her worst friend by far. Ramona wore the sentiment like a badge of honor.

Inez’s voice was low and rough as the wind in scrubgrass when she asked, “They got another one?”

Ramona let the rest of the rocks in her hand fall to the dust at her feet and turned to look at her. Inez was staring at Ramona with a dark, piercing stare that always looked accusatory, even when it wasn’t. The bones of her shoulders stood out where she cut the sleeves off her black graphic tee. Pointy thumbs hooked in her belt loops. Inez was always taking a knife to her appearance, hacking away her hair and slicing through her jeans. Ramona tried not to worry about what else Inez’s blades touched.

“Mister Garcia,” Ramona affirmed.

“That guy who works at the thrift shop?”

“Yeah.” Then, as an afterthought, she added, “He’ll be fine,” even though she knew Inez didn’t really care.

“You’re feeding them tonight,” Inez said, sharply. Everything about her was sharp—elbows, fingers, smile. It wasn’t a question.

Ramona gnawed on her lip as hot wind blew in her face. “You can come,” she answered.

Inez was very good at appearing disinterested when she was in truth very interested, but because Ramona had spent years digging into her mind, she knew what the glint in her eye meant. To her credit, she managed to pull off a lackadaisical shrug that almost looked casual. “Sure. Didn’t have any plans otherwise. I mean,” she paused, smirking, “unless you count being a general delinquent.”

Ramona snorted, recalling her older brother’s choice words for them. In all reality they should have been spending their evening being general delinquents. This was their last summer here in the sun-baked valley of their hometown before their final year of high school, and after that they were expected to apply for colleges or join the military and move away. Each graduating class got a little bit closer to escaping, but a few always remained, either for familiarity or bad luck’s sake. Ramona knew she’d probably be one to stay behind and was almost certain Inez would skip town as soon as she turned eighteen.

She wanted to make the most of their last summer together, kicking around in the dry riverbed and making fun of Elliot for his accent and getting chased away from the gas station by Miss Barela and her broom. Biting down on the inside of her cheek, she looked away, her throat suddenly tight.

“I’ve still got to pick some stuff up,” she said once she’d dragged her facial expression back to something manageable. She rattled the bag over her shoulder, jostling the railroad spike and the copper coins inside.

“I’ll help,” Inez intoned.

“Sure.”

It wasn’t fair; Ramona was never allowed to offer her own assistance to Inez, whose mouth would cut until Ramona backed off. But she wasn’t about to open old wounds now.

Loaded down with supplies, Ramona and Inez’s hike back to the inn concluded with soft guitar music on the porch. The setting sun bathed the adobe walls and a pair of dusty boots kicked up on the railing a warm red. Ramona recognized the voice crooning from her porch swing immediately. It blended sweetly with the soft plucked chords.

Was a cowboy I knew in south Texas

His face was burnt deep by the sun

Part history, part sage, part mesquit

He was there when Poncho Villa was young

And he'd tell you a tale of the old days

When the country was wild all around

Sit out under the stars of the Milky Way

And listen while the coyotes howl

At this, the singer’s curly head tipped back and he let out a loud “awoo!”

The distant song that answered him was too long and lonely to be a coyote, and it made the hair on the back of Ramona’s neck rise.

The best place to hide secrets was in plain sight, and this held true for the desert dogs of Lonely Valley as much as any other secret. A hundred miles north of Ruidoso, the town didn't get much traffic beyond the pronghorn herd that clouded in and around Guadalupe County, so it sold itself on ghost stories to turn a profit. Many residents who didn’t work in the city peddled whispers and worries alongside T-shirts and trinkets to any travelers passing through. The long black dogs that fed on feelings were a curiosity of the town, a charming oddity that drew road trippers off the highway for a tamale and a picture in front of the town sign.

Local shops had paw print keychains at the register next to the little trays of geodes, and the cashier would smile and wink when their total came out to $6.66. Ramona was particularly fond of the gas station tees that read “Don’t Eat Your Feelings” printed over a dog silhouette. Visitors were warned not to stay out past dark in Lonely Valley, and they usually didn’t, because there was nothing fun to do in Lonely Valley past dark, anyway.

This left a small, curious minority of ghost hunters, vloggers, and conspiracy theorists who hungered for the supernatural. The Lopez family buffered these visitors as best as they could, though often their curiosity was sabotaged by local teens making noises in the dark, freezing their blood to ice with a bucket, a stick, and some creative mimicry. Most of the morbidly nosey cleared out after a night in the Russian olives with only the moon for company.

That is, save one person, who prickled Ramona like a burr stuck to her sock. Elliot James.

He was a Lonely Valley resident only by technicality, living with his aunt in the summer while his musician parents went on tour. He flew back to Austin every fall when school started up, to clean the dirt out from under his nails and forget about the desert for nine months, and for this crime Ramona habitually disliked him.

Inez, however, enjoyed his company because he was loud and weird and lovely and her parents hated him. She let him in on the secret of the desert dogs when they were fifteen, and Ramona had eventually forgiven this discrepancy after several months of seething. She didn’t care if Elliot tagged along anymore—he had proven his value to the creatures of the night with the lovesick collection of B-sides he could strum on his acoustic.

The dogs loved him. Sometimes, perhaps, more than they loved Ramona, which was another obstacle of dislike she was working on clearing. It didn’t help he held an uncanny ability to show up all over Lonely Valley unannounced and uninvited.

“Lovely night for a hike!” Elliot said in lieu of greeting, silencing the still humming strings of his guitar with a flattened palm.

He smiled sunnily as Ramona ascended the porch steps with Inez trailing behind her. Elliot James was handsome in the way a well-made armoire was, warm and loved and handcrafted. He was the only outsider who was welcome in Lonely Valley because he disarmed and charmed in equal measure with his lovesick songs and his starfield of freckles. Elliot dropped his boots to the deck with two solid thunks as he stood, angling the neck of his guitar aside to bump knuckles with Inez as she joined them on the porch.

Ramona crossed her arms, determinedly resistant to his charm. “I guess you’re coming too, huh?”

Elliot’s smile was unwavering. “Oh, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Lonely Valley’s favorite tourist rounded out the trio of teens who kept the desert dogs fed. Ramona still wasn’t sure why her father had so willingly accepted both Inez and Elliot into the fold when he himself had never been permitted to bring along friends growing up. But perhaps that missed childhood opportunity was the reason.

Inez leaned against the railing, studying Elliot. “You sure? Last time you cried.”

Elliot pressed a dramatic hand to his chest, feigning insult. “And? It was helpful, wasn’t it?”

Ramona shifted the bag she carried to her other shoulder. “I’ve just gotta grab some stuff inside, and we can go,” she said. Her eyes fell to the acoustic Elliot carried. “I hope you're bringing the guitar.”

Elliot patted the polished wood good-naturedly. “Her name,” he corrected without venom, “is Winona. Of course I’m bringing her.”

Swinging through the screen door, Ramona left her friends to wait on the front porch. She tried not to think about how similar her name sounded to ‘Winona’ in his voice.

---

The sagebrush snagged at their ankles as they climbed. Ramona’s rucksack banged against her back, and dust caked beneath her fingernails. This last scramble was short but strenuous, pulling at the tendons in their calves, grabbing at their shoulders, beckoning the climbers back to the safety of the valley. The dog-sounds that cradled the hikers sent tremors through their ranks.

Mesa Luna was a sacred place, if only to the shivering pines that crested it and the children traipsing to its summit. It was built upon rumors and rattlesnakes, and its sharp, thin line on the horizon was the sun’s eternal hurdle to jump. It was a giant at night, blue and looming. Standing atop its siltstone table, Ramona always felt cosmic—detached in a way—like Lonely Valley and Mesa Luna and Ruidoso and Guadalupe County were all just meaningless labels for a cupped handful of miracles. Here, the land didn’t have names; the night creatures sang, and Ramona Lopez was one of them.

Generation to generation, each member of the Lopez family found their own way to feed the hounds. Emilio used to drive his battered white truck out to Holy Point and play a fiddle on a schedule kept like clockwork. His mother Gianna before that sank to her knees in Wolf Creek, shivering out prayers until the surrounding dogs were satisfied. Her mother preceding her sat on the back porch of their very inn, reading stories out loud to the quiet, panting night, a gentle flirtation with nightmares.

Ramona climbed to the top of Mesa Luna and frightened herself.

In the most recent years, she had helpers, but prior to that she would scale the tallest Ponderosa that hugged the cliff face and lean out over the rocky riverbed below. With nothing between her and the ground but the cool, empty air, Ramona would cling to her nerve and the tree bark while her heart threw itself against her ribcage. And the dogs would gather below her, hungry and expectant, until it was time to disperse.

These days, it was different. These days, it was a little easier on her heart. Ramona had been hesitant to allow Inez, and later Elliot, to join her out under the swathe of stars, but now it was a comfort. This was no longer a lonely ritual built to scare her soul. This was a commune with the gods, and Ramona did not know or care whether those gods were the creatures of the night or the three teenagers who ventured into it.

The three sat together in the dust around an empty fire pit that had lain cold since the annual burn bans rolled in. Ramona carried a walking stick with an iron nail driven through the bottom, wood grain worn under generations of fingers. A lacework of satin ribbon tied in knots of threes sat against Inez’s collarbones. Elliot kept sprigs of rosemary and dried chili peppers in his pockets.

They could sense the dogs nearby in an eruption of goosebumps on their arms, the hair rising on their necks. Ramona meticulously unpacked her rucksack and withdrew what she needed. Copper pennies, tossed in a circle around them. A dogeared book of Anne Carson poems. The industrial flashlight her father kept in his pickup. And the old iron bell, just in case, the clapper wrapped in cloth to keep it silent.

The dogs could draw near, but they could not make contact. There was debate among Lonely Valley residents if the talismans and the pennies and the prayers said in triplicate did any good. A trick of the light, of the mind, a placebo to keep the thoughts from wandering. The Lopez family straddled the line between arguments. If it worked, did it matter if it was real or not?

Ramona angled her chin to Elliot, speaking in a low voice. “You wanna start this time?” Behind his shoulder, she could see a pair of round white eyes watching from the surrounding ink. The animals were hungry.

Elliot’s smile was not as sunny as it had been on the porch of the Black Dog Inn, but he made a valiant attempt as he fingered a chord on his guitar and strummed.

I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger

Traveling through this world below

There is no sickness, toil, or danger

In that bright land to which I go

I'm going there to see my Father

And all my loved ones who've gone on

I'm only going over Jordan

I'm only going over home

And so it went. Each took their turn leaving offerings, feeding off one another’s emotions with as much voracity as the dogs fed on them. They crooned and cried and sang and the dog’s voices joined them. Ramona recited passages from the book that made her heart ache. Inez chilled them to the bone with a ghost story and a Zippo under her chin, making the dogs flicker on the edges of their vision.

The animals circled and drank up their feelings, genuine heart song rising on the mists of their breath into the air. When it came time for them to disperse, the moon was a cold, bright point overhead. Sated, melting ink stains, the dogs were there and then were not, their absence noted by the warming of the night. The tension ebbed from the trio’s shoulders.

Quiet lay the valley. The town was at rest once more. Ramona never felt more alive than she did during these times; this was in her blood and her nerves and every particle of her heart, and though she did not know herself, she knew where she belonged.

#ink #the valley #fiction #horror #mystery

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 5)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Deceit, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 My Master Post

Emile hummed a quick tune as he pulled into the grocery store parking lot near his apartment. He’d just finished his last session of the day with Kai and Remy had asked that he watch Virgil this evening after work and possibly this weekend, so Emile was picking up something to cook for dinner before heading over there. He was going to grab ingredients to make Virgil’s favorite dinner, spaghetti and meatballs (well his actual favorite dinner was pineapple pizza from the local pizza joint, but Emile wanted to serve the boy something at least somewhat healthy for once in his life.)

That in mind, he went straight to the pasta aisle. While contemplating which of the spaghetti noodles he should grab, he noticed a man with a cart also perusing the aisle. He glanced at the contents of the man’s cart. “That’s a lot of cheese there friendo,” he commented.

“I’m trying to make homemade macaroni and cheese,” the man divulged with a smile.

“That’s always fun,” Emile replied, smiling back himself.

“I’ve never done it before. Do you have any suggestions for noodles?”

“Hmm… how about shell ones?”

“Ooo, like the boxed Velveeta shell macaroni, but better!” He enthused. “Aw! They have mini ones!” He snatched the box excitedly. “They’re so cute!”

“They are,” Emile agreed as he finally selected the whole wheat store brand spaghetti and slid it into his cart.

“Thanks for the suggestion! Have a nice day,” the man said and turned to leave.

“Bye!” Emile called after him.

He then continued on his quest, grabbing pasta sauce and a lot of fresh vegetables to sneak into the canned sauce as well as to leave in his brother’s home with the hopes that either his brother or his nephew might actually eat something healthy for once if it was right there. (Doubtful, but Emile could hope.)

He then spent an inordinate amount of time, debating which popcorn to get. Emile was thinking tonight would be a good night for movies with Virgil, and Virgil’s favorite snack was popcorn. He really should get the less buttery one, but he knew that Virgil liked buttery popcorn more. Perhaps he should compromise and get plain popcorn, but that one healthier ranch flavored powder topping that he liked. Decided, he grabbed the popcorn and the topping and went to exit the snack food aisle. “Hey,” a man with a mustache drew his attention away from his task. “My friend lost his little brother in the store. Have you seen a younger teenager walking alone around here? We think he might have gone to the snack food aisle.

Emile frowned. “Nope I haven’t seen anyone. I hope you find him soon.”

“Thanks,” the man said already distracted with looking around again.

“Maybe try the front desk,” Emile suggested. “They could call over the intercom.”

“My brother’s already there,” the man replied waiving the suggestion off. “But thanks.”

“Well good luck!” Emile said as the man walked away towards the back of the store.

Gee, it took him almost 40 minutes to get groceries, he realized when he glanced at his phone in the checkout aisle. He shouldn’t let himself get that distracted.

Once he’d paid for the groceries, he took everything to his car and shoved them in the backseat. Right as he was about to stick the key in the ignition, he got a text message from his secretary.

‘Kai forgot his phone in your couch again, but your office is locked. Are you able to swing by really quick to let him in?’

He texted back ‘Sure! I’ll be there in 5.’ He wasn’t going to keep Kai away from his phone for the night and it wasn’t like the groceries he’d grabbed were extremely time sensitive. So, he drove back to the office.

Kai seemed thankful for his willingness to drive all the way back even if his ‘thank you’ was rather distracted as he was already typing something on his phone the moment after Emile handed it back to him.

He said goodbye to Kai and to his secretary and hopped back into his car intending to drive to Remy’s house. He’d just started the car when his phone started to ring.

“Yello,” he said cheerfully.

“Emile,” the serious voice greeted on the other end of the line. “This is Logan Sanders.”

Emile sobered immediately. “Hi Logan. Is something wrong? Do you have a patient for me?”

“No, actually,” Logan said. “It’s… about your brother.”

Emile froze. “What about my brother?” he asked. “Remy is on light duty.”

“He was yes,” Logan said. “However, there was a complication.”

“What type of complication?” Emile said and a bit of anger came to his tone unbidden.

“He was specifically targeted,” Logan said, and despite the calm way he spoke, Emile could detect the distress in his tone. “I’m very sorry, but he’s dead.”

“Oh, god. What about Virgil?”

“That’s the other thing,” Logan continued. “As soon as I heard of Mr. Gates death, I dispatched an agent to his home for protection, but when he arrived, his son was not there. There were signs of a break-in, but the perpetrator’s car was still there, and my agent believes Virgil fled the scene and was followed on foot. My agent is currently searching for him…”

“There’s a ‘but,’” Emile concluded.

There was a slight pause, just enough to tell Emile he wasn’t nearly as unaffected as he was pretending to be. “I haven’t heard from that specific agent in over half an hour.”

“Okay,” Emile gulped, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. There were hundreds of explanations for that, but many of them were bad. “Okay. I’ll go look myself since I know him and where he might go. I’ll,” his voice cracked a bit. “Call you if I find anything.”

“Alright, and I’ll…” but whatever Logan was going to say was lost as a hand touched Emile’s shoulder.

Emile screamed and tossed his phone as he accidently slammed his elbow into the car horn making it blare.

“Calm down! It’s just me,” said a voice.

“Frickin Frozone shitake mushrooms terrible tigger fish paste and cabbages, Remington!”

“You could curse like a normal person, Emile.”

“And you could not break into my car like a normal person,” Emile shot back turning around in his seat to face his older brother. “I’ll presume you’re not dead then.”

“Aw, were you worried about me?” he asked.

Violence is never the answer. At least that’s what he told his patients. Emile punched his shoulder the best he could from this angle. It clearly didn’t hit too hard as Remy just laughed.

“Sorry, Em,” he said reaching forward to ruffle his hair. Emile slapped him away.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Mega Bitch Ex decided she wanted me shot in the head and I decided I didn’t want that.”

“What does that mean?” Emile asked.

“It means,” Remy answered. “I faked my own death and while she thought I was dead,” he dug something out of his pocket and dangled it in front of him. It was a flash drive. “I stole this.”

“What is it?”

“Super-secret spy business.”

“Remy.”

“All that matters is she really shouldn’t have it and Logan will be very happy I got it away from her.”

“Speaking of Logan…” Emile had dropped his phone when Remy had surprised him, and the call had ended. He picked up the phone. “I should call him back.”

The phone was slapped out of his hand the second his picked it up.

“What the kriffing kriff Remy?”

“Please just say fuck. I beg of you,” Remy groaned. The phone starting ringing again from its place on the floor. Doubtlessly it was Logan since the last thing he’d heard was Emile screaming like he was being murdered.

“I need to answer that, Remy,” Emile said with a frown.

“You can’t. It’s too risky.”

“You literally just said you stole it for Logan. Why can’t I just answer the phone, say Remy’s fine actually, and he has a super-secret spy flash drive to give to you?”

“Because you don’t say shit like that over the telephone,” Remy told him while starting to wiggle his way into the front seat. “We’re going to take this thing to Logan in person and no one can know I’m alive until then.”

“I know you’re alive,” Emile pointed out.

Remy grabbed Emile’s phone when it stopped ringing and hit the power button to turn it off. He stuck it into his pocket. “Family doesn’t count,” Remy said. “…Also, I needed a ride.”

“Are you really going to keep my phone hostage this whole time and also what happened to your car?”

“It… uh… blew up,” Remy said. Emile stared at him blankly. “Yeah… so, anyway.”

“What do you mean it blew up?” Emile asked.

“I said ‘anyway.’”

“Saying ‘anyway’ doesn’t mean I just magically forget what you just said.”

Remy waved that off. “Anyway,” he said again. “We’ll have to pick up Virgil and … do something with him. I’m not leaving him home alone during this.”

“Right. I assume since you’re not dead that Virgil isn’t actually missing,” Emile concluded.

But instead of agreeing and telling Emile where Virgil was to go pick him up, there was silence. “Virgil is what?”

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 6

#sanders sides #emile picani #remy sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #creativitwins #patton sanders #logan sanders #platonic moxiety #knives #kidnapping #carjacking #murder mentioned #guns mentioned #adriana writes #road trips and missing persons

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wanderingcas · 5 years

Text

Safe and Sound. Commission for @starsmish 3.5k words

. . .

Castiel leans back against the wall adjacent to the men’s bathroom, looking down at the watch-face poking out of his sleeve. People stare at him curiously as they filter in and out of the restrooms. Castiel smiles politely back, all the while keeping his eyes trained for a specific face: one with bright green eyes, a jawline that Castiel is positive would cut glass, and dusty blonde hair.

He was assigned to Dean Winchester approximately two weeks ago. What Castiel originally thought was going to be a low-key assignment, protecting Lawrence’s newly-appointed councilman is turning out to be one of his more difficult cases.

The first red flag is that Dean’s family hired Castiel without informing Dean at all. According to the family, Dean had been receiving death threats from an alt-right group so cleverly named “the Trumpers” because of Dean’s very liberal agenda in his politics. The family was concerned. Castiel assumed that Dean was also concerned.

But when Castiel walked into the room and saw Dean for the first time, saw the equal parts of surprised and pissed off look on Dean’s face: that was Castiel’s second red flag.

He checks his watch again. It’s been 20 minutes.

“Goddammit.” Castiel pivots and swings through the bathroom door. He opens each empty stall. He does a useless circle around the empty bathroom.

“God damn it,” he says again, voice echoing off the tiles.

. . .

It isn’t hard to find Dean, as the workaholic councilman is parked where he usually is: his office.

Castiel smacks a styrofoam cup onto Dean’s desk. Drops of cold coffee spring to liberate themselves through the plastic lid’s opening. “You forgot this.”

Dean’s eyes barely leave his computer screen. “Mm,” he replies. He picks it up; sips. Grimaces. “That’s disgusting.”

Sitting in a chair across from Dean’s desk, Castiel says, “Yes, Dean. That’s because it’s cold. Because you left it. Hours ago.”

“Huh,” Dean says.

“When you left a location without informing me,” Castiel continues to explain. “Again.” Dean still doesn’t look up. “That’s dangerous,” Castiel adds.

“Uh-huh.”

Castiel kicks the desk with the toe of his foot, making it rattle. “Are you even listening to me?”

Dean finally takes his hands off the keyboard, folds them in front of him. “Cas. I have more important things to do than listen to you bitch about how you failed at your job. Again.”

“You can’t keep running away from me,” Castiel says tightly. “I can’t keep you safe if you’re constantly running away.”

Dean leans back in his chair, laces his fingers behind his head. “I dunno, I’d call it more like… walking briskly. Not my fault that you’re too slow.”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Huh. Didn’t see you.”

“I was waiting,” Castiel continues, leaning forward, “as I was all the other times when you’ve attempted to ditch me. During that press conference on Wednesday, at every grocery store you go into, at the restaurant last night—”

“Well, you being on my date was a little weird, to be fair,” Dean says.

“Dean.” Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose. “You hired me to protect you. I can’t do that if you won’t allow me to do so.”

“My family hired you,” Dean corrects, “and based on some stupid disorganized Trump fanatic group that couldn’t even find their own ass if it was handed to them. Nothing’s gonna happen, okay? I’m keeping you around to make my brother chill out. That’s it. I don’t need your damn protection.”

“I disagree,” Castiel says. “I’ve been monitoring tagged posts with your Twitter username, and some of them are violent death threats. From multiple extremist groups. Additionally, you did a very poor job at hiding the letter you received that depicted a very graphic drawing of you getting eaten alive by hellhounds.”

“But that’s all they are, Cas,” Dean says. “Threats. Nothing’s actually happened. You’ve been up my butt for weeks; have you seen anyone stalking me? Confronting me personally?” At Castiel’s reluctant dissenting head shake, Dean says, “See? It’s fine. Nothing to worry about.”

Castiel hasn’t known Dean long, but he can identify three qualities in him: stubborn, handsome, and fiercely loyal to his family. Castiel straightens in his chair and plays his last hand “Elections are coming up,” he says. “That’s when people get most heated. And if you’re ignoring the seriousness of the situation, there may be an attack on you that could get multiple people hurt if it’s not intercepted. Like the woman you were on a date with last night.” Castiel takes a breath, attempts to hit home. “Or your family.”

It has the desired effect: Dean’s face becomes stormy and still. He slowly points a finger at Castiel, jabbing with it in the air. “Don’t you dare bring my family into this.”

“I am not doing so. The people who are threatening your life will.”

Dean sits, stone-faced, until an unheard noise makes Dean snap to attention. “All right, Cas. You wanna play it like that? Then here’s what I think: you’re bad at your job. It’s why you work as an independent contractor who costs next to nothing to hire. You’re shitty at your profession, and you’re blaming me for it. I’m not a ninja, and yet I slip past you every goddamn time. You think that’s a coincidence?”

Castiel clenches the fabric of his pants, bunched at the knees, willing himself not to take the bait. “If this whole thing is some sort of ridiculous self-punishment—”

“Where the hell did you pull that out of your ass?” Dean scoffs.

“—from that attack last year that hurt your brother, instead of you, because he got caught in the crossfire—”

Dean says, voice raised and sharp, “Don’t you dare bring that up, you son of a—”

“You could really get hurt, Dean!” Castiel shouts above him. “This isn’t a damn game. No matter what your problem is with me, or with having protection in the first place, you have to face the facts.”

They stare at each other in a moment of silent standoff. The hallway beyond Dean’s office’s open door has gone tensely quiet.

Dean stands and pushes his chair back harder than necessary. “I did a little digging on you too,” he says, a little too calmly. “You were fired from the former Secretary of State’s detail because you made a mistake on the job. It’s classified, obviously, but I’m willing to bet it had to do with that bomb making its way to the East Wing. Am I on the right track?”

Castiel clenches his jaw. “The whole security detail was fired,” he says. “Not just me.”

There’s a flicker in Dean’s expression—a softness that Castiel had not seen yet from him—but it’s gone as fast as it occurred. He replaces it with a condescending smile. “Pretty hard to protect anyone properly after that piss-poor mistake, huh?”

Something in Castiel’s chest splinters. “All right,” he snaps, the backs of his knees smacking the chair as he stands. “Message received. I’ll resign from protecting you, effective immediately. You won’t be hearing from me again.”

“Peachy,” Dean shoots back. He falls back into his chair, trains his eyes once again onto the computer screen again.

Castiel has his hand on the knob, clenching it so hard it could shatter. “Whatever your opinion of me is; I hope you think about what I said.” He turns the knob sharply against the silence behind him, says, “I don’t want to see you get hurt,” before slamming the door behind him.

He takes the stairs that are down the hall from Dean’s office. His feet hitting the metal stairs echo sharply in the empty space. Striding through the lobby of the office building, he narrowly avoids connecting shoulders with a group of men who are walking quickly in the other direction.

When he gets outside, he doesn’t know what to do. He pulls his scarf against the wind. As is the theme of the week, people look at him strangely as he stands there, staring down at the sidewalk. The sun begins to slump in the sky.

“Idiot,” he says to the ground, as if to explain. “He’s a goddamn idiot.”

Despite this, he knows he has to go back in.

He’s clenching and unclenching his hands, indecisive, until his phone begins vibrating violently in his coat pocket. He scrambles to take it out with his stiff fingers and pulls off a glove with his teeth so he can hit the green button on the touchscreen. “Hello?”

“Cas—” says Dean’s voice, cut off by something that sounds like static.

Castiel holds the phone closer to his ear, listening intently. “Dean? Hello?”

“Cas—” says Dean’s voice, again, this time more desperate. It sounds like some sort of fabric is being rubbed against the receiver, making the connection fuzzy. A few odd thuds are heard over the receiver.

“Dean, what’s going on? Where are you?” He hears Dean’s voice again, but this time it’s not forming a word—more like a cry. The realization of what’s happening dumps over Castiel like cold water.

“Fuck,” Castiel says.

Like a shot out of a gun, he whips around and bolts through the revolving doors. He holds the phone to his ear like a lifeline with one hand, pushing people out of the way with the other. “Dean, hang on!” he shouts into the phone. “I’m coming, just hang on! Call the police, tell them to come to office 202!” he barks at the bewildered doorman as he sprints by.

He was only gone for ten minutes, he thinks desperately. Or twenty. How long was he standing outside?

Castiel dashes into the stairwell he used earlier to leave. As he begins sprinting up the stairs, he hears the grunts and thuds he heard over the phone become a reality.

Castiel throws his phone aside and increases his speed, taking two stairs at a time. He sees a group of men all huddled around one broken one. He jumps at the back of one of the men, barely slowing his sprint, knocking him to the ground.

Seeing Dean bleeding and curled up on the ground brings out something primal in Castiel. He kicks a man over the railing, barely hearing the thump that follows. He punches a man with one fist and pivots to scissor-chop a man’s neck with the other. Castiel barely sees how many people there even are, barely stacks the odds in the fight: he just knows that Dean is in danger, Dean needs to be helped, Dean needs protection.

Among the chaos, Dean has teetered to his feet and is fighting beside Castiel, landing the occasional second blow after Castiel deals the real damage. Castiel grabs Dean by the arm, leading him toward the door that opens to the hallway. He fumbles for his taser, aiming and firing at a man running toward them.

“Go to your office and lock the door,” Castiel tells Dean, already pushing him into the hallway. He sees an argument in Dean’s eyes; Castiel barks, “Go!”

. . .

In the end, one man against six is a bit stacked, even for a trained bodyguard. He’s caught in a headlock and can barely see out of his left eye by the time the police arrive.

As soon as his neck is free, the police shouting at the assailants to get on the ground around him, he stumbles into the light of the hallway and runs toward Dean’s office.

He finds Dean with the EMTs, a blanket being put around his shoulders, a stretcher prepared for him to be taken to an ambulance downstairs.

Castiel stands in the doorway, waves off the medic trying to treat him. “Focus on the councilman,” he snaps.

Castiel walks beside the stretcher as they wheel Dean out of the building; Castiel can tell that Dean is pretty hurt since he barely protests to the special treatment.

When Dean reaches for Castiel’s hand, he decides that Dean is downright delusional; nonetheless he grabs Dean’s hand tightly, refusing to let go during the whole ambulance ride to the hospital.

. . .

“Cas.”

Castiel raises his head from where it’s cradled in his hands. His delirious mind mistakes the voice for Dean’s; a few blinks into the fluorescent hospital lights confirms that it’s Sam Winchester looming before him.

He feels a whole new wave of shame overtake him. “Sam.” Castiel wipes a shaking hand over his face. “God. I don’t know how to—” He stutters out a breath. “How is he?”

Sam sits in the plastic chair next to Castiel’s. “He’s stable. A few broken ribs, concussion… nothing too serious, though. They’re going to keep him overnight for observation.”

Castiel nods. He can’t sit still, has a weird tremor in his leg. “I am so sorry,” he whispers.

“How long have you been here?” Sam asks.

It’s a ridiculous question that Castiel couldn’t care less about the answer to. “I don’t know. What time is it?”

“They brought Dean in six hours ago,” Sam says. “I got on a flight as soon as you called me.”

Castiel nods numbly. He doesn’t even remember that phone call. Or where his phone is now.

“Cas.” Sam puts a hand on Castiel’s shoulder; he flinches at the touch. “Have you had anyone look at you?”

“There was a nurse,” Castiel says. He vaguely points to his swollen left eye. “Stitches.” He can’t meet the younger Winchester’s eyes. It makes no sense that Sam’s being gentle or caring to someone who so tragically and stupidly let his older brother down. If anything, Sam should be shoving lawsuit papers underneath Castiel’s nose.

“They arrested all the guys that attacked him,” Sam says. He huffs a laugh. “Although the majority of them had to be hospitalized, too, after the number you did on them.”

Castiel clears his throat against the scratchiness that’s rising up in it. “Dean fought back, too.”

Sam chuckles, shakes his head. “Of course he did.”

They sit in silence, as nurses and white coats and stretchers scurry by. Castiel keeps his eyes on the scuffed linoleum floor that’s yellowed with age.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Sam says, shattering the silence.

Sharply rising to his feet, Castiel says, “Don’t.”

Sam stands with him. “Seriously, Cas, it wasn’t. Dean was being difficult. He ignored the dangers—and you can probably tell by now how freaking stubborn he is. I’m honestly surprised you lasted this long with him.”

“I should have stayed by his side, no matter how much he complained,” Castiel says. “It’s part of the job. I didn’t do my due diligence, I didn’t protect him, I didn’t even see this attack coming—”

“Cas, whoa, slow down.” Sam puts a hand on his shoulder again, pulls him to face him. “These guys that attacked Dean aren’t even an alt-right group that was contacting him with those death threats. It was a completely random attack. They saw Dean go into the building and they impulsively decided to go in.” He looks imploringly at Castiel. “I don’t blame you, not even for a minute. And neither does Dean.”

Castiel feels something thrum through him. “He’s awake?”

“Yeah. And he’s asking for you. That’s why I came out here.”

“I don’t—” Castiel shakes his head. “I don’t think I can—”

“I think he wants to apologize,” Sam continues, “Which for Dean is … well, frankly, a minor miracle. So don’t pass up this opportunity, okay?”

Castiel looks for a moment at Sam’s reassuring smile. “I’ll go,” he finally relents. “At the very least to apologize to him.”

“Whatever makes you two stubborn idiots talk to each other,” Sam says with a gentle pat on Castiel’s back.

Dean’s hospital room is a private room with a security guard stationed in front of it. Castiel doesn’t meet the guard’s eyes as he walks in.

Dean is on the bed, hunched over a sprawl of papers on his lap. He’s shirtless, bandages wrapped around his bare torso.

Castiel stands there for a moment, mouth open, staring at the scene. “What the ever-loving hell are you doing?”

Dean looks up. “Hey, Cas,” he says with a lopsided grin.

“‘Hey, Cas’?” Castiel spits out. “Are you kidding me? You’re doing work?” Dean opens his mouth to argue, barely gets a word out before Castiel is striding over to him and snatching the papers from him, dumping them on the floor. “And you shouldn’t be half-naked in a hospital where you can catch a cold,” Castiel continues, snapping Dean’s hospital gown in the air before depositing it on his head. “Put that on.”

“Jesus, fine,” Dean tentatively putting his arms through the sleeves, wincing at the disturbed bruises on his skin. “I didn’t realize Sam hired a nanny instead of a bodyguard.”

Castiel sits in the chair adjacent to the bed, bristling. “I won’t have you getting hurt on my watch again, Dean,” he snaps. “Not for the last few hours I’m in your employment.”

Dean blinks. “Are you quitting?”

Castiel looks at him incredulously.

“Okay, yeah. Well, I probably owe you an explanation.” Dean shifts minutely in his bed. “And an apology.”

Seeing Dean vulnerable deflates Castiel from any anger. “No, I have to apologize. If I had been there—”

“But you weren’t, because I pushed you away, Cas. The things I said to you…” Dean rubs at the eye that’s not bandaged, huffing out a sigh. “I said those awful things because I knew pissing you off wouldn’t make you go away; hurting you would. I know how to find people’s weak spots and apply pressure. It’s why I’m in politics I guess.”

“It’s not like the things you said to me weren’t true,” Castiel says softly. “You’re right in that I did get fired. That I failed at my job. Similarly to how I failed at this one.”

“No, Cas, that’s not it. You’re human, okay? But I just—” Dean pauses. Frowns down at his hands clasped over the thin, blue hospital blanket. “Sam was attacked last year. You know that. He didn’t get hurt, but—those people were after me. And I didn’t protect him. My whole life, it’s just been me and Sam against the world. I always protected him, kept him safe, and last year I realized that I just… can’t anymore.” He laughs, but it’s humorless. “It was fucking depressing.”

Castiel blames it on the lack of sleep when his hand reaches out and gently grasps Dean’s arm. “Dean…”

“And then Sam hires you because he thinks that I can’t take care of myself, and I just saw red. I saw you as this, I dunno,” Dean waves a hand in Castiel’s direction, “physical manifestation of everything I can’t do: take care of Sam or even myself from a bunch of crazy lunatics. I took it out on you. And I’m sorry.”

Tightening his grip on Dean’s arm, Castiel says, “I shouldn’t have left you.”

“It’s not your fault, Cas. Seriously. I don’t blame you for a second.” Dean wraps the hospital gown tighter around himself. “I blame myself, for being a coward. Not really facing the dangers that are out there.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Dean—”

“I know there’s bad people on both sides,” Dean says, words rushing forward. “I just wanted to… I dunno. Be one of the good guys. Be brave.”

“You are brave,” Castiel says. “You’re assertive in your beliefs, you don’t back down from your opinions just because someone dissents. That’s brave.”

Dean shrugs, pondering on that for a minute. The heart rate monitor beats a steady thrum in the silence. “That means a lot,” he finally says.

“Good. Because it’s true.” Castiel adds, firmly, “And protecting you has been an honor.”

There’s a rise of color on Dean’s cheeks; he chuckles, “Jesus, Cas, buy me dinner first.”

Castiel smiles. He pulls his hand back; as he does, Dean grabs it, just as firmly and decisively as he did while riding in the ambulance just hours before.

“I’ve been an ass,” Dean says, “and I would understand if you don’t want to. But honestly, Cas, I want you around.”

Castiel tries to take his hand back, but Dean holds tighter. “No, Dean. I think you’re incorrect. I wouldn’t keep you safe, I’d just—”

“I was safe until I pushed you away,” Dean says.

Castiel can’t argue with that. He looks away from Dean’s green eyes are imploring. “I suppose that’s true,” he admits.

“I won’t do that again,” Dean says, “seriously. I’ll let you do your job. If I promise not to keep trying to dodge you, and at least, uh—try to be less stubborn and make your life easier… would you—”

It’s the lack of sleep, Castiel thinks, it must be, because his mouth is moving and is interrupting Dean to say, “Yes.”

Dean gapes at him. “You really want to—”

“Yes,” Castiel says again. More sure this time. He squeezes Dean’s hand tighter. “If you promise not to leave me standing in front of bathrooms again as you climb through the windows, then yes, I will stay. Keep you safe.”

The smile Dean gives Castiel is blinding and beautiful, and if Castiel were hooked up to that heart rate monitor, it would be going wild, giving him away. It’s the first real one that Castiel’s since he started protecting Dean.

“I promise, Cas.”

#spn #spn ficlet #destiel #destiel fic #protective!cas #bodyguard au #<33 thank you pris for the commission #i loved writing this #starsmish #inacatastrophicmind #woefulcas #wanderingwrites

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mummybear · 4 years

Text

Haunting His Dreams

Words: 2110

Warnings: Swearing (Of course), heavy drinking, mentions of major character death.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OC (Izzy)

Characters: Dean Winchester, OC, Sam Winchester, Mentions Of Metatron, Mentions Of Demon Dean

Summery: After Dean is cured of being a demon he finds that the love of his life has moved on from him and the bunker, things had been to painful for her after he died and she wanted out. How will he handle it? Will he ever see her again?

A/N: Okay guys so this is for @impala-dreamer‘s Make me feel it challenge. So this will be a two parter, so for this first part I chose the song Happier by Ed Sheeran (Link to song here)

It had only been mere weeks since the black had faded from Dean’s eyes, even less time since he’d managed to rid himself of the mark. Yet all the drinking In the world couldn’t drown out the pain he had from losing her, the day that he’d died he’d lost so much more than his life and his soul.

When he’d woken as a demon, he quickly found out she’d left, he had buried it immediately. Behind other people’s blood, other people's pain and all the damn violence that he could inflict. After all, he couldn’t feel anything, not for the love of his life, not for his little brother Sam nor anything else for that matter.

The marks rage burned through his entire body, everything that made him who he was, it was still there, somewhere deep down inside him, but he just didn’t care. Instead as a demon, every bad part of him, every part that he didn’t want to have to admit to himself existed, was just amplified beyond reason but he liked it. There was part of human Dean that liked being numb, the demon liked the power, having no feelings to hold him back from doing what he wanted and needed to do at that time.

Then Sam had brought him back to the bunker, and he’d cured him. Everything he’d been fighting against, every feeling of guilt, pain and anguish rushed right back to the surface and hit him like a speeding fucking truck. When he’d asked where she was, it was almost like he knew what Sam was going to say to him, even before he’d said it. Yet hearing it out loud, it was so much worse than he could’ve ever imagined, she was gone but only from the hunting life. Although from what they knew she was happy, managing to stay hidden so far as Sam knew. But she was alive at least and that was how Dean wanted her to stay.

There was no way in hell that Dean was going to drag her back into this life, put her in danger again, not when she was finally safe. No matter just how much it ripped him apart inside. And it did, every single second of every damn day. Like there was a black hole in his fucking chest, like a new wound opened every time he opened his eyes.

Of course, that was the other part of the problem. Every time he closed his eyes he saw hers staring right back at him, the way her smile would light up the entire damn room. Like nothing else he’d ever seen before. Some nights the only way he could get to sleep was to curl up in a ball and cry. He’d throw and smash things, punch and kill things but nothing helped, not even a little bit, not even for a second. He’d tried to hide it from Sam, but if anyone knew Dean better than he knew himself it was his brother.

So, every time he left the bunker, he’d made sure to at least have a flask with him, it didn’t even matter if it was the cheapest shit on earth anymore, literally anything to block out the pain. Pretty much any and all feelings really. He just couldn’t think about it anymore, his old life. But the main reason was that he couldn’t think about her anymore. Who she was with, what she was doing. If she was missing him as much as he was missing her, if she ever thought about him anymore.

Sam had told him to just go, go and find her. He had practically begged him. Told him to tell her that he was back, that he was okay, explain everything that had happened to him while she was away.

But as Dean sat there in a small booth at some run down bar in town, he found himself looking out the slightly dirty window. The park across the street was full of laughing screaming kids. Not to mention all of the couples that were holding hands and laughing, that had never been them not that they didn’t want that, they just couldn’t have that life together. But they had been happy, happier than he had ever remembered feeling in his whole miserable life.

Which is why as he sits here looking out of this window, he tries not to but he thinks about her, everything they might’ve had but now they never can, never will.

Then it happens. He sees her, she’s smiling and laughing with some guy, one of her arms is looped through one of his. That black hole in Dean’s chest is ripped open once more, it hurts more than he ever thought imaginable, so much more than when that angel blade was plunged in his chest. Then he realises that he can’t swallow, the massive lump that forms in his throat is back and it won't go away. A tear falls from his eye, quickly followed by another. Those green eyes that were once so bright, and yet now they’re so dull. Squeezing his eyes shut tight, he fights to blink them away. Roughly clearing his throat, he swallows that lump finally with a gulp of his liquor, which burns its way painfully down his throat.

Dean’s heart is thundering his chest as she walks closer to the door of the bar where he sits, in his corner booth hidden. The love of his life, just meters away and there’s not a thing that he can do about it. He can’t pull her into his arms like he used to kiss her, tell her everything is gonna be okay. He can only watch her from the sidelines and it’s so much worse than hell on earth.

Standing from his chair when they walk inside, he manages to slip out the back unseen. Throwing his back against the wall, he takes a deep shaky breath once he feels he can breathe again. The cold air bites at the tear tracks on his cheeks and burns the back of his throat. Quickly he wipes the tear tracks away and he walks away from that bar. Vowing that he will never go there again. He can’t stand it, being so close yet not being able to have her.

A few days pass in a blur of hunting and drinking. They finally get back to the bunker and Dean can’t stop his mind from wandering. Under his eyes is still a mix of red and blue from lack of sleep, since he’d seen her everything had just gotten that much harder. But he wants this for her, he needs this for her. She’s happy and seeing her smile the other day was almost worth the pain he’s in right now.

Then he remembers her face, the day that he was stabbed with the angel blade by Metatron. Unfortunately, he remembers it like it was yesterday.

The second that angel blade had been pushed through his chest, he remembers how it slid in his chest like butter, little to no resistance. She and Sam had ran in just in time to see it happen. He remembers the way that she’d screamed his name, running up to him and falling down on her knees beside him. As Sam forced a handkerchief to his chest, she had held his hand so tight as she sobbed, pressing those soft kisses to his cheek that he loves. Telling him that everything was going to be okay and god did he want to believe her. Both her and Sam were doing their best to convince him he was getting out of this.

He remembers the next words he’d said, like they were said yesterday. The look on hers and his brothers face. “It’s better this way” He had ignored Sam and his girl as they’d tried to stop him talking. “The mark. It’s making me into something I don’t wanna be”

Sam had refused to listen, of course he had, Dean expected nothing else. Sam had helped him to his feet and Dean could feel the blood filling his throat as he stood. Could even feel it beginning to leak from his lips. The look of fear in her eyes silently said that she’d seen it too.

What he had said next were the last words he spoke and they were so true, “I’m proud of us” and he really was. He turned to her then the best he could, she tried to smile between the tears. “I love you Dean Winchester” she sobbed pressing a kiss to his bloodied lips. He didn’t have time to reply, he’d died in his brothers arms seconds later, her hands still cupping his cheeks.

He hoped she knew, just how much she meant to him. A few hours pass and he can’t sit there thinking anymore, he decides to head out. The bunker was slightly void of food. Even if he wasn’t really eating it right now, Sam would need to eat. So grocery shopping it was.

Dean doesn’t tell Sam when he leaves, he knows that his little brother only worries, and will almost definitely try to go with him. So he heads out alone, he always felt alone these days anyway. The impala was one of the only places that he still finds comfort anymore, all the times they had spent in there together helped.

He parks in the parking lot, heading inside the bright store, it feels like he’s in a trance. Tossing things in the cart, he sees the shampoo that she used to use, uncapping it he inhales the scent and clears his throat. Feeling the lump beginning to return and the tears pushing at the back of his eyes, he pushes it down where it belongs.

Returning the bottle to the shelf he rounds the corner and he almost falls over, because he sees her again. Right in front of him, she has her back to him as she laughs with the same guy she’d been with before.

Abandoning his cart, he leaves the store as fast as he can. Hands stuffed in his pocket, keeping his head down low, he hopes it will be enough to keep him hidden. She was happy, as much as he wanted to, he wasn’t gonna turn around and fuck her life up. She deserved to be loved, to be worshipped. There was nobody who would love her like he did, but that she deserved all the love in the world. She would always have his heart no matter what.

Swearing under his breath his shaking hands struggle to put the key in the ignition. Silently begging whoever, that he would get out of there unseen. He thanks his baby when she starts, he rips out of that parking lot like his life damn near depends on it, swigging from the flask as he drives. Even the back of her head was insanely fucking perfect, just like he’d remembered. He could still smell her perfume like it was torturing him even now.

Arriving back at the bunker he throws the door closed behind him, swearing as he pushes his hands in his hair as he sinks to the floor, his back slamming against the solid metal. Knees pulled to his chest as his ass hit the floor. He wanted to scream and he knows that he can’t take this much longer. His heart is almost literally being ripped out of his chest, is he supposed to put up with this forever. Every single fucking day for the rest his entire life.

Dean stands from the floor, his flask is empty, he needs to pass out before he does something he really regrets. Before he goes to find her.

Then his heart sinks in his chest, there’s a key turning in the bunkers main door lock. He turns just in time to miss the swing of the door hitting him in the face.

His green eyes meet her stunning blue ones, eyes he’s been dreaming about for as long as he can remember. He feels like his tongue is swollen in his mouth, like he can’t breathe as she steps inside. Her bag falling beside the closing door, she’s so damn close that he can’t be dreaming because there’s too much pain, too much relief and overwhelming guilt.

“Dean?” she practically sobs, taking another step closer.

He can’t move, it's like he’s stuck in concrete. His mouth drops open, a breathy whimper leaving his lips. “Izzy”

Tags: @chewie-redbird @julzdec @lettersofwrittencollective @stiles-o-dylan24 @mogaruke @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @dylanholyhellobrien @desiree---1986 @emichelle @lilulo-12 @22sarah08 @deanwanddamons @simsadventures @charmed-asylum @holyhellpit @flamencodiva @hobby27 @akshi8278 @littlelonewolfgirl @ladywinchester1967 @screechingartisancashbailiff @maddiepants @becs-bunker @mrswhozeewhatsis

#dean winchester #dean winchester supernatural #dean winchester SPN #makemefeelit #feels #dean Winchester series #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester angst #Sam and Dean Winchester #dean winchester photo set #dean #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x ofc #Demon Dean

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mooberg · 3 years

Text

Chapter 7: Broken rock

No one’s more surprised by this than me. Wanna make it hurt worse? This is what I was listening to the whole time writing this.

The lvc belongs to @voiceoflarka

Word count: 3433

Warnings: Seriously, if you’ve had a bad day practice some self care instead of reading this.

Enjoy!

Horns’ scream of protest echoed off the tall buildings around the convention grounds as the mind blast echoed in his head. Everything was muffled, like the first time he fired a gun and left his ears ringing, almost like he was underwater. The sounds of his own breathing amplified in his daze blocked out the frozen world around him even as footsteps approached. It wasn’t until someone clapped a hand on his shoulder that twisted his torso a little that the fog cleared.

“Fuck!” The pain burned through it all.

“Shit, Horns are you okay?” Callow tore his hand away immediately.

“Clearly not.” Horns grunted, wrapping a hand around his torso.

Psi surfed over on a thick vine, jumping off when he got close and running the rest of the way to the two. “Horns.”

“I’m okay, I’m-.” Horns tried to take in a deep breath only to be stopped halfway from the pain. “Fuck.”

“No, you are not. Come, lay down and we will see.” Psi knelt down next to him and he and Callow helped the Satyr lie down.

“That was dumb, you know that?” Callow said softly. “Egging her on like that.”

“Yeah… wasn’t thinking clearly.” Horns gave out a slight laugh and the two shared a smile. His head shot back up with a terrible realization. “Gamma! Where’s Gamma? They were in the air when- are they okay? Psi, are they-”

Gamma landed next to him with a dull thud on the soft grass. “I’m okay, Horns, I’m okay. Lie still.”

“Psi, what can I do to help?” Equo ran up next to her mentor.

“Wait no.” The realization dawned on Horns. “There were three…”

He tried to push back up, intent on seeing for himself. He had to know it was Glitch, Jolly and Peony. He had to. But Psi held him down with gentle hands on his shoulders.

“Focus on yourself right now, Horns.” Psi’s voice was oddly soft, and it almost shook Horns out of his shock.

He closed his eyes and tried to just breathe through the pain and panic as he lay back down. “Okay… okay.”

“Now shirt off.”

His eyes flew open and met Callow’s, and the gator virus immediately understood. “Psi, just cut it.”

“Excuse me-?”

“Just cut it.” Callow practically ordered.

Without a word Psi pulled scissors from his bag and cut Horns shirt with practiced ease. Horns gave Callow an appreciative look.

“On a scale from zero to ten, ten being the worst pain you’ve ever experienced, what are you at right now?” Psi asked.

“Ngh- like a 7?”

“Tell me the moment that increases.” Psi said. “Gamma, that sun’s going to set in about ten minutes, and I need to see.”

“Got it.” Gamma flared out their wings and turned their lights on high.

“Callow, Equo…” Psi sighed. “See if you can get a tent from the stalls to cover the others.”

“But we’re gonna wake them up tonight.” Horns protested.

Psi reached into his bag without a word.

“We have to wake them! We can’t leave them here!”

“You are in no state to wake them right now.”

“But-” Horns’ breath hitched and the throbbing pain spiked. With a whimper he laid his head back on the grass.

“We’ll keep them safe.” Callow placed a hand briefly on Horns’ shoulder before standing. He and Equo took off.

“They will be alright, Horns.” Psi said softly. “We need to focus on you.”

Horns shut his eyes in resignation while Psi got to work examining the cracks scrawling across his chest. He didn’t want to look anyway. Psi explained everything as he went in a voice so oddly soft Horns had to question for a moment whether Dragon had hit his head too. But then he thought about Mu, and the soft look he’d seen Psi give his brother on the rare occasion. And he thought about Sammy, and how just his presence could soften the mentor. And of course, Gamma. He was always easier on the team when they were around.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Psi replied as he focused on his work.

“I shouldn’t have freaked out. It was selfish.” He looked to Gamma. “I’m not the only one with frozen family.”

Psi’s hands stilled for mere moments before picking back up. Something cold connected with his chest and Horns hissed at the surprising sensation.

“It’s Bio Gel. An adherent to help you heal. I know, it’s cold.” He gave Horns a reassuring smile.

“Horns, everyone’s got something at stake.” Gamma said.

“I know… I know.”

~~*~~

“Take a deep breath.” Psi requested.

“Nh- there’s some restriction, but it doesn’t hurt any worse now.” Horns reported.

“The bio gel will have hardened by now. I will keep an eye on it. Do you think you can stand? We will take it slow.” Psi said.

“Yeah… I think so.”

“Nice and slow, you can do it.” Psi stood into a crouch and helped Horns get up. The Satyr’s eyes traveled to where Callow and Equo stood in the darkness under a long white tent with open sides. Three viruses stood over melting ice, never to move again. He tore his eyes away.

“What now?” He asked.

Gamma whistled for the others and they came running. “We should head back to the safe house. There’s nothing more we can do tonight.”

“We’ll be back tomorrow though… right?” Equo asked, glancing back to her long time friend still unmoving.

“We need to take this one slow.” Gamma replied.

Horns purposefully avoided his teammates’ eyes as he zipped his hoodie up over the hardened pink substance keeping him from further harm.

“Okay.” Callow said with more determination than any of them felt. “Equo and I can drive back. Horns, you’re not setting foot on a motorcycle right now.”

“I will fly back with Horns.” Psi added.

“We’ll meet you there.” Gamma confirmed with Callow.

With a nod the two groups split off. Gamma hoisted Horns into their arms and Psi held on tight for the ride.

Since coming to Dashland, Horns had always been fascinated by the city at night. He’d never seen that many lights all at once in all his years. Glitch always wanted to drag him to a quiet spot and gaze up at the stars, but his eyes were on the buildings. They created great constellations of their own of wondrous buildings and bridges, only these could be any colour of the rainbow. He could look upon the steady lights for hours while Glitch gazed up at the stars next to him.

But tonight he shut his eyes against it all.

~~*~~

“We should do something fun.”

“But we’re already doing something fun!”

“I mean more fun.”

“We could get some fun food to go with it.”

“Like a picnic!”

Horns smiled at his girlfriends at they glanced around the grocery store. “Well, we really enjoyed the charcuterie at that last party Callow dragged us to.”

“Oh yeah!” Jolly nodded. “Do you think we can replicate that?”

“No, but we can definitely make the academy student version of that.” Glitch laughed.

“To the gouda!”

“Man, there’s already so many people here.”

The three looked around the tiny outdoor theatre. None of them realized Shakespeare in the park was quite this popular in Fictory square. They had walked twenty minutes from the nearest bus stop to get here. A little nondescript path led to an opening in the forest that sloped down to a multi-level stage where they had set up several tiered steps for seating.

“This is so cool!” Jolly would have squealed if she weren’t trying to be respectfully quiet.

“I think there’s room over there.” Glitch pointed off to the left.

Jolly beelined for the spot while the other two stepped carefully down the uneven decline. The three pulled out pillows to sit on, having prepared for hard earth under foot. Once settled, Jolly excitedly unpacked Horns’ backpack, complete with cans of pop and what was essentially slightly cooler cheese and crackers.

“Dig in.” Horns announced once everything was set.

“Horns.” Glitch elbowed his side. “Look over there. Do those women seriously have wine glasses?”

“Wow…” Horns gave a slight laugh. “They seem like Callow’s type.”

“We’re in a forest. Seriously?” Jolly added from Horns’ other side.

They all laughed for a while longer before Jolly happened to glance behind them.

“Oh my god.” She whispered.

“What? What is it?”

“The guys behind us are cutting bread on an actual cutting board.” She said.

“What the fuck?” Glitch looked down at their pre-sliced cheese and apples. “Is this a picnic in the park or a day at a spa?”

“Bougie.” Horns added. “Definitely bougie.”

“Say ‘bougie’ again.” Jolly snickered.

“Bougie.”

“And what about you two? How long have you been together?” The actor asked, walking up the path a little to interact with a couple just below the trio.

“Twenty years.” The man almost seemed embarrassed.

“Well that certainly is impressive!” The actor said earnestly. “Long lasting love is truly a beautiful thing. Hold on to what you have.”

Horns watched the couple share a smile before the actor climbed further up the hill. He was doing a bit during the intermission about love and its beauty, whether it was three months new or thirty years old. Jolly and Glitch had snuggled up closer to Horns as it had gone on, relishing in their connection together.

“And you two.” He stopped in front of the three of them, looking to Glitch. “Have you been together long?”

“Actually, it’s the three of us.” Glitch corrected. “And… about a year now.”

“Three!” The actor truly seemed surprised. His voice softened. “My, you three must have plenty of love to share. Plenty of love indeed. That is a rare and deeply special gift.” He met eyes with each one of them. “Hold on tight to that, for all it’s worth.”

As Horns slowly woke up, he became more and more aware of the tears sliding down his temples and the quiet sobs he’d been going through even as he slept. He rolled his head to the side and wiped the tears away, blurry eyes coming to focus on Psi sleeping at the edge of the bed. He’d passed out there last night after making sure Horns was comfortable. And checking on him for the hundredth time.

Horns sighed. “He looks like mom every time I came home from a bad day at school…” He’d been so worried… Horns had never seen him like that before.

He looked about the safehouse, and while he didn’t see Gamma, their jacket was draped across Psi’s shoulders. Callow and Equo were fast asleep sitting up on the couch, Equo’s head on his shoulder. Horns smiled slightly at the sight, incomplete as it was.

The sleepy inhaled breath of someone waking brought his attention back to his left, where Psi had also begun to stir. “Horns-.”

“I’m okay.” He gently assured his tired mentor. “No change from last night.”

Psi sat back with a nod. “How do you feel?”

“… I’m tired.”

~~*~~

Callow slowed the motorcycle prematurely as they once again approached Dashland’s convention grounds. Each trainee scanned their surroundings with as critical an eye as they could manage. They were still learning, after all. But the scene seemed unchanged, and this time Horns forced himself to look at his teammates sheltered from the previous night.

“They’re okay.” He sighed in relief.

“Nothing was going to happen to them in a single night.” Callow said, though his elevated pulse belied his own relief.

“With our luck lately, it’s impossible to be certain.” Horns shot back as Callow helped him off the motorcycle.

“Are you really up for this?”

“I think so.” Horns sighed. “We don’t really have a choice. They no doubt have a big red target on their back for Dragon now, especially with those last few hits Glitch landed yesterday. If we don’t wake them up…”

“There won’t be anything left.”

“Stand guard.” Gamma ordered as they approached. “If we’ve gotten a full night’s rest, so has she. I have a feeling this last fight just made her mad.”

Equo and Callow moved to form a perimeter with Gamma while Horns settled onto the grass. Psi placed a hand on his shoulder as familiar plants blossomed and grew around him. In the quiet of a frozen city, Horns could almost pretend he was back safe in his dorm, practicing with Psi while Glitch and Jolly napped, Callow studied, Equo painted, and Peony read. But he shifted slightly, feeling the hard coating of bio gel and the dull pain in his chest, feeling the unfamiliar grass below them, and the dread in his soul. He could not be farther from that comfort now.

He started with Jolly. Her gentle spark had lit up his life from the moment he’d been placed on a team with her. She had ignited it to a flame when she said yes and made them a trio. She always had a way of soothing his worries with a gentle smile and infectious laugh. Every day with her had been something new, something better. His Jolly Bear. One of his best friends.

Her dreams were soft this time. No more fear and pain, no more sadness. She dreamed of ice skating in the sky, painting beautiful clouds with her skates for everyone down below to enjoy. He almost didn’t want to wake her from such beauty. He almost wanted to join her in such simple serenity. Almost.

He moved on to Glitch immediately. He couldn’t stop now; he needed his girls back.

Glitch. His kitten. His confidant. His rock. The one who had seen him for what and who he truly was and not only welcomed him with open arms but loved him deeper and more profoundly. She had only ever seen the best in him, even in his darkest days. Her faith in him had always inspired him to do better, to be better.

She had no dreams. A pure, quiet rest. Horns laded on an old memory from early on in their team’s founding, before relationships had begun to form. Before them. It was a quiet night then, the six of them scattered to the winds of the dorm for their various interests. She lay sprawled out across the couch while Horns sat in the comfy chair he now meditated in. A book sat in his lap, long forgotten in favour of the fascinating questions only she could ask. They talked until the early morning that night, and though he’d long suspected, he went to bed feeling there was truly something more to that black cat.

He pulled out of the dive as quickly as he felt possible. His senses slowly returned to him, the scent of Psi’s flowers and the crushed grass beneath him beckoning him to consciousness. It was stupid, and pointless, he knew that, but for a brief moment he kept his eyes closed out of fear that maybe this time… maybe it didn’t work. He was so tired.

“Welcome back.” Glitch grinned right in his face as his eyes fluttered back open.

Jolly butted her head against him, and he reached up to scratch behind her ears. “You got me, don’t you, Bear?”

“I got you.” Jolly replied softly.

“Alright, Psi I think I can get Peony too.” Horns reported to his mentor. He’d just needed to see them awake before he continued.

“Take your time.” Psi gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“Scratch that.” Gamma unfurled their wings. “We’ve got company.”

“Now, now, little bird. There is no need for such… brutish actions.” Dragon’s voice sent a chill into Horns’ soul. “I simply wanted to see my little psychic in action.”

“He’s not yours.” Glitch snapped.

“Well he’s certainly not yours.” Dragon scoffed. “Look at you. Pathetic little kitten, what makes you think you could ever-”

The gunshot echoed off the surrounding buildings just as his scream had the night before. Horns holstered his gun and slowly rose to his feet. The bullet missed her entirely, but that was not the point.

“Don’t. Call. Her. That.” He growled.

Dragon gave him a quick once-over. “Well. They’ve certainly trained you well, my dear.”

It was Jolly who leapt up and pushed him out of the way when Dragon tried to strike. She twisted on their descent to catch him on top of her, ensuring he didn’t hit the ground and hurt his chest worse.

“I got you.” Was all she said before jumping up and into the fight.

They were all tired, it was easy to see. Glitch and Jolly hadn’t even really gotten a break, and it showed in their attacks. Jolly’s aim was off, her discs flew wide more than normal, and Glitch was taking more hits than she was dishing back. But Callow was faltering too, forgetting entirely about his stardust powder in favour of the canon. Horns knew well he shouldn’t get into the fray, no matter how much he wanted to send his dagger into Dragon’s stupid face, and he didn’t trust his aim with the gun in all the chaos. Gamma and Psi were clearly carrying the team but without a sound fighting strategy there was bound to be some friendly fire.

And there almost was.

Glitch landed a solid hit to Dragon’s torso just as Psi’s venus fly trap came down for a bite. Dragon let loose a string of ice shards in an attempt to fend them off, and one sailed right through the team and Past Horns’ head. He whipped around in time to see it just narrowly miss the frozen figure of Peony. In her state, there would have been nothing left to piece back together. He didn’t even get a chance to wake her back up, he wasn’t about to watch that option be taken away from him.

Horns ran into the fight, ducking under Psi’s vines and shielding his eyes at the right moments from the explosions of Jolly’s discs. He knew each one of these attacks inside and out, he knew exactly how to get around each one and into the centre of the fray. Glitch went in for another strike, and as she was thrown away with a pillar of ice from Dragon, Horns ducked in right in front of her. He spun and faced his team.

“Stop!” His voice was louder than even he had anticipated, and while it took a few moment’s hesitation from his team, eventually they paused. He was in their way, after all. He took a moment to take in each member of his team. Glitch, Jolly, Callow, Equo, Peony, Gamma, and Psi. He knew what he had to do.

He turned to Dragon. "You aren't going to give up, are you?"

"And what gives you that impression, my dear?" She smirked.

Horns just narrowed his eyes, carefully gauging her expression. He knew what he had to do.

"Take me instead. Let them go."

He felt the atmosphere shift tremendously behind him as his team bristled at his offer.

She gave an intrigued laugh. "And why would you do that?"

"To free them." He said plainly. "Not all of them have treated you so poorly, they don't deserve this."

"And if I take you?" Hunger had bled into her eyes.

"You will release those you have frozen. You won't cause any more harm to these people." He demanded. "And if you can give me your word, I will give you mine. I won't run away. I won't find a way to bring them to you. It will be just you and me."

“Wait, hold on-”

She walked up to him and this time he didn't back away. An icy hand connected with his chest, freezing him even through the bio gel. Her hand traced up along his jaw like an owner petting a prized show dog.

"You make one move to stop us and I will freeze his soul." She addressed the team behind him. "Such wasted talent. We will see it put to good use."

"Horns!"

The desperation in Jolly's voice made his chest ache more than any shard of ice ever could. He didn't turn around, even as the shouts of his team began to dim in the commotion of sand kicking up around them. He shut his eyes against it all, feeling a piece of him fall away as the sand settled around them.

They weren't in Dashland anymore.

End of Part 1

#lvc #larka's virus community #moo writes #among the statues #the team #team gamma-psi #the flashback may be based off of an actual outing my sister and i went on and when coupled with the song did make me cry #i have so much to say but AGH i'm so excited to continue this #larka... prepare for many questions #oh also I'm sorry?#but like not sorry

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tsukidotcom · 4 years

Text

Haikyuu HC to COVID-19 (Karasuno edition)

This is horrible 💀 im just so bored so I made whatever this mess is KFJSJDMSK enjoy

Hinata Shouyou

huh? isn’t it just the flu?

“No, hinata. People have died from it-“

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH-

goes bananas

whenever someone sneezes or coughs, his soul leaves his body as he runs away to sanitize/wash his hands for a miserably long time.

eats an expired can of peaches thinking it’s his last resort

lowkey happy school is closed because homework sucks

but also highkey hates it because now all volleyball tournaments are closed

then gets all angry when he realizes he’d have to do online school???!!?? like wtf he got jipped.

thinks they could still do volleyball if they did online calls cus if the school can do it,, then vOLLEYBALL CAN

will probably miss half of the class calls from oversleeping/forgetting anyway.

sheepishly ask yamaguchi, yachi or tsukishima for help on assignments/notes. (he will NEVA ask kageyama. he’s always in competition with him here!)

still practices volleyball 24/7 in his backyard or room (maybe even with his baby sister??)

He’s really good at practicing all by himself from practicing all alone in middle school—

but will probably go crazy being alone all the time with his family. he just wants to play volleyball with the team again.

looks up “what to do when you’re bored” or “what to do at home while in quarantine” on youtube

Kageyama Tobio

probably says he’s immune to the corona because he’s just better than everyone else

doesn’t really think it’s real until school shut down because of it

When he sees that corona is airborne he wont know what that means so he’d probably think it’s produced by air itself?? which makes him think air is trying to kill the human race?? and will be so confused as to why it decided to pop up now???

DESPISES online school. He had enough trouble understanding it from the gecko, so now he has to learn it basically all by hiMSELF?!?

And no way is he just gona email the teacher for help. If he does it’s gonna be only once in his lifetime. Anymore than that he thinks he’s doin too much. He doesn’t want his teachers thinking he’s dumb 😭

he says literally nothing during the calls he just tries to pay attention? and fails because he’s on a computer. in his room. alone. he’s bound to daze off or stare at a pen for 5 minutes.

Obvi still practices volleyball. Very much misses it. At least Hinata had his sibling to practice with him. tobio is a lone wolf in his household.

When his mom goes out to get groceries he gives her one of those doctor masks so she doesn’t catch corona.

Few moments later through the internet he realizes that corona is smaller than air molecules so if you can breathe through something you could still get it so he struggles for an hour thinking he just killed his mother

When his mom is back he keeps his distance in case she’s carrying the plague

omg did she just cough or am i imagining things no she definitely coughed she has corona oh oh god

In reality she was just clearing her throat.

is lowkey worrying about everyone and how they are 🥺 (yes, maybe even hinata).

thinks he’s science smart by calling it covid-19 than corona.

Asahi Azumane

He just worries about everyones health

like he just imagines the worst case scenario’s and starts to get really worried if people got it. Always checks on everyone and asks if they’re feeling any symptoms of corona ❤️

He’s either not gonna get it or he gets it and dies there’s no inbetween

but he’s jesus himself so theres no way he nor anyone in his bloodline can get it

is very happy to know that dogs can’t get it.

Takes online school seriously and tries his best

And is honestly so sad school just ended??? even if it’s temporary, he could be learning, playing volleyball, and going about his day instead of staying in a cage. he’s a third year so—how would graduation even go..?

always is up to date on the news !! and notifies everyone if anything important is added/changed.

Always tells everyone to stay safe! Whether through text or before ending a call.

only buys a lot of toilet paper from the fear of there being no toilet paper in stock since evERYONE IS BUYING IT-

Starts to try new hobbies that he put off for the longest time cus quarentine is rlly getting to him.

Is all out a family guy so he doesn’t mind the extra time with his family.

Nishinoya Yu

OAOAOAOAOAOAOAOAOAOA

420 blazin’

thinks going outside means you’re instantly gonna die from corona attacking your white blood cells (????)

but also probably doesnt care as he goes outside like everyday to run around and get rid of energy (and to practice volleyball, of course).

also why is it called white blood cells when blood is red ☠️ smh

Buys 101611018320129 bags of chips because that’s his comfort food

yay more gaming time!!!

Noya🐒: Tanaka do u wana play minecraft 2getr latr?

Tanaka🍌: HELL YEAH!!

doesn’t shower for three days straight because screw personal hygiene!! No more school!!! Can do whatever he wanted!! It’s basically summer!!!

until he’s forced to do online school.

Is def the class clown. Probably somehow kicks the teacher out of the call through a little bit of hacking.

“alright guys so i’ll be you’re substitute teacher for the day-“

tbh acts the same as he would in school. maybe a little more rebellious because, i mean, what is the teacher gonna do? send him to DETENTION? call his mOMMY?

Calls/spams literally everyone in his contacts because he’s so bored and lonely. Answer him!! Y’all will be on facetime for hours!!

He’s fun to facetime.

Will call you a loser if you don’t have an apple iPhone because then he can’t facetime you and facetiming is one of his favorite things to do to pass time (besides gaming)

HE A TRUE GAMER

Okay but he lowkey still tries at school for the sake of his grades and his future ;-; maybe calls asahi or sugawara for help??

always looks up his homework on the internet to see if he can get an answer key or something (he did that anyway even before corona but)

will do one subject for 3 hours thinking he’s finally done with everythinf till he realizes he has like 4 other subjects and needs to do those too.

Sending memes all the time

Tsukishima Kei

oh, what about corona again?

honestly could give NO fucks??. like ABSOLUTELY ZERO. nonxistent.

doesn’t even remember it’s still happening half the time.

is surprisingly very knowledgeable about corona.

he’s just smart and sciency¿ so he understands the ins and outs of corona like how it works and how its spread.

so if you tRULY want any update or background info on the corona virius, ask Tsukishima.

bitch don’t touch me you have rabies.

doesn’t care that he’s obligated to stay at home because he would have stayed either way. he very much likes being alone.

might go a little crazy cooped up in his room so he’ll hang with his brother/family or go outside before he says ‘okay that’s enough’ and goes back to his room.

isolation? oh okay *puts on headphones*

he rlly gonna be rocking it out in his room cus he can listen to music all day any day

developes a really bad sleep schedule since he had no way to get rid of the energy he got rid of at school.

still a huge tease so he says everyone has the corona virius.

is never online on social media which means he’s never up to date with his frIENDS. Doesn’t have a clue what those dipshits are doing and could care less (besides yamaguchi,, they probably facetime or call thru skype or something).

I bet the whole volleyball squad has a groupchat and honestly he puts all notifs on mute cus his phone keep goin DING DING DING DI DING ID DID IDKNG DING DIG

Brother: Omg why are you getting so many text messages?

Tsukki: Shut up

if he is online on the gc and he texts it would be simple replies like “Hi” “Okay.” “No.” “Goodbye.” and then he’s gone for another week

every first year is begging on their knees for tsukishima to give the answers or help them out and he obviously says: go do the hw yourselves idiots

besides yamaguchi!!!! again!! cus theyre gay for each other

maybe practices once in awhile with his brother or alone in his backyard but he doesn’t care

Tanaka Ryuunosuke

buys 101817 pounds of toilet paper because everyone else is? but not because of the same reason as asahi. he thinks toilet paper is the cure to corona.

GO STUPID AAAAAAAAA GO CRAZY AAAAAAAAAAA-

probably has a part time job at a grocery store so he still has to go to work 😭 i dont even know how he could have a job in the first place he’s probably always late-

still gamin with noya of course

GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM IM PLAYING MINECRAFTT

also buys like all the junk food thats in stock. and since he works at the grocery store he gets a ton of coupons and deals.

texts Kiyoko everyday goodmorning ❤️❤️❤️ and goodnight 😘😘 texts just to be left on read.

“i love it when she ignores me !!!”

scrolls through tiktoks for 1000 hours to pass time

School Is For Losers!!

similar to noya, he thought it was basicaly summer until he realized they were gonna be doing online school. literally had a fit and said he didnt wanna do jack squAt

Laughs so hard when nishinoya somehow kicks the teacher out of the call he’s like laughing so loud and hard he starts crying

all of the sudden has a better view on school

gets excited when he sees nishinoya on the call

makes funny and ugly ass faces when the teacher isn’t looking. everyone laughs and the teacher’s like 🤨

probably uses the green screen effect so he can change hus background (somehow) and accidentally misclicks a file so a girl wit a bikini becomes his background for .5 seconds before changing it to a cursed meme:

doesn’t get half the shit the teacher is talking about

but it’s okay because the half he doesn’t get is the other half noya gets

and the half noya doesnt get is the orher half tanaka gets

they’re two peas in a pod 🥰

until they try explaining it to each other and suddenly get confused?? mental malfunction ¿?

yeah im SMART!!!

s -

m -

a -

r - penis

t -

Daichi Sawamura

quite calm about the whole coronavirus

like he knows it is serious and understands how it is spread but he’s still calm about it??

tells everyone to sanitize and wash hands on a regular. and social distancing!!

honestly still wakes up like he does on normal school days and does all his academics just fine.

he even does gym activities (besides volleyball) for 30 minutes to an hour!!!! he be running on that treadmil! getting stronk!

does each subject on his own for 20-40 min each day. he’s really good at self discipline

makes sure sugawara and asahi are up to date on school work and will gladly help.

sadly can’t help the first years (and probably second years) because that info is deep in his brain and basically forgot how to do it after a year or two of not using it.

VERY VERY VERY sad that volleyball nationals are cut off. this is his last year and for it to be??? gone??? just because of some flu?!?! hates it.

he wishes school to go back and still has hope that school will go back to normal in a couple of weeks (even though it’s a slim chance).

asks the teacher questions whenever he has questions. He’s also vv considerate so he’ll ask questions he knows the answer to but asks them for anyone who’s confused ab it/wants to ask but is too shy. (literally i lov daichi sm)

Eats a healthy amount of everything

asks asahi for any updates on corona even though he’s quite up to date himself. he just wanna make sure he didn’t miss anything.

also doesn’t mind being around his family. he’ll do more chores around the house to help his parents out :> he’s literally perfect wtf

def does worry about everyone in the volleyball gc and anyone else he has contact with. Will also email classmates and ask if they’re doing all right. Even away from volleyball he’s a team player ☺️✌️

Is happy for the rest of the day when asahi tells him dogs can’t get corona.

Yamaguchi Tadashi

oaoaiquqhdkoaiaagadjsiwi?

doesn’t know what to believe anymore

keeps in touch with everyone!! always online 24/7 on social media, vball gc, you name it.

Literally everyone is acting so normal why are people so calm am i the only one worrying about this and the worlds future like this year has been really bad so far for not just me but the whole nation actually the entire world honestly like war almost broke out in january and now this corona stuff is really buttering my crissont the wrong way-

Even though tsukishima literally gives No Fucks, yamaguchi is the complete opposite.

like tsukki and yamaguchi call on skype and eVERY TIME yamaguchi starts with ‘how have you been? do you feel sick at all? have you drank enough water today?’ and so on

“What are you even worrying about?”

“Well...what if you get the corona virius?... it can be deadly, you know!! Thousands of people have died from it!!! The fact school is shutting down and people are panicking is making me feel like i should be panicking-“

Tsukki will then snarkily reassure him it’s fine and people their age are the least likely to get it bad.

Yamaguchi will feel a little better afterwords

“Thank you, Tsukki!”

Tsukki will ‘tch’ it off

Even though he gets really good grades he has triuble finding motivation to do any school work?? doing school work in his own home? 😐

His home was kinda a place he can chill whereas school is a place he can be fully focused

but now his home is ALSO school??!!?

Luckily he understands the work, at least.

When he sees tsukishima on the call, too, he instantly says hello.

“Tsukki!! Hey!! 😁”

“Shut up.”

“Gomen, Tsukki.”

Yeah. Even when they aren’t at school, he’s still the same as always.

He takes extra care of his family and always stays in touch with other relatives. Especially grandpa and grandma. THE SECOND he learned elderly people are at more risk you bet your ass he’s calling them making sure they’re okay. He checks up on them everyday now.

He peobably practices volleyball a little, too. He’s more focused on schoolwork though.

Sugawara Koushi

Have you guys ate dinner yet? 🥺

obviously checking up on everyone

he would fail as a mother if he didn’t.

Actually reads in his free time?? He finally has time on his hands to read these books so.... here we are!

Wakes up at a scheduled time everyday (minus weekends. Maybe sleeps for an extra hour or so).

He dresses in pjs rather than actual clothes because he’s not going anywhere with this social distancing thing.

Always tries to lighten the mood when all the students are on the online call. Maybe crack some joke or innocently play around with the effects.

He still pays close attention in class and does quite well on his own. No help from his parents! He can do everything on his own! He a big boi!

Does homework really well, too. Probably does extra work or more work than needed just because it makes him feel good afterwords.

Honestly i can see him cooking in his free time. If he doesnt feel like reading or scrolling mindlessly through his phone, he gonna cook.

Will make the best cookies in the universe.

HAS A HECK OF A SWEET TOOTH. NOT A DAY GOES BY WITHOUT HIM GETTING HIS PRETTY HANDS ON SUM TREAT

Honestly isn’t too good with exercise so he might gain a few pounds or grow the smallest chub 🥺🥺🥺 he would be so cute omfg.

is realy involved with his family!! they play a board/card game every friday night and have the best time.

if he has a dog, cat, or literally any animal you know he’s gona be hanging with them since he has more time.

Still! Playing! Volleyball! I mean by now every boy is practicing at least a little bit. He would probably be in his backyard playing volleyball with his family. Theyy’d set up a net and everythin! They’re all rookies at it but he still cherishes the moments with them.

It’s honestly still practice. Better than nothing

He talks about how his family plays volleyball and everyone is so jealous like 😭😭 makes him more grateful hearing half the volleyball team saying they have to practice alone.

Watching youtube videos of random videos/vines making him giggling.

“Hey, Dachi, look at this video.”

IS A SWEETHEART STFU !!!

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perspective-series · 4 years

Text

Vampire Perspective (12/17)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: fear, death

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

———————————————————————————

Virgil actually flinched back, surprised by the borrower’s anger. Unfortunately, it was entirely justified, and Virgil couldn’t find it in him to be angry in retaliation.

“Well...what do you want from me?” Virgil half-heartedly spat. “I’m not some saint just because that’d be convenient for you. I’m a vile monster of the night, and the only reason I haven’t preyed on you is because I’m a sucky one at that. I am a creature of malevolence who’s flawed enough that you should be dead but you’re not and I lack the capability to be merciful because sparring your life is in no way an act of mercy, nor an act of cruelty from which I benefit, and now I’m stuck here.”

Logan let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. “You do know you do not need to atone to what you believe a stereotypical vampire is, right? You obviously have some form of compassion, at least the ability to feel and show it. The reason you are so torn on this whole matter is that you are still trying to force yourself to be what you think you are supposed to be.” Logan looked at him with pleading eyes. “You do not have to be a vile monster. You could let me go.”

“That’s- it doesn’t work that way.” Virgil shook his head, fangs appearing to bite at his lip. His brothers would never let him live it down if they found he was fostering a borrower again, and Virgil didn’t want to chance them ever finding out. “I am what I am. It’s better to accept that. You’re the one who sees me differently.”

“Virgil, please, if you really can’t eat me, then wouldn’t it be better to simply let me go? And then we can both move on and forget this ever happened.” Logan pleaded again. He just wanted to go back to his life.

“Hardly.” Virgil leaned against the wall, giving Logan a considering glance. “Where would you go?”

Logan blinked. “Back home? Where I live and all my stuff resides?” He thought that would be obvious.

“Would you stay there?” Virgil reworked his question. “I know you were trying to move when I found you.”

“What? No I wasn’t.” Logan frowned, wondering why Virgil would think that. “I was looking for Roman. Moving was the farthest thing from my mind.” After all, if he moved he was less likely to find Roman.

“...oh.” Virgil said. “Well then what about now?”

Logan paused. He...hadn’t actually thought about that. “Well...borrower rules indicate I should move. Since you know where I reside. But I am...unsure if I would actually do that.” He liked that place and if Virgil were to let him go he shouldn’t have to worry about him coming back...right?

“It’d be suicide to move.” Virgil informed him. “Vampires can only enter homes when they’re invited in. The walls are safe, it’s probably how you guys have survived this long; your ancestors figured out tricks to avoid my kind. If you’re outside you’re fair game.”

Logan swallowed. “Then yes, I would stay. Moving is a dangerous journey by itself as well, even discluding the vampire threats.” That Logan didn’t know of until now and was very happy he hadn’t run into one before.

Virgil moved his jaw, the cogs in his head beginning to turn. “What about Roman?”

Logan bit his lip. “Well...if Roman is not yet...dead, then I would ask your help to save him and let him go as well.” A bit of hope was rising up in Logan but he pushed it down. He knew better.

“No. He stays here.” Virgil tilted his chin up. “Say you were back home with that knowledge. Would you leave to save his life, or stay to save your own?”

“I would leave to try and save him.” Logan said, barely thinking about it. “Whether you think that foolish, I do not care.” Logan thought it was too...but he would physically be unable to stay home safe knowing Roman was here still.

Virgil let out a groan, annoyed at the borrower’s foolishness. “Then I guess you’re staying here too.”

“Why. Seriously, what is the point in you keeping me-in keeping us-here?” Logan asked. “What is it about us that you think would make a good pet?” Logan was genuinely curious.

“No, it’s...it’s not that.” Virgil cringed, knowing his own motives were not exactly pure. “It’s difficult to explain.”

“Difficult as it may be, I would find it beneficial if you would try.” Logan said.

“Imagine that.” Virgil muttered. He should have known Logan would not be so easily dissuaded. “Well, on the one hand, I don’t care about you or what you want. On the other… if you were somewhere else, you’d definitely get hurt.”

Logan blinked. “That...sounds like you care.” Now Logan was just confused. Again.

“I don’t.” Virgil insisted, his tone less biting than he would have liked. “I’m just not letting someone else get their claws on you.”

“Why?” Logan asked, eyebrows furrowed. “If you really didn’t care about me, you wouldn’t care if some other vampire got a hold of me or I died some other way. Unless, of course, you simply see me as one of your things and are territorial…” Logan muttered the last bit more to himself.

Virgil’s expression twitched. “Only I get to lay claim to your blood. I’m gonna drink it, or no one will.”

“...And until you do,” if, Virgil ever did which Logan was highly doubting at this point. “I’m forced to stay here, in this cage, acting more or less like a pet.”

“...yeah.” Virgil slumped to the side against his bookshelf.

“...Right.” Logan sighed, glancing in another direction. Logan was never getting out of here, at least, not alive. “...May I have something to eat now? Or have I not earned it?”

“No, you don’t- you don’t have to earn it.” Virgil winced. He pushed himself off from the wall. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Logan just nodded, watching warily as Virgil stood up.

Virgil grabbed the bowl, disappearing in a cloud of smoke. The bat flew out the window, with the bowl clutched in its feet. All was quiet for several minutes, when a human-shaped Virgil walked back in, the bowl filled with berries in his hands.

“Here.” Virgil announced, putting it inside the cage.

Logan took a step back as Virgil’s hand came in the cage but then came forward to the bowl, grabbing a berry. It seemed Virgil knew which ones to take now, as all of these were safe to eat. “Thank you.” He said, before sitting down near the bowl and going about eating.

“Don’t thank me.” Virgil muttered, letting the door stay swung open as he slumped into an armchair that looked very over-worn.

Logan hummed but continued to eat. “You are getting better at choosing which berries to pick.” Logan noted, saying aloud his previous thought.

“They’re easier to catch than squirrels.” Virgil gave a half-hearted snort, remembering his first attempt to feed the borrower.

“I...can imagine.” Logan felt his lips twitch up ever so slightly. “Also, I’m not at risk at contracting rabies from fruit.”

“That’s a thing?” Virgil raised an eyebrow. It seemed new diseases popped up to hurt the living every day. “So...is there anything you eat besides berries?”

“I’ve actually hardly ever eaten berries. If you remember, I do not go outside often. Or ever, really. The time you caught me was an exception. I usually eat anything a human does. Usually scraps or leftovers that humans leave out or drop.” Logan explained.

“And… what exactly is it that humans eat nowadays?” Virgil tugged at his sleeve, a bit embarrassed not to know the answer.

It was certainly strange that Virgil didn’t know that but he supposed he couldn’t blame the vampire for not knowing. “Well...they eat a number of things. Certain kinds of meat and protein, vegetables, fruits, and then things like junk food, like candy or chips.” Logan listed. “Could you not just go into a grocery store and see for yourself?”

“I don’t exactly ‘blend in’.” Virgil deadpanned, purposefully letting his fangs hang over his lip.

“Maybe...not. But from my experience, humans are willing to believe anything. Or, in some cases, believe that they didn’t actually see anything. Humans are stupid. I have not doubt if you go in with some sunglasses, the humans will think nothing of you. In fact, you could probably go in as you are and they will probably think you a simply ‘dressing up’.” Humans were indeed dumb like that. Although it was thanks to that that Logan hadn’t been caught before this.

Virgil blinked, surprised by this idea. “You seriously think that’d work?”

“I’d say it has a very high chance of success from my own experience with humans.” Logan nodded.

“Maybe I’ll test that out.” Virgil seemed to be seriously considering it. “Just, one question… what are sunglasses?”

Logan actually found himself chuckling at that. “Ah, they are...well, these are glasses.” Logan said, taking off his own pair. “Sunglasses are like these, but have a darker tint that blocks out the sun.”

“Oh.” Virgil leaned forwards, trying to picture a pair for himself. “I wonder if that’s what Patton does…”

Logan frowned. “Does...Patton go out a lot?” That was certainly interesting.

“A fair amount.” Virgil shrugged. “Mostly just with one human, that uh...the one you lived with. And not during the day, because he’s not stupid, but he still likes to have actual friends instead of being stuck with just... me.”

Logan eyebrows furrowed. “And you are...okay with this?” It didn't sound like it.

“Patton can do what he wants.” Virgil shrugged. “I don’t- I don’t own him.”

“That’s not really what I meant but good to see someone of your own species does not have the same fate as me.” Logan said, a bit bitter. “No, I meant more like, you don’t really sound happy about it. Almost...jealous, I would say. Or sad. Maybe a mix of both.”

“I’m not jealous.” Virgil seemed to cringe at the idea. “I mean, yeah, I like Patton’s company, but he’d be miserable trapped here. And yeah, it’s frustrating being alone, but-” Virgil abruptly cut himself off, coming to a sudden conclusion. Was that why it had become all but impossible to eat Logan? Virgil had grown attached to the company he gained while Patton was out? It was entirely possible, and also worrying, because a trapped borrower was hardly decent company. It was downright depressing.

“I...manage enough on my own.” Virgil lamely finished.

Logan frowned, searching Virgil’s eyes. It was obviously a lie but should Logan bring it up? He might make Virgil angry again and he didn’t really want that right now. So, he just nodded, deciding to ask something else. “Has it always just been you and Patton?”

Virgil stiffened. “That’s not even possible, if I’m the one who turned him. Bit of a chicken and the egg scenario, genius.”

Logan sighed. “Let me rephrase then. Before you turned Patton, were you alone? And after you turned Patton, was it just the two of you?”

“...yes.” Virgil answered carefully, trying to decide how much to share. “When I found Patton, I was alone.”

“Interesting.” Logan murmured. “So, you did not have parents? Or any family at all?”

“I did, but I left.” Virgil gripped his arm tightly.

“You...left? And why did you do that?” Logan couldn’t help but ask, curiosity piqued.

“Because they kicked me out.” Virgil thought the line was a bit hazy between who wanted him to leave first. “I told them they were wrong, and cruel, and I got disowned for it.”

Logan blinked, eyes going wide. “You...thought them to be cruel? You? Do I even want to ask what they did to warrant your disapproval?” Virgil himself was already cruel and encouraged Patton to be the same so...how bad had his parents been?

“I doubt it.” Virgil scoffed, searching Logan’s face to see if the borrower actually wanted answers.

Logan bit his lip. “I...am curious to know anyway.” He needed to know what his parents could have possibly done. What were Virgil’s limits? This very well could tell him.

Virgil looked off at a spot on his wall, his eyes becoming unfocused as he remembered.

“It was mostly my brothers.” Virgil said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “I mean, everybody in my family is a pure-blooded vampire. They’ve trained me in their ways, how to hunt and feed and stay on top of the food chain by shoving anybody who dared oppose us down. That’s the basics, anyways.” Virgil spared Logan the details, of the dungeons and the slaves and the screaming-

“I didn’t care much about all that.” Virgil admitted a bit guiltily. “It’s terrible, but that’s life. I was keeping my head down and doing as I was told. I blocked it out and survived, and in that way I guess I should be grateful for what they taught me.”

Now Logan was just...confused. “Please do not take offense to this.” He started with, hoping Virgil wouldn’t be mad. “But from what I have seen of you...it seems like you follow in their footsteps? I hardly see why you would have left, anyway.”

“I really am their perfect little spawn, aren’t I?” Virgil muttered bitterly, almost to himself. “Yeah, I probably would have been fine there. Miserable, but fine. But then a borrower-” Virgil paused, knowing that Emile deserved none of the blame for Virgil’s mistake. “But then my brother had to ruin it all.”

Virgil shifted, trying to keep his voice steady as he recounted this story as quickly as possible. “I found a borrower, didn’t know what it was. Got attached. Got hungry. Brothers smelled it on me, got jealous. Took what was mine, and-” Virgil’s breath hitched, a traitorous tear collecting in his eye. He wiped it away furiously. “Circle of life, I guess.”

Logan’s eyes were blown wide at this new information. “A...borrower. You...left your family because your brother ate a borrower?” That...didn’t make any sense. Since obviously, even if Virgil never ate Logan, he still very much advocated it for Patton.

“...a family of them.” Virgil picked at the edge of his sleeve, his throat tightening. “They decided to take residence in our mansion. Not exactly their smartest move, huh? Living in a vampire’s home. Really they were doomed from the start. It should hardly be a big deal.”

“Exactly. So...why was it?” Logan asked. “Why did you...leave over it.”

Virgil grimaced, squeezing his eyes tightly as the images flashed through his mind, vivid even centuries later.

“What’re you hiding, runt?”

“Give it back, it’s mine-”

“Aw, lil’ baby tooth is hoarding snacks in his room?”

“You’ll never be a real vamp if you keep waiting around. Open up~”

“NO! Virgil, please, you promised-”

“You gonna listen to the prey the size of your fist or you gonna respect that your older brother knows a few things you don’t?”

“I… I don’t want to eat him. There’s plenty of food downstairs.”

“Oh yes, a few gallons of deoxygenated blood or a lifetime of eternal strength, take your pick.”

“It’s the circle of life, you insolent thorn, now learn your place.”

“Dee, please, he’s- he’s my friend.”

“You grew attached?”

“Bet it’s gonna hurt then when I do this.”

“NONONONONONOpleasePutMeDownOh-”

“REMUS, NO!”

#vampire perspective #perspective series #vampire!virgil #vampire!deceit #vampire!remus #borrower!logan #part 12 #:(#borrower!emile

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hercleverboy · 5 years

Text

his ; sam winchester

Part two of five

I was overwhelmed by the amazing response part one recieved, so here is the promised part two.

enjoy!

Sam had decided to take Y/N in, despite Dean's protests that they couldn't bring a kid on the road with them, as Sam refused to give her away. she was his, and now that he had her, he wouldn't lose her again.

And eventually, after an accident in the bunker, Dean grew to love her just as much, swearing that he'd never let a thing harm her. Y/N could clearly remember the rainy day, when she was 11, where she listened to the rain that pattered on the ground outside the bunker. Sam had gone to get something to eat, promising to grab Dean some pie and Y/N her favourite meal. She was messing around on the stairs, as Dean watched from the table. Up until this point, Dean wasn't her biggest fan. He thought she merely distracted Sam, and whilst he could admit that he liked to see his brother happy, in this life, distractions weren't something they could afford to have.

"Hey, Uncle D, look!" She'd giggled, as she began to climb onto the hand rail.

"Kiddo, get down from there. You'll hurt yourself." He yelled, not ready to be held responsible when an accident inevitably happened.

"But Uncle D, look what I can do-" her sentence was cut short, as she had somehow lost her grip on the hand rail, and was now plummeting to the concrete ground at an alarmingly quick pace. Though, even surprising himself, Dean ran to catch her, and only just caught her before she hit the ground. She was now sobbing hysterically, as Dean attempted to calm her, whilst she cried into his shirt. He sat her on the table, looking her over to make sure she weren't injured before enveloping her in a hug again. Once she'd calmed down, she sat with Dean on the couch, feeling better in his embrace.

"You really scared me there, Sweetheart. You've gotta be careful in future, yeah?" He sighed, glad his niece hadn't hurt herself, as he wasn't sure if he could forgive himself if something had happened on his watch.

"Sorry Uncle D. Please don't tell daddy." Y/N pleaded, looking up at him with eyes that ever since that day he's never been able to resist.

"Of course not. It'll be our little secret, okay?"

She raised an eyebrow to him, unsure. She held her pinky out, and gestured that he do the same, murmuring the words, "Pinky Promise?"

With a smile, Dean locked his pinky with her much smaller one, muttering back a, "I Promise," before she rested her head into his chest and fell into a slumber.

As he watched her chest slowly rise and fall, he realised how he'd secretly grown to love his niece more than he's sure he's loved anything before. He made a vow that day. That he would protect his niece with his life, as he would protect his brother.

Sam always complimented that Y/N had grown into such a stunning young woman, now at the age of 16, with long curled locks of hair that cascaded down her back, and a acutely framed face that made her just so magnificently beautiful. Though, much to the brothers disappointment, with her age also grew her curiosity.

She would now always have questions whenever the brothers would leave for a few hours, claiming they'd gone shopping for groceries at a plaza a few hours away, and that they'd bring back something awesome. Though, they'd return that night with nothing but a pack of beers and some chocolate from the corner store down the road, and new cuts and bruises that were left unexplained. Sam wasn't stupid, though for as long as he could he ignored Dean's pleas for him let Dean show her how to protect herself from the monsters and demons in the world. However, Sam wanted to shield her from that life for as long as possible, hoping that he could stop her from getting hurt. She'd walked in on an argument of theirs one time, as they disputed on whether or not to tell her.

"What If someone attacks the bunker whilst we're not here, Sam? What if she can't defend herself?" Dean had yelled, looking at his brother with pleading eyes. They'd checked on Y/N before they'd began their dispute, as she had fallen asleep on her bed with her uncle’s music pounding in her ears, and assumed that their argument wouldn't wake her.

"The bunker is safe, Dean. There is angel warding all around, nothing is getting in." Sam attempted to persuade his brother, though he new Dean was right.

"I'm not suggesting we do what dad did. I'm not saying that next time she tells you she's afraid of the dark you hand her a shotgun. I'm saying let's teach her the basics. How to draw a devils trap, how to defend herself from all the crap out there, and any other sigils she may need." Dean pleaded. He understand Sam's need to protect his daughter, but she needed to know how to defend herself if she was going to survive this life.

"No, Dean. What if showing her that makes her think she has to be like us? That she has to be a hunter? I won't have that life for her!" Sam had yelled back, running his hand through his hair in frustration. Y/N had left her room minutes ago, waking up and concerned as she heard her father and uncle arguing. She'd been hiding around the corner, but decided now it was time to speak up.

"Dad? Uncle D? What's happening?" Her voice was clear as she stepped around the corner, coming into view.

Sam cleared his throat, and Dean remained silent. "Go to your room, Y/N."

"No." She shook her hair stubbornly. "Not until you tell me what's going on."

"This is not a debate, Y/N. Go to your room, now." Sam growled, looking at her angrily.

"You can't send me to my room like I'm just some kid, Dad! I'm growing up, I'm not your little girl anymore. You have to start talking to me." She pleaded, as Dean nodded towards Sam.

"It's about time she knew, Sammy."

"Knew what? Dad?" She asked, looking at your father so confused and angry that he wouldn't confide in you.

He stepped towards her, breathing heavily.

"Okay, Y/N. What I'm about to tell you, might sound weird, but I need you to trust me."

"Always, Dad. What is it?"

After they finished explaining, everything seemed to click in her mind. The long hours they were away, and the coverup lies he'd had to tell her.

"Y/N? Baby girl , please say something?" Her father pleaded, as Dean searched her eyes for some understanding.

"I want to help." She murmured.

"What?" Sam questioned.

"I said, I want to help you guys. When you go out on hunts, I want to help."

"No. Absolutely not." Sam shut her down quickly, his voice raising to angry levels.

"Why the hell not? Uncle D can train me, teach me how to fight. Dad you can't seriously expect me to sit here at home all day whilst I know you and D are out there risking your lives." She was gobsmacked, unsure how her father would respond.

"I said no, Y/N And that. Is. Final." Sam said menacingly, his finger pointing towards her.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I wasn't asking." She mumbled quietly. "Uncle D, Tomorrow morning will you teach me some things? Tell me what I can read up on?" Y/N knew Dean couldn't resist her eyes, he'd never been able to, and she squealed with joy when he heaved a small mutter.

"Sure, Princess."

She hugged him tightly, before running back towards her room with a smile on her face, excited that she would finally be able to be useful.

"Sam. I'm sorry, but she needs to be taught."

Sam only grunted in response, walking towards his brother with a scowl. "If anything so much as scratches my little girl I swear to god."

Dean smirked, his arms going up into a surrender.

"You have my word, Sammy. You know I'd never let anything hurt my favourite niece."

Dean headed off towards the weapons room, a smirk on his lips as Sam called after him, "What? She's your only niece!"

Y/N spent what felt like forever training with Dean. He'd taught her every move she could use during combat; even showing her how to use various weapons. Though Sam wouldn't let him show her how use the grenade launcher, because apparently it was 'unnecessary'. Sam had shown his daughter, much to his dislike, how to patch herself up should she find yourself injured and alone, though he swore it would never come to that. However, Sam couldn't protect her from everything.

Then, out of nowhere, comes a hunt. It had taken 2 whole days of Dean persuading his brother that his niece was more than prepared to fight, and that she was becoming an incredible fighter. She'd now had 6 whole months of training, and she’d even managed to flip Dean onto his ass a few times when she practiced with him, though Dean’s ego would never allow him to admit it. So reluctantly, Sam agreed to take you, as it was only a simple hunt, a rogue werewolf who needed to be dealt with. Though, he was incredibly strict with his terms.Y/N was armed with a single shotgun that contained silver bullets, and a pocket knife. Things that she was told only to use in the case of an extreme emergency, which Sam was confident would not occur. If things went south, she was to run for it, go back to the Impala and wait. If Sam or dean weren’t back within the hour, she was to use thespare key Dean had given her to drive back to the bunker.

As the Impala came to a hault outside the warehouse, which Sam had tracked the werewolf to, Sam turned to his daughter, who was sat excitedly in the back seat.

"You stay behind me at all times. It's just one werewolf, Dean and I will gank it, and then we're out of here. Understand?"

"Yes, Dad. " She rolled her eyes at her father’s overprotective ways, as she attempted to conceal how excited she was to be going on her first hunt.

After grabbing the needed equipment from the trunk, the three made their way into the old building. Dean kicked in the front door, and they made their way through the dark hallways, turning round sharp corners, always ready to attack. Dean’s flashlight was the only source of light, but that only seemed to add to the odd adrenaline rush Y/N was experiencing. Rounding another corner, they heard it before they could see it. The gruesome beast stood on its hind legs across the room, and was feasting on the bloodied remains of what appeared to be a human heart.

It snarled, dropping the heart from its pointed claws, slick with blood, as it stood to its full height, growling at the boys who stood protectively in front of Y/N. Dean raised his gun, yelling out a sort of battle cry, before charging towards the beast, shooting it with the silver bullets, of which the werewolf seemed to have no problem dodging. Sam pulled out his own gun, going to shoot, aiming for its head - only for it to dodge those bullets too. The animal was smart, and soon enough, both Dean and Sam had fired all the bullets they'd brought with them. The wolf went for Dean, grabbing and digging it's nails into him, making his arm bleed profusely before the creature threw him against the wall, knocking him out cold. Sam stood still protectively in front of his daughter, who was shocked by the scene that had unfolded in front of her. Sam remained still as the wolf snarled, baring it's teeth as it prepared to attack.

"Y/N, you know what I told you to do." Sam whispered, hoping he could at least save his daughter.

"No, Dad. I won't leave you." Her voice shook through her cold and hard faced exterior - because she knew that Sam was weighing out his options, and many of the outcomes ended up with her being the only survivor. The werewolf was much more powerful than anticipated, and with Dean out cold, there wasn't much that could be done.

"I said run!" His angered, harsh tone frightened her, but she was stubborn, he supposed she got that from him. “Please.” He begged.

That's all he was. A man, who now stood in front of his daughter, shielding her from pain so unimaginable, asking his little girl to run to save herself.

And as much as everything in her told her to stay, to fight , she obeyed.

A sense of relief filled Sam, as he watched his daughter run, now she was out of harms way, what happened to him didn't matter.

"Come at me then, you son of a bitch." Sam exclaimed, as he picked up an rusty metal pole from the floor, just as Dean began to regain consciousness. The werewolf charged towards Sam, knocking him off of his feet, as it climbed on top of him, it’s jaw snapping open and shut in an attempt to get a bite, though Sam only just managed to hold him off by using the metal pole to keep it at arms length. Though Sam knew it wouldn't hold. Suddenly a whistle cut through the thick air, and the werewolf's attention was diverted to its source, Y/N, who stood strong yet incredibly afraid, and had stupidly tried to save her father’s life by diverting the attention to herself. The werewolf left Sam, as it charged straight towards Y/N, bearing it’s teeth. In all honesty, she had no clue what she was doing. It was a death sentence, really. She may have been becoming a skilled fighter, but no way was she naive enough to believe she could fight of a creature like that. As it charged towards her at an alarming speed, she made no attempt to move. She couldn’t outrun it and she couldn’t fight it off. She was petrified, her blood pulsed through her and she felt as though she couldn’t breathe, but she simple glanced to her father, and she supposed that dying so that he could live wouldn’t be so bad.

So many things happened all at once. The sound of Sam screaming her name, or perhaps the hurried footsteps of Dean, who'd managed to scramble to and from the Impala since regaining conciousness to grab more silver bullets, or even the burning pain in Y/N’s abdomen, as the werewolf plunged its long talons into her with one swift move.

She gasped, watching helplessly as the werewolf removed is claws, and she stared as her crimson blood dripped from the tips, whilst her body fell heavy to the ground. The sound of a gunshot ran through the air, as the werewolf's body fell heavily a few meters away from her, and she could faintly make out the figure of Dean holding the gun. Sam ran toward her, kneeling at her side, as he took off his plaid jacket and attempted to apply pressure to her bleeding abdomen, though it was difficult, because his mind couldn't comprehend the quick events that had just occurred.

"Y/N?" Sam placed his hand on the side of her face, and she struggled to keep her eyes open to see him leaning over her. "Come on baby, don't leave." He begged and she could tell he was crying, but lacked the energy to make any movement.

She fought to keep her eyes open, looking into his as tears poured from them. "Dad. It hurts."

"I know baby girl, I know. But hey, it'll be okay. Dean! Dean!" Sam looks behind him, to Dean who is stood in shock at the sight of his niece lying so near death in front of him. "Dean! What're you doing? Call Cas!"

Nodding rapidly, Dean begins murmuring to himself, though after numerous tries, there was no sign of the angel.

"Damnit Cas!" Dean cried, his fist colliding with the wall next to him, before he went to kneel next to Sam and his dying niece. Sam was whispering sweet nothings into his daughter’s ear, making empty promises, as his hand gripped her’s tightly. Sam looked hopefully up at his brother, hoping that he'd managed to get Castiel's attention, though Dean could only shake his head.

"He's not coming Sammy."

Sam looked exasperated. Tears cascaded down his stubbly cheeks, and he held his daughter close as he continued to promise her that it was all going to be okay.

"Uncle D?" She whispered, her other hand reaching out for his, needing all the comfort she could get.

"Yeah, I'm here sweetheart." He promises, as Sam looks at him, and Dean can practically hear his heart breaking.

"Promise me you'll take care of Dad." Tears fell down her cheeks. “He’ll blame himself, but, but you can’t let him, okay? This was my decisionand I-” She cut herself off, lacking the energy to continue speaking. She knew things weren't going to get better. This was it for her. But She'd never regret dying if it meant her father could live.

" Hey, hey, It’s okay. I promise darling." He kissed her forehead sweetly, as did Sam, and as Sam begged helplessly for his daughter not to go, her head finally fell to the side, and her hands fell limp, her eyes falling closed as her breathing ceased.

"Y/N? Baby girl? Wake up." Sam took his daughters arms, and shook her gently, as if that would bring her back. "Please, Y/N. You can't leave."

And Dean can do nothing but watch as his heartbroken brother cries over the daughter that deserved so much more than what she got. Sam sat beside his daughter for hours, holding her limp and cold body in his, rocking her back and forth as he sang the song his mother used to sing to him when he was young. Eventually Dean managed to convince Sam that it was time to go.

"Come on, Sammy. We should go now. We can give her a proper hunters funeral, like she deserves." Dean attempted to say, as he touched his brothers shoulder, though Sam shoved him off.

"No." Sam roughly said, as he stood, lifting his daughter into his arms. "We'll bury her. So she can come back to us when she's ready."

"Okay, Sammy. If that's what you want." Dean hated seeing his brother in such a way, and this time there was nothing Dean could do to make it any better. So Dean sat in the drivers seat, taking her to a lovely patch of greenery, where Y/N's favourite childhood spot was for her and Sam to watch the stars, and Sam sat in the back, cradling his dead daughter to his chest, as tears still fell down his cheeks.

That was the night that Y/N Winchester died. A night that Sam would never forget.

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