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katehuntington · 4 years

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Title: In Bad Waters - part seven Word count: ±5570 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part seven summary: Zoë goes undercover to find out more about the murder she saw in her dream. Little does she know, that Sam and Dean do the same. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09 and @deanwanddamons. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

Confident, Zoë bends down in order to fit under the yellow ‘crime scene - do not cross’ ribbon. She takes out her federal agent ID and flips it open before the officer guarding the perimeter can ask her about it. He steps away respectfully and lets her through.

It’s about 10 AM and the sun is already out on this relatively warm November day. Marching up the driveway with her heels clicking rhythmically on the concrete, Zoë unbuttons her black suit jacket to let in some air. The Stars and Stripes hasn’t been taken down yet and still flutters from the top of the mast, located in the center of a perfectly landscaped garden. The fallen leaves drape parts of the neatly mowed lawn in different tones of orange and brown. Not only does this particular estate look amazing, the entire street is brochure perfect. It is obvious that the families living in these homes on Reynolds Park Road, are wealthy ones. However, the ambulances and police cars blocking the street and the officers scanning the area, indicate that something is terribly wrong. What would seem like the last place on earth for a murder, is indeed a gruesome crime scene.

Two officers are having a conversation by the front entry. They pause the discussion once they notice the unfamiliar face approaching them. She captivates them instantly. Determined strides, head held high, clearly a woman who stands her ground in the men’s words that is law enforcement. There’s not a single trace of doubt noticeable when she flashes her ID once more. “Agent Evans, FBI,” she states.

“Detective Lee. This is officer Sanchez,” a tall man, with a serious case of a receding hairline, introduces his colleague a little reluctantly, clearly not happy about the presence of a fed. He holds out his hand anyway and Zoë makes eye contact, giving him a powerful handshake. “I didn’t know the Bureau was involved,” he comments with an Upper South accent, common for the region.

“Well, if you had paid attention while investigating the crimes in your own county, detective,” the specialist returns without missing a beat, facing the two man with enough arrogance to shut them down immediately, “- you might had noticed that there has been a murder similar to this one, making this a serial killing.” “Still don’t make this a federal case,” Lee returns, standing his ground. “What does, is the fact that there’s a whole string of deaths leading from Alabama up to your lovely little town.”

Of course she just made that up on the spot, just to back up her reason to be here, but no one would be able to tell without doing some solid digging first. She is so convincing that the two men fail to counter her. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. If you could be so kind to show me the way, that would be neat,” she requires, throwing them a fake smile while narrowing her eyes.

The two officers glance at each other, it being clear as day that the detective is not amused by the way he’s spoken to. Nonetheless, he gestures to the FBI agent to get into the house. She seems like a person not to be messed with.

They enter the villa with Zoë in tow, who nods approving while taking a look around. She glances up to the high ceilings, which are decorated with beautiful alto-reveilo, carved into the white plaster. Roman pillars support the level above, and in the back two staircases circle up to the second floor. Every square inch of the floor underneath their feet is made from marble. Renaissance paintings, portraying country sides in the 19th century and battles from the Civil War hang from the walls, a gold plated chandelier floats overhead. Flower pieces, amongst them an expensive bouquet placed on the mahogany round table in the center of the main room, gives the house a finishing touch. Zoë knows the lifestyle of the rich and famous, but this place looks more like a palace than a principal’s home in a town called Paragould.

“As you can see, Mr. Van Dyke lived the good life. His father owned a Dutch shipping company and made millions,” Officer Sanchez explains, having noticed the federal agent’s impressed expression. “We believe the fortune he passed on to his son might have something to do with Van Dyke’s death.”

As they climb the stairs, Zoë chuckles, but doesn’t say a word. These oblivious bastards... they have absolutely no clue, do they? “You think something else is going on?” Lee questions, noticing the sarcasm in her little laugh. “Money is not the motive,” she returns, curt.

An awkward silence follows and Zoë can feel the hostility between her and the two police officers. She has experienced it before, especially in smaller communities. Most cops despise the feds, simply because the cases they work quite literally hit close to home. The FBI is no stranger to barging in and taking over entire investigations, without sending a ‘thank you’ card. A lot of hard work for the local coppers, without any credit. Zoë can’t say she blames the police for being reluctant.

“This way.” Sanchez beckons them after climbing the stairs to the second floor, where he turns left on the vestibule. The closer they get to the crime scene, the more crowded it gets. The Crime Scene Unit has already arrived and forensics dust for prints, take pictures and search for evidence. When Zoë enters the room and finds Mr. Van Dyke, she frowns.

In the corner lies a man, probably in his mid fifties, half into a shattered exhibition case, his eyes open, death evident. It’s not the first time Zoë has seen a dead guy, but she wasn’t expecting such a violent killing committed by a ten year old. Apparently his head got smashed into the showcase; glass is scattered all over his body. He has bruises and cuts on his arms and face, but most peculiar is his probable cause of death. His neck is broken; the head at a 90° angle.

Zoë scans the room, which shows several signs of a struggle. One thing is certain; Van Dyke really got his ass kicked before he died. As she takes a look around, a woman wearing white latex gloves updates Lee and his partner. Zoë glances over, notices the CSU logo on her jacket, and walks over to tune in. “- time of death was between 6:30 and 7 AM. No prints found so far,” the forensic states. “Look at this place. There must be something,” Detective Lee ponders, his gaze panning over the crime scene. “Not even a fiber,” she sighs. “I have to admit; I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Seems like the suspect has left no trace,” Zoë intervenes, mixing into the conversation. “Someone just did a good job covering up,” Sanchez scoffs, not finding her remark relevant. “We’ll find something.” Dude, you have no idea, Zoë thinks to herself, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. She doesn’t cut in on him, although she has about a dozen smart curve balls ready. Never get too smart around cops, who knows what she might need them for later on.

“There’s one thing, though, but it adds more confusion than it clears up.” The forensic walks over to the body of Mr. Van Dyke and points out the way his sweater is pulled down. It uncovers his left shoulder, the sleeve seems too long at the end by the force that was used. “Looks like someone pulled him down. As if the killer wanted to level his victim with him or her,” she clarifies. “The murderer was shorter than the victim,” Lee concludes. “Not just a little shorter, I’m talking about round 4 ft. 5 here, looking at the angle and location of the bruising,” the forensic adds up. “About the height of a ten year old, right?” Zoë fills in, as the clues sum up. “Yeah, that would be correct, but that’s impossible. Even if a ten year old could be capable of doing such a thing, they wouldn’t have the strength,” she rules out.

Impossible isn’t in Zoë’s dictionary, but she has seen enough. The forensics might be on a dead end, Zoë is a hundred percent sure of who Van Dyke’s killer is. She is dealing with one furious ghost child here, but two questions remain unanswered: why isn't Laura at rest and how is she able to relocate? A cursed object is the first thing that comes to mind. Being on the clock, Zoë decides to leave and have a talk with the family. “Thanks very much, I’ve got everything I need.” She gives both the forensic and the members of the PPD a nod, before she exits the room.

While Zoë walks down the corridor towards the staircase, the undercover huntress goes through the things she just learned. It almost seems like Laura is trying to put her victims through the same horror she experienced before she died. She simply shows them who’s boss, just like her father used to teach her. It’s violent, not suited for viewers under the age of eighteen, and yet a girl of only ten years of age, is behind these murders.

Back on the first floor, Zoë can hear soft wailing coming from the dining room. For the third time this morning she shows her ID, this time to the officer guarding the shielded off private space. The door is slightly ajar, when she pushes it open further in order to enter, the investigator finds the Van Dyke family, gathered together. A woman in her early fifties with blonde pixie hair has her arms around a teenage girl, who Zoë presumes to be the principal’s daughter. The son, a few years younger than his sister, stares outside, his empty eyes gazing out over the lake, quietly grieving in his own way. Instantly, Zoë feels sorry for the family. She wouldn’t wish this upon anyone. “Mrs. Van Dyke?”

The woman looks up with tears in her eyes and lets go of her daughter, but not before sweetly stroking her hair. Zoë shows Mr. Van Dyke’s wife her identification. “I’m Special Agent Evans, you can call me Sharon. I would like to ask you a few questions if that’s alright.” The mother of two nods her head as she wipes away her tears. “Of course.” “Your husband’s passing took place between 6:30 and 7 O'clock this morning. Where were you at this time?” Zoë questions calmly. “I was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast,” Mrs. Van Dyke replies, having crossed one arm over her chest, her hand covering her mouth as she breathes out with a shudder. “And you heard nothing?” the huntress wonders, her voice gentle, not wanting to upset the poor woman even more. “Not a sound,” she shakes her head. “Heather was in her room next to Bill’s office, she didn’t hear a thing until the dog started barking, that’s when she found him.”

Zoë nods at that, aware that dogs have a better sense of the supernatural than humans have. She glances past the woman before her, noticing the kind Australian shepherd, who has laid his head in Heather’s lap, watching up at her with worried eyes while trying to comfort his owner. The dog seems calm now, a good indication that Laura isn’t anywhere near. What the huntress does find strange, though, is that their daughter didn’t hear a thing. The article in the newspaper yesterday about Robert Shire’s murder comes to mind. His family was home during the incident as well.

“That will be it for now, thank you for your time,” Zoë notifies, smiling sympathetically. “I’m very sorry for your loss.” Mrs. Van Dyke turns back to her family with half a nod, still in complete shock after this morning’s events which turned her world upside down. Zoë would like to take more time to talk to the children, but she simply doesn’t have a minute to spare. Hastened, the huntress exits the house, stepping out into the warm sun as she takes out her shades and puts them on.

It all makes sense now. Laura isn’t just getting even with the people who are directly or indirectly connected to her death. She’s recreating how she died. What Zoë remembers from her flashback, the poor girl was a punching bag for her father’s fist on a daily basis, but it’s not just that. No one around heard a thing, not even a single sound, like the victims were isolated from the outside world. The vision of Laura’s mother stoically continuing her dinner while her older brother watched TV. As if they couldn’t bear the abuse and therefore shut out the sounds that came along with it.

Pondering, Zoë strides down Reynolds Park Road, back to her bike, which she parked near the water. Unlike the police, the huntress is everything but stuck, she knows exactly where she needs to go. Next stop; The Shire residence.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

Dean has been complaining ever since they pulled away from the In-N-Out, when Sam came up with his newest masterplan. Their usual jeans and several layers of plaid have been replaced with black suits, the sharp dressed men now approaching Arkansas Methodist Medical Center, leaving the Impala in the parking lot.

“We are doing this, so get used to it,” Sam returns, getting tired of his brother’s whining. “You have the ID’s?” Dean takes out two leather wallets and flips them open, showing him the fake identification. Sam stares at the ID’s, his jaw falling open. “FBI? Are you nuts, Dean?” “Dad and I do it all the time. No sweat,” Dean shrugs, not that worried about getting caught.

“What if they look up our badge numbers? This is suicide!” Sam hisses, keeping his voice down when they pass people at the entrance of the hospital. “You wanna know what’s suicide? Meddling with Zoë’s case,” Dean counters. Sam huffs. “Oh, come on. How bad can it be?” “You should have seen her in Rochester when she found out we rang Cliffer and blew her cover. That wasn’t even intentional, and now you actually choose to get involved?” Dean argues.

He gives his brother his new identification, which Sam studies carefully as he mumbles his fake name. Dean watches his brother closely, curious if he will detect the little gimmick in their aliases, them being Angus and Young. But Sam doesn’t know enough about rock music to notice that the two names combined is the full name of AC/DC’s lead guitarist. Nonetheless, Dean is proud of the inside joke.

“She might get a little annoyed, but she won’t get mad. We’re helping her,” Sam assures, hoping his brother will stop being dramatic. “Exactly! I’m dressed like a fucking penguin while I know she won’t ever thank us, even if we have a major breakthrough.” Dean loosens his tie a bit, smothered by the tightness of his collar. “Look man, we can sit on our ass and waste this day or--” “- I prefer that actually,” the oldest intervenes. “Or--” Sam continues, sternly, “- we can do something useful.”

With that being said, he walks through the revolving doors of the governmental facility, followed by Dean, who mutters something unintelligible; stubborn fucker. Dean might be the older sibling here, but when Sammy has got his mind set on something, he can’t be reasoned with. Heading straight for the main desk, the Winchester brothers get into character. Sam especially looks somewhat young to be a federal agent, thankfully his height makes up for that. They both need to sell this in order to gather new information on the case. Confidently, Dean flashes his FBI identification to the woman behind the counter. “Agent Young, this is my partner Agent Angus. We’re here to see a dead body.” “You came to the right place,” she comments, apparently not impressed by their badges. She calls for an older physician in a long white coat who just passed by. “Dr. Hughes? Could you escort these two agents to the morgue?” she asks him. “Of course, I’m heading over there anyway,” he agrees, beckoning Dean and Sam to walk with him.

The hunters follow the doctor through the long hospital hallways. White ceilings, mint green vinyl floors and random photos and Picasso rip offs on the walls every now and then; the typical hospital decor the Winchester brothers are more familiar with than they would want to be. They’ve been inside medical centers plenty. To investigate a case, but also as a visitor whenever someone in their close circle got hurt on the job, but also as a patient. Hunting isn’t just a profession prone to injury, it’s worse than that. It’s a profession prone to death.

Dr. Hughes eventually breaks the silence when they reach an elevator. “Who are you here for?” “Ronald Shire,” Sam informs. Unpleasantly surprised, Hughes looks up at the tall agent. He halts by the elevator, calling it down to the first floor. It takes a second to arrive, the doctor uncomfortably shifts from one foot to the other. Dean and Sam have noticed it, however, exchanging a look.

“I’m sorry,” the physician apologizes when he realizes how his behavior might come across. “Ronald was a colleague of mine, but he was also a close friend.” “Our condolences,” Dean says, knowing all about Shire’s death after Sam filled him in earlier. Hughes pushes the button to call the elevator down, accepting the sympathy offered by the agent. “Unbelievable, isn’t it? We see death every day and yet when it hits close to home, you never see it coming.”

Wise words, applicable to everyone. He has been there on many occasions when the final hour struck; of hunters, of people they were trying to save. One would expect all this experience to give him thick skin, since he’s used to the violence and killings. But when Jess was murdered, it hit him harder than a wrecking ball.

The younger Winchesters train of thought is interrupted by the sound of the bell, announcing that the elevator has reached their level. He clears his throat and directs his attention to the doctor again. “Do you have an idea what happened to Mr. Shire?” “I did the autopsy myself; it left me stunned,” Dr. Hughes tells them as they enter the elevator.

Again the doctor presses a key and the doors close. As they slowly move down to the basement, Dean tries to find out if Hughes knows more about the case then he’s willing to let go at this point. “We think his death might have something to do with the murder that took place in the Van Dyke residence,” he fills in. “I heard about that on the news. CSU is still on that, though”, the physician says. “We have one of our agents at the scene,” Sam returns, with the short statement explaining their suspicion.

The doors open and the three enter the morgue of the hospital. It’s cool in this section and an unpleasant scent fills the area, chemicals almost masking the lingering smell of the dead. The doctor walks over to the furthest wall of metal drawers. He pulls out one of the many trays and puts on a pair of latex gloves before he zips open the body bag. “What’s so stunning about this case?” Sam wonders. “See for yourself.” Hughes unfolds the bag and both boys raise their eyebrows. “Ouch,” Dean comments.

The body of Laura’s father is badly bruised and battered, as if he got beaten up by a street gang in a bad neighborhood. His jaw is demolished, his neck broken; this is some serious abuse. The ‘Y’ shaped incisions on his torso indicated that a full autopsy has been performed on Ronald Shire, but the large stitches barely stand out between the black and broken skin.

“That’s not all,” the doctor adds as he takes out the file. “I searched every inch of his body on the in and outside, but there is not a print, not one single fiber on him that could point you fellas towards a suspect.” Dean gives Sam a look without the physician seeing it. Dr. Hughes might have never seen this before, the hunters certainly have. Ghosts never leave any trace on their victims, unless they want to.

“This caught my attention, though.” The doctor points out the bruises. “See how they run out upwards? That indicates that these injuries were caused from a lower angle. Or the killer was on its knees - which would be most unlikely - or the injuries were inflicted by someone shorter than 4 ft. 7. Someone with a growth defect, dwarf syndrome. That’s the only way I can clarify this.” “Have you considered a child?” Sam questions, carefully. “I have for a brief moment, but it’s theoretically impossible for a child to throw punches like this, even when it would use an object to create some kind of leverage, which I found no indication of,” the doctor explains. “Honestly, I’ve never seen damage done like this, not even by trained fighters. The evidence doesn’t add up in the slightest. This shouldn’t be possible.”

The boys exchange another glance; the evidence adds up just fine for them. Sam tilts his head and nods to the door, giving Dean the signal that they are leaving. “Thank you for your time, doctor.” he rounds up their visit. “If there is anything else, let us know.” “You’re welcome, I hope you’ll get this one,” Hughes mentions while he cleans up. “We’ll do our best,” Sam ensures.

The two hunters leave the morgue and step back into the elevator. As soon as the doors close, the oldest of the two turns to the other. “Laura, definitely,” the youngest brother states, determined. “Unless this town is haunted by two frustrated mini spirits, yeah, it’s Laura.” Dean agrees, watching Sam take his phone out of his pocket as they arrive at the first floor again. “Who’re you gonna call?” “The other Ghostbuster,” Sam replies, as he looks up Zoë’s number and presses the green button as soon as they step outside the hospital. “Shouldn’t we get to the bomb shelter first?” the oldest suggests, snarky. “This information could be useful”, Sam replies, but before Dean can respond to that, Zoë answers her phone.

“Sullivan.” “Hey Zoë, it’s Sam. Listen, I’ve got some info on Ronald Shire for you,” Sam cuts to the chase. “Why would you have info on Laura’s dad?” Sam cringes slightly, detecting the suspecting tone in her voice. Oh well, here goes nothing. “We went to the Medical Center to see Shire’s body.”

Complete silence, but Sam can almost hear Zoë’s blood boil on the other side of the line. Dean pulls his sleeve and gestures at him, frustrated. “What are you including me for?” he hisses, making sure Zoë can’t hear him. Sam waves him away, without making a sound he hushes his brother to be quiet, turning away from him in order not to get distracted. He takes a breath, gathering his courage.

“Zoë?” “I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood you. Did you just tell me that you deliberately messed with my case, even though I told you VERY clearly not to get involved?” The huntress’s voice trembles with anger, Sam can hear she tries to keep calm. “We figured we could spare you some time by going ourselves--” “- You FIGURED?!”

Sam cowers, her voice so sharp and loud that he doesn’t have to put her on speaker for Dean to pick up on the conversation. He did move closer to his brother, invading his personal space in order to tune in. “Better take cover,” Dean advises his brother. Annoyed, Sam pushes his brother away and focuses on Zoë again.

“We didn’t mess anything up if that’s what you’re worried about”, he states defensively. “I wouldn't give a flying fuck if you solved the fucking case! You didn’t listen!” “You’re not my boss!” Sam makes clear, not having her raging attitude, no matter how intimidated he feels by the fiery woman. “I am the boss when it comes to MY cases, damn it! This is not a fucking candy store I’m running, Sam! You can’t go do my job without telling me, you almost got me killed last time!” “It was an innocent morgue visit!” Sam exclaims while making a wild gesture, even though Zoë isn’t there to see it. “And honestly, would you have said ‘yes’ if I asked you first?”

“No of course not, you fucking asshat! That’s the fucking point!” she returns, clearly furious. “I swear to God, Sam, if you and your brother cross my path again…” “What? You’ll kill us?” Sam huffs. “Listen, Zoë. Ronald Shire was attacked by Laura, without doubt. He was a mess, his jaw was wrecked and his neck was broken, all injuries inflicted from a lower angle. That’s all the info I’ve got for you, you do with it whatever the hell you want.”

Before Zoë can return an answer, Sam ends the call. It’s only now that he notices Dean opposite of him, his arms crossed in front of him. He nods, appreciating. “No more Mr. Nice Guy. I like it,” he comments, then continues his way to the Impala. Without responding to his notification, Sam follows and catches up with him, still angry with the ungrateful attitude of the huntress. He cannot believe he saved her at least an hour and a half and this is what he gets in return; so much for gratitude.

Together they walk over to the classic Chevrolet without speaking about it further. Yet Dean can’t help but smile as he opens his door. Sam notices the grin and rolls his eyes. “Just say it,” he mutters. “Say what?” “You know what.” Dean looks at him over the top of the black Chevrolet and ponders, still deciding if he should say the words which he longs to say. He can’t help himself, he has to enjoy the moment and rub it in. His smirk grows even wider. “Hate to say I told you so.” “No, you don’t,” Sam sighs, sits down and closes the door.

Dean does the same and turns the key, starting up the Impala’s V8 engine, which lets out an enthusiastic roar. People Are Strange by The Doors is playing on the radio while Sam stares through the windshield, still bummed about the call. “Why doesn’t she just drop the act?” Sam wonders. “I’m not sure if it’s an act, Sammy.” Dean checks in both directions before steering his precious car onto the road. “I sincerely think her soul is pitch black.”

But Sam shakes his head, not buying it. “This can’t be her persona. You said it yourself; she was different when you first met her.” “So? People change,” Dean simply declares, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe, but this is just stupid. We’re in town, bored out of our skull while she is working her ass off to finish up on time. It can’t be that hard to accept our help.” “Apparently she’s socially disturbed, Sam. Let it go already. If she can’t appreciate a helping hand, she’s not worth the effort,” the older brother suggests, not wanting Sam to be bothered by the matter. “Let’s go to Texas and hunt some wolf, huh?”

He considers the advice for a moment as they drive by Linwood Cemetery. As soon as he spots the place, he glances across the road at the Hampton Inn, but there is no sign of Zoë; she must be at the crime scene. As they pass through, he decides he wants to stay. “No. We agreed to stay in town till tonight. Zoë will leave, case closed or not. It’s almost midday, so what difference will it make if we leave now or tonight?” “Half a day,” Dean answers smartly. “Denise? Or did you completely forget about the fact that you are meeting up with her later?”

The driver of the black car raises his eyebrow at that, contemplating, because Sam is right; he did forget about his ‘date’ later today for just a second. Dean doesn’t like to admit it, but Denise is a very big plus to stay in town just a little while longer. A silence follows after Sam’s mention while his brother thinks through his options.

“Point taken,” he gives in. “But I’ll tell you one thing. Zoë is not gonna come around.” “She will, believe me. She’s not as bad to the bone as she pretends to be,” Sam states, sure of his words. After all, last night she was friendly for letting him crash in her room and transferring all that lore to his computer. “I know her better than you do,” Dean weighs up. “I don’t believe that's true,” Sam counters, shaking his head. “Wanna bet?” Dean looks aside as the argument is starting to turn into a ‘do not, do too’ fight. “Burgers for a week.” “I rarely eat burgers. How’s that gonna benefit me?” the younger sibling brings to mind.

“Okay, well… If I win, you buy me burgers for a week. If you win, I won’t give you shit for ordering a salad in every fast food joint we eat at.” The green eyed hunter wiggles his eyebrows, his arrogant grin confident, spread wide on his lips. “I’m not settling for that.” Sam huffs and shakes his head. “You can buy me whatever I order for the next seven days if I’m right.” “Deal.”

Before Dean can assure him that this is a bet he will win, his brother’s Blackberry rings. Surprised, he checks the screen for the number, his long chestnut hair falling in front of his eyes when he looks down, then he raises his eyebrows and smiles. Victoriously he shows the screen to Dean; it’s Zoë. Sam picks up his phone and puts her on speaker. “What?” he snaps, still mad at her. “What are you up to?” The youngest of the Winchesters isn’t sure if she’s asking him if he’s still intending to mess with her case or that she’s asking if he has some spare time. “Depends,” he answers, curt. “You said Shire broke his neck, so did Van Dyke.” “So?” “Might be something.”

Sam keeps his mouth shut, warning Dean to do the same with only a look and a slight shake of the head. An unpleasant silence follows. Obviously, it irritates Zoë. “C'mon, Sam. Knock it off!” “No, Zoë! We’re helping you out and this is what we get?” Sam returns. “You two nosey dickwads went behind my back! How can you expect me to be--”

They can hear her sigh and swallow down the rest of the sentence as she collects herself, trying to keep her temper in check. “I don’t like working with others and I certainly don’t want to abandon this case. I’ve never passed up a job, it’s not my style. But if I don't finish up by tonight, I don't have another option.”

“I get that, but wouldn’t it be better if we just work together now and make sure that you’ll make your deadline?” Sam suggests, calmer than a moment ago, now that the woman on the other end of the line has done the same. “Look, Zo,” Dean interrupts, adding his two cents. “I know you’re not particularly happy about teaming up - and hey, neither am I - but you’ll be able to cover more ground that way. You can’t expect us to leave town knowing you might have to face a dilemma. The sooner you close this case, the sooner we can go our separate ways.” “I don’t know...” Again a sigh while Zoë considers her next move. Sam allows the silence, granting her the time to think it through. The way he sees it, she doesn't have much of a choice. The Winchesters are the best option she’s got. “Okay, fine,” she eventually gives in. “But this is still my case. I call the shots and might we stumble on trouble, we stick to the plan. I can’t settle for anything less.” Dean has already opened his mouth to object, but Sam elbows him hard, shooting him a warning glare. “Agreed,” the youngest quickly answers, ignoring the quiet muttering from his left. “Dean?”

The older Winchester brother grinds his teeth. Shit, he does not want to bow down to her, because he knows the second he does, she will without a doubt step up to become Evil Queen Bitch. He’s never going to live it down. One case, he tells himself. One fucking case and he will never have to deal with her again. “Fine,” he utters, barely audible. “One other thing. I need to leave town tonight, case finished or not. We have to try or take care of this today, okay?” “We will,” Sam assures. “And if we run into trouble and can’t manage to wrap up, you don’t have to worry about this case. We’ll make sure to have it covered and that Laura will be put to rest.” “So, do we meet up or what?” “Yeah, sure.” “Where are you at?”

Before Sam answers he checks the name of the road they are on. “W. Kings Highway, going west. We’re staying at the Ramada Inn,” Sam tells her. “Shit motel.” He scoffs a chuckle, glad the tension has lifted. “Tell me ‘bout it.” “I'll see you at In-N-Out,” the huntress decides. “I want an Animal Burger.” “Have you had that 4x4 burger?” Dean says, his mouth watering. “The amount of meat, hmm.” “Are you kidding me? I grew up in California; In-N-Out is my jam!” “Their food is fuckin’ amazing, ain’t it?” Dean agrees. “Oh my God, yes! How they grill their cheese—”

Stunned, Sam stares from the phone to Dean and back. Did the unthinkable just happen? Did Zoë and Dean actually agree on something? Remarkable, but truly, here is the one subject they can’t fight about; food. “Zo?” he interrupts. “Yeah?” “See you at In-N-Out.” He chuckles and hangs up.

The Ramada Inn shows up in front of them and Dean pulls up into the parking lot, turning off the ignition once he has found a spot close to the entrance. Before he gets out of the car, he registers Sam, who’s wearing a boyish grin on his face. His eyes sparkle through the curtain of his bangs, his pearl white teeth on display; it’s clear he’s very much amused. “Hate to say I told you so,” Sam nags victoriously, and pushes the passenger door open.

With a confused expression upon his face, Dean gets out of his car himself. He then glares at younger Winchester over the top of the Impala, the words sinking in. Fuck, he lost a bet; Zoë came around. “No, you don’t,” he mutters, following his sibling inside. Looks like he’s going to have to live through the embarrassment of ordering and paying for salads the coming week. Oh well, at least he doesn’t have to eat them.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part eight here

#Supernatural: the Sullivan Series #Supernatural series #Dean Winchester series #Sam Winchester series #Supernatural OFC series #SPN #Supernatural #dean angst #sam angst #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester fanfiction #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Zoë Sullivan #STSS #STSS 1x01 #In Bad Waters #Kate Huntington

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princessdevy03 · 4 years

Text

Tumblr Exclusive!!!!

Author’s Note: Happy birthday to @anybodihearme! I know it’s late but it’s done. Don’t fight me! I’ll fight you, damnit!

Birthday Surprise

Kevin leaned his head back and sighed.

The city whipped by outside the window of the Uber Eddy ordered as quickly as the thoughts in his head.

“Rolf has the dogs and Nazz is holding my present from mom...”

“Ed is gonna cut the grass Saturday…”

“Sarah’s gonna make sure the guys at the shop are on schedule…”

“Johnny’s got the shop…”

As the city gave way to the countryside, he closed his eyes to lock away the blue of the sky that reminded him of a certain set of the eyes he hadn’t seen in far too long.

Edd was stuck across the country at his dream job as a director of a biomedical lab in the Pacific Northwest. His and Kevin’s relationship started there because Kevin was stationed at a nearby US Navy base as a Marine, but when Kevin’s dad passed away, he came back home to West Virginia to take over the family auto body shop as his contract was up and decent mechanics jobs were hard to come by without moving down the coast to even more expensive locales.

Edd said they’d make it work, but Kevin was wary.

His career in the Marines took him to Hawaii, Germany, Japan, Korea, Texas, and England.

Every duty station led to new heartbreak as every other guy or girl just couldn’t handle being in a long distant relationship.

Edd was the first who seemed to understand, but he was also the first person that got Kevin to think about life after he couldn’t handle being in the Marine Corps anymore.

The stress of dealing with his PTSD and trying to juggle being a good son, good friend, and a good Marine was tough.

And when romance was involved, his being all in could be the most stressful thing of all.

Edd had always been a bit high strung when it came to how he liked his home to look, how he applied himself to school and work, but his love for his family and friends was easily given as breathing.

So while Kevin would be there with gifts, surprise dates, and mushy compliments, Edd was more likely to suggest getting coffee before spending the day running errands and grabbing a quick bite to eat before Kevin had to be back at the barracks.

But the sudden cross country shift had them rethinking about how to keep the love flowing.

Kevin would send flowers everyday and Edd would call him every night.

Up until about a month ago.

The texts were short, but he’d still get a good morning text and he started sending GrubHub to the shop every Friday with donuts and a box of coffee from Dunkin’.

Kevin would be lying, though, if he said that Edd ignoring his Duo calls didn’t have him feeling some kinda way.

But Edd did suggest that Kevin head up to the dude ranch in the mountains for his birthday to get away from work and his lingering issues with closing his father’s estate.

“I’ll call you when you guys have dinner, and I’ll make something with you and it’ll be like having dinner together,” Edd had said when Kevin finally got a hold of him two weeks ago.

Edd was dressed in his lab coat that looked like it was losing a fight with the chemicals in the lab and he needed a haircut and some sleep if the bags under his eyes were any indication of what he was feeling like at the moment.

Kevin felt a tinge bad that he had a snarky attitude in the texts he had been sending, and Lort his voicemail messages…

Edd’s work was desperately needed in the middle of the current global health crisis they were living in, so he hadn’t been purposely ignoring his man, but he could make time, right?

But with the world being on a tight lockdown, dinner via video call would have to do.

When he got to the ranch, the fresh air had him feeling a bit better.

And the horses…

Growing up, he’d spend at least a week every summer with his whole extended family at the family ranch in Wyoming, so riding horses was second nature to his bike and motorcycle.

When Edd suggested going riding in the Cascades one long weekend, Kevin started falling in love.

Having a long weekend to himself on the beautiful creatures would be just what the doctor ordered.

Eddy knew about this particular ranch from his leadership networking conferences and got Kevin a deal, and let him use his Uber Black membership to get a ride there and back provided Kevin didn’t steal any of the horses.

Once he laid eyes on the black stallion with blue eyes in the field behind his cabin, he knew he was gonna have a hell of a time keeping his promise to keep things on the ranch…

When he walked in the cabin, he was pleasantly surprised to see a shoebox on the bed of his favorite brand of riding boots.

“I wonder what color he got this time,” he chuckled to himself.

For the last five years, Edd would get him a new color of boots for his birthday.

“I think they’re green,” a voice coming from the bathroom said. “I don’t think I’ve gotten you green ones yet.”

Kevin doesn’t remember screaming but it took a good ten minutes for him to stop shaking after he scooped Edd in his arms and tossed him on the bed.

Once his heart beat returned to something resembling normal, he looked into sky blue eyes and frowned.

“You’re here.”

“Yes,” Edd chuckled and Kevin rolled his eyes as he sat up and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“And ruin the surprise?!” Edd laughed. “Nah.”

“What about work?”

Kevin knew Edd’s work was leading the charge to get the United States out of a pandemic it hadn’t seen the likes of in a good century. He just didn’t like the idea of Edd blowing it off, even if it was his birthday weekend.

“I can’t really do anything about it now,” Edd sighed, feeling a bit guilty about the slightly white lie. “It’s back to the lab techs to sort through the latest findings, so I can take a few days.”

“But just a few?”

“I’m sorry, Kevin,” Edd said softly as he rubbed his arm. “But we’ll make the most of it. I’ll even make dinner.”

Kevin’s stomach growling echoed around the quiet room in response to this as the dinner bell rang.

Dinner on the ranch was simple, you could take a picnic basket back to your cabin or have dinner in the open field off the side of the main house’s commercial kitchen. If you opted for the latter, there was a story time with one of the permanent ranch hands, embellishing the history of the ranch, as everyone ate at the huge picnic tables that circled a large fire pit.

Once the sun went down, the fire pit was lit, small brown paper bags filled with blocks of chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers were passed around, and more than a few ghost stories told.

But not a single twang of a banjo was heard, just the soft strumming of a six string guitar dueting with a low harmonica. And the low moo of a cow or two.

Kevin and Edd opted for dinner in the field as Kevin was eager to see the temperament of the horses before trying to pick which one to make his own over the long weekend, after which they fed a snack or two to the horses before they went to the barn for the night. Then it was s’mores and ghost stories with a lil stargazing and a nice, long leisurely stroll back to the cabin.

Kevin honestly didn’t want the night to end, even if his body was nearly begging him to sleep.

Edd’s wasn’t, though.

As soon as they walked in the door, Edd had him pinned against it, deftly locking the deadbolt with one hand, the other undoing Kevin’s pants.

And the breeze blowing through the valley gave Kevin his second wind.

Edd’s beanie was gone as fast as their shoes, they walked out of their pants as Kevin walked them backwards to the bed.

“God, why do you have to over dress so much?” Kevin whined as he undid the buttons on Edd’s shirt, thankful he hadn’t worn a tie.

“You look good, you feel good,” Edd huffed as he undid his cuffs and then batted Kevin’s hands away so he could pull his shirt over his head.

Kevin always thought he looked good, but he looked even better now with his dick in his mouth.

His hands ached as he grasped silky strands as dark as the night sky. The few silver highlights looked like stars, but Edd rather he see color bars.

Kevin squeezed his eyes tight, flashes of technicolor sparking with every jerk of his hips as he fucked his boyfriend’s face.

It seemed cruel, Edd grabbing his ass to take him all the way in, like he didn’t care that Kevin’s yearning and frustrations were aching his jaw, but he loved the man so much that it felt good to do this.

Right until Kevin tore himself away.

Edd sputtered but Kevin grinned.

“Stop your whining, Dork. I brought my chaps and my good sweats.”

“You are not riding in sweats and chaps,” Edd laughed as he shoved him on the bed and went to get his lube out of the bathroom.

“I do what I want!” Kevin protested. “It’s my birthday and I do what I want!”

“Your birthday isn’t until tomorrow and committing crimes against fashion shouldn’t be a birthday wish!” Edd cackled as he leaned against the door and juggled the silicone lube in his hands

“Well, riding your dick is, so get over here!”

Edd couldn’t argue because he really wanted Kevin to ride his dick. If he hadn’t been so shell shocked that he had shown up or so hungry or so eager to see the horses, he’d told him to hop on sooner.

But watching him finally relax and put the stress of work out of his mind was worth it.

Especially since what he had planned would knock him out for the rest of the night.

A ride would mean Edd would have to be on his back, at least to start, so while Kevin flipped their positions, Edd guided him to his side and told him to get his horse ready.

Kevin shrugged his shoulders and went to put his head between his legs, but he nearly choked when Edd started to work a finger in his ass. Edd nearly stopped, but Kevin popped his ass out and Edd’s finger went deeper as Kevin took as much of him in as he could.

“Fuck,” he softly moaned when Kevin spread his leg a bit more, gently massaging the joint where hip met thigh with one hand, using the other as an extension of his mouth.

It was hard to focus in a moment like this but Edd had plans.

And so did Kevin.

When he dropped the lube so he could add another finger in, Kevin snatched it up.

Edd figured he was gonna use it to slick him up and get the show on the road, as it were, but he cried out like a whore when Kevin put his mouth to the tip of his dick, spread his lower cheeks with his greased up hand and whispered, “Get to work.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

His mind was tearing apart at the seams while Kevin sucked him off and played with his ass. He held on by fingering him as fast and hard as he could.

Kevin liked it rough and it was his birthday weekend. The present from Edd’s strong right hand was AMAZING. The left one gently playing in his hair was sending goosebumps all over and when the A/C kicked on, Kevin nearly exploded as the added sensation of cool air on his hot body was absolutely enrapturing.

Edd must have been feeling the same way because he pushed Kevin’s head away from his cock with one hand, but the other grabbed his waist to make him come sit in his lap.

“C’mere.”

Then the room spun.

Well, Kevin thought it did til he realized Edd had spun him around to sit in his lap, but facing away from him and towards the mirror.

And Kevin had never seen Edd’s hands move so fast before.

He gripped the sheets as Edd lifted him up, spread his cheeks, and slowly but firmly pulled him full into his lap, filling him up with everything he had.

The stack of pillows on the bed gave him enough of a cushion to sit up, spread Kevin’s legs, and give the order.

“Ride. Me.”

The visual was mind blowing.

Kevin was flushed, glistening with sweat, his dick throbbing against his hard abs, and Edd wanted a show.

He moved against the fullness in him slowly, enjoying the electrifying numbness that spread all over his body. His fingertips reached for Edd’s hands that were caressing his chest, and that gapped tooth mouth sunk into his shoulder on a whine as he gently kissed his knuckles and started to ride him.

Hands were everywhere, in his hair, turning his face to kiss him senseless, gripping strong arms to hold onto some sense of reality, pawing at his abs, squeezing his chest, playing with his nipples to get him to moan like a slut so in touch with themselves that you can’t help but touch them like they want you to.

But they never broke their gaze in the mirror.

As Kevin lost control, his dick leaking with cum, Edd held on...to his dick.

“Fuck, yes Baby! Just like that!” Kevin screamed as he rode him harder, his movements putting porn stars to shame.

“You gonna cum for me?” Edd whispered and Kevin whined as he nodded, his hand reaching around to grab Edd’s hips to make him fuck him hard and senseless.

“Harder. Faster. Edd…,” his words came out disjointed, but he had to say something! “Dear God, pleeeeeease.”

The bed creaked as Edd pulled him close with one arm, stroked him off with his free hand, and jerked his hips as fast and hard as he could.

Watching the man in his lap jerk once, then twice as he came in his hand was so fucking sexy; jaw dropped, eyes wide in elated shock, legs kicking, both hands around Edd’s one that was stroking him into oblivion.

They had never done it like this before and Kevin wasn’t too sure he’d live til his actual birthday the next day if they kept it up. But he didn’t care. Seeing himself in the mirror like that, as the object of all of Edd’s desires was enough.

That orgasm, tho!

Edd checked his smartwatch then giggled.

“Happy birthday, Kevin.”

Kevin gave him a weak thumbs up as thanks while his thoughts slipped away.

He awoke the next morning, dressed in clean boxers, still slightly embarrassed Edd had to drag him to the bathroom and back again, but no shirt, hearing Edd whisper into his phone.

“Yes, Megan,” Edd said, “I got it all right in front of me. I’m going to see about making some moves later this week but I don’t see why I can’t do it from here.”

“Do what?” Kevin whispered confused and feeling nosy.

Edd squeaked when he noticed he was awake and then said, “I gotta go. I’ll call you Monday with my final answer.”

“Wha? Why are you working?! It’s my birthday!” Kevin pouted. “And that’s my shirt!”

Edd looked down at the shirt he was wearing.

It was an old Marine Corps PT t-shirt Kevin used to wear around Edd’s apartment out west. Actually, the red head left several of these t-shirts in Edd’s apartment when he moved back East and Edd would sleep in them often because it was his way of keeping Kevin close after he left.

“You left it in my house, so it’s mine now,” Edd grinned and Kevin’s ready to fight!

“Stupid dork with his stupid smile,” Kevin thought to himself knowing good and damn well that Edd was right.

“So!? It’s still my birthday,” he half pouted trying to figure out a way to get back at Edd for...working?

“It is,” Edd nodded as he got up to join him in the bed. “What would you like to do today?”

“For you to stop working,” Kevin snarked and Edd laughed.

“I am off til Monday,” he shrugged and Kevin honestly frowned, not that he wanted to talk about it but he did need to know.

“Do you have a ride to the airport?”

“More like,” Edd sighed and then let the words tumble out all at once as he stared holes into his hands, “Iwaswonderingifyouwantedaroommate.”

“Wha?”

“Well, I said-”

“I know what you said, Edd.”

Edd finally looked up at him and he doesn’t remember seeing Kevin ever looking this happy.

“Well, it’s just that, in order for things to keep progressing smoothly, they need a new lab director out here because Dr Stavian is retiring.”

“And they want you to come out and do it?” Kevin asked as he pulled him into his lap.

“Well, yes, but only as an interim because I don’t have my doctorate degree.”

“Yet.”

“Kevin.”

“It’s been like four years, Edd!”

Edd made a face because when he had run into Kevin again after so many years away, he was a year done with his masters program and didn’t have any desire to go back to school. He was just too burnt out.

Kevin figured he just needed a break because he had been in school the entire time he had known him. He couldn’t imagine him stopping forever.

“Listen,” Kevin told him as he gripped his twitching hands still, “You said that Justin said that they’d pay for it when you’re ready and apparently you don’t have much of a choice if you move back this way.”

“But I don’t want to lose you!” Edd protested and Kevin looked at him like he had two heads.

“HOW?!”

“School is an all consuming thing,” Edd sighed. “I can’t really focus on us if I have to go to class, then the lab, then work everyday for the next four years, at minimum.”

“You can if we live together.”

“Wait a min -”

Kevin laughed as he saw the wheels turn in Edd’s head and said, “You just asked if you could move in Mr DoYouNeedARoommate, like I’m gonna let my boyfriend just be my damn roommate. So how hard would it be if you went to school and we lived together?”

“You might have to move actually, because the commute from your place to the lab is like 45 minutes. Add in the campus and you’re looking at a good hour and a half.”

Edd thought he had him til Kevin shrugged and said, “So we move. Be closer to Ma that way anyways.”

“What about the shop?!”

“The further away I am from that place, the better,” Kevin laughed. “It’s one of the joys of being the boss. Besides, Johnny lives upstairs so he keeps the place in line. I just do paperwork.”

“Oh.”

Kevin smirked as all of Edd’s arguments died away.

They could make it work.

“We can do this, Edd,” Kevin said softly as he gave him Eskimo kisses. “Just go back to school and let me worry about the rest.”

“Especially since we ain’t paying for it!” Edd laughed and Kevin snorted.

“Damn straight.”

“I thought you were bi.”

“I’m about to bite that ass,” Kevin grinned but the breakfast bell rang and the smell of fresh bacon had to be indulged.

They took a picnic basket back to the cabin for lunch after their morning ride and used Kevin’s hotspot to look for apartments and houses to rent closer to the labs and university as the ranch’s free wifi was sketchy. A quiet neighborhood not too far from Kevin’s mother’s retirement community seemed the perfect place to start and Edd sent out a few online applications while Kevin made arrangements for dinner.

They rode the black stallion together to a grove of apple trees for a picnic at dusk and discussed the plans they made.

And make out like teenagers.

But the first mosquito bite had them racing back to the cabin as neither wanted to have any more awkward scratches in public than necessary after this trip.

They led the stallion back to his barn and walked slowly back to the cabin, Edd taking note of the constellations overhead.

They collapsed into the bed in a tight cuddle, worn out from their excursions for the day.

“You know, tomorrow is Saturday,” Edd said as they laid in the content silence.

If Edd was mentioning Saturday…

He didn’t know where Kevin got the birthday hat from, but it was a much better outfit than the sweats with chaps.

Especially when one needs to be ready for a day in bed with your homieloverfriend.

#kevedd #reg!kevedd #reg!kev #reg!edd #kevin barr #eddward vincent #for anybodihear me #happy birthday #birthday present #birthday fic

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commorsicoclub · 4 years

Text

The First Beat (When Red met Penny)

Prequel to The Good Chase.

(G/T soft vore. M/F. Human Prey, Giant Pred. Fearplay. Mouthplay. Belly rubs. Magic tricks. Snarky prey. Non-fatal. )

“You’ll be on your own starting tomorrow,” said the portly fellow in the driver seat. Maynard was thirty something years Red’s senior and was mere days away from his retirement. He’d been shoved onto the man last minute with vague orders to show the newbie his beat and aquatint him with the idiosyncrasies of the department. “I’ve got a few things still to wrap up before the end of it. It’s not a hard assignment. Boring really. You’ll be glad of it at first, but believe me. It gets old fast.”

Eldridge Park was a middle class neighborhood on the west end of the city metro with its white marble apartment buildings and brownstone townhouses and tree lines streets. It was a nice place and crime was shockingly low so Red was more than a little disappointed to learn he’d been assigned to this particular precinct. He had hoped to be placed somewhere closer to the city center where they had actual crimes. Murders, arson, and armed robbery. Not petty larceny and littering. But he supposed it would look good on his record to have a year or two before jumping to another precinct.

“So, all I do is walk around the park in the middle of the night?” he asked flatly, looking out the window and then to Maynard.

“Not just the park, but that’s the better part of it,” Maynard replied. “It’s a big place, but don’t expect much real action. Worst I ever came across was a homeless fucker feeling up a girl on her way home from a late shift. Other then that, it’s just you and the humans.”

That got Red’s attention. “Humans?”

Maynard’s expression for the entirety of their shift thus far had been a placid neutrality leaning into boredom. But with this exchange, he looked at Red and grinned wickedly. “Oh yeah. Eldridge park is a hot spot.”

Red was no less enlightened. “So I’m going to be keeping hobos in check and arresting vermin.”

“You don’t arrest humans, kid,” Maynard said with a laugh. “Well, on the books we do. But there’s a lot of paperwork that goes with it, so none of us on this beat ever bother.”

“So, what do you do then?”

Maynard reached into his pocket and pulled out a small metal case. He flicked it open with one fat finger and pulled a cigarette out. Holding it between his teeth, he struck a match and lit it. Only after taking a long draw from it did he looked back at Red to answer him. “You eat them.”

………………………………………….

The night was cool and crisp against his face as Red followed Maynard through the traipsing paths of the park. It was dark, but the moon was full and they had no difficulty seeing their way. He watched Maynard’s movements, noting the way the older officer walked and where his head turned to look at certain areas of the park. Old habits he’d developed over an entire career and he as eager to know them.

“They’re not too dissimilar to dwarf, but not as sweet tastin’ as elves,” he was saying. “And not as fast either.”

“And the Chief's okay with us just...eatin’ up suspects like that?”

“Humans are an invasive species, kid,” he said. “They pop through these…cripes, what the hell are they called again. Black hole kind of things. The just pop out of nowhere from some other dimension or something. Rivers can explain the science to you if you really want, but for my purposes tonight, we just gotta catch one.”

“How many do you normally find?”

“As little as one a week to as much as eight. You probably won’t see more than two a shift at most. And you better be real hungry if you get three in one night or you’ll have to file the paperwork for the one when the other two are in your belly. And they make a racket too.”

Red wasn’t unfamiliar with eating creatures smaller than himself whole and alive. He was quite partial to Elf, but the wild ones were so expensive and the farm raised just didn’t taste as good. Dwarf was all well and good, but they tended to give him indigestion. Goblins were tolerable, but they always needed a good wash before being anywhere near edible and their skin was an odd texture. They were a bit of an acquired taste and one he never really developed, even if they were the cheapest of all live prey available on the market. But he would treat himself to wild Elf on his birthday or special occasions when he could justify the hit to his wallet.

He normally just stuck to sandwiches.

“If they’re so delicious, I wonder why no one’s tried to farm them,” Red wondered.

“Oh they’ve tried,” Maynard replied. “But they don’t reproduce as quick as other prey so the price of them once they reached eating size would be three times the price of top shelf wild Elf. That and most folks just see them as rats on two legs.”

Rev grinned. “More for us then.”

Maynard laughed and slapped the junior officer on the back. “That’s the spirit! Now, let’s see if we’ve got any biters.”

Red obligingly followed his senior officer as he left the main path walked towards a cloister of bushes. Settled inside the thicker portions of the shrubbery, he saw a metal cage. It was empty and had not been tripped. The metal was dark and blended amazingly well within the bushes. He’d only seen it when Maynard pushed aside the leaves and the metal had caught the moonlight.

“I’ve got a good many of these all set up in the park. I’ve got a map in the car of where each of them are. Most human pop through confused and disorientated and try to find small hidey-holes to rest in. Most mistake these cages for a safe little place to stow away.” He looked up and grinned at Red. “Easy lunch.”

Red only nodded, feeling rather curious now. He’d had a good breakfast and he wasn’t particularly hungry, he wouldn’t refuse a little treat. The checked seventeen more traps over the course of the next five hours and none of them had been tripped. Maynard was begging to get a little impatient.

“It’s the perfect night for one to pop through,” he was muttering bitterly. “Cold clear nights are a good sign you’re gonna find one. I still have three more traps to check. Come one, rookie.”

They hit pay-dirt at second to the last trap. Even from a good distance away. Maynard spotted the his trap had caught something and he gave a gleeful hoot and waddled excitedly over. Red jogged to keep pace and could not help but privately ponder to himself that if Maynard hadn’t spent so much of his shifts stuffing himself full of humans, maybe he would be so darn fat.

His attention was abruptly pulled back when there came a shrill cry. There was a small creature inside the metal contraption and he tried to get a good look at it, but Maynard’s fat hand was pawing at it as he tried to open it up. Red was about to offer his assistance when the fat officer let out a “Ha ha!” and he wretched the little metal door open and drew out the prize from inside. The human was a pale pink color and was wearing clothing that looked much the same as an ordinary person would and it looked almost silly to behold it. But he didn’t get much of a chance to study it before Maynard held it up to him.

“Consider it a ‘welcome to the team’ treat,” he said with an oily smile. “She’s a fighter, so probably best to get her down as quick as you can.”

“Let me go, fucking piece of shit, giant ass fuck!” The human was very unhappy and was thrashing against Maynard militant hold on her, but Red was able to smell the distinct scent of fear and her and despite his curiosity to look at her more, to study her, he was all at once rather peckish. Maynard chuckled and pressed the little body into Red’s hands. “Down the hatch, rookie.”

Red laughed, swallowing the excess saliva and tipped his head back as he brought the little human up in the same gesture.

“You can’t be fucking serious right now, dude. No way. No! Holy shit, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...don’t you fucking dare!”

He ignore the panicking mantra from his lunch and slipped her feet onto his tongue. There was a sweet burst of flavor very reminiscent of elf, but it quickly faded into the more deep savory flavor more along the lines of dwarf. Oh, humans were delicious! Complex in their taste and her skin was so smooth. No where near the leathery lumpy affair that was goblin. He hummed in pleasure as he fed her upper thighs into his mouth and gave his first swallow.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, PLEASE DON’T!” Her shrill voice brought him back to reality and his eyes focused in on her face. She trembled in abject terror and struggled as much as she could given her lower half was in his gullet and her top half was firmly being held by his large fingers. He found himself smiling. It was a cruel gesture, but it was instinctual and he relished in the letting the true predator side of himself lose. He wasn’t in a fancy restaurant or a cafe where he needed to mind his manners. This was wild and free and without rules. The true manifestation of what it meant to be the top of the food chain. And Gods did he love the feeling...

He swallowed again and brought the girl’s torso into his mouth. He closed his lips around her neck and let go of her, letting her hang inside him and wiggle as much as she might. She was thicker bodied than an elf, but taller than a dwarf. A perfect middle ground of the two. He felt her little hands pressing against his lips and he almost laughed when one of her hands slipped and ended up slapping his gums. He supposed he’d tortured her enough and gulped hard twice in quick succession, sucking her down into his gullet and sending her on her way down to his belly.

He breathed deeply now that his airways weren’t blocked and he looked to Maynard with an almost fanatical grin.

“Told you,” he said simply. “Tasty little fuckers, huh?”

“Fuck,” was all Red could manage. The human had spilled out into his belly and was now making all her complaints and protestations known by kicking and punching his insides. Such treatment was usually why he did not often partake in dwarf, but the human was no where near as strong and her strikes tickled more than anything. They were actually rather pleasant and he found himself licking his lips, trying to get one last taste of her.

Maynard laughed loudly, watching his junior partner’s sagging belly bounce and wiggle with his lunch’s frantic movements. He reached out and slapped it playfully. “How’d you like your first human, Red?”

“I think I’m a convert,” he replied, wiping the drool off the corners of his mouth.

………��……………..

The human did not stop her squirming for the remainder of his shift. But by the time he slipped through his apartment door, roughly an hour later, she had gone quite and he figured she had finally succumbed to his stomach and would soon digest away like his other live meals. Though, he had to admit she had lasted a good while in there. He was almost impressed.

He pulled off his coat and shirt and sat down on his bed to pull off his boots. The maneuver required him to lean down over his own bulging belly and as he pulled off his first boot he heard it. A soft whimpering. And a voice. “..fucking stupid way to die...so fucking hot in here...can’t breathe for shit...smells like ass...”

Red started to laugh and that seemed to offend his lunch enough to spur her into one last kicking fit accompanied by a cry of, “YOU’RE A FAT FUCKING ASS HAT!”

He sat back up and looked down at his belly. “Well if I’m fat, you’re to blame.”

He wasn’t sure if her abrupt silence meant she had passed out or was too surprised to that he spoke to her to reply back. But then she did answer him.

“COUGH ME UP YOU FUCKER! YOU CAN’T GO AROUND EATING PEOPLE JUST BECAUSE YOU FUCKING FEEL LIKE IT!”

Red patted his belly, amused. “Funny you say that. Because I’m pretty sure I just did.”

She kicked him, lower than before and he winced. She’s struck a kidney or something.

“Dude!” she yelled again, but her voice had lost the volume. “Please, just...please let me out...”

“Why?” he asked, rubbing his gut in an almost affectionate manner.

“Because I don’t want to be your fucking food!”

“And yet, you are in my belly. Where food normally goes.”

“That was your mistake, not mine!” He was grinning. He’d never even spoken to his food before. More so because he didn’t speak elvish and the dwarf accents were so hard to understand that he just never bothered. And he wasn’t even sure Goblins had a real language. It was a pleasant change of pace.

“Tell you what, morsel,” he said, his voice low and almost growling. “If you can give me one reason why I should swap you out for the cold sandwich in my fridge, I’ll let you out.”

The human was silent for a moment. “...you promise?”

“Sure. I promise.”

“Like...pinkie swear and shit?”

“Well, I can’t exactly do a pinkie swear with you in there so...”

“Symbolic pinkie swear then!”

“Okay. Symbolic pinkie swear. You just have to convince me you’re worth more alive then as lunch.”

After several moments, he felt the human suddenly shift. “Magic!” she said. “I can do magic!”

That got Red’s attention and eyed his belly dubiously. “Really now?”

“Yup! I can do magic.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I can’t show you from inside your fucking stomach now can I?!”

Red stood up and walked to the kitchen. He flicked the light on and went to the sink. “OK. I’ll bring you out and you can do your magic, but I warn you now morsel. If you’re lying, I’m gobbling you back up and this time...” he paused. “I might just bite a little.”

It was surprisingly difficult to push his food back up once he’d swallowed it. Putting his fingers down his throat didn’t really do much other than make him wretch and his stomach clench. Which the human really did not appreciate. After the fourth failed attempt, he was ready to say fuck it and just go sit and watch TV until his belly finished her off. But he was genuinely curious now and he was spurred on more by annoyance and stubbornness than anything.

“Should...should I...like...help?” the human asked tentatively.

Red growled. “Might be nice.”

He tried one more time was shocked when he felt the warm lump push up into his esophagus. Once it had a good hold on the human, the rest went much more smoothly and after only a few moments, he felt her push up from the back of his throat and her little hands were grabbing onto his tongue and trying to pry herself out. He opened his mouth and plucked her from inside, pulling her from his jaws and setting her down onto the counter. She wobbled on her feet before falling hard onto her knees, too weak and disorientated to remain standing. Her skin was flushed and red from where his stomach acids had began to burn her and he felt a soft pang of guilt. It looked like it hurt. But he steeled himself and looked down at her with a frown.

“Alright, human. Let’s see this amazing magic of yours.” He knew some Elves could do magic and most fairies, but he had never seen any of it. Maynard hadn’t said anything about humans being able to perform magic, so maybe only some could?

The human held up both her hands, showing him the back and her palms as though to prove she held nothing. She presented the back of one hand, the thumb bent inward and used her other hand to place the tip of her other thumb so it aligned with the profile of its fellow, index finger and middle finger bent over to hide the gap. She slid the hand with the tip of her thumb visible back and forth as though she meant it as an impressive deed and the clapped her hands together and presented them both. Each hand still in possession of their thumbs.

It was a parlor trick. A silly hand illusion to trick simple minded children that one could sever the tip of the thumb and magically reattach it with a simple wave of their hands. And almost as though to add insult to injury, the human finished their performance with a tired sounding, “Ta da.”

Red starred, expecting more and when the little human only starred back, he realized that he had been had. There was no magic. Just a magic trick, an illusion and it should have angered him. It should have made him furious and he should have devoured the wretched little liar right then and there…

...but instead he started to laugh. Loudly. He leaned back against the opposite counter and covered his face as the laughter turned into a fit of giggles and when he peeked between his fingers at the human, who was now looking at him with a fearful uneasiness, his laughter was renewed. It an absurd bargain she had made with him, betting her very life on the idea he might be impressed by such a paltry little showing. It was stupid and reckless and oddly...brave.

“S-so...” her shivering voice brought him back. “So...are you going to...let me go?”

He composed himself and regarded the little creature for a long moment and then said, “No.”

She scowled at him. “I knew it! You’re a fucking liar!”

He scoffed. “Me? What about you? That wasn’t magic.”

“It was a magic trick,” she replied firmly. “I just omitted a word. I didn’t lie.”

“Well, in any case I didn’t say I’d let you go,” he replied with a smug grin. “I said I would let you out. Never mentioned anything about releasing you or even that I wouldn’t be putting you back in later.”

The human’s scowl was gone and she bite her lip. As she began to scoot back across the counter, she started shaking in fear again. “Fucking liar...”

Red watched her shake and tremble, easily imagining she thought he meant to eat her then and there and he wasn’t in too much of a hurry to assure her of the contrary. He was having fun.

“I didn’t lie,” he purred as he loomed over her.

“You said all I needed to do was convince you I was worth more alive,” she spat, tears falling down her face now.

“And do you feel like you sufficiently did that?”

“I made you laugh,” she retorted. “Like...a lot. That should count for something, right?”

She was bargaining again, Red mused. “It was amusing, but if that’s all...”

“I didn’t say it was all,” the human snapped back. “I have more.”

Red regarded her with a flat, unimpressed look. “Oh do tell...”

“I can stick my tongue out and touch my forehead.”

Red blinked and his confused silence seemed to give the human the impression he was waiting for her display the odd quirk. But all she did was stick her tongue out at him and...touch her forehead with the index finger of her right hand.

Almost involuntarily, Red smiled and started to laugh again. He paced around the kitchen for a moment and then out into the hall before doubling back into the kitchen, laughing all the while. The human had taken his momentary absence as a chance to hide, but his kitchen countered were sparse and there were only two places to hide. Behind the toaster or inside the bread box. He could see the toaster well enough to know she was not there so he flipped open the box to see the human trying to hide under the remaining half loaf of bread. He chuckled at her and reach inside to pull her out.

She fought, but had grown very weak and could not do much of anything but smack his hand and kick her feet. “Please...please don’t kill me...”

He looked at the human and found that he didn’t want to eat her again. Not because she was not appetizing or that he wasn’t hungry, but she had succeeded in her original task; To convince him she was worth more than being his lunch. She was far too amusing a creature to sacrifice to his belly.

“I’m not going to eat you,” he said and watched her study him as though trying to figure out if she should believe him. “You’ve won your bargain, human. Congratulations.”

She sucked in a breath and shuddered, fat tears rolling down her face. “You’re not lying?”

“Nah,” he replied. “You’re a funny little thing. Might be worth keeping you around for a laugh.”

She held out her hand, little pinkie extended. “Pinkie promise.”

He eyed her. “We already did.”

“Real pinkie promise,” she said. “Promise that you aren’t lying and you won’t eat me ever again.”

He rolled his eyes, but obligingly offered his own pinkie of his free hand to her. “Fine, I promise I am not lying to you and I will not eat you ever again.” Their different sizes made it an awkward exchange, but the little human seemed satisfied enough. He sat back down on the counter and once she was standing under her own power, he grinned at her and licked his lips. “I make no such promises about eating any other humans though.”

She gaped at him, horrified. “Dude!”

He laughed and then asked, “Have a name, human? Or should I keep calling your morsel?”

“My name’s Penny,” she replied.

“Okay, Penny. I’m Red.”

#soft vore #fearplay #non fatal vore #teasing pred #human prey #giant pred #male pred #g/t vore #vore writing #female prey #m/f vore

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britishdelirium · 7 years

Audio

This rap is lyrically one of the best things ever written. Sit back, listen and read these lyrics.

[Verse 1: Akala] Yes, I grew up on the dole in a single parent family Been through a little bit of tragedy Yes I was around drugs and violence before the day that I started secondary And that’s part of it not half of it, get the picture, the rest ain’t necessary Growing up, got a little caught up, but that ain’t even half of my life Also given the knowledge of self That is all we actually need to survive If you saw me aged 9, reading Malcolm just fine Teachers still treated me stupid Students that couldn’t speak English, they put me in groups with And the irony is some of the first man to give me schooling You would call gangsters but I already explained, we know what the truth is They used to say ‘Don’t be like me’ Yeah I got a name and dough on the street Night time comes, I can’t sleep And that’s the part that rappers don’t speak We don’t hit the road cos we are thugs Don’t come out the womb, wanting to sell drugs If we got the right guidance and love Would we fight people just like us? How could I knock the hustle to get by? How do you think I ate as a child? Judge no one, done many things wrong I just don’t boast about it songs But listen to my older bars I was just as confused as you probably are But you grow and you learn, travel and fuck up One too many man you know get cut up One too many man that could’ve been doctors End up spending their whole life boxed up You learn, if you study Its all set out just to make them money No cover, it’s all about getting poor people to fight with one another So its logical that us killing our brothers, dissing our mothers Is right in line with the dominant philosophy of our time But time is a cycle, not a line Comes back around you regain your mind You be ready for the energy I channel in my rhymes Remedy the pedigree, the jeopardy of mine When the world’s this f***ed up, lethargy’s a crime We can all fight with our brothers over crumbs Far harder to fight the one who makes guns We can all talk sh** and get two dollars Far harder to be the one who seeks knowledge If we understood economics We’d know money’s nothin’ Think nothing of it Money is a means to get wealth, not the wealth itself Don’t get confused, I’m far from broke All that you see me do I own But I won’t hang what I make around my neck I know from where that the diamonds came But I do quite literally own a library That definitely costs more than your chain And businesses, and properties Far from starvin’, I eat quite properly And I don’t care, just said it for the kids Who need to know that you’re not broke to listen Don’t know an asset from a liability They’ve never been shown or told the difference So they don’t change situations Richest man in Britain is Asian That’s significant, not coincidence Asian people build businesses Not by flossin/going out shoppin’ Giving out their culture for everyone’s profit Who run’s Bollywood? Indian people Who owns our shit? So we shake our arse and dance As if racism just upped and vanished But has it? No its right on course You’re beaten so bad, you’re trained to ignore Let me not just make sweeping statements Gimme a second, I’ll explain it For small amounts of drug possession there’s more black people in jail in America than there is for rape and armed robbery and murder all put together You can say they’re just locking up thugs Imagine if they locked up every middle class kid that had ever held drugs Oh that’s right, that’d be your kids! Bigger than that what is going on with this Prison in America’s a private business They get paid 50k per year per inmate by the State, just wait… Also legally are allowed to use their prison inmates as slaves Cheap slave labour, big corporations They come out of jail, can’t get a job So when we celebrate going to jail We are LITERALLY CELEBRATING ENSLAVEMENT Add to that, that the hood that you’re livin’ Engineered social condition that breeds crime by design Where do you think you get your nine? You can say that they’re just black But I like to deal with facts In the 1920s you would’ve found in America Black towns Prospering centres of economics and education to make you proud But some people couldn’t bear that the former slaves would not just lie down So the KKK and other hate groups burnt those towns to the ground Killin hundreds If it ain’t understood You think you were always livin’ in the hood? Shit it’s only been sixty years Since they hung blacks and burned em’ And that was so cool They were your pastors’ picnic baskets Even gave kids the day off school To go see a lynching, have a picnic It’s fun to watch the little monkeys die Then people act a little dysfunctional You wanna pretend that you don’t know why If your colour means you can be killed And you’re powerless to get justice about it Is it difficult to figure out how you would then end up feelin’ about it? And that ain’t excuses Just dealing with the roots of abuses that make a reality Where a generation of young men speak of ourselves as dirt casually That’s America This Britain Some things are similar Some different In this country the first enslaved were the working class What’s changed? Worst jobs, worst conditions Worst taxed, look where you’re livin’ You go to the pub, Friday night You will fight with a guy, don’t know what for But won’t fight with a guy, suit and a tie Who sends your kids to die in a war They don’t send the kids of the rich or politicians It’s your kids, the poor British That they send to go die in a foreign land For these wars you don’t understand Yeah they say that you’re British And that lovely patriotism they feed ya But in reality you have more in common with immigrants Than with your leaders I know, both side of my family Black and white are fed ghetto mentality Reality in this system Poor people are dirt regardless of shade But with that said Let’s not pretend that everything is the same When our grandparents came here to Britain If you had a criminal record you couldn’t get in Yet that ain’t protect them from all the stupid, stupid abuses they would be livin’ Kicked in the teeth, stabbed in the street Many times fired bombed our houses Put faeces through our letter box And of course the cops did so much about it(!) Daily, up to the 80s People spittin’ into my pram cos’ I was a coon baby But of course that has had no effect on why today we are crazy And none of this was for any good reason They were just dark and breathing To ease the guilt now for all of this treatment Constant stereotypes are needed So if I celebrate how big that my dick is, bricks that I’m flippin’ Clips that I’m stickin’, chicks that I’m hittin’, I’m playing my position But if I teach a kid to be a mathematician, messin’ with the schism How they gonna fill a prison when materialism is nothing but a religion? What do you think we got now in Britain? Just like America, private prisons Prisons for profit! That mean when your kids go jail people make money off it So keep environments that breed crime Build more jails at the same time Market badness to the kids in the rhymes As long as rich kids ain’t dying its fine! Get em’ to the point where some are so lost They actually believe that if they don’t celebrate killin’ themselves off That it’s because they’re soft Was Malcolm soft? Was Marley soft? Tell me was Marcus Garvey soft? Well? Was Mohammed Ali soft? Nah, Nah I think not! But they want us to think that the road is cool Being on road is all we can do We don’t control the wholesale productions Who benefits from us movin’ the food? Or thinking there’s no way out of road life But Malcolm X used to hustle out on the roadside When Marcus Garvey organised more than 6million people With no Facebook or Twitter Why is this something you cannot equal? Shiiiiit! One of my homeboys did a ten straight in the box in yard Now what’s he doing? Passin’ his doctorate Don’t tell me that it’s too hard! Who trained you to believe that you’re inferior? Sungbo Eredo in Nigeria are the remains of an ancient moat Dug 1000 years ago 20 metres wide, 70 down Round the remains of an ancient town That’s 400 square miles around 400 square miles around Please, please don’t believe me It was a documentary on BBC! But we ain’t studyin’ history Too busy watching MTV And MTV said wear platinum Now everybody wanna go and wear platinum And MTV said pop magnums Now everybody wanna go and pop magnums If MTV said drink prune juice You would start hearing that in tunes soon ‘Hey! Today I wore my Cartier Is it now more important what I got to say?’ Oh and I drive a Mercedes by the way So everybody listen to what I got to say Huh, does that make you all happy? Ahh but shit my head’s still nappy Think for myself, still some mad at me But on the mic ain’t not one bad as me All of this here’s good for the rhymes Put us in the same place at the same time And it’s clear to everybody that I’m out of my mind Some of these guys are runnin’ out of their rhymes Clear to everybody that has got ears I’m the guy that they just might fear They wanna get near but they can’t have a peer Ah dear I’m hard liquor you’re just like beer Front on the kid for another five years Come to my shows and some cry tears It mean that much to em’, it’s a movement! I don’t speak for myself but a unit Black, white, man, woman, anyone that respects truth we put in Dudes are like no dinner with just puddin’ Yeah you’re sweet but no substance puddin’ You could never ever be with a level on Our songs get out played out there in Lebanon We speak for the people properly Not for the old fat guys in offices And the girls love him, it ain’t fair He can’t even be bothered to comb his hair Anyway that’s enough kissin’ my own arse Back to the more important task of being so shower I got half the hood screaming “KNOWLEDGE IS POWER” And I ain’t saying that will change rap But I do know this for a fact Right now there’s a yout’ on your block With his hand on his cock and his face screwed up Swear he don’t care, don’t give a fuck That he won’t let nobody call his bluff But the words go in Open up your chakra Because once that’s happened there’s no going back Once you start to see what is really happening Who the enemy you should be attackin’ is So READ, READ, READ! Stuck on the block, READ, READ! Sittin’ in the box, READ, READ! Don’t let them say what you can achieve Cos when people are enslaved One of the first things they do is stop them reading Cos’ it is well understood that intelligent people will take their freedom Cos’ if we knew our power we would understand that we can’t be held down If we knew our power, we would not elevate not one of these clowns If we knew our power, we wouldn’t get arrogant when we get two pennies If we knew our power, we would see what everybody sees, that we’re rich already! But never mind MCs go run for your mummy I’m hungry, I run for my tummy That’s enough, back to worshipping money I’m off, back to the study!

#akala #fire in the booth part 1

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